"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. That's right," Roderick said.
"Your Lordship," Hadji said meaningfully, "I am prepared to pay, on behalf of the institute, one hundred thousand dollars for each of the seven mummies. That is nearly three quarters of a million dollars for the group."
Roderick was stunned. "Oh, I say!"
"Your Lordship, I can have a cashier's check in your hands within twenty-four hours," Hadji said.
"Hold it! Wait a minute!" Harriet yelled. "We have an agreement. We have taken delivery of the exhibits, paying for the insurance ourselves, and the Earl's presence here testifies to the fact that we own them. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, right, Jasper?"
Jasper nodded slowly. "I think that would apply here, yes."
Hadji turned on her bitterly. "Do you have a bill of sale, madam?"
"Not yet, of course not!" Harriet was shaking with rage. "I have to authenticate the mummies first, before the documents are signed."
"Well I do not!" He turned to Roderick. "Will you cooperate with the institute?"
"It's not his choice to make! We have a verbal agreement which we can substantiate in court, and that constitutes a contract!"
"Shut your mouth, woman!" Hadji snapped.
Will Foster, who had been leaning casually against the wall, straightened up menacingly. "You watch your mouth, you little fuck, or you're gonna leave here with one of those mummies shoved up your ass!"
"Easy, Will," Jasper said, amused. To Hadji he said, "Look, Mr. Hadji, if you have some sort of legal claim to these things, then you should get yourself a lawyer and take your case to court. As far as I can see, the museum here has a clear right to retain possession. Nobody's gonna just hand these exhibits over to you on nothing more than your own say-so."
Hadji was turning red, trembling. "There is a law against the illegal transportation of Egyptian artifacts claimed by the Egyptian government. You must enforce the law!"
"He's lying, Jasper," Harriet said quickly. "There's no such law."
Hadji grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Shut your mouth!" Jasper began to move toward them to pull Hadji away from her, but Will reached them first. He spun Hadji around and put all his weight and muscle behind the closed fist which drove into the Arab's mouth, sending him sprawling on the floor.
"Will!" Jasper said loudly as he grabbed the younger man by the arm. "Cut it out! Stay out of this!"
Hadji rose unsteadily to his feet, blood pouring from his mouth. He looked dazed and angry. "I'll kill you for this, you bastard," he said thickly.
Will smiled coldly and without humor. "Why don't you just try to, buddy? Give me an excuse to pound you into the ground."
"Will, I'm not kidding!" Jasper was dead serious. "I'll run you in if I have to."
"But he—"
"He's my problem, not yours. Now just go stand over there and stay out of this. Now, Will!" Foster walked sullenly away. Jasper turned to Harriet. "What's this about a law?"
"There's a law prohibiting the smuggling of artifacts out of Egypt," Harriet explained. "But these mummies weren't in Egypt, they were in England."
"They were stolen from Egypt!" Hadji shouted. "They are Egyptian property and must be returned!"
Jasper shook his head. "I'm a cop, not a lawyer. If you have a case, get yourself a lawyer and let a judge straighten this out."
"I demand that you—"
"You're not gonna demand anything," Jasper said, growing increasingly irritated. "This is the United States you're in now, my friend. We have laws and procedures for settling disputes over property, and you had better follow them."
"I'm warning you, you fool!" Hadji spat. "These mummies are mine. If you keep them from me, you'll pay dearly, dearly."
Jasper had had just about enough. "I think you'd better leave." There was a tense moment as Jasper and Hadji stared hard at each other. Then Hadji walked slowly to the door, saying, "This is not finished. I shall have the mummies. And you shall be sorry for this." He left the room. Jasper went to the door and watched him walk away.
"Gus," he said over his shoulder, "get to the truck and keep an eye on those crates while that guy is still hanging around here." Gus nodded and walked quickly out. He met Hadji a few yards away from the museum.
"The chief told you to beat it," Gus said sternly.
But Hadji, almost meekly, said to Jasper, "Sir, please accept my humble apologies for my behavior. I hope you understand that my concern for these artifacts has upset me greatly."
Jasper nodded warily. "Sure. I understand."
Hadji walked slowly back toward the door of the museum. "I hope that you will all be reasonable about this." Leaning so as to be able to see around Jasper, he said to Harriet, "Perhaps we can come to some mutually satisfactory arrangement? Our institute would be more than happy to generously endow this charming little museum of yours." He was suddenly all sweetness and reason.
Harriet shook her head firmly. "No. I'm sorry, but no."
Hadji entered the room. Jasper did not obstruct him, but he was watching him closely. "There are perhaps other artifacts in which you may be interested? We have many connections and an almost limitless supply of funds. We could—" He stopped in mid-sentence and stood, a look of horror frozen on his face. "Get away from there!" he shouted.
Will Foster was sitting on the edge of the sarcophagus. "You talking to me?"
"Yes, you ape! Get away from there! Instantly!" Will folded his arms. "Who's gonna make me?"
"Will," Harriet said, "please don't sit on that. You may damage it."
Reluctantly, Will stood up. "Okay, sure, Dr. Langly."
It might have ended there, but Hadji was not satisfied. The sight of Will Foster so close to the mummy of Sekhemib seemed to fill him with anger and apprehension. "Get away from the mummy! Don't touch it!"
Will glowered. "You ain't giving orders around here."
"Do what I tell you, instantly! Get away from it!"
Will smiled pleasantly and, in a spirit of pure orneriness, reached down and placed his hand on the mummy's hand.
"You IDIOT!" Hadji exploded, rushing at Will. He attempted to push him away from the sarcophagus, but Will easily deflected Hadji, who went once again sprawling on the floor. He was weeping when he rose to his feet. "You stupid ass! You stupid, stupid fool!"
Jasper grabbed Hadji by the arm and dragged him to the door. "Okay, that's it. Get out of here. If I see you around this museum again I'll arrest you for criminal trespass. Now beat it!"
Hadji was still trembling as Jasper pushed him out the door. "You'll pay for this, all of you!"
"Get out of here," Jasper said firmly. Hadji walked past Gus and disappeared around the corner of the nearby grounds building. "Gus, get back to the truck," Jasper ordered, and Gus immediately complied.
Jasper turned and walked back toward the others in the museum. "Well, don't that beat all!"
Harriet was shaking, seething with anger. "Who the hell does he think he is?"
Jasper shook his head. "Damnedest thing. You know, Miss Langly, I don't know a whole lot about international law. Are you sure this transaction is legal?" He saw her furious eyes beginning to glower at him, and he hastened to say, "Now, now, I'm not going to confiscate your exhibits or anything. I think the courts'll have to settle this, if he wants to go to that trouble and expense. But are you sure about that law he talked about?"
Harriet breathed deeply, trying to calm down. "Look, Chief, during the past century European and American archeologists took an awful lot of stuff out of Egypt for their museums back home. A few decades ago—I think King Farouk was still ruling Egypt at the time—they passed a national law prohibiting any further removal of artifacts, and most countries entered into treaty agreements with the Egyptians, accepting the law. But it only refers to further removals. They can't claim anything taken out of Egypt before the law and the treaties." She shook her head. "It's absurd. This guy might as well go to the mayor of New York and demand the return of Cleopatr
a's needle."
"The return of what?" Suzanne asked.
"Cleopatra's needle. It's an obelisk from Egypt in Central Park, behind the MetropolitanMuseum. It was a victory monument of King Thutmose III."
"Then why do they call it Cleopatra's needle?" Suzanne wondered.
"Because people are stupid," she said angrily. "The point is, these mummies were taken out of Egypt well over a century ago, at least. There is no law prohibiting the transfer of ownership of artifacts from a private British collection to a private American museum."
Jasper nodded, wanting to believe her. "Well, all I can say is that you should proceed as if the mummies are yours, and—"
"They are ours!" Harriet shouted.
"I know, I know," Jasper said soothingly. "I'm sure they are. Just try to forget all this and let Professor Goldhaber and the college's lawyers worry about it."
"Of course," Sam Goldhaber said. "We clearly have the better claim."
This did not mollify Harriet, who was upset that anyone else might have any claim at all. "I will not give up these exhibits!"
"You won't have to, I'm sure," Sam said.
"Of course not," Sawhill agreed. "Don't pay any attention to that nut. Let's just get back to work."
She was not listening to him. "And what's this National Institute of Reclamation? I've never even heard of it."
"Harriet," Sawhill said insistently, "forget it, will you? Don't worry about it. The mummies are here, and here they will stay. Okay?"
She nodded impatiently. "Okay, Tom, okay." She sighed softly. "But I don't think we should store them in the museum until everything is settled."
"You think he might try to steal them?" Jasper asked. Sam shook his head. "I don't know if we need worry about that."
"I don't know," she replied. "He seemed pretty determined."
Jasper considered it. "I suppose I could lock them up in the cell down at the station. No, wait, that's no good. They wouldn't all fit, not in those coffins."
"How about the grounds building?" Sam suggested. "We keep our heavy equipment in there, tractors, trucks, and so forth. It's pretty secure, probably the most difficult building in own to break into. What do you think?"
Jasper nodded. "Maybe. Maybe. It'd be more secure than his place, that's for sure." He turned to Will Foster. "You got room enough in there, Will?"
Will was rubbing his hand distractedly. "Huh?"
"You got room in the grounds building to store these exhibits?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. No problem." He continued to rub his hand.
"What's the matter? You hurt yourself?"
"No, it's nothing. Feels like a pulled muscle or something, probably from all this moving and driving and stuff."
"Well, I'll help you get these crates back onto the forklift and into the grounds building."
"That's okay, Chief. Gus'll help me."
Jasper walked over to the door and leaned out. "Gus? Get in here," he shouted. Gus scurried in a few moments later. "Me and Will are gonna move the exhibits into the grounds building and lock 'em up nice and tight. You—"
"Hey, I'll help him, Jasper. No need for you to do it."
"No, you'll get some wood and some plaster and some mint and fix that hole you put in the roof."
Gus looked dismayed. "Gee, I don't know anything about fixing roofs."
"Then you shouldn't have shot a hole in it!" Jasper said angrily. "Now get going."
"Chief," Harriet said, "we have to leave at least one of the mummies in here. I still have to examine it carefully to make certain that it's authentic, and the lighting in the grounds building just isn't good enough."
"Fine with me. Let's get at it, Will." He looked at Will Foster, who was still rubbing his hand. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure." He winced slightly. "Jesus, I hope I'm not getting arthritis."
Sawhill walked over and said, "Here, let me see your hand." Will extended it to him and Sawhill gently probed with his fingers. "This hurt?" Will shook his head. "This? Or this?"
"Nope."
Sawhill grinned. "You were right the first time, Doctor. You probably pulled a muscle." Will smiled, relieved but uncomfortable.
"Will," Jasper asked, "you want me to get somebody else to help me move the exhibits?"
"No, no, it's no big deal," Will replied. "Probably do me good to use it."
"Just be careful with it," Sawhill warned.
"Yeah, sure, Doc." Will and Jasper walked over to one of the two as yet unopened sarcophagi and began to move it toward the door.
Sawhill turned back to Harriet and smiled. "One hell of a morning!"
She shook her head. "It figures, it really figures. I should have known that this whole thing was too good to be true. I knew that something just had to happen to screw it up."
Sawhill laughed. "Come on, nothing's been screwed up. You still have the exhibits." He glanced over at the opened sarcophagus. "You want to get back to work?"
"No." She shook her head. "All of a sudden I feel exhausted. I think I'll go home and take a nap."
"Sounds good to me," Suzanne said. "Look, why don't we all meet for an early dinner, say about five o'clock? Give us all a chance to rest up. I've got a terrible case of jet lag."
"Great idea," Sawhill agreed. "Why don't we meet at five at Bottadio's, on Bouton Street? Best Italian food in town."
"Good. I love Italian food," Suzanne said. "What do you think, Your Lordship?"
"Eh?" Roderick had not been listening to anything for the past few minutes. Seven hundred thousand dollars! he was thinking. Seven hundred thousand dollars! In real money that must be quite a bit!
"Dinner at five. Okay with you?"
"Oh, yes, most certainly."
Suzanne took Roderick's arm. "Come on, then. I've booked us rooms at the Huguenot Hotel in the old section of town. Let's go get a cab."
"Oh, no, I wouldn't hear of it," Sam said quickly. "I'm parked nearby. Let me drop you off."
"Hey, thanks, Professor. See you later, Harriet. Bye, Tom."
Harriet smiled as the three of them left the museum. Turning to Sawhill, she said, "If Suzie doesn't show up at Bottadio's, maybe we should call her boss and tell him that she resigns."
"Huh?"
"Nothing." She laughed. "I'm going to go home and take a nap. I wasn't expecting all this nonsense this morning. I'm bushed."
"Okay. I'll drive you home."
"No, Tommy, I have my car, remember?"
"Oh, right. All right then, I'll follow you home. Make sure you get there okay."
She smiled disbelievingly. "Hey, this is Greenfield, not Brooklyn. Nobody's going to—"
"Mr. Hadji is in Greenfield, not Brooklyn," he reminded her. "I don't like the looks of that guy. And I don't like his attitude."
"You don't think he might do anything, do you?" She sounded less frightened than merely concerned.
Sawhill shrugged. "Who knows? He seemed pretty upset to me. And getting slugged in the mouth by Will certainly didn't help his mood. I'd just like to be careful, for a while at least."
Harriet raised her eyebrows. "You sure you don't have an ulterior motive?"
"Honey," Sawhill said, grinning maliciously, "when it comes to you, I always have an ulterior motive; but that isn't the point. I don't believe for a moment that Hadji is going to pack up and go back to Egypt or go to a law office and seek professional advice. He doesn't seem the type. I think he's going to hang around Greenfield for a while and try to cause trouble."
Harriet considered this. "Really?" He nodded. "Well, then, maybe I wouldn't mind your tagging along."
"Good." He smiled and took her in his arms. "In fact, I think I'd better stay over tonight, just to be safe." Laughing, Harriet punched him lightly in the stomach.
As Harriet Langly and John Sawhill stood talking, as Will Foster and Jasper Rudd engaged in relocating the exhibits, as Gus Rudd disgruntledly began to repair the roof, and as Suzanne Melendez, Sam Goldhaber and the Earl of Selwyn were nearing the
Huguenot Hotel, Ahmed Hadji, still dabbing the droplets of blood from his mouth, was seating himself before a desk in the real estate office of Jack Lewis. Clearing his throat and wiping his brow with the sanguine handkerchief he held in his trembling hand, he said, "I am seeking temporary lodgings in the general area of this town."
Jack Lewis, a man of florid face and down-home demeanor, grinned and nodded his head idiotically. "Yeah, yeah, sure, we got listings, lots of 'em. Whatcha have in mind?"
Hadji paused briefly and then said, "I have an unfortunate tendency to nervous tension. I am concluding a business arrangement nearby, and I require a residence where I will not be disturbed. I prefer a room in a private home in which there are no other boarders and only one owner in residence, preferably someone elderly, and thus quiet."
Lewis thought for a moment. "Well, old lady—I mean, Mrs. March down on Pine Lane has a room available, but there is another person living there, her son Edgar."
Hadji shook his head. "That is unacceptable. As I explained, my nerves—"
"Yeah, yeah, right, sure." He thought again. "Well, I can't really think of any other . . . Wait a minute, wait a minute. Edgar's gone off to Oregon for a month or so." Lewis shook his head sadly. "Old Ed never really amounted to much. Builds those suspension bridges here and there. Can't seem to hold down a job."
"And he is absent at the moment?"
"Yeah, but only for a month or two, like I said."
"Then the site is acceptable. I will require it for no more than a week."
"Well, you see, Mrs. March rents her room by the month, not by the week. I doubt she'd—"
Hadji waved away the objection. "I will pay for the month. Money is of no matter."
Lewis stared at him for a moment and then, shrugging, reached over to the Rolodex. "Let's see, Macable, Maranofsky, ah, here it is. March." He kept one hand on the Rolodex card as he dialed the phone number with the other. He waited as the phone rang on the other end.
"Hello? Mrs. March? Jack Lewis here. Yes. Yes, fine. How are you? Heard from Ed? Uh-huh . . . uh-huh . . . Well, isn't that nice. Listen, Mrs. March, I have a gentleman here, a Mr.—" He looked up quizzically.
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