The Secret of the Stones, Ernest Dempsey [popular books to read TXT] 📗

“Not that it matters now. I’m sure his wife is going to kill him when he gets home.”

“Well, we’ll keep homicide on alert.” Morris returned the grin.

Sean let his eyes wander through the room. Tommy was busy analyzing the golden tiles of the walls while talking on the phone with the IAA. At least a dozen researchers and archaeologists were already on their way to the site.

Schultz was in his element, and whatever fatigue he may have had was replaced by the excitement of discovery. Tommy deserved it, Sean thought.

His eyes switched to another spot. Allyson sat nearby on one of the stone boxes, sipping a bottle of water. She noticed him staring at her and offered a practiced shy smile. It was the kind of grin that could pull a man across a bed of hot coals without him ever noticing.

For a moment, his attention went back to the officers who were still going on about all the things that had happened. “So if you could come by sometime next week, it would really help me with filling out my report,” Morris was finishing his spiel.

“What? Oh, sure. No problem. I will give you a call next week.” Then Sean’s attention went to a man and woman dressed in black in a corner by themselves. The woman was on a cell phone, but whatever she was saying could not be heard. “Who are they?”

Will looked back over his shoulder at the couple. “Those are agents Sewell and Yates. They’re with the feds. Apparently, they have been after Ulrich for a while too.  I don’t trust them.  They’re not very sociable.  Haven’t said a whole lot to us since they got here.”

“Interesting.”

Trent gave his young partner a quick nod. “Let’s get out of here, Will.” Then he turned back to Sean as they started to walk away. “Next week, okay?”

“You got it.”

The detectives got on the giant platform of the lift along with the medics. Will removed the disc from the pedestal, and the ancient elevator started its slow ascent.

Sean’s eyes played back over to where Allyson was sitting. She was listening to Tommy, who had apparently finished his phone conversations. He was going on about the different languages that were represented, four in all, one on each wall. She was clearly only half-interested.

Making his way over to them, he stood over his friend and the young journalist/agent. “Sorry to interrupt your history lesson, Schultzie, but Ms. Webster scheduled an interview with me, and I really have to keep that appointment.” He lifted his right eyebrow at his friend.

Tommy looked at Sean and then at her and started laughing. “My bad. I don’t want to keep the good readers of the Sentinel waiting.”

With that, he stood up and headed back over to a couple of people who were tagging some of the panels with Post-it notes and started directing the cataloging effort.

“Well, Ms. Webster, how about that interview?” His eyes smiled more than his mouth.

“You do remember I’m not really a journalist, right?”

“We can pretend.”

59

Nevada

The old man hobbled over to his desk hurriedly to answer the phone. It was ringing furiously, interrupting his nightly dose of brandy by the fireplace in the study.

He leaned his cane against the bulky desk and reached over to pick up the device. No answer to the caller was given. The white-haired man just waited.

“It is done,” the young voice came through the receiver.

“Both of them are dead?”

“Ulrich is. The Russian he hired was still alive when I got there, though he was badly burned. Wyatt shot him in the knee, as well.

“You said was alive.”

“Correct. He will not be a problem anymore.”

“Excellent work. I knew I could count on you. Ulrich had become so sloppy.”

“He served our purpose in the end.”

“Indeed.” The old man stood, contemplating his next question. “Did you find the next clue?”

“Yes, sir. The girl had it, but I instructed her that it would be needed as evidence for the crime scene.”

“I’m sure those pesky agents from the IAA will be clamoring to get their hands on it for their museum.” He coughed as he finished the sentence.

“It will be of no concern. I have already contacted the best stone worker in the country and requested a duplicate be made. By the time those fools have their artifact, we will be well on our way to the next chamber.”

“Good. I knew I could count on you. God be with you, my son.”

“Thank you, Prophet.”

The old man hung up the phone and retreated to his enveloping leather chair by the fireplace. He raised his glass of brandy in satisfaction, filling his nostrils with its rich, warming aroma. Curious, he thought while eyeing the half-filled tumbler, that alcohol was forbidden by the church’s teachings. Soon enough, though, they would be following his doctrines, as would the world. He finished the drink in one gulp and set the glass back on a stand near the chair.

“Who were you talking to?” Morris asked as he met up with Will at their car.

“Oh, that was just my girlfriend. Had to tell her I would be home late tonight.”

“All right, buddy, let’s get back to Atlanta. Good job, Will.”

“Thank you, sir.” The young detective stood for a moment as his partner entered the car. “Thank you,” he repeated, almost inaudibly, peering back at the totem poles nearby.

Everything is going to according to plan, Will thought. Soon, the wicked would perish and the world could start new again.

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