Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet

by Bill Thompson

  Spedino moved quickly. He had no idea how much time remained before the thief would be on a plane to Israel and the artifacts lost to Christianity forever. He made a phone call and put things in motion. Within hours the three relics were safe and the thief was eliminated.

  -----

  John Spedino’s house was in a gated community far out on Long Island. It had an expansive view of the Sound. Spedino and his wife enjoyed sitting on their patio, a fire blazing in their outdoor fireplace, watching sailboats move serenely past.

  The godfather heard the distinctive ring of the phone from the gatehouse. One of his staff answered the call and walked from the house to where the couple sat.

  “My apologies for the interruption, sir. There are two Federal agents on their way to the house now. The guard at the gatehouse called to advise he had admitted them.”

  His wife asked what this was about. Like many other wives in her position she asked few questions about her husband’s business. She was a modern woman in many respects but had become content in one area that was a throwback to the old days. She had a great life and John Spedino cared for his family well. She listened to the news and saw the tabloid headlines. But she chose to ignore what the public said and what in her heart she knew was true. She knew a different John Spedino, her provider and husband. A good man. That was enough for her.

  “As usual, it’s a harassment visit. I probably will have to go into the City, but expect me back soon. You know how it works by now.” He smiled and kissed her cheek.

  John Spedino went into the house. He changed into a sport coat and tie, finishing just as he heard the doorbell ring. He knew from past experience he would be taking a ride into Manhattan. He’d done it before and he’d do it again. But he also was certain he would very quickly be making the return trip to his house. He had never spent time in jail. Thanks to very good lawyers and very careful activities John Spedino was sure this would be no exception. He was made of Teflon, after all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Having nowhere to turn for help, Brian could do nothing but wait. Panic overwhelmed him. He desperately tried to think of something he could do but there was nothing. He lay in bed in a cold sweat.

  Around ten pm his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the Dallas number. When he answered he heard his former cube-mate Jim Palmer’s voice. “You’d better consider yourself lucky you bailed when you did.”

  Palmer told Brian that after close of business that afternoon, a cadre of U.S. Marshals, along with agents from the FBI and the SEC, had arrived at Warren Taylor and Currant.

  “We’re shut down. Finito, baby. Nobody knows exactly what happened but the rumor mill has it that Francois Rochefort has turned up. I don’t know if that has anything directly to do with us or not.” He said that the Feds had removed records and computers from the firm. “We can’t survive another round of negative publicity. I got a call about an hour ago from one of the VPs. He says don’t bother coming to work tomorrow. The firm’s closing and filing bankruptcy.”

  Brian surfed the business channels but couldn’t find any news about WT&C. Likewise the Internet sites that usually carried this type of story had no news about it. He finally went to bed but lay awake almost all night wondering how everything was going to play out.

  Around six Brian began checking the Internet while he listened to CNN News. The business sites had nothing but the homepages of all the news agencies displayed versions of the same major headline. “MAFIA GODFATHER ARRESTED,” read the article’s banner. John Spedino, the reputed head of New York’s crime families, had been arrested the night before on charges of extortion, fraud and murder. Brian felt a glimmer of hope.

  The story said that the Federal case against Spedino was based largely on the testimony of Francois Rochefort, a convicted criminal and former associate of Spedino’s who had been sought for his role in the downfall of a public company called Bellicose Holdings. Earlier in the week officers of the French police agency, Surete Nationale, had arrested Rochefort. He had been living in hiding in Eze Village, a medieval town in the south of France nestled on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. It was a perfect place for a French-speaking Canadian to hide. He would have fit in well.

  Spedino was being held in a Lower Manhattan jail without bail, Federal agents having convinced a judge that the mobster was a flight risk. A related story advised that authorities raided the Dallas brokerage firm of Warren Taylor and Currant yesterday. Two years ago WT&C’s top executives had provided damaging testimony and records, all revealing the firm’s ties to organized crime, specifically John Spedino.

  The U.S. Attorney’s office believed the testimony of the firm’s executives alone was not sufficient to corner Spedino for good so the FBI had bided its time, waiting for the right opportunity. They kept the men in protective custody in Canada since Spedino would have had them murdered if he located them.

  Now that Spedino was in custody the Feds raided WT&C to get computer and hard copy documents which both Rochefort and the two executives had told them about. These records confirmed the firm’s financial ties with Spedino. The SEC had withdrawn WT&C’s license to sell securities pending a hearing. Brian knew that meant the end of any firm, just as Jim Palmer had said last night.

  Rochefort had waived extradition and returned to New York. Once the cooperating agencies had him safely inside the United States they offered a plea bargain would allow him to serve a few years in prison. In exchange, Rochefort agreed to testify against his boss and mentor, Johnny Speed, the man everyone wanted to put behind bars. And Rochefort had the goods, including where the bodies were buried. He had already begun talking to the FBI and this time the U.S. Attorney was certain Spedino was down for good.

  Buoyed by the news, Brian went into the gallery with a plan in mind. He had Collette wire the twenty-five million dollars to First InterCity Bank, which then released the Israeli bonds Brian had offered as collateral. That transaction was now finished.

  She then wired $250,000 to Chaim Weisenberg. After an hour, Brian called and Weisenberg confirmed receipt of the money. He emailed Brian a release. That transaction was also completed.

  Except for John Spedino’s artifacts, things were all as they were intended to be. And so long as Spedino was in jail, he had other things to think about, Brian figured, than getting his money back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That afternoon Brian received an unexpected call from Archbishop Francis McGann, head of the New York Archdiocese of the Roman Catholic Church.

  “Mr. Sadler, I’m calling to thank you for your efforts in helping get the priceless Bethlehem Scroll and its accompanying artifacts into the hands of the Church. I’m confirming that the relics are in my possession and I will be taking them to Rome tonight to deliver them to the Pope himself.”

  Brian stammered, totally taken by surprise. “You have the artifacts? How did you get them?”

  Surprised Brian didn’t already know, the Archbishop explained that a man had delivered the relics in a briefcase to the Diocese office around four pm yesterday.

  “Was it John Spedino?”

  The Archbishop replied sharply that he had never dealt with John Spedino in his life.

  “The Vatican advised me months ago that I should expect the artifacts someday. The donor would be a wealthy Catholic and the gift was given anonymously. I have no idea who the man who dropped them off was. I only knew to contact you because the Vatican said an intermediary – Bijan Rarities – would handle the transfer. I presumed the drop-off was arranged by you.”

  A short time later the Customs agent who had detained Brian at JFK called him.

  “I just wanted to give you some news. The man who stole your briefcase was on a high-priority watch list. He turned up last night. His body floated to the Queens side of the East River around six pm. Some boys were fishing there and it scared the hell out of them.”

  Brian figured Spedino’s guys must have found the man, killed him, retrieved the artifacts, a
nd had them delivered to the Archbishop. Later that day John Spedino was arrested, all of that happening within about an eight-hour period. Regardless of exactly how it all transpired, things had certainly fallen into place for Brian Sadler, the eternal optimist who had almost played the game for keeps.

  Brian looked back on the last few days with relief. Determined not to repeat his past, he vowed to concentrate more on the things that mattered to him – building a relationship with Nicole and building a business of which he could be proud – and less on the glamour and fame that required living too close to the edge. Brian Sadler had almost paid too high a price to get what he wanted. He wouldn’t do it again.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Brian and Nicole sat in the Grill Room of the Savoy Hotel having lunch. It was autumn in England, a beautiful time when trees changed color and gusty winds announced change in the air. Outside the window by their table, boats moved lazily down the Thames River.

  Brian was in London more and more these days and he decided to open a branch of Bijan Rarities here. Collette was being promoted to gallery manager. She and Jason would run the New York operation while Brian headquartered in London. He was negotiating for space in Old Bond Street and was excited about the prospects of spending more time in his favorite city.

  Nicole had taken a week off to join him. They were hopeful of having at least a few free days to visit the countryside. Brian had developed a friendship with Oscar Carrington, owner of a gallery in Knightsbridge. Carrington invited the two to his country home in Oxford, a twelfth-century structure reputedly built by a son of William the Conqueror.

  The publicity John Spedino promised Bijan for handling the hottest artifacts in history never materialized. It was for the best, Brian figured. The gallery was doing very well and was rapidly becoming recognized as one of the world’s top resources for ancient pieces. Furthermore, the Vatican was obviously not interested in revealing the existence of the Bethlehem Scroll.

  As Brian and Nicole sipped glasses of Sancerre a man entered the dining room with a cardboard mailing tube under his arm. He searched for a moment, eyes landing on Nicole, and he made his way to their table. Without waiting for an invitation he sat, extended his hand and said, “I’m here at the direction of David Cardone.”

  Brian and Nicole knew who Cardone was. After the fall of John Spedino, the man had taken over as New York City’s new godfather.

  “We’re having lunch,” Brian said curtly.

  “I can see that. I have a message for you from John Spedino. He asked me to look you up. He has something he knows you will be interested in.”

  “Spedino? He’s in prison.”

  “Of course,” the courier responded evenly. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t communicate.”

  Irritated, Nicole looked at Brian. “Can’t this be dealt with at another time?”

  “We’re going to finish our lunch. I’ll be happy to talk to you at my hotel if you’ll make an appointment through Bijan in New York.”

  The man ignored him. He took a yellowed sheet from the tube and laid it on the table.

  “Mr. Spedino would like to sell this document to you.”

  Brian glanced at it. “What is this?”

  “It’s a copy of the Declaration of Independence.”

  “Of course it is. It’s the same copy anyone can buy in the gift shop at the Capitol.”

  “Mr. Spedino is certain you will be willing to buy this copy of such a revered document. He is asking one million dollars for it.”

  Brian laughed aloud, noticing that the courier did not smile. “It’s worth a couple of bucks tops.” He tossed the yellowed parchment to the man.

  “You made a two million dollar profit when you did the deal on the relics. And now they’re locked away somewhere, hidden forever. Mr. Spedino finds himself needing to sell some assets to, shall we say, pay his expenses. He therefore insists that you buy this document.”

  “You want me to give a million of Johnny Speed’s money back?” He was incredulous.

  “His name is John Spedino, Mr. Sadler. And no, you aren’t giving anything to anybody. Mr. Spedino is going to sell you this document for a million dollars, wire transferred to a Swiss account within a week. And you’re going to buy it.”

  -----

  The Vatican

  Joseph Ratzinger sat in his favorite chair in the library, reading for the hundredth time the translation of the Bethlehem Scroll. Known to the world as Pope Benedict XVI, Ratzinger thought of himself as nothing more than a humble servant of God, not the leader of the Roman Catholic Church, every time he read the electrifying words.

  As soon as the artifacts were safely in the Vatican the Pope had assigned experts to create a detailed translation of both the scroll and the parchment scrap that accompanied the coin. Those men spent painstaking hours checking and double-checking every word of Aramaic, ensuring the meaning was exactly as it had been intended. The result was the English translation of an incredible story, told through the eyes of a child, who spent a night of wonders like no other in history.

  A second team of experts used the latest techniques to clean the coin. After the residue was removed it turned out to be a common shekel dated to the Herodian era around the time of Jesus’ birth. This particular shekel, however, was anything but common. It had rested in the Messiah’s hand. The Pope believed it with all his heart.

  The three relics were placed in an airtight container and locked in a vault that contained other priceless things collected over the centuries by the Vatican. Only a few trusted individuals knew of the vault’s existence. Each Pope learned about it only upon his succession to the papacy.

  Benedict wished that the artifacts that confirmed Jesus’ birth could be viewed by humanity but he knew that keeping the unique relics safe and secure was the only way to protect them. There were many who would steal and destroy them to extinguish the message contained in these relics. So he chose to keep them locked away, never to be seen again unless another Pope, sometime in the future, wanted to view them.

  Benedict had placed the relics in the vault himself. No one had accompanied him and only two others knew what they were. Inside the vault a yellowed ledger sat on a table by the door. The pontiff made three entries on the list, describing the artifacts and the date of their addition to the vault.

  Looking at the entry just above them, he noted that the last time the vault had been opened was in April 1946, when treasures stolen from churches by the Nazis were shipped to the Vatican. Benedict therefore surmised that no eyes would likely see these relics again for decades. They would rest on a shelf, hidden from everyone.

  Now, sitting by the fire, he looked again at the translation. Every time he read the story it filled the pontiff with wonder. He never tired of hearing the first-hand account of Benjamin, a Jewish boy who saw the Messiah with his own eyes. The Pope slept well that night, comforted, as always, by the knowledge that locked away in the most secret vault on earth, the original account of the Messiah’s birth was safe and secure inside the Vatican forever.

  A few moments after the vault door was closed and sealed, the artifacts simply disappeared from the shelf on which the pontiff had placed them. The three entries carefully penned by Pope Benedict XVI on the list remained, the only clue that the Bethlehem Scroll ever existed.

  Far away, a wealthy Lebanese and his wife wondered who stole an ancient urn they had purchased in the Jericho marketplace. It was now missing from their front porch.

  -----

  The Qumran Hills Near the Dead Sea

  It was hot and dusty along the little trail that ran down the side of an outcropping in the hills near the ancient site of Qumran. The entrance to the small cave had been virtually obliterated over the years. It would take some effort for anyone to locate the entrance.

  In a wall of the small cave’s second room stood two stones. They blended well with the wall, so completely in fact that no one could tell they hid a clay urn, sitting
on a small ledge behind them. Except for a short time, the jar and its contents had sat in the cave for over two thousand years. Now they were here once again.

  It was not time.

  Ancient

  A Search for the Lost City of the Mayas

  A Brian Sadler Archaeological Mystery

  Book Two of the Series

  This book is affectionately dedicated to my real-life young explorer, Captain Jack Thompson.

  May your life be filled with great adventures.

  Love, Abuelo

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks to former Assistant District Attorney Nancy Shew for help on ensuring the law enforcement and judicial scenes were correct and to my sons Ryan and Jeff and to Margie for proofreading and offering valuable feedback and suggestions.

  17 April 1540

  His Excellency Carlos V

  King of The Spanish Monarchy

  Holy Roman Emperor

  Savior of the New World

  Your Excellency, your subject Pedro de Alvarado y Contreras writes to you from New Spain, from my post as Governor of the Kingdoms of Honduras and Guatemala, which were bestowed upon me by the grace of your Majesty.

  I write to inform you of a discovery made many years ago, which resides today in the realm that I govern. It is my belief that you should have been made aware of this long ago but it was the order of my leader, Hernan Cortes, that he alone would inform you of the discovery he and I made, and that I never speak of it. I have learned only recently that Cortes is deceased, and I am concerned that it is likely he did not inform you, his King, of the existence of this important discovery, as I would have expected to receive instructions from you had you known of it. It is therefore with sincere apology that I now do so, and I am your humble servant should you wish to chastise me for my failure to previously bring this to the attention of Your Excellency.