Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet

by Bill Thompson

  “Before you do that, sweetie, I have a suggestion for you. Let me put the agency on notice that you’re represented by counsel. It won’t interfere with anything and I’ll explain that I’m also your friend. But it’ll change the rules – you’ll be less likely to give them anything they might use against you because they’ll have boundaries.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “You know that and I know that but for now everybody’s a suspect to them. It looks like you have no involvement but I promise they’ll keep you on the watch list until they figure out what happened and why. They have to make sure you had no motive.”

  “OK, if you think that’s a good idea. I sure don’t want to make them start suspecting me because I ran out and got a criminal lawyer. But you know, Agent Underwood told me they want my financial records going back several years. Does that sound like I’m a suspect?”

  “Don’t worry about it. The FBI’ll know why you got a lawyer – it’s pretty common, after all. And the financial records request is the most common one they make. Your records will help clear you of suspicion – they’ll see that things were going great and you had no motive to kill the goose that laid the golden egg. Everything’s going to be fine about that. No worries.”

  She called Special Agent-in-Charge Underwood and advised that she was both an attorney and a close personal friend of Brian’s. She was in town and for the record she would be representing him. She asked that he keep her informed as to the status of the agency’s interest in Brian. If at any point his status changed from innocent gallery owner to possible suspect Nicole instructed that all questioning must stop.

  The man acknowledged and said, “Does Mr. Sadler have anything for me at this point?”

  She handed the phone to Brian. He told Agent Underwood about the two appointments and promised to work on every angle to see how Collette had been informed that a nameless priest would be coming to the gallery. Hopefully he could also find out why. He promised to get back with the agent as soon as he knew anything.

  “Now tell me about the book the priest took, please.”

  “It’s one of eight we received on consignment from the heirs of a collector in Nova Scotia. I have a Times article that explains everything pretty well. I’ll email it to you when we’re done. Seven of the books are in pristine condition with beautiful pages. Three are bibles and four are works of literature, all hundreds of years old. The last one, the book that was taken, is one volume of a set that chronicles the exploits of the Knights Templars. It’s nothing special, one of a set the rest of which are missing, and it’s in deplorable condition. It’s three or four hundred years old but I’d value it at maybe a few hundred bucks whereas the other books are worth tens of thousands each.”

  “Strange. Did you look inside the book? Could there be something hidden in it that makes it valuable enough to kill for?”

  “I thumbed through it. It’s partially in Latin, partially in medieval French and maybe English – I didn’t look too closely, frankly. There are random pages scattered throughout that are totally in symbols but I can’t believe that’s what made it so important. There was nothing hidden in it per se. It was just a moth-eaten ratty old book – in my opinion it had no value.”

  “But you’ll agree it did to someone. That appears to be the sole purpose of this entire episode. Any idea how many other books are in the set, and where they might be?”

  “There’s absolutely no way to know. I think the one I saw covered maybe 1500 to 1700 – as I said, I didn’t give it much of a look. The Templars started around 1100, if memory serves me. They were supposedly eradicated in the early 1300s but someone kept the Order alive. Today the Masons have a branch called the Knights Templars. I have no idea what connection, if any, it has with the original Templars.

  “I also read there’s a shadow group within the Catholic Church by the same name – Knights Templars. I saw an article once that said the Catholics have a secret sect of Templars led for hundreds of years by one Cardinal or another, answerable only to the Pope. I have no idea if that’s true, what their mission would be, and why it would be a secret. The idea of a person dressed as a priest stealing the book and destroying the gallery just makes no sense.”

  “That’s what we have to figure out, Mr. Sadler. See if you can google the article you read on the Catholic connection to the Knights Templars. One thing I think’s certain – some collector didn’t stage all this just to get that last remaining book for his collection of Templar exploits. There’s something in that book that someone was willing to commit murder for. We have to find out what it was.”

  Chapter Nine

  Vatican City

  Dominic Cardinal Conti had spent two weeks trying to get through to Benedict XVI, the former pontiff now retired. The Cardinal had been part of the inner circle when Benedict was Pope – reaching him by phone had been simple. It was not so now. Conti knew that the retired Pope remained out of touch on purpose. He would not take attention away from the new pontiff. He was out of the limelight – out of the picture – and he obviously intended to keep it that way.

  Another call to the ex-Pope’s secretary resulted in the same response he’d heard before. “Cardinal Conti, there is really no need to keep calling. I have given his Holiness your messages. He is aware that you have called. That is all I can do for you.”

  Frustrating.

  Conti had to find out what Benedict had promised to reveal after he finished reading the last Templar manuscript.

  The good news was that Giovanni Moretti had asked to meet. That could mean only one thing – he had what Conti wanted. They selected a different shady outdoor restaurant hidden in the twisted streets of Rome and spoke quietly over coffee.

  Moretti smiled and said, “I have the manuscript you want.”

  The Cardinal’s face was hard. “I’m certain you do, Giovanni. Like everyone else on earth, I saw the news. A terrorist-type bombing of the gallery on Fifth Avenue? Really? Is that how you interpreted my instruction to be discreet?” Conti had been surprised at the ferocity of what Moretti had implemented. Obviously the man had a bone to pick with someone. Perhaps it involved that woman – the Conning woman who was shot in the gallery. Or maybe it was the owner. Who knew? Moretti had once been a dangerous man. Now, Cardinal Conti mused as he sat across the table from the old man, I think he’s getting senile.

  “I’ve done your dirty work for years, Cardinal. Surely you’re not disappointed. I got what you wanted.”

  “I asked you to get a manuscript for me, Giovanni. Not to kill eleven people and blow up a building. Are you crazy? Did you think I would condone this atrocity?”

  “I followed your direction, Your Eminence. My enthusiasm in creating such a scene wasn’t because of you. It was an old score that needed settling. Someone needed a lesson and through my efforts, that person got one. You needn’t worry about how I handle my responsibilities. By now you should know that. We’ve worked together a long time, Dominic. Don’t start second-guessing me now. You’ll have your manuscript. Let it go, my friend.”

  The old man’s voice quivered as he spoke angrily. He’d been on top of his game for years and it damned sure wasn’t over yet. He didn’t need this cleric telling him how to do his business. He had never bowed down to anyone, even a Cardinal – except in the literal sense, of course.

  “Although I utilized what appeared to be a priest in the operation, it will ultimately be clear to the authorities that the Church was actually not involved at all. The man will easily be recognized as an impostor once they investigate.”

  That revelation was disturbing. Conti hadn’t heard about the priest – that detail hadn’t been released to the press yet. He would have done things differently. Regardless, nothing could be done now. For years Moretti had overseen operations of various sorts for Conti and he was very good at what he did. The Cardinal had to accept that the job had been accomplished since Moretti now had what the cleric wanted. The manuscript was now
his.

  “Give it to me.”

  “It isn’t here, Eminence. I want to go over some things with you before I deliver it.” Moretti smiled and leaned back in his chair.

  The Cardinal’s countenance hardened. His eyes grew cold and his words were clipped, harsh. He spoke in a whispered hiss through clenched teeth, his face contorting in rage.

  “Giovanni, what are you doing? You owe me a great deal – your freedom, in fact. I’m sure you agree. You walk around Rome a free man with a Vatican passport, thanks to me. What can possibly be in your mind? Is this how you choose to repay me, by withholding the thing I asked of you in repayment of your debt? Don’t test my patience.” The Cardinal looked as though he were about to explode.

  “Don’t test mine either, Eminence.”

  “What things do you want to go over with me?”

  “All in good time. All in good time.” Moretti stood and walked out of the café.

  The Cardinal was speechless. No one had ever walked out on him before. I hope you know what you’re doing, Mr. Moretti. You’re an old fool going down a hazardous path. Even for a once-dangerous man such as yourself. The Lord giveth. And He can take away what He hath given. I can make sure of that.

  Conti reached in his pocket and switched off a recording device. He finished his coffee and allowed himself to calm down before returning to the Vatican. As powerful and ruthless as Giovanni Moretti once had been, Conti had access to other useful resources. This man would regret his actions today. Dominic Cardinal Conti would see to it.

  Chapter Ten

  A week later one of Conti’s good friends, a Cardinal in the Diocese of Rome, was honored on his retirement at a small gathering in the Vatican. Conti had debated going – he would rather have joined his fellow cleric in a quiet dinner and a good bottle of wine to celebrate his service to the Church, but Conti decided it was important he make an appearance at his close friend’s gathering.

  As he mingled with twenty-odd guests a hush came over the crowd. All eyes turned to the door as former Pope Benedict XVI entered the room. No one had expected the current pontiff to be present. He was in Brazil. But the attendees were pleased to see the reclusive ex-pontiff out and about. It was an important statement to the retiring Cardinal – the former Pope thought enough of him to attend his retirement celebration.

  What an opportunity, Conti thought. He can’t avoid me here.

  Conti took his place in an impromptu receiving line as clerics walked one by one past the former Pope and spoke quietly with him. When it was his turn Conti greeted Benedict then said, “You’ve become a hard man to get hold of, Holiness.”

  “It is my wish not to interfere, Dominic. The guard has changed. The seat is no longer mine. Your inquiries now must go to the new Pope.”

  “I need to know what you were going to show me when I finished the Templar manuscripts.”

  “Of course you are aware I will never again have access to the secret vault. I wanted to show you a parchment I came across. Although not a part of the four volumes of Templars adventures, I believe it is a key to the pages of puzzling symbols found throughout them. I think it may explain those pages.”

  The Cardinal’s adrenalin flowed. “How can I see it, Holiness?”

  “Ah, you’ve quickly identified the dilemma. You can’t, Dominic. Not without the new Pope’s help. I told you earlier that in my office I kept a photocopy of the register of the items in the vault. But there’s something else – another copy I made. I copied the parchment that might explain the pages of symbols in the manuscripts. It was only one page and I planned to show it to you after you finished all the books.

  “Maybe that copy is still there, maybe not. If you can find the copy I made then you’ll have what I wanted to give you. But fatefully,” Benedict smiled, “I left it in the top right drawer of my desk. Now it’s the new Pope’s desk, in his office. I have no idea how you’re going to get him to give it to you, or if it’s even still there. If he came across it he would have had no idea what it was. He may have thrown it away. You have a daunting challenge, Cardinal Conti, but one that a resourceful man such as yourself might accomplish. Perhaps. It won’t be easy.” He patted Conti on the shoulder and turned to the next priest in line.

  Chapter Eleven

  New York City

  The couple of days following the explosion became busier and busier for Brian. Working from home he handled a plethora of issues ranging from insurance claims to decisions about his lease and notifications to companies with whom the gallery had contracts for things like copiers and mail equipment.

  He also pulled together audited financial statements for the past three years, plus unaudited monthly statements for the current year, and submitted everything to the Financial Services agent who had called him yesterday. He had discussed everything first with Nicole – she could have demanded a subpoena but since both of them knew Brian had nothing at all to do with the explosion, she saw no harm in producing what they wanted. His financials, prepared by one of America’s top CPA firms, demonstrated the remarkable profitability of Bijan Rarities over the past few years. Since Brian took over he had paid himself half a million dollars a year and still left a million or more profit annually in the corporation. He needed cash all the time – opportunities to purchase significant rarities came up suddenly and he wanted to be able to pounce, to beat the competition. So the gallery was flush with profits and money, all legitimate, all legal and all accounted for.

  When Brian submitted his financials all Nicole required from the FBI was that the financial statements be considered confidential so long as Brian was not a suspect. Shortly Agent Underwood reported to Nicole that the documents were fine and Brian was no longer under any scrutiny whatsoever.

  Brian was told that insurance investigators had combed through the wreckage after the FBI released the scene and it appeared nothing was salvageable anywhere in the gallery except perhaps the vault and Brian’s office. The massive vault door had been closed but unlocked when the explosion occurred. It was company policy that the door be closed during office hours. That may have protected the priceless antiquities inside, but no one would know until Brian opened it. Three hours after the bombing the door had automatically locked – it was programmed to lock after three hours without activity. Agent Underwood requested that Brian return soon to help them assess what, if anything, the vault held by way of clues. Brian’s insurance company had posted round-the-clock off-duty policemen outside the boarded-up front entrance. If the vault had successfully withstood the blast, it was possible the items were still intact. That would be good news to both Brian and many customers whose consignments were there. About the only good news, Brian had mused.

  So sometime soon, very soon, Brian Sadler had to face the situation at the gallery. Some critical things were on hold until he came back to Bijan Rarities. Today Brian had gotten a call from the insurance company. They couldn’t wait any longer. Tomorrow was the day – arrangements were made to meet Brian at his ruined gallery.

  He and Nicole had walked down Fifth Avenue yesterday, his first time since the blast to go to the site. They paused across the street to look at the boarded-up façade where Bijan had once been. Agony overwhelmed him and again he felt himself getting lightheaded. Suddenly he turned and vomited against a building, heaving and retching.

  “I can’t do this,” he told Nicole as she wiped his brow. “I just can’t face it. It’s too hard.” They turned the corner and hailed a cab back to his apartment.

  This morning Nicole and Brian had taken a sedan to the Episcopal Church of the Epiphany on the Upper East Side, arriving fifteen minutes before the funeral of Collette Conning. Later this week they would attend two more funerals, those of the security guard and the client from the Met who had died in the explosion. Brian connected with the grief felt by those who attended funeral after funeral when the World Trade Center tragedy occurred on 9/11.

  As they stood on the sidewalk before entering the church several reg
ular clients of the gallery offered condolences and commented about the tragic loss. Afterwards Brian and Nicole visited with Collette’s parents for a few minutes. The funeral was hard for Brian – he was in tears several times as friends gave heartfelt remembrances of a person Brian had respected and depended upon. She would be missed by many. Brian vowed to renew his strength and his efforts to help the FBI determine why this had happened.

  When they left the church Brian switched his phone off mute and saw a call from Agent Underwood. On the way back to his apartment he returned the call with the phone on speaker.

  “Mr. Sadler, we have a number of things to go over with you. I was checking to see when we might get together.”

  “I’ve been watching the news reports. You haven’t released much to the press.”

  “We didn’t want to jump the gun. We had to be sure of our information and also not release anything that could harm the ongoing investigation. We plan to do a short press conference late this afternoon. Could we meet before that?”

  “We can,” Brian responded. “How about we meet up here this time instead of my coming downtown? I’ll buy your lunch.”

  “Thanks but we’re not allowed to accept gratuities, and I doubt I can afford the places you frequent, frankly. May I meet you at your apartment at 1:45? And will Miss Farber be there as well?”

  Brian glanced at her and she nodded.

  “1:45 is fine. And yes, Nicole will be attending too.”

  “One thing to consider, Mr. Sadler. In the next day or so you have to look inside the vault with your insurance adjuster and us. I’d appreciate your letting me know when that would fit into your schedule. Sorry to push you but some important steps are on hold until you can get inside.”

  “Actually I worked that out with the adjuster. I’m meeting him at ten am tomorrow at Bijan. I was going to tell you that when I saw you this afternoon.”