Sessions had a lot of experience with this market and had good contacts on the Rez. He generally managed to come out on top of these transactions and this one would be no different in the long run he felt sure. If the pots were not located soon, he would simply contact his outlet in Santa Fe and let them know that this particular deal had fallen through but there would be other opportunities. The dealer in Santa Fe would be upset of course. He probably already had a buyer, but it would not be the first time such things had happened. It was part of the business. Sessions was a trusted participant and he felt he could handle the situation.
Just then the phone rang on the desk. “Where are you he asked the familiar voice on the other end?”
“Just got back to my truck,” his associate responded, “the Hopi did not show up. Not a sign of him anywhere. I looked around for the pots where we were told they would be but no luck. I think we’ve been had.”
Sessions was silent. What was happening here? Had Cullen gotten cold feet or had he, and possibly Smith, tried to cheat him by meeting earlier? Maybe his assistant was in on the deal too. Something was happening here and it was not good.
“ Come back to town. We’ll talk to Smith and try to get more information about his contact. You can go back tomorrow during daylight hours and find the stuff.”
“Okay,” his associate responded, “ I think I’ll spend the night with my uncle near here on the Rez, but I will be in first thing tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Sessions responded, “I’ll get in touch with Smith. Meet me at the gallery by eight.” He hung up the phone and considered the situation. Something was definitely wrong here, a no show contact plus the pottery not where it was supposed to be. Something was certainly amiss.
He picked up the phone again and dialed Neal Smith’s home number. No answer. He left a message and sat back to consider his next steps. Perhaps the Hopi contact had just gotten cold feet. Smith had said he was uneasy about the deal. Perhaps the situation could be saved. Smith knew more about that area and the places such things might be hidden. Perhaps they could still find the pottery. Of course, the Hopi contact might report his find to the tribe or to the authorities but then he might get into trouble himself so maybe not. The two of them would have to consider what to do about him later.
He breathed a sigh and relaxed a bit. Things would work out. If the pottery proved hard to locate he would simply wait a while. There would be other opportunities to find it. It could not travel far and, if Cullen came back to get it, he could not do anything to market it alone neither could Neal Smith for that matter. If Smith were trying to cheat him on this deal he would find it more difficult than he thought. As he considered this he relaxed a bit. If Smith or his Hopi friend were trying to cheat him, it would not likely work.
He pushed his chair away from the desk and picked up the phone. This time he called Smith’s office at the university. He had recalled that he sometimes taught night classes and might be working late. A short five-minute call later he had informed Neal Smith about the problem. Smith was “ less than happy” that the pottery was not yet found, but he did not sound surprised— did he already know that something would go wrong? He sounded even a bit angry that his friend had not been there to meet Session’s assistant. Was Smith that desperate for the extra money? Sessions mentally noted this. Perhaps the archeologist could be counted on for other “under the table” deals even if this one fell through. That was good to know. Why did he sound so nervous? Did he have other plans that Sessions did not know about? Was he trying to cheat Sessions on the deal? He certainly seemed too anxious. Sessions felt the need to discuss this further with the professor.
“Let’s have breakfast tomorrow,” Sessions suggested, “we can talk to Darren. He is coming in at eight so let’s meet at Country Inn at eight-thirty. Think of all the information your friend shared—anything that might help Darren locate the pots. He is going back early to look further for the stuff.”
Smith readily agreed. As he hung up the phone, Sessions was thinking. He had an idea for finding the pottery even if Darren was not successful. Yes, that could work. He was eager to talk to Smith about his new plan. Also, since the Hopi had not shown up, he was “out of the picture” and that was more money in the deal for the two of them. He would see that Darren got some of that share for his extra work but then the rest would be his to divide as he saw fit. After all, it was his money fronting the operation.
Neal Smith turned in his chair as he tucked his cell phone into his pocket. He felt a deep unease about this situation. This was not going smoothly at all. What if Session’s man got caught? What would he say? Smith’s career could be ruined. If his part in such an operation were discovered, the university would fire him not to mention what the law would do. He could never work in his field again even if he managed to avoid prosecution. He would not mind leaving the university; he was close to retirement age anyway. Smith had hoped this deal would perhaps lead to others. That was where real money could be made, the illegal antiquities market. Wealthy collectors all over the world were willing to shell out big bucks for items for their personal collections. Sessions had offered him entry into that world. He could quit teaching, maybe move to Mexico or Central America, and spend his time simply doing archeological fieldwork—his true love. So what if a few clandestine deals on the side provided him with a source of funds for his own support and future… He sat back, gradually allowing himself to relax a bit. Nothing was lost yet. The pottery had to be there and he knew its value. Of course, he would have to get his hands on the pieces and do a bit of research to be sure of their value; however, he was certain of one thing, the pots certainly appeared authentic and they were remarkably intact which meant they were rare specimens. They were different styles, which indicated they had probably “traveled” to the area—perhaps as much as 150 miles. The pots were probably brought there by traders who had cached them in a protected area for future use. He had not shared all this information with Cullen. The Hopi was just desperate to help his family. He had no idea of the true worth of his find and Smith was content to let him remain ignorant. Cullen was happy in agreeing to an amount that was only a small part of the pottery’s true value.
Smith had realized that Cullen was not entirely happy about this deal. He was too much of a traditionalist not to feel guilty about not notifying the tribal and park authorities of the find. Perhaps that was why he had not shown up—he got cold feet. Well, he had better keep his mouth shut about this whole business. Smith sat back and tried to consider how to salvage this entire deal. He had some ideas but it might take some time.
Smith realized that he would simply have to wait until morning to learn more about the status of this deal. No amount of worry on his part would change the fact that Cullen had not met Sessions’ associate. Now everything was on hold, so to speak. He reconciled himself to the fact that he would learn nothing more until his morning meeting with Sessions. Reluctantly, he turned off the light and left his office.
***
Sessions eased into the booth opposite Neal Smith. There were few others in the restaurant. Smith managed a tight smile and did not ask about the search directly.
“You’re alone,” Smith commented, “ is your associate meeting us here?”
“Darren did not show up this morning,” Smith replied grimly. “ I am afraid he is not playing straight with us. I think he might be trying to cheat us both.”
“Maybe he is just late; he may be working on “Rez time. “ It was not unusual for Navajo to be late for meetings. Time concepts on the reservation did not always match the expectations of Anglos.
Sessions shook his head, “Darren has always been punctual. He knows that is part of his job. I’m afraid he is up to something, but he will not be successful. I do not think he has the contacts off the reservation to do business of this sort. If he shows up, I will take care of him. He no longer has a job with me.”
“ I see. Well what’s next?” Smith shifted uneasily i
n his seat. “I’ve been thinking about this whole thing. These are likely very valuable pieces if my initial information is correct. This deal could mean a lot to me…. and to your business, of course.”
Sessions nodded as he stirred a second spoonful of sugar into his coffee. “We need to be prepared for whatever happens. Possibly your Indian friend changed his mind and took the stuff to the tribe after all; he might be playing both ends.”
“He was uneasy about the whole thing,” Smith admitted, “but I know he really needed the money. Do you think he might have taken all the pottery and tried to cut us out?”
“I doubt it,” Sessions stirred the coffee again, “he couldn’t unload it on the market without having contacts in the trade. If the tribe has the stuff we will know soon enough. Meanwhile, maybe he will think about the situation and get in touch with you. You said his family needed the money really badly”
“Yes that’s true but what if he doesn’t?” Smith sounded worried.
“No big deal. Just another business proposition that didn’t work out,” Sessions tried to sound casual, “happens all the time. Maybe next time will be different.”
“There isn’t likely to be a next time for pottery like this,” Smith snapped back, “this stuff was the real McCoy. A rare find, especially these days.”
Sessions shrugged, “Not much we can do at this point but wait and see if you hear from your friend. If the stuff does not turn up with the tribe, maybe there is another way to find it.”
“How,” Smith asked. He had his own ideas, but he listened carefully as Sessions outlined Plan B. Nodding his agreement, he said, “It might work—let’s talk later.”
***
Tuba City, AZ
Raymond Tso silently closed the door to his shop and went into his small office at the back. He slumped into his old desk chair and leaned back. His thoughts were troubled. It had been a week and still he had no money from Michael Honeyestewa. He had not heard anything from Michael’s uncle, Cullen, in spite of promises that he would be paid in full before now. Cullen had implied that he had found something very valuable which would bring a lot of money. Then there was Darren, Tso’s cousin, telling him almost the same story.
Raymond had put two and two together and realized that Darren was talking about the same stuff. He worked for that art dealer in Flagstaff and was planning to pick up the pottery. Raymond saw an opportunity for even more than the Honeyestewa debt. Why not cut Cullen and the others out of the deal altogether and take it all? With Darren’s contacts they could probably market it in New Mexico or back east somewhere. He would have what was owed him plus more besides. Sometimes Tso got artifacts brought into his pawnshop and was pretty sure the clients obtained them through suspicious means. He had learned that there was a lot of money to be made in dealing stolen rare items to wealthy collectors who did not care where they came from but to make the big bucks you had to have the right contacts. This might be an opportunity to break into that business and make more money than he could as a pawn broker/money lender on the Rez. With Darren’s help maybe he could get into that business. Working as an assistant in the gallery, Darren had to have learned of some good contacts. It was a promising prospect.
Tso had casually approached Darren about this idea and thought he was receptive. He thought they had a deal. Maybe Darren had changed his mind—gotten cold feet about cheating his boss at the gallery. Raymond leaned back in his chair. He did not take kindly to folks backing out on him. He knew how to handle double-crossers.
It was clear now that something had gone wrong. He hadn’t heard from Darren in a week. He was nowhere to be found on the reservation, no word from Cullen either. Then, just this morning at the local grill, he had heard that Cullen had disappeared also. His family and not seen or heard from him this week either.
Raymond sat, deep in thought about this information. What did this mean? Was Darren in deep with the Hopi? Was this a double cross? Had they vanished together with the stuff? He was deeply angry. No one was going to cheat him. Besides, Michael still owed him. It was time to “put the screws” to the Honeyestewa family about his debt.
Slowly he pushed back from his desk and turned out the light. Tomorrow he would take action; he had waited long enough.
Chapter 1
April 2011, Wupatki National Monument, Arizona.
Lin Hanna slowly rolled over and sat up on the edge of the narrow bed. The early morning sun danced across the room, bathing it in a soft, rosy light. Spring was slowly coming to the northern Arizona desert; however, there was still a decided chill in the early morning air that drifted into her window. She sat on the edge of the bed and thought about the day ahead. Her first “fieldwork” at the park and she was excited. Her volunteer stint had begun two weeks ago, but her days had been filled with working at the visitor center and the nearby ruins. She spent her time talking to the visitors, who came from all over, reading more about the history of the ruins and the people who built them, learning all the rules and so forth. Now she was ready for a step ahead.
Lin was eager to get started but first things first. Shedding her nightshirt, she entered the small bathroom and stepped into the narrow shower first checking for the scorpions she had been warned about. The water was always chilly at first, but soon the trickle of warmth from the ancient water heater that served her small apartment kicked in. The water felt good and she felt refreshed and fully awake when she stepped from the shower. She dressed quickly and grabbed a muffin from the kitchen as she passed through. She would find coffee at the visitor center.
A half hour after climbing out of bed, she was walking briskly toward the visitor center. It did not open for another hour but Danielle, the law enforcement ranger, was there and the smell of fresh coffee drifted from the staff room in back. Lin poured herself a generous cup and perused the work schedule for the day. She was to man the front desk until 9:30 and then accompany Dr. Neal Smith and his archaeology class from the university on a field trip to the box canyon near Lomaki ruin. Dr. Smith had been conducting a series of field trips in that area teaching his students the ins and outs of searching for ancient sites in this environment. Next week would mark the last field trip for this spring term. Soon the students would be occupied with end of term exams and the field work would be put aside until the fall, except for more limited work with a couple of interns Smith paid with grant money to help him during the summer. They would probably be taking a few backcountry trips and Lin hoped for the opportunity to accompany them.
The backcountry camping trips were a lot of fun and all the park employees and volunteers enjoyed those assignments. Hopefully, her turn would come. This was her first experience as a park volunteer and she was something of an “eager beaver” she supposed. After 30 plus years of teaching and being a school administrator, it was a pleasure to be able to pursue her own interests in history and archaeology as a national park volunteer. A friend had told her about the Volunteers in Parks (VIP) program. It seemed perfect for an early retiree, like herself, and provided wonderful opportunities to continue to grow and learn while providing much needed service in the parks, forests, and wildlife areas.
Lin had been amazed at the variety of places advertising for volunteers on the website. Being from North Carolina, she had been attracted to the western locations that afforded the chance to spend time in a different place and experience a different environment.
For so long her life had centered on her family, her work, and her students. She had worked steadily except for a very short time when her kids were young. Now, since retiring, she could focus more on her own personal interests. Besides, she was still healthy and not old enough to sit back and do nothing! She tried not to think about her upcoming birthday—fifty-eight years. Where did the time go? Still, she was blessed with good health and, while she probably would not climb sheer cliffs or run a marathon, she was still an avid hiker who could cover rough terrain with ease and she generally walked several miles every day. Maybe it was g
ood genes but she had been spared many of the aches and pains experienced by her friends. She was lucky in that. She had chosen to retire early from her work as a school principal so that she could pursue other interests—do things she had never felt she had enough time for in the past.
For one brief moment her thoughts grew cloudy. The only thing missing was Ben’s smile and his easy laughter. They had shared so much for so long—almost thirty years of a good marriage. Ben was in the military and was often away when their kids were growing up, but he was always ready for the next adventure. It had been hard to accept the fact that he would not come home from his last deployment in Iraq—what was it, almost eight years ago now. She took a deep breath and refilled her coffee mug. Ben would be the last person to let her stay down. “Get on with it, enjoy your life,” he would say. He shared her interest in history and they had often talked of doing this kind of volunteer work when they retired. Now she was on her own, but she was doing something she loved and was interested in. Her kids, Ben, Jr. and Lucy, were all for it. They had their own lives and families now and had given her two beautiful grandkids. Ben’s daughter Emma and Lucy’s young son Sam would be coming to visit later after school was out. She looked forward to sharing her experiences with them. What a blessing it was to have such a great family.
Lin realized she had drifted out to the back patio with her coffee lost in these thoughts. Danielle came through the door and sat on the stone wall at the edge of the patio, “Beautiful isn’t it,” she smiled. “The early morning light really highlights the colors.”
“Yes,” Lin agreed, “I am really enjoying it here.”
“You’re a quick study,” Danielle responded, “Have your first field work today, right?”
“Yes, I’m going out with Dr. Smith and his class.”
Earthcrack: A Lin Hanna Mystery Page 2
