Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet

by Bill Thompson

  Within an hour First InterCity’s $25 million was in Bijan’s account. He instructed Collette to wire $250,000 to a bank account in the Isle of Man. That was Chaim Weisenberg’s first bond rental fee. Collette had no idea what the money was for, but Brian was the boss. Obviously he was working on another acquisition.

  Brian awoke at 3:30 am the Friday morning that was two weeks after his meeting in Egypt with the pockmarked man. He stared at his cell phone but no call came.

  Around ten that morning Collette advised Brian he had an overseas call. The raspy voice said, “Do we have a deal, Mr. Sadler?”

  “You already know we do.”

  There was silence for a moment. “Whatever you think you have figured out, remember this. Curiosity kills not only cats. And people who become too smart are liabilities, not assets.”

  The man told him to be at the same restaurant outside the Citadel in two weeks and gave Brian instructions to transfer $25 million.

  Chapter Eight

  A few days later Brian received a call from an attaché with the Israeli Embassy in New York. The man said that the government had learned word that Bijan was acquiring artifacts found near the Dead Sea and attributed to Jesus that had been removed from Israel. The Ambassador wished to speak with Brian before the relics were sold. He concluded by saying, “It is our belief that these items may have been exported illegally from Israel.”

  This could be a major problem. Brian told the man that he couldn’t comment about such artifacts or even confirm whether a transaction was imminent. He was certain this wasn’t the end to this inquiry.

  Brian made a quick call to a lawyer he used for importation issues. Then he called John Spedino who confirmed that when the artifacts were delivered, original export documents signed by Israeli Customs would accompany them. Those documents made everything legal.

  Chapter Nine

  On the British Airways flight to Cairo, Brian ran through the scenario he now understood about this entire transaction. The first clue that something was fishy was a set of notes Brian had found in Darius Nazir’s desk.

  John Spedino was far more than an occasional, indirect customer of the gallery. He had invested significant money in the venture and prior to the public offering Darius had bought him out. Even though Spedino was no longer an investor and partner, anyone who got into bed with a Mafia figure had to plan on staying there forever. There was never a way out. It was a deal with the devil, made for life. And Darius Nazir apparently had made it. Brian surmised that Nazir had paid the ultimate price. As concerning as all this was, it was Nazir’s problem, not Brian’s, he told himself.

  The pockmarked man with the raspy voice must work for John Spedino. All of his calls and text messages were either veiled threats or payback announcements – things Brian had decided long ago were the orchestration of the mobster. But if the man from Cairo worked for Johnny Speed, why the need for this complicated set of financial transactions, where Spedino basically ended up paying $27 million for something he could have had for nothing?

  The answer had come to Brian late one night. It was all a big, complicated money-laundering scheme – a way for Spedino to use clean money for a massive tax write-off. Brian figured John Spedino had stolen around $25 million from the Bellicose Holdings public offering. When Francois Rochefort, the puppet head of the company, disappeared with the company’s funds, everyone – even the FBI – believed the cash went to Spedino. But no one could ever prove it.

  And now Spedino was paying $25 million plus a two million dollar kicker to Bijan for the privilege of buying artifacts he already owned. That purchase established that the scrolls and the coin had been purchased legitimately, and it created an established value in the marketplace for the relics. Both of those would be required in order for Spedino to make a tax-deductible donation to the Catholic Church.

  Twenty-seven million dollars of Spedino’s legitimate income was therefore going to be paid out in a tax-deductible transaction. He could earn a great deal more legitimate income without paying income tax on it, thanks to this one donation.

  And when things were all finished, Spedino still had $25 million, all of the money he had paid less his commission to Bijan, because whatever Brian wired to the pockmarked man ultimately went right back to Spedino.

  Brian felt certain that delivery of the artifacts would be accomplished without a hitch. Since the pockmarked man was actually Spedino’s associate there was no way things could go wrong.

  Chapter Ten

  The gravelly-voiced man had set the meeting time for noon, presumably so that a wire transfer could still take place that same day. Brian sat at the same table near the Citadel. The massive building blocked the sun, throwing that side of the square into shadows. He looked for the portly man. Instead a ragged beggar approached his table. Brian reached into his pocket for a coin but the man whispered, “Follow me.”

  The beggar took Brian through winding streets, stopping suddenly at a wooden door. He pushed the door open, motioned for Brian to step inside and disappeared down the street. Brian found himself in a courtyard. The fat, pockmarked man sat in a chair under a date tree about fifty feet from him. A briefcase rested on the ground beside him.

  Brian sat in an empty chair next to the man. From his case the man pulled out an oilcloth and a small cloth bag. He dumped the black lump into Brian’s hand and said, “This is the coin. In the cloth are the scrolls.”

  Brian opened the cloth and gazed with wonder at the larger scroll. Shivers went down his spine as he thought of the hands that had penned its words two thousand years earlier.

  The man handed Brian a set of formal documents printed in Hebrew and English, the export papers the Embassy would require. Brian looked them over. They were identical to many others he had seen since he had begun his work with Darius Nazir and they appeared to be genuine.

  As agreed, Brian then called Collette in New York. It was early there but she was standing by. He gave her the go-ahead to initiate a wire transfer from Bijan’s bank in London, per instructions he had left for her.

  He then called John Spedino and told him to wire his money to London. Within minutes Brian received a confirmation on his cell phone from National Bank of Switzerland’s Geneva head office. Spedino’s $27 million was in Bijan’s account.

  While they waited for money to move around the world the fat man took out a cigarette and lit it. He said nothing.

  Brian looked around. There appeared to be no one around. There were no sounds from any of the second-story windows that opened into the courtyard. The entire building seemed to be deserted.

  About twenty minutes later, the swarthy man’s phone rang. He spoke rapidly in Egyptian then hung up.

  He said one word. “Done.” Then he walked out of the courtyard leaving the briefcase and the artifacts behind.

  Brian picked up the valise and followed him. By the time he reached the narrow roadway the man was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Once I’m finished with this transaction, I’m sticking with the straight and narrow, Brian thought to himself as he lay in the first class SleeperSeat. The British Airways 777 was winging its way from London to New York, the last leg in his trip from Cairo with the artifacts. Brian kept the briefcase lightly tethered to his wrist even though the first class section was quiet and people were napping or watching movies at their seats.

  He had decided to break ties with John Spedino. If his theory was correct the transaction between the godfather and Bijan was an incredible windfall to Johnny Speed. He could now declare an incredible amount of legitimate income without having to pay income tax on it and still have almost all the money left.

  Even though dealing with Spedino was distasteful, perhaps even dangerous, Brian felt a sense of pride in knowing that he was helping ensure that the world’s most precious documents, the account of Jesus Christ’s birth, would end up in the Vatican where they would be preserved and kept safe for generations to come.

  The afternoon
sun shone through the windows of the restricted area as Brian walked from the plane to the customs booths in the Arrivals Hall. After removing the tether from his briefcase as instructed, he sat it on the floor next to him as he waited in line. The Semitic family who had also been in first class moved along in a line next to him. The man smiled and nodded absently as Brian’s eyes met his for a moment. Then their line curved away from his. Brian picked up his case and moved along in line, thinking of nothing but the bright future ahead.

  Now only a few minutes later Brian sat in a small interrogation room with only a table and two chairs. He was in the airport’s holding area for United States Customs.

  “Why are you detaining me? The Arab family who stood next to me in line has switched cases with me. Why aren’t you trying to help me? I’m a U.S. citizen and the items in that case are priceless!”

  The agent explained carefully that although Brian now apparently had nothing to declare his earlier statements, the tether on his wrist and his agitation at seeing the empty briefcase caused them concern. They decided to detain him until they could review videotapes and confirm his story. The Customs officer took detailed notes as Brian described the three artifacts that had been in the briefcase.

  Brian asked if he could call his attorney. The agent said that was fine but that Brian probably would be there less than a half hour longer if everything turned out satisfactorily. Brian decided to wait. From her location in Dallas Nicole couldn’t have moved things any faster anyway.

  The agent left Brian alone for about thirty minutes. When he returned, he handed Brian his passport.

  “Let’s go see the Airport Police. Your story checks out in every respect. The videotape clearly shows what appears to be a Middle Eastern family next to you in line. The man does in fact switch briefcases with you and then a moment later he changes lanes. The people who earlier posed as his family are now in their own line and he is in a different one. He moves quickly through Customs since he has no baggage to declare. We have his information but weren’t able to locate him. Video footage shows him leaving in a car with diplomatic license plates.”

  “Diplomatic plates from what country?” Brian asked.

  “Israel.”

  The agent continued. “The man’s so-called family is a different story. We have video of them too. They exited Customs but then went straight to check-in for Air India’s flight to London and presented return tickets. We have them in custody now.”

  The agent accompanied Brian to the JFK Airport Police desk, where it took thirty minutes for an officer to complete a report. The agent gave the policeman everything he had earlier told Brian, including the license number of the Israeli embassy vehicle that had whisked away the thief.

  As Brian left the police desk the Customs agent gave him a phone number and promised to be in touch if they heard anything more. He apologized for detaining Brian and wished him luck in finding the artifacts.

  Once the agent left Brian stood outside the terminal and called John Spedino’s number on his phone. He told the godfather everything, hoping Spedino’s vast resources might locate the Israeli thief faster than the police could. But Spedino’s response wasn’t what Brian expected.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You don’t have the artifacts?” John Spedino said slowly. “You’re telling me the goddamned artifacts were stolen?”

  Brian could feel his venomous hatred.

  “Let me tell you something, mister. You are going to wire my money back on Monday morning. Do you understand me?”

  Brian was speechless. He couldn’t do that.

  “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” Spedino was shouting now.

  Brian’s voice quivered. “Mr. Spedino, you know all about the bank deal I had to sign to get this whole thing done. You know those Israeli bonds won’t stand up to scrutiny if I have them on my books September 30th. You helped me set this whole thing up. You know I can’t wire your money back. I already sent $25 million to Egypt to pay for the artifacts. Your money has to repay the Israeli bonds you arranged for me. You know all that already. I need you to help me find the guy who stole them.”

  There was a lengthy silence. Then came words that made Brian more afraid than he had ever been in his life.

  “Your mother and father live in Longview, Texas. Your father runs the newspaper there. They’re nice people. They’re both healthy. I presume you’d do everything in your power to keep them that way. Listen to me. It’s Friday. On Monday you are going to either deliver the artifacts to me or wire my money back, you little bastard.”

  Brian began to sob. “I need your help. You have to find the relics. You have the resources to do it. I don’t. I can’t do what you ask. I don’t have the money to do it. I would if I could.”

  Spedino said nothing else. He merely hung up. Brian stood at curbside, staring at his cell phone. He was terrified and he had nowhere to turn.

  As Brian’s cab headed to Manhattan his mind raced. He had to figure a way out of this mess he was in. And he had three days to do it. He needed help.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brian lay in bed, another 3:30 am call just finished. He was almost to the breaking point. The raspy voice had said, “Remember how Darius Nazir just died in his sleep? Do you know why he died? He dared to tell somebody to stay away from you, Mr. Sadler. Something as simple as that, and now he’s dead. For you it’s much more serious. If you don’t perform on Monday you’d better never sleep again with both eyes closed.”

  Brian responded in a burst of anger. “Hey! Remember me? I bought the scrolls from you.” There was no sound – the caller was gone.

  This time the call was from the 319 area code. Brian didn’t even bother to look it up. He knew the caller was in Egypt.

  On Monday Brian called the Customs agent and learned the woman and children had been deported to Israel.

  “We spent quite a bit of time with them. Bottom line – they were recruited to do nothing more than accompany the thief on the flight and pose as his family. The woman’s family was given ten thousand dollars and she got a free ride to New York City and back along with her two kids. The Mossad has agreed to investigate her family further for us but we don’t expect any new information.”

  He said that the Israeli Embassy had gotten involved in the mechanics of her deportation, as was customary, so he had also asked them about the diplomatic vehicle that had taken the man away from JFK.

  “That license plate wasn’t registered to the Embassy. We figure the driver could have altered a stolen plate. At any rate we have nothing on this individual. His passport was a very good forgery but it was bogus.”

  Brian confirmed that Spedino’s funds were still in Bijan’s London bank account. Although the money was there, Brian couldn’t return it to Spedino. If he did, he would be required to cash in the Israeli bonds to repay his bank loan with First InterCity. That couldn’t happen. Those bonds weren’t his and he didn’t have them anyway. Whether real or not, the bonds were good for only one thing – as assets to prop up a balance sheet. The only thing certain was that those bonds weren’t going to be cashed in. Period.

  If he defaulted on the loan with First InterCity his personal guarantee would kick in and he would lose Bijan Rarities. If the SEC or any other agency looked closely at the bond transaction and it failed to pass muster Brian could easily face jail time for fraud. He’d known when he did it the bond deal was tainted, but this was a quick in-and-out deal and nobody would get hurt. At least that had been the plan. Spedino’s plan, that is.

  At one pm Collette forwarded a call to Brian. “The caller says it’s urgent, and he won’t tell me who he is.”

  Brian took the call and heard John Spedino’s voice. “I don’t have my money and I don’t have my artifacts. So what’s the plan?”

  “Mr. Spedino, do you have any idea where the artifacts are?”

  “I’m not your errand boy. I’m your client. I wired you the money to buy me some relics and you failed to deliver. But I’m goin
g to do you a favor. Why? I don’t really know why. I’m going to give you twenty-four more hours because I think I do know where the relics are. If I find them before they leave the United States you’re off the hook.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A junior clerk at the Israeli Embassy encoded a transmission going to Tel Aviv. It confirmed that Lev Cohen, an Israeli citizen on a mission for the Mossad, had in his possession a set of artifacts he had stolen from a man at JFK Airport. Although the clerk had no idea the background of what she encoded, she was surprised that her government was involved in a crime and that it was being encrypted. Coded messages usually involved high security transmissions with strategic, usually military, significance.

  The message made such an impression on her that she mentioned it her boyfriend Eli in bed that night. She was surprised that he appeared interested in something besides sex for once. He sat up in bed and asked her to tell him everything about it. She told him all that she could recall. The name of the man and the location of the safe house where he was awaiting return to Israel were two of the things she remembered.

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  It was impossible to keep information from John Spedino once word got around that he was interested. The rewards he gave to those who furnished what he wanted were legendary. To collect a ten thousand dollar bounty, Eli Avraham, a member of a local gang of Jewish thugs involved in petty crimes, called a man who wanted to know where the artifacts were. This man had put the word on the street only a few days before. Because of the information from his girlfriend, Eli received a cash payment of more money than he had ever before had in his possession. He promptly dumped the girl, spent the cash on drugs and booze, and was broke again in three weeks.