It Takes an Archeologist Read online

  Once Cole and Quint were there, Quint said, "Gideon's been digging." He chuckled. "Not physically, the way you do. He's been researching the men who had keys to the site."

  Cole's pulse sped up at the mention of Gideon's name, but he kept his expression neutral, saying, "Why him? And more to the point, has he narrowed it down to one man in particular?"

  "He volunteered," Quint replied. "As far as he's concerned, Keith Brooks is the guy behind what happened."

  "Keith? No way. It was his dig. Well, his and mine. Why would he jeopardize it by letting those men in to loot it?"

  "The lure of the almighty dollar, I suspect. I'm sure Gideon will fill us in on all the details when he gets here."

  "He's… Okay, I guess he is, from what you just said. You don't need me in on this, though."

  "You worked with Brooks, so you know him. When we hear what Gideon has to say, you can add your own take on it."

  "I suppose. As far as I'm concerned—"

  "Save what you're going to say until we meet with Gideon. Okay?"

  "Yeah." Cole replied. "When will that be?"

  "I'll let you know once I've heard from him. He's due late this afternoon."

  "All right. Thanks for coming by to let me know."

  Quint shrugged. "I could have called, but I was in the neighborhood. Okay, I'll let you get back to work."

  As soon as Quint left, Cole did go back to work—helping James with a sudden influx of people interested in looking at various items the gallery had for sale. Cole was glad it was busy. It gave him time to marshal his thoughts about Gideon's return to the city.

  I shouldn't be so…excited? First off, he's hardly available. He smiled dryly. His wife might be a bit pissed if I tried to seduce him—like that would happen. Straight, married men are not my thing. Then why am I feeling this way? Mid-life crisis, so I'm reverting to my teens? Crushing on the most unavailable man possible? God, I hope not. It's not a crush, damn it. I just find him…interesting. Very interesting. Damn it!

  "Yes, that's the price," Cole said, when the customer he was helping asked. "No, it's not negotiable. The bowl is one of a kind." He went on to explain its history to the woman. She hemmed and hawed, then moved on to look at other, less expensive ones. Cole had the feeling she, like a lot of the people who happened into the gallery, expected the kind of prices they saw in tourist shops where the items were copies of Native American artifacts, not the real thing.

  *****

  Gideon arrived at the hotel right on schedule. The desk clerk who greeted him, remembered him—which didn't surprise Gideon since he'd been there just two weeks previously. The woman asked if he wanted a suite again, which Gideon did. Fifteen minutes later, he was unpacking his bags in the bedroom overlooking the mountains. With that chore completed, he called Quint to let him know he was at the hotel.

  "I talked with Cole," Quint said. "He wants to know when we're getting together so you can fill us in on what you've found out."

  "Whenever's convenient for you and him," Gideon replied. "I'm at your disposal."

  "If we do it tonight, it would have to be after nine, when he's closed the gallery."

  "That would be fine."

  "At the hotel?" Quint asked.

  "Yes. Unless you want to make this very official and do it at the precinct."

  Quint snorted. "No thanks. Let me call Cole, and I'll get back to you."

  While he waited for Quint's call, Gideon ordered dinner from room service. He'd just begun eating when his phone rang.

  "Cole's fine with tonight. He can be at the hotel around nine thirty, so we'll see you then."

  "Good," was Gideon's brief reply before hanging up.

  He wanted to see Cole, more than he liked to admit.

  Stupid of me. He thinks I'm straight and I should keep it that way. But…Hell, for all I know, he's very happy that I am, if that makes sense. I don't even know how he feels about me. I could be so far off base that I'm playing in another stadium. Have I been reading things into the few brief interactions we've had? Probably. Definitely, I'm sure. He sighed before taking another bite of the very good steak. Why him? Why now? He's nothing like Robin. After twenty years, I'm used to being alone and I've accepted it. I have my work. It fills every waking hour and it's all I need. No…entanglements. No possibility of hurting someone, ever again.

  Gideon realized if his thoughts continued the way they were heading—to Robin and their life together, then Robin's death—he'd be a basket case by the time Cole and Quint arrived. He hurriedly finished eating, then grabbed his coat and left the hotel. He understood himself well enough to know that he could work himself out of his morose mood by walking—paying attention to his surrounding rather than what was going on in his head.

  The night was chilly, but then it was still mid-March in a city known for having snow well into April some years. He walked past the museum, then through Civic Center Park. When he got to the 16th Street Mall, he wandered down to the end, people watching as he did. If I wanted to see a cross-section of the city's population, it's here. High-class restaurants and hotels shared the space with tourist shops, fast-food places, and a few empty buildings. The rich rubbed unwilling shoulders with street people. The tourists, workers heading home late from their jobs, and teens just hanging out, made up most of the rest of the people he passed.

  Finally, realizing the time and feeling calmer, Gideon headed back to the hotel.

  *****

  When Cole arrived at the hotel, he found Quint waiting by the front desk. Together, they went up to Gideon's suite. Cole was glad to have the company, as it were. He was nervous, and it had nothing to do with finding out why Gideon suspected that a man Cole had trusted might be behind everything that had happened at the dig last summer.

  As soon as Gideon opened the door, Cole felt a rush of…yearning was the best way he could think of it. The man standing there—the very unobtainable man—was everything he remembered. Tall, good-looking, with the same look of sadness in his eyes Cole had noticed the first time they'd met. Cole wished he knew what was behind the unhappiness—and that he could do something to help eliminate it.

  Gideon smiled, stepping aside to let them in. "You haven't changed," he said to Cole.

  "In two weeks? Probably not."

  "You could have shaved off the beard."

  Cole shook his head. "Never. It's a part of me. It's a part of my 'I'm a rugged archaeologist who spends half his life in the wild' persona."

  Gideon chuckled then asked, "Would either of you like a drink?

  "Coffee, for me," Quint said.

  "The same," Cole agreed as he took a seat on the sofa. He watched as Gideon went to get it, admiring the man's well-built physique. It was then that he realized it was the first time he'd seen Gideon in anything other than a suit. He was wearing jeans and a turtleneck that accented the fact that the man kept himself in shape.

  After handing Quint and Cole coffee, then pouring one for himself, Gideon sat at the other end of the sofa, saying, "Shall we get down to business? I don't know if Quint told you, Cole, but as of last week, Keith Brooks was here in the city. He's not using that name, however. He's going by Leonard Keith."

  Cole nodded. "Leonard's his middle name. He hated it."

  "Well, apparently, despite that, he's taken it as his first name for his alias."

  "Do you know exactly where he is? Or just that he's here somewhere?" Quint asked.

  "He was booked into a motel on South Colorado, but, as of this morning, he's no longer there. One of my men is trying to find out where he's moved to."

  "He might have left the city," Quint pointed out.

  "I doubt it. He came here for a reason that I suspect has to do with getting in contact with Alvarez and Davis."

  "Could he, since they're in jail?" Cole asked.

  "They are allowed visitors," Quint replied. "Although when I checked, after Gideon called me, the only ones they've had are their lawyers."

  Gideon nodded. "Yo
u let whoever's in charge know to alert you if anyone else shows up?"

  "Of course."

  "Why are you so sure Keith was the one who, I guess, hired the looters?" Cole said.

  Gideon picked up a notebook sitting on the coffee table, flipping it open. "First off, I've…we've pretty much eliminated the other five men who had keys." He grinned slightly, looking at Cole. "And you."

  "Thanks," Cole said laconically.

  "Next. Brooks resigned from the university in August, just before the start of the fall semester, leaving them in a bind. Right after that, he moved out of his apartment."

  "Apartment? Keith is married. Okay. I take that back," Cole said. "He was married. From what he told me, it ended when his wife decided she couldn't handle his being gone half the year on one dig or another."

  "A logical reason," Gideon said. "From what the dean of his department told me, the divorce was acrimonious at best."

  "Not according to Keith," Cole replied. "His…story, I guess, was that it was by mutual consent and they split their property fifty-fifty."

  "Nope. She got almost everything. I had my people check," Gideon said. "And a very large alimony payment on top of that."

  Quint chuckled. "She must have had one hell of a lawyer."

  "I'd say so," Gideon agreed. "Anyway, as I see it, that gives him a good motive for setting up the looting of the dig."

  Cole nodded slowly, taking a drink of coffee. "He needed money for alimony payments. But why quit his job, if that's the case?"

  "Because Alvarez and company double-crossed him. They took off with the loot to parts unknown, at least as far as he knew. He couldn't very well search for them when he was tied down teaching classes at the university." Gideon rapped the notebook on his knee. "My guess is that the men took a lot more from the site than you or the others knew about."

  "Possible." Cole frowned. "Either that or Keith found an area of the dig that held some spectacular pieces and kept the information to himself until he could set up the theft."

  "That could happen?" Quint asked.

  "Yes," Cole told him. "The area covered almost twelve acres."

  Quint lifted an eyebrow. "That took a hell of a lot of fencing to keep out trespassers. And only two guards at night?"

  "In Jeeps, so they could patrol it fairly easily. As I told you when we first talked about it, the fences were topped with razor wire, and they were well maintained. The only way in was through the gates. So the possibility that Keith could have found an area with valuable artifacts and kept the information to himself, is not beyond the realm of possibility, particularly if he was searching for just such a place with the intent of stealing them, without anyone knowing what was going on."

  "That being the case, if it is," Gideon said, "he made a big mistake in hiring those men to do the dirty work—literally and figuratively."

  Cole shook his head. "I don't think, from how Quint said they reacted, that Keith hired them."

  "You don't think it was him?" Gideon asked in surprise.

  "Oh, I'm not debating that it was. What I mean is, Quint said they seemed to be afraid to tell him who they were working for. To me, that says there must have been threats involved, as well as money."

  "Not if they took off with the looted items, rather than turning them over to Brooks," Quint said. "They were probably afraid he'd find out where they were hiding, then do something about it—and them."

  "True," Cole agreed after a moment's thought. "Still, they're punks. Keith's a man my age and a professor. Surely they'd have figured they could handle him if he did find them. After all, they beat Elliot to death, trying to find out what he did with the pots and what have you he took off with."

  "Good point, Cole," Gideon said. "Keith might have—no, must have—had some hold over them. After all, you don't just walk into a bar, pick the most disreputable men hanging out there, then tell them you want to hire them to loot a dig. He had to have known them from somewhere."

  "Meaning, you think he's done this before?" Quint asked.

  Gideon glanced at Cole. "What do you think?"

  Cole sighed. "I don't like the idea, but it's possible. Or… Yeah. Given the timeframe, his divorce, needing money, then the looting. Quint, check Alvarez's and Davis's backgrounds. And Elliot's. See if any one of them was ever in the vicinity of other digs that were looted, especially ones Keith was at when it happened. If you need a list of which ones he worked—"

  "I have them already," Gideon said. "Part of what my guy dug up on Brooks." He went over to the desk, turned on his laptop, then—after connecting it to a portable printer—he opened a file and printed out the information for Quint.

  Thanking him, Quint said, "I'll run a check first thing tomorrow morning. If Cole's right and Brooks did run into one of them—either looting or trying to loot a site—then we've got our connection."

  "Not that it does any good if we can't find the man himself," Gideon said, retaking his seat on the sofa.

  "There might be one way," Cole said, breaking a long moment of silence between the three men.

  "What do you have in mind?" Gideon asked.

  "After Alvarez and Davis were arrested at the gallery, I had to deal with reporters." Cole grimaced. "I promised myself at that point, never again. But…" He paused as he tried to put his thought into words. "So far, we've retrieved the artifacts Alvarez and company had stashed away, plus two of the bowls and a pot that Elliott walked off with. But there are still other items he took that haven't turned up yet."

  "True. And?" Quint said.

  "What if I got in contact with the reporter from the GCC Chronicle? He was more interested than the guy from the Post, when I was talking about looters and the destruction of digs. If I could get him to write a short article about the illegal trade in stolen artifacts and mention the fact that I know where the last of the ones Elliott took, are." Cole looked at the others in question.

  "Putting you right in Brooks' sights? No," Gideon replied adamantly.

  "That wouldn't be believable anyway, Cole," Quint said. "Why would you tell him that and not say you'd turned the information over to the police or the BLM?"

  "Good point," Cole admitted. "It was just a thought."

  "One we can work with, but in reverse," Quint replied. "I'll talk to a reporter from the Post that I trust. He's been bugging me because he wants to do a follow-up story on the case. I told him there wasn't anything new, but now… Yeah, that could work. I'll ask him to do the same kind of story you suggested, Cole, but I'll have him add the fact that I believe one of the men involved in catching Alvarez and Davis might know where the missing bowls and pots are."

  "And since I'm the only one you could be talking about, even though you don't name me… Yes. That would work."

  "No. Damn it, Cole, you're not equipped to handle it if Brooks shows up looking for them," Gideon stated tightly.

  Cole almost grinned. "But you are."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You spent two days at the gallery when we were trying to catch Alvarez and Davis. While you were there, you helped some of the customers."

  "My cover story was that I was planning on opening my own gallery," Gideon pointed out.

  "But you never said as much, did you?"

  "Well, no."

  Cole grinned full out, although what they were discussing wasn't really a laughing matter. "Then you can be my newest clerk."

  "Cole. No."

  "Gideon. Yes," Cole said, mimicking him. "Why not? There's nothing to lose and everything to gain. That is, if you can spare a week or so to pull this off." Cole turned to Quint. "How soon do you think you can get in touch with the reporter to have him write the story and get it in the paper?"

  "I'll call him first thing in the morning. I can bribe him by offering an exclusive when we do catch Brooks. That should speed things up."

  "Brooks isn't just going to walk into the gallery," Gideon said, obviously trying to throw roadblocks into Cole's idea.

  "We don't
know that," Cole replied. "If I were him, I wouldn't look like me." He snorted out a laugh. "I mean, in his place, I'd be disguised so no one would recognize me. Right?" He looked at Quint.

  "Probably," Quint agreed. "If we're correct that he's the man we're after."

  "We are," Gideon said. "Otherwise, why did he quit his job, change his name, and come out here in the first place?"

  Cole nodded. "Exactly. And he's smart—smart enough to figure out that Quint is talking about me, in the news story."

  Gideon ceded with obvious reluctance, only saying, "Quint could put an undercover cop on the job, instead of me."

  "We've been through that already. I don't have anyone knowledgeable enough to pass as a clerk who knows what he's talking about," Quint told him. "You are. Brooks isn't going to just walk in, corner Cole, and interrogate him about the missing artifacts. He'll check everything out first, if he's as smart as we think he is."

  "Trust me, he is," Cole said. "I've worked with him more than once. What he did was stupid, but he went about it cleverly enough that no one linked him to the looting, or even tried to, until now. If he hadn't resigned his job at the university, we'd be none the wiser. I suspect he's desperate enough for money—since the looters absconded with what they took, rather than handing the stuff over to him—that he wasn't thinking straight when he did that."

  Quint nodded. "Then, when he saw the story about their arrests, he probably thought he'd gotten lucky, until he found they'd turned everything over to us as part of a plea-bargaining agreement—everything except what Elliot got away with. So he came out here, hoping to find some lead on where those artifacts ended up."

  "And they ended up with me," Cole said. "All of them, except for the three that I turned over to the police. Or at least that's what we want him to believe."

  *****

  Gideon was not happy with the whole scenario they were working on. It put Cole in danger, if Brooks was as desperate to get his hands on the missing artifacts as they thought. But he couldn't see anyway to change Cole's and Quint's minds at this point, except, maybe…