The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) (27 page)

“Did the government return your mother?” He already knew the answer because he’d continued to watch her, but he asked anyway.
“Yes, thank God. She’s very stressed, mostly from worrying about me, but they didn’t treat her badly.”
“They’re not good at torturing people. Just killing them.”
“They call that wet work.” It was disconcerting to Thomas that she knew that.
“Now listen closely, Ann. You can’t write this down and you need to remember all of it. Your brother and your mother are going to an island off the coast of Washington state called Whidbey Island. It’s a beautiful place. I’ve arranged for them to use a nice house for the next six months. They leave next Wednesday morning. The plane reservations are made.” He handed her the tickets, and the new identification cards. “This is important. Tell them they should do nothing to prepare for the trip, other than pack items they already own. They are not to buy anything new. That is so important. It would tip off anyone who was watching them. They should pack the night before or day of the trip, and call a cab an hour before going to the airport. They can buy whatever else they need when they get there.”
“What about money?” Ann asked.
“The house is covered. There’s an insured car in the garage. I’ve included passports, and a bank account number for a checking account in both of their names. They’ve got a Visa card for the account. There’s plenty of money for them to live on. You and I will be able to watch the balance and the transactions on the Internet, to make sure everything is going all right.”
“You’ve been busy,” Ann said. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Are you clear on everything? Buy nothing, do nothing, until Wednesday. Call a cab, go to the airport, get on a plane, and have fun. Your mom will love the place and your brother’s career is portable. All a writer needs is a laptop.”
“You’re amazing. As usual, you’ve thought of everything. I wish they could meet you. They would love you as much as I do. What about us, Thomas?”
“We leave on Wednesday, too. We’ll meet here at nine in the morning, as usual. From that point on, you’ll have to trust me.”
“You mean you’re not going to tell me where we’re going? You don’t trust me, do you?
“Annie, I trust you, but you’re vulnerable. Between today and next Wednesday, they could discover I’m in New Haven and sequester your mother again. They could force you to tell them where we’re going. They could decide to give you a shot of sodium pentothal, and ask you a series of questions about my whereabouts and plans. What you don’t know, you can’t tell them. Let me handle this for us. It will be safer.”
“Okay, Thomas. It’s reasonable. I’ll be here next Wednesday. What should I bring?”
Thomas stroked her cheek. “Just your pretty little self, Annie. If you want, you can slip a string bikini in your purse.”
They met the following Wednesday, in the same classroom. Thomas hugged Ann tightly, then gave her sunglasses and a scarf to tie over her head, so that she wouldn’t be as recognizable. Without taking time to look around, they walked briskly to his car. Thomas was counting on no changes in the routine of the agent watching her.
Thomas drove west on highway 34 for the next hour. They passed a sign that said Dansbury City Limits. He slowed considerably, looking for a specific turnoff. When he found it, he drove half a mile and then pulled into a grass parking lot next to a Quonset hut. It wasn’t until Ann slid out of the car that she heard the humming of a single-engine airplane.
Thomas left the key to the car under the floor mat, and they ran to the plane. As he rounded the corner of the building, he half expected to see a wall of government men blocking their getaway. But that wasn’t the case. The only person watching was Arturo, who had flown up from Mexico with his brother Esteban, in their Cessna. They would fly Thomas and Ann across the border. A sub-machine gun was casually slung over Arturo’s shoulder, but there was no one in fast pursuit, no one to challenge their departure. They had apparently made a clean getaway. Thomas shook hands with Arturo, Ann hugged him, and they climbed into the airplane.
With little hesitation, Esteban whipped the plane around so that it was facing into the breeze, and throttled up for takeoff. Ten hours later, after stopping at a small strip in Alabama to refuel, they pulled into Arturo’s driveway. They planned to stay with Arturo one night, before continuing to their final destination. Maria had prepared a celebratory dinner.
The last time they were all together was before they’d gone back to El Manati to get the Commandments. Although it had only been about a month ago, those early days had assumed a special dream-like quality for Thomas. They discussed what Arturo had been doing since they left his country. He’d been visited by government agents twice: once before Thomas traded the Ark for Ann, and once after it was taken from the National Museum. He said they hadn’t been around recently.
Ann was curious. “How did you know when the Ark was stolen, Arturo?”
“Thomas told me.”
“How did you know, Thomas?”
“DJ Warrant visited me at the apartment I was staying at in New York. I was staying there as a guest, until my shoulder healed. He accused me of stealing it.” Thomas changed the subject, “Arturo, any feel for whether or not you’re being watched?”
“No, no, my friend, I wouldn’t have let you come down if I thought I were. Their visits to me were always at the university in Mexico City. They do not know of this ranch, because it is in Maria’s name and married women in Mexico do not take their husband’s surname. I don’t believe they would bother to do the research, since I am not their target.”
With that, the tension dropped. They drank margaritas and ate Maria’s incredible dinner. She’d fixed enchiladas, beans, and rice because she knew they were Thomas’s favorites. They did their best to avoid topics like the Ark, the government and, for the most part, even archeology.
Near the end of the meal, Ann turned to Arturo. “You’ve got to tell me, Arturo. How did you and Thomas ever mange to switch the fake Ark for the real one?”
It was one of those odd moments, when everyone has stopped talking and, in the silence, the question seemed glaringly loud and out of place. Arturo glanced at Thomas who said, “What was that, Ann?”
Ann shrugged. “It’s just something I’ve always wondered about, during these past weeks. How did you switch the fake for the real? It must’ve been incredible to coordinate and plan. I was with you almost every minute, darling, and I didn’t know about any of it. I didn’t even suspect.”
Thomas didn’t like Ann’s interest in the Ark, but realized he was probably being overly sensitive. It was a legitimate question. One she had probably been wondering about, ever since she had been taken. With a beer bottle in his hand, he pointed to Arturo and nodded.
Arturo said, “Thomas deserves all the credit. Somehow, and I still don’t know how, he knew we were either being watched or followed. Maybe he’s the most paranoid guy in the world, I don’t know!”
They all laughed, and as Ann took a drink, she studied Thomas through her bangs, which had drifted down over her face.
Which was it, Thomas? Did you know? Or are you the most paranoid man in the world?

Arturo continued. “From the minute he found the Ark, he knew he wanted to take it secretly and replace it with a fake. Maybe he even knew
before
he found it. I don’t know. When he went back to Arizona with you, he had a man craft a copy, using exact biblical description. Then he had the guy reverse a vacuum cleaner on it to make it look old.” Arturo’s wife smiled and looked at Thomas.

As Arturo told the story, Ann was also watching Thomas. His whole world seemed to operate about three months ahead of everyone else’s. Like a winning chess game, where the moves are made mentally, long before any pieces are played
. What other cautious, preemptive moves did he already have in motion?

Arturo went on, almost laughing at the deep level of chicanery. “So, Thomas and I went out the night before we were set to unearth the Ark, took the real one out, and slid the fake in. The
coup de grace
was that Thomas had the foresight to put a GPS tracking device in the crate that held the fake Ark. After it was stolen, we traced its trip to Washington D.C. Yeah, we knew exactly where it went, to within a few feet.”

Ann was shocked. Her face showed it. Thomas hadn’t told her that. She had been with him almost the whole time in Arizona and he had never mentioned anything about having a fake Ark created
or
a GPS tracking device. This meant he knew where DJ had taken the Ark. She swallowed a gulp of her margarita. That meant that Thomas could be reasonably sure that the real Ark had ended up back at the National Museum, after he’d traded it for her.

Arturo continued. “To know who took that Ark was important. Yes. But we didn’t know how important until after we gave them the real Ark for you, Annie.”

Thomas shot Arturo a look. Arturo was saying too much. A tension rose in the room. Ann was putting two and two together when Thomas said, “Yes, well, that’s as far as the story goes because we know who took it, DJ, but now he’s lost it. And even the political pressure we were going to try to exert won’t work now.” He looked at Ann. “A friend of mine knows Senator Kennedy and former Secretary of State William Bennet.”

Ann nodded, but she was thinking about what Arturo had said earlier. Why had it been so important to know where the Ark was taken if they hadn’t planned on acting on the information? Clearly, Thomas didn’t want to talk about it. She was slowly learning the extent to which he did not trust her, or anyone. Or was it just her? She wondered where they were going tomorrow. What did he have in store?

They stayed up talking until one o’clock in the morning. Thomas and Arturo traded a few archeological stories. Finally, Maria announced that they should all find their beds. Morning would come all too soon.

This was the first time Thomas and Ann had slept in the same bed since she had been taken from him in Mexico. They resumed their passionate relationship with ease. It was as though they had never been apart. Ann lay exhausted next to Thomas, realizing it was already three o’clock.

She sighed. “I love you, Thomas McAlister. And I will spend every minute of every day, from now to eternity, teaching you to trust me as much as you do Arturo.”

As they taxied down Arturo’s gravel landing strip, Ann put her mouth to Thomas’s ear and asked, “Where are we going?”
“Still a surprise!”
She held onto Thomas’s hand during takeoff. Long afterward, she was still holding his hand. After an hour in the air, the drone of the engine put her to sleep, head on Thomas’s shoulder.
Thomas stroked her hair as she slept. The past few days had been his happiest since she had been taken from him in Mexico. There was a time in Manhattan when he thought he might never see her again. That made having her next to him now a sweet experience. And wasn’t that what life was all about? Feeling happy, fulfilled, and content? Shouldn’t that drive all decisions? If I’m happy, I’ll keep Ann by my side. If I’m happy I’ll stay with this person . . . even if she shot me. Especially if she shot me to save her mother.
He was convinced that she no longer had any allegiance to the government. Especially with her family safe and sound. She was on his side now. Yet he’d also learned to never be 100 percent sure of anything again . . . including commitment. But he was happy, and it was because of her. He couldn’t begin to fathom the guilt she must feel, and he reminded himself to be sensitive to that.
He knew that much of the information Arturo had divulged last night was news to her. He’d felt her eyes on him, as Arturo talked about his preparation. He knew she was remembering their time in Arizona. They had been together almost every minute. She was wondering when he had ordered the fake to be made. Wondering when he had purchased the GPS and made arrangements to have it built into the crate. And, of course, she was wondering whether he was the one who had stolen the Ark from the National Museum. She would conclude that he couldn’t have masterminded and executed such an elaborate plan. Not an amateur. A seriously wounded amateur.
It was all right with him, if Ann wondered about those things. However, he didn’t want her to start asking questions or showing undue interest. Particularly in whether or not he’d taken the Ark. He would tell her some day, when the time was right, but not right now. Asking before he was ready would cause him to believe that she was still working for the government.
As they were flying over the Bay of Pigs, Ann awoke. There was a Russian MIG fighter jet flying less than two hundred feet from their right wing and another off their left.
Ann immediately exclaimed, “Oh, my God, they’ve found us!”
“They’re Cuban. Russian-made, of course.”
“What are you saying? If we’re in Cuban air space, they’ll shoot us down!”
“They only shoot at you when they don’t expect you. They’re expecting us. These are our escorts.”
“
Escorts
? What are you talking about, Thomas? Don’t tell me you know Castro!”
“I had an Egyptian assistant during the Amenophis find. His name was Shakir. We became very close on that dig. Shakir’s brother owns a large tobacco farm and cigar-rolling facility on the island’s northern coast. Have you ever heard of Montenegro cigars?”
“No.” Ann was peering nervously out the plane’s small windows, clearly concerned.
“He distributes them all over the world. Not directly to the States, of course, but a fair number of them find their way there anyway.”

“Okay, Thomas, so he owns a farm and there are two MIGS following us. What does all of this mean?”
Thomas heard her frustration. Ann was a strong-willed woman, used to making her own decisions. She didn’t like being toted around without knowing where she was going.
“I told you we were going somewhere to relax for a while, Annie. I wanted us to be in a place where we could be alone, with no worries about DJ or the government or being followed. I’m so tired of all that right now. We need to be together for a while. The two of us. If this is ever going to work. We’re going to stay in Cuba, on Shakir’s brother’s property. It’s on the beach. This the only place in the world where we could be truly left alone.”
“This isn’t on
our
terms, Thomas. It’s on
your
terms.”
“Just give it a chance, Ann. For me? For us? Please.”

Cuba is the one of the most beautiful islands in the Caribbean and Ann loved it. Shakir’s brother, Neferu, was a retired Egyptian oil baron who had become friends with Fidel Castro not long after the revolution in Cuba. His estate included several cottages on the beach and, although they were small, they were modern and luxurious. For the first month, they spent every minute together. It was like their first month together in Mexico, but better. They relaxed on the beach, explored ruins, went scuba diving, danced at night, sometimes alone in their cabana, and sometimes in local clubs, and they made love daily.

Thomas had completely stopped keeping track of time. Had he continued to keep track of it, he would have realized that it was exactly thirty days after they arrived that he had become interested in a new research project. He had been reading a book about the history of medicine, which described the four Tantras of Tibetan healing. The Tantras were translated into pictorial form in the seventeenth century. This famous pictorial version was called the
Blue Beryl
, and it was said that whoever possessed it could heal anyone of any ailment. Including old age. The odd thing was that the books cited hundreds of witnesses to the healings, some with excellent credentials. There were seventy-four paintings in all, each describing a different Tibetan medical technique or cure. The
Blue Beryl
had disappeared in the 1950s, when the Chinese occupied Tibet.

The mystery of the Blue Beryl intrigued him, and when he and Ann visited the Cuban library, he checked out all the books he could find about the history of medicine and Tibet. When he found Ann’s eyes on him, he shrugged. “One more thing you’ll have to learn about me, Annie. When I get interested in something, I’m a voracious reader. I need to read every source on the subject. Don’t worry, though. I will always have time for you. You know you’re my ongoing research project.”