Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet

by Bill Thompson

  After a hot shower she stayed in her bathrobe, fixed a martini and sat on the patio watching the sun sink behind the downtown buildings a couple of miles away. She thought a lot about Brian and hoped everything was OK. He loves adventure so much but I don’t want him to get hurt. She had never loved anyone before and she wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like. But her pragmatic legal mind had analyzed her feelings and concluded that this was it. She had been in love with Brian Sadler for a while. Sadly they were literally a world apart on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Be content, she told herself. As the old song went, true love never runs smooth. She went to bed and thought of Brian, hoping he was not in danger and wondering what she could do to help him.

  Nicole awoke at six am, opened her floor-to-ceiling shades and the patio doors. It was a breezy Dallas morning and the sun was ready to pop over the horizon. She climbed back into bed and called Brian – it was noon in London and he was at work. He told her all about the events at the library.

  “What’s going on with all this, Brian? Could John Spedino still be masterminding all this even after he’s been arrested?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe he put things in place before he was arrested and they’re just now playing out. Or it could be someone else. I haven’t figured out why the manuscript’s so important but now that I have a copy I can start working on it. I just wish I knew who’s behind all this. Spedino’s the logical choice but it just doesn’t make sense.”

  Brian expressed his continuing concern for her safety. “The godfather’s settling scores, Nicole. The way I see it you’re the only one left to settle and even from jail he may be dangerous. I wish you’d let the FBI give you protection.”

  She thanked him for his concern and promised to watch her step, telling him to watch his too. “Frankly I was relieved to hear he was arrested. I think that puts an end to the problems he might have created for me.”

  Brian said he wasn’t so sure.

  They talked for a minute about her plans to come to London soon. He told her how excited he was to be with her again soon. They agreed to talk again after six his time tonight.

  She had to be at the County Courts building downtown at nine am for a hearing. It wasn’t far; she drove the Mercedes from the garage south onto Pearl Street and began to wind through the canyons of buildings. Traffic was moderate as she started down a hill on Akard Street. The light ahead was red; she hit her brakes but got no response. She pumped harder, frantically pushing over and over. Instead of stopping, her convertible was gaining downhill momentum. She had seconds to decide what to do before she’d run the light and enter an intersection full of opposing traffic. Cars were right beside her in the next lane; she couldn’t move to the curb and hit a parked car so she decided to take a chance. She slammed her palm onto the horn as she continued to pump the useless brake pedal. Her other hand gripped the steering wheel as she sailed through the light and entered the busy downtown intersection at nearly thirty miles per hour.

  Everything happened in a split second. She heard honking as she clipped a car, swerved to the right then saw a Dallas city bus ten feet away from her passenger door. She jerked the wheel to the left as the massive vehicle crashed into her. Airbags deployed – the entire right side of her little car caved in as the safety bumper of the bus pushed her Mercedes through the intersection and into other cars. By the time it was over four vehicles were totaled and her body lay twisted in the driver seat of her destroyed convertible.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A little after four pm Brian’s cellphone rang. Agent Jack Underwood advised that Dominic Cardinal Conti, head of the Vatican Bank, was in possession of the manuscript that had been stolen. The cleric would be calling Brian to arrange its return. The agent had no knowledge of how the book got there, he said, maintaining his promise to Conti to keep his involvement with Spedino secret.

  Brian filled in Underwood about the events at the Monument Club and said he now had a copy of the manuscript. He promised Underwood he would start to work immediately on the book in an attempt to discover why it was so important to someone.

  Within an hour Brian got another call. Europe – Italy, if memory served him on the country code. He knew who this caller was. The person on the phone identified himself as secretary to Cardinal Conti.

  “Do you have a few minutes to speak to him?” he asked Brian, and then put him on hold.

  As Brian waited he received a third call. A busy afternoon, Brian casually thought. He looked at the number on his screen – he knew the area code and prefix but didn’t recognize the number. The call was from Carter and Wells, the law firm Nicole worked for, but not from her. He hit decline as he waited for Cardinal Conti. He’d have to call the law firm back.

  Before the cleric came on the line Brian received another call from the same Dallas number. Something must be wrong. He disconnected and accepted the call from Carter and Wells. He heard the familiar voice of Nicole’s boss Randall Carter, the lead partner in the firm.

  “Brian, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Nicole’s been in an accident.” The words hit Brian like a brick.

  The rest of the call was a blur. He tried to concentrate but he was dizzy and lightheaded. He cried as he heard Carter’s explanation of the wreck a couple of hours earlier in downtown Dallas. Nicole was in critical condition at Baylor Hospital, on life support and not expected to live. Witnesses said she had driven through a red light at a high rate of speed and been T-boned by a city bus. In the tiny Mercedes she hardly had a chance, Carter continued. He said the police would investigate the destroyed convertible to see if mechanical failure was a possibility.

  Brian rambled. “What…what do I do? Listen, keep me informed…” His mind couldn’t wrap around the words he had heard. He didn’t know what to say, what to do next.

  Randall Carter promised to call immediately when they knew more. As soon as Brian put the phone down it rang again – the Cardinal from Italy. He declined the call. Now was no time for business.

  From his adjoining office Cory Spencer heard Brian on the call with Nicole’s boss. He knew something was terribly wrong. When the call was done he stuck his head in and saw Brian weeping uncontrollably, his head in his hands. Brian told him what had happened.

  “What can I do, Brian? Do you want to go? How can I help?”

  “How can I get there fast? I’m afraid she’s going to die before I get there, Cory. I want to see her.” He sobbed. “I want to hold her one more time.”

  “OK, leave it with me for a few minutes.” Cory knew money wasn’t an issue but he checked commercial flights first just in case. It was too late – the day’s last flight to Dallas had departed a couple of hours ago. He went online and found a charter service. Within fifteen minutes he’d made a call and had information for Brian. It was a fortune but it would be worth it to his boss.

  Ninety minutes later Brian sat in the cabin of a Gulfstream G350 taxiing to the departure runway at Stansted Airport in rural London. In eight hours he would be at Love Field in Dallas. It would be around eight pm local time when he arrived.

  It was a little after six in England, noon in Dallas. He would never have made it without the calm guidance and direction of Cory Spencer. Thinking logically when Brian couldn’t, Cory had thrown together Brian’s overnighter suitcase with a change of clothes. Brian kept them in his office closet in case a quick trip came up.

  Cory ensured the air charter company would have food, a phone and an amenities kit on board so Brian could shave and clean up before arrival. He put Brian’s iPad, phone and some reading material into his briefcase. He made sure the copy of the Templars manuscript was included; it might keep his mind occupied if he needed a diversion.

  Given Brian’s state, Cory decided to accompany his boss in a cab to the nearby Liverpool Street train station and stayed with him on the Stansted Express to the airport. The trip would take a little less than an hour.

  While they were on the train Cory
called Randall Carter’s office and left the number of the plane’s satellite phone with Carter’s secretary. There had been no update to Nicole’s condition, she reported. Cory relayed that information to Brian then handed him a sheet of paper with familiar numbers on it. Nicole’s assistant, Cory’s cellphone, Randall Carter’s office – most were numbers Brian knew by heart but with his mind reeling and his emotions running wild Cory figured it might help to have them available. No need to rely on memory when your mind was going crazy with worry. He even added Brian’s parents’ number and those of Nicole’s mother and father.

  “Thanks for everything, Cory,” he said as the pilots did last-minute preflight checks. He glanced at the phone list and thought of something. “Oh hey, call my parents and tell them what’s up. Tell them I plan to go right to the hospital as soon as we land. Tell them…Oh hell, Cory. I can’t even think straight. Just take care of it. And one more thing – you have a key to the flat. Go by there and pick up Arthur Borland’s laptop. It’s hidden in the fireplace behind the gas logs. Keep it locked in the vault at the gallery until I get back.”

  “Got it, boss. There’ll be a sedan to meet you at Love Field. I’ll call the plane if anything comes up. Call me if you need anything, anything at all. I’ll be praying for Nicole.”

  Spencer waited in the terminal building as the jet’s mighty engines screamed and it rolled briskly toward the taxiway. He left only after it streaked into the evening sky.

  Brian tried to sleep, tried to eat, tried to read, tried almost everything to take his mind off Nicole lying in a hospital bed on life support. “She’s a fighter,” he told himself as tears flowed. “If anybody can make it, she can.” But he really didn’t know. How bad was she? How many internal injuries? How many broken bones? Nobody had told him any of that.

  Brian went to the plane’s bedroom and lay down. He stared at the ceiling as the plane flew west through the night sky. Suddenly a strange chirping sound awoke Brian from the brief troubled sleep he had finally managed. A green light blinked on the phone console on the desk next to his bed. He answered.

  “Brian, this is Randall Carter again. I know you’re on your way – Cory Spencer told me you’d be in Dallas around eight our time. I’ll meet you at the airport – I told Cory to cancel the limo he’d arranged.”

  “Any news?” Brian held his breath. News probably wasn’t a good thing but he had to ask.

  “She’s stable. She can’t breathe on her own but she’s in no pain. She’s hasn’t been conscious since the accident, Brian. They don’t know at this point about brain damage but she has a broken arm and both legs and massive internal injuries. If she’s strong enough they may do surgery tonight to relieve pressure in her chest. They’re trying to keep her comfortable so she’s on a lot of morphine. It’s serious, Brian. No two ways about it. But she’s got courage, as we both well know.”

  Carter promised to keep him abreast of any changes in the situation. Brian prayed fervently for Nicole and in the middle of his prayer he fell asleep, exhausted but finally able to catch a couple of hours of slumber. When he awoke the skies outside were lighter. The jet was catching up to the setting sun as they headed west across America.

  One of the pilots knocked lightly on his door and Brian answered. “Can I fix you a cup of coffee, Mr. Sadler? We should be landing in Dallas in ninety minutes.”

  Brian gratefully accepted. He’d need the caffeine to keep his head clear. The jet was equipped with a full bathroom – Brian showered, shaved and donned the change of clothes Cory had packed. He felt better after another cup of coffee and a piece of fruit.

  He suddenly remembered the two calls from the Vatican. Brian left Cory Spencer a voicemail with the number, asking him to arrange getting the manuscript from the Cardinal.

  Before long the plane descended into the city Brian had lived in for years. He saw one familiar landmark after another as it dropped lower and lower, crossed Mockingbird Lane and touched down at Love Field. They taxied to a private air charter company’s terminal where Randall Carter waited.

  As Carter’s driver took them to Baylor Hospital her boss gave Brian an update. “The police say the brake lines on her car were sabotaged. Someone put a small hole in the front brake line – she had had brakes for a short time but then they failed. Also the emergency brake line was cut completely through, so she didn’t have a chance.”

  “Any idea how that happened? It couldn’t possibly be accidental, right?”

  “Apparently not. I’m no mechanic so I can’t answer that myself. The cops think it was deliberate. They’re calling this attempted murder.”

  “Attempted…” Brian repeated slowly. “Let’s hope it stays attempted.”

  “Your parents and hers are at the hospital, Brian. Just wanted to let you know. Her sister from Houston’s there too.”

  “Calling in all the family…” Brian murmured. Suddenly he lost it. He began to cry, shaking hard. “I’m sorry…I can’t help it.”

  Carter got him a box of Kleenex. “No apologies necessary, Brian. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. It’s gut-wrenching for all of us.”

  Brian joined a group of people in the ICU waiting room. It was usually a happy time when he saw family but tonight it was awful. Ryan Coleman, Nicole’s assistant, was there and so were a few other people from her office that Brian didn’t know.

  “Can I see her?”

  Brian’s mother explained the ICU rules. “As guarded as her condition is, only one person can go in every thirty minutes. You can only stay five minutes. We’ve all seen her so it’s your turn.”

  Seeing Nicole lying in the bed hooked up to a million tubes and monitors was the hardest thing Brian Sadler had ever done. A nurse stood quietly in the corner, ready to move quickly in case her condition worsened.

  He touched her arm lightly. It was discolored and in a cast. They hadn’t done surgery yet, he learned later, but they had casted it and her legs to keep them straight until they could.

  Nicole looked so frail. “I love you, baby,” he murmured, squeezing one finger of her hand. He thought he might have felt a tiny squeeze back but wasn’t sure. Given how she looked he figured that was wishful thinking.

  He stood next to her and gingerly held her hand until the nurse quietly said that his time was up. He bent down and kissed Nicole’s bruised forehead. “Come back to me, sweetie. If you will I promise I’ll never let you go away again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Cory Spencer had two voicemails from Brian when he arrived at work the next morning. The first asked him to return Cardinal Conti’s call and handle whatever the man needed. The second was an update on Nicole’s condition and the news that the car crash was deliberately caused. Brian expressed his appreciation to Cory for taking charge and getting him to Dallas quickly. No one knew how much time Nicole had left and Brian was grateful to be with her.

  After the usual morning routine to open Bijan Rarities, Cory called the number at the Vatican. Conti’s secretary answered and Cory explained what had happened yesterday. “Mr. Sadler received news of a family emergency while he was waiting for the Cardinal to come on the line. He had to terminate the call and he flew to the States late yesterday. Please apologize to Cardinal Conti for his inability to speak with him at this time and tell his Eminence I am happy to assist if I can.”

  The assistant promised to relay the message and call Cory back. That afternoon the men spoke. The Cardinal told Cory that a man named Giovanni Moretti had given the missing manuscript from the Fifth Avenue bombing to the Church. The way Conti told it, it sounded like a donation – Conti omitted any reference to his having hired Moretti to get the book. He knew this whole story would have to be refined by the time he talked to Brian Sadler but for now it would do. He didn’t tell the assistant that Moretti was Spedino or that he’d paid for the stolen manuscript.

  Cory promised to speak with his boss about arranging a meeting in Rome to get the manuscript. After the call he emailed Brian with a
n update.

  -----

  Outside the Baylor Hospital ICU waiting room Brian placed a call to the FBI in New York. He told Agent Underwood the cause behind Nicole’s near-fatal crash this morning. They agreed the possible involvement of John Spedino should be investigated. Underwood promised to get on it immediately.

  Brian scanned his emails and saw one from Cory that said, “Cardinal Conti is president of the Vatican Bank. He has the stolen manuscript and wants to know when you can come to Rome to get it back.”

  Brian responded quickly, “Tell him I’ll do it absolutely as quickly as I can. I won’t know for a while when I’ll be back there. I’ll advise when I know more. Relay that to the Cardinal please.” Cory Spencer did so.

  Brian spent most of the next three days at the hospital, using his iPad as his primary means of work and recreation. He alternated nights with Nicole’s mother and father – one of them stayed each night in the hospital’s on-site hotel just in case anything changed suddenly. Both he and Nicole’s parents had a key to her condo and they all used it as their base when not at the hospital. His parents had gone home, promising to come back in a flash if they were needed. Her sister stayed on but today she went home. She would come back on the weekend if everything stayed the same as now.

  The surgeons repaired Nicole’s broken arm and legs once they determined she was strong enough to survive the surgery. A doctor also did non-invasive examinations of her chest and abdomen. There appeared to be less internal damage than earlier thought; the internist would investigate further once she was more stable. Nicole’s brain scan was clear but a neurologist warned the trauma could have caused damage that wasn’t immediately apparent. They would monitor her brain activity closely.

  Her primary physician reported that Nicole’s condition remained critical and cautioned everyone that she was very seriously injured. Nicole lay in a coma and he wouldn’t speculate on her chances for recovery until she was awake. The good news, the doctor said, was that she was young, strong and in good health.