Harry Harrison promised that the FBI agent at the Palenque airport would hand Brian a briefing file. It would be a current synopsis of everything they knew about Torrance’s activities in Chiapas state, his mode of travel and anything else that might be helpful to Brian. It would also contain letters of introduction that might help smooth the way for Brian to get things done. He might not need them but then again they might come in handy.
“The Foreign Secretary of Mexico and our Ambassador know you’re coming at my request,” the President said. “There was no way to keep your visit quiet – you’re flying on a government jet with a flight plan filed to Palenque. But I asked the Ambassador to let you work unhindered unless you request assistance. His contact information will be in the briefing sheet you’ll get. Use it if you get in a jam or need something urgently.”
After the call ended Brian stared at the phone, thinking. He picked up the receiver and entered a number. He was disappointed as a voice answered, “Miss Farber’s office. This is Ryan Coleman. How may I help you?”
“Ryan, this is Brian. Is she around?”
“She is, Mr. Sadler, but she’s in one of the conference rooms taking a deposition. I don’t expect her back for a couple of hours. May I ask her to call you?”
“Tell her it’s nothing urgent but please call me when she has a few minutes. Tell her everything’s OK. I just felt like we didn’t finish things last night…” He immediately regretted having said so much to Nicole’s assistant. “Never mind, Ryan. Just ask her to call if she gets a chance sometime.”
He looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk awaiting his attention. But all he could think about was Nicole. He felt as though his personal life was falling apart right in front of him. All because of a girl. All because of Nicole damned Farber.
Chapter Eighteen
Wednesday
Thirteen days after the disappearance
The same sleek Gulfstream G650 that had transported President John Chapman to Mexico nearly two weeks ago now sat at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, not far from Manhattan. The plane was fueled, the pilots and crew were standing by, awaiting the arrival of Brian Sadler. He would be delivered to the tiny Palenque airport, just as the President had been. He would be met by a representative of the United States government, just as Chapman had. But Brian’s escort to the ruins would be the FBI, not the Ambassador. Brian had awakened several times last night hoping that’s where the similarity ended since Chapman’s fate was still unknown.
Brian had been picked up at his apartment and now was in another of the government’s black Ford sedans, this one equipped with flashing lights and a siren. They moved quickly through traffic down 9th Avenue toward the Lincoln Tunnel. The trip was only fifteen miles but New York driving was measured in time, not in distance. At this time of morning the driver had estimated about half an hour not counting any potential traffic delays.
The entire workday yesterday had passed without a word from Nicole. He had reached for the phone a dozen times, almost calling her number, almost making the first move. But it was her turn. He had left a message and she hadn’t responded. His heart ached like he was sixteen again.
At seven p.m. Brian called it a day, packed the stuff he wanted to take on his trip and left the gallery. As he walked to his apartment he had heard a ding on his phone. Excitedly grabbing it he saw a text from Nicole.
“Hey there. Sorry about the crazy day today and not getting to talk to you. Off to a late dinner tonight – no hanky panky, all business! I know you leave tomorrow so I’ll call when I can. Love you baby.”
Brian hadn’t slept much the rest of the night.
I feel like shit, Brian thought as he sat in the back seat of the government sedan rubbing his eyes. He had lain in bed awake, struggling over his relationship with her for hours. He wasn’t interested in seeing other women. He just wanted to see a lot more of her. Was he wrong for not making that happen? It seemed even when he did make the effort to go to Dallas she was usually so busy she had to almost fit him into her calendar. He felt like he needed an appointment to be with the girl he loved. Why was she so damned good at her job? Why couldn’t she live where he lived, in New York? Or London? Was he more to blame than she for the sorry state of things? And so it went all night long. When his alarm went off at six a.m. he had groggily forced himself out of bed and into the shower.
Soon the sedan was through the tunnel and on Route 3 heading northeast towards Teterboro Airport while Brian thought about Nicole and idly watched the industrial scenery along the route. He had packed light – he had his iPad, a Kindle and some material from the gallery to work on during the trip. A duffel held some clothes; the President had asked Brian to stay two or three days, long enough to interview everyone at the site. Harrison had also authorized the Gulfstream to take him to Mexico City if Brian thought it necessary to meet with governmental officials there.
Because of the heat in southern Mexico, especially in the rain forest where the ruins of Palenque were situated, Brian had brought his jungle shirts and pants, rain-resistant boots and plenty of insect repellent.
He forced himself to stop thinking about Nicole. This hadn’t been the best time to leave the gallery with things so busy but Brian had to admit he was excited about the trip. He missed the ruins and any opportunity to get back, especially flying free on a government Gulfstream, was fine with him.
A large sign indicated the exit for Teterboro, one of the nation’s largest private airports. The car left the highway and pulled up to a secure chain-link fence with a rolling gate. Most people taking a flight from this airport parked outside a small terminal building and walked through a metal detector, then out to one of the private planes nearby. Not so Brian Sadler – credentials were presented to a guard at the gate and the FBI car was waved through. They drove directly to the gleaming white aircraft and Brian was soon in the air following the same flight plan that had taken President John Chapman to Mexico two weeks earlier.
Chapter Nineteen
Thomas Newton Torrance was finishing breakfast on the terrace of La Casa Hermosa. Dr. Ortiz sat across from him, drinking a latte. He had just told TNT that the President of the United States was sending a personal representative to Palenque. In fact, the plane carrying that emissary would be landing at the local airport shortly. “I’ll need to leave in ten minutes or so. I presume the man, Senor Brian Sadler, is going straight to the ruins. I will need to be there to meet him as the official representative of the archaeological expedition.”
TNT jerked his head up and looked at the archaeologist, astonished. “Brian Sadler? He’s the emissary from President Harrison?”
Ortiz noticed Torrance’s surprise. “That’s what I’m told. The Ambassador said the man is an old friend of the President’s. He’s also a wealthy antiquities dealer from New York. I presume you know him?”
TNT didn’t answer immediately. His face blanched as he thought through the implication of this. It was unbelievable! Could the President possibly know the connection between Sadler and Cory Spencer? Torrance didn’t believe in coincidences. Of course the President had to be aware that Spencer previously worked for Brian Sadler. There was no other answer. So for what reason did President Harrison send Sadler here?
This could seriously complicate things.
“Are you all right, Mr. Torrance?” Dr. Ortiz asked, noting the concern on his face.
He quickly regained his composure. “Yes, yes. Sorry. I was just trying to recall where I’d heard Brian Sadler’s name. I don’t actually think I know him – do you?” As he talked Torrance reached inside his suit coat, pulled out a thick envelope and casually laid it on the table between them. Dr. Ortiz lit a cigarette and ignored the envelope. He enjoyed giving information to Mr. Torrance. The rewards were excellent.
“I’ve never met Senor Sadler although I have of course heard of him. He is highly respected as a dealer in very rare objects and has a famous gallery in New York City. He also apparently fancies himself
an amateur archaeologist. I’m not sure what his credentials are or why the President is sending him. I suppose it’s just to gather facts; I am not aware if Senor Sadler has any education in archaeology or detective work. In fact I know of nothing that would particularly qualify him to be involved. But this matter is not in my hands and is really of no concern to me. El Presidente of our country has given the approval for Senor Sadler to make inquiries on behalf of el Presidente Harrison. And I must live with that. You must as well, Mr. Torrance. I for one will welcome him on behalf of my country!”
Torrance looked impassively at Dr. Ortiz. What an idiot. He’s treating this whole thing like it’s a social visit. He has no idea the danger we may all be in as a result of this man’s imminent arrival.
“We will all welcome him,” the entrepreneur replied cordially, his voice belying his seething anger. Why must I tolerate these stupid people?
Torrance continued. “I’ll see you in the morning back at the site. I want to talk to Brian Sadler so let me know as soon as you find out what his plans are.”
Dr. Ortiz nodded as he nonchalantly picked up the bulky envelope from the table. He stood, shook hands with TNT and left the hotel.
Chapter Twenty
The Gulfstream carrying Brian Sadler landed smoothly at Palenque Airport and the ragtag bunch of children swarmed it again, just as when President Chapman had arrived a fortnight earlier. The same little boy retrieved the same cellphone from his pocket, pressed one button and turned it off. He hoped the gringos would continue to come to Mexico. He was happy making twenty pesos every time someone arrived.
As he finished breakfast at the hotel Thomas Newton Torrance’s iPhone dinged and he glanced at it briefly. There was no message but he knew that Brian Sadler had landed in Palenque. As he placed the phone back in his jacket pocket it dinged again. This was a text message from Dr. Ortiz.
Torrance read the text then sat back in his chair, concerned even more. Interesting. Brian Sadler will be staying at this very hotel. I’m not a bit surprised and actually it makes it easier to keep an eye on him.
Although La Casa Hermosa was the nicest in the area it was only one of several hotels the U.S. government could have chosen for Brian’s stay. TNT ticked off various reasons as to why they might want Sadler at Torrance’s hotel. Which they obviously did.
Brian Sadler rode in a Nissan Pathfinder that belonged to the Embassy. The driver introduced himself and showed Brian his FBI badge and identification. “This is for you, sir,” he said, handing Brian a thick folder. “I’ll take you to your hotel first, then to the ruins. It’ll only take about twenty minutes for this first leg.”
Brian’s phone vibrated – he saw a text from a foreign number he didn’t recognize. The message read, “This is the Cultural Affairs office of the United States Embassy in Mexico City. The White House has advised that your hotel arrangements have been changed to allow you to stay in the same hotel as Mr. Torrance.” Interesting. That might be helpful in trying to arrange a meeting with him.
The file the driver had given him contained around fifty pages of material. There was a report, several photographs, an aerial shot of the Palenque ruin site and copies of several web pages. He glanced at the report, which was basically a briefing document with headers and subcategories. The document covered a variety of subjects including the discovery of the artifact, information about Torrance and the disappearance of the President. I’ll read this tonight, Brian said to himself. He wanted to go to the ruins as soon as possible so there wasn’t time to go over this material now.
Shortly they turned off the highway onto a narrow road leading into the jungle. The driver parked in front of a building that had been constructed to resemble a Mayan temple. A small sign in front read “Hotel La Casa Hermosa”. The driver parked and Brian got out to the sound of birds noisily cawing in the high trees surrounding the hotel grounds. It was an idyllic setting. Brian thought how much Nicole would love this place.
The FBI agent spoke briefly in Spanish with the desk clerk who handed him a key card. He said, “Mr. Sadler, if you’d like to drop your bags in your room I’ll handle the check-in process.” They agreed to meet back in the lobby in twenty minutes.
Brian walked down a path from the reception area. He glanced to the left as he passed the terrace of an outdoor restaurant. At this time of day only one guest lingered over breakfast. He was dressed in a coat and tie, unusual for the jungle, Brian mused as he continued walking. The hotel was in a beautiful setting in the forest; it consisted of eight detached rooms down a short pathway from the main building. He reached his cabana, unpacked his suitcase and walked out onto a small back patio that overlooked the jungle. It had a low fence to keep out the crawling things that might slither in from the forest just a few feet away.
As he paused a moment to take in the scenery something clicked in his mind. Torrance. That’s the guy in the restaurant. Suddenly his cellphone rang. He glanced at the screen. Nicole. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Hey, sweetie yourself! Sorry I missed your call earlier. I was in a deposition. Now we’re on a quick break so I thought I’d see if I could catch you. Did you get there OK?”
“Yes, I’m at the hotel in Palenque and we’re heading over to the ruins in a few minutes. I wanted to talk to you about last night, Nicole…”
“Brian, we need to talk when we both have time. You have stuff to do right now and so do I. Let’s talk this evening – I should be at home by seven. Want to give me a call or should I call you?”
“Just call me,” Brian responded, disappointed at yet another wait. “I’m sure I’ll have less going on tonight than you do. I don’t know my schedule for today but I’ll try to be available at seven. If I don’t answer then I’ll call you back when I can.”
“Seven on the dot, baby. One thing before I go. Everything’s OK, Brian. Don’t overanalyze things. I love you and I want to be with you whenever I can, just like you told me the other night that you do too. Don’t worry about me. I’ll talk to you tonight.”
Brian stuck his phone in his pocket, put the briefing folder in a dresser drawer and walked toward the main building. He had to put Nicole out of his mind right now and concentrate on why he was here. He needed to figure out what happened to President Chapman.
The sun’s harsh glare made it difficult for Brian’s eyes to adjust to the shaded dining area where the man had sat at breakfast. He looked around the terrace – the only person there was a waiter cleaning up the table where the man had been.
Brian was looking so intently at the patio to his left that he failed to see Torrance come around the corner.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sadler!” Torrance stepped quickly to one side, narrowly avoiding a collision.
“Oh, sorry. I was…” He looked up, at a loss for words. “Uh, have we…have we met?”
“No, but I know you by reputation. My name is Thomas Newton Torrance. Call me Thomas, please. May I call you Brian?”
“Of course. Are you staying here?”
TNT smiled broadly. “Please, Brian. I’m certain the United States government, as good as they are at gathering information, has already told you I was here. But I’m more interested in you – what in the world brings you to Chiapas state? Which of the Palenque mysteries are you here to investigate?”
The FBI agent strode briskly down the path toward the men, glancing at his watch. He was obviously coming to check on Brian’s whereabouts. He saw them talking, then stopped.
“I’ll only be a moment,” Brian said to him. The agent turned and went back to the lobby.
“Is that your keeper?” Torrance smiled. “We all have one at times, I’m afraid. Right now I suppose mine is Dr. Ortiz from the National Institute. Have you met him?”
“I haven’t. Maybe you can introduce us later. I’m sorry, Thomas, but I have to go. I’m on a fairly tight schedule this afternoon. If things work out we could meet up for a drink later this evening.”
“That would be good. I’ll be happy to sha
re with you what I know about the Palenque expedition so far. Unfortunately I don’t think it’ll be of any help in finding President Chapman, which I presume is what you’re here for.”
Brian avoided the statement. “See you later this evening,” he responded, shaking hands with Torrance. He turned, walked to the lobby and met the FBI agent.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thursday
The day of the disappearance
President John Chapman descended the stone staircase inside the Temple of the Inscriptions. One of the Secret Service agents had set his watch to mark the fifteen minutes alone that the boss had demanded. If he didn’t return on time they would come after him.
At the bottom of the stairs the President stepped into King Pakal’s tomb chamber. He had visited this place twice before but this time it was different. He glanced at the heavily covered sarcophagus then skirted around it to the newly opened hole in the floor. A ladder was sticking out. As eager as a schoolboy, Chapman climbed down into the chamber below and flipped on the flashlight Dr. Ortiz had given him.
“What the hell?” he said out loud as he looked at the metallic object lying on a stone altar in front of him. “What is this thing?” Chapman thought it looked like a piece of a very large model airplane.
As he reached out his hand to touch the artifact a voice behind him said, “Mr. President, I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wednesday
Thirteen days after the disappearance
The government SUV pulled into the parking area at the Palenque ruins. Brian Sadler saw a rotund man in jungle attire and a pith helmet, sweating profusely as he approached the vehicle.
“Buenas tardes, buenas tardes, Senor Sadler! I am Dr. Armando Ortiz,” the man said enthusiastically as Brian got out of the back seat with his backpack. “On behalf of the government of Mexico may I welcome you to my site here at Palenque!”
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