Time and Again(48)

The look of surprise was genuine. “I did not. Admittedly, I've been relying on Hans. I sent him out to find a new detective after he informed me of the accident involving Mr. Moore.”

It seemed to be the truth. Henry had his first answer. It provided little consolation. “What were the instructions you gave Mickey?”

“Mickey…ah yes, Mr. Moore. I told him the story and then asked the same of him, the only difference being the time. We are but a few days from the sale now, so it's much more urgent that you get me answers. There is one other thing; I would like you, and your professor, to accompany me to the viewing. Hans tells me that he's an expert in antiquities.”

“I am not sure this thing falls within his area of expertise, but he'll be thrilled to see it.”

“If nothing else, he can verify the ages of the containers. This would be invaluable to me. To be honest, I would be relieved to find that this whole thing is a hoax.”

Henry shook his hand and gave both cats a goodbye pat. Henry liked Dr. Schaeffer, almost as much as the cats liked Henry.





Chapter Thirty-Nine



If he answered on the third ring, it meant trouble; if he let it ring past three and then answered, then all was on schedule. If he didn't answer, Patrick would try again, just to be sure. This was a system devised long ago – as with everything, he liked to be careful. In general, they wouldn't talk during the calls, unless there was something important. Tonight, Patrick had to alter the plans. On the fourth ring, Randy, the 'Remarkable,' answered.

"I have an update."

"Oh?"

"We will only need five viewing areas. One of the interested parties is no longer collecting." Or breathing, he thought.

"You’re not trying to cut my fee?" Randy asked.

"Your fee will remain the same. Are you ready for the arrival?"

"I have the first four locations complete and the last two – well, one, I guess now, will be done tomorrow. It's really too bad: the sixth spot was quite clever. My personal favorite."

Patrick smiled. "My friend, you are a true artisan." An idea suddenly flashed across his mind. "If you want, you could finish it, and we could meet there for the final payment. I would love to see it."

This appealed to Randy; he was a complete narcissist and loved to show off. “I'll finish it. You are paying for six, so it only seems right. It's almost show time, so I am off. Check in after 10:00.”

Patrick was satisfied.

Randy hung up the phone and stood looking out of the 4th floor warehouse window.

In his right hand, he cut a deck of cards over and over. The bottom two floors were rented by a company who sold cheap tourist gifts. Most of the stuff was crap, so there wasn’t much security, and it was likely insured for more than it was worth. The third, fourth, and fifth floors had been vacant for months. The fourth floor, divided into two rooms, was perfect for receiving the shipment. Randy had set up a card table in the room to the right of the freight elevator. On the table sat two envelopes and a bottle of ouzo. Patrick had sent the bottle of liquor with the money, figuring their Greek friends probably needed a shot.

Randy liked the idea of the booze, as it would distract them. Each envelope had $15,000, twice the agreed upon payment. Patrick had figured the poor schmucks might want more after their horrific sea adventure. He decided they had earned the bonus. Randy agreed, but considered taking half, knowing that they wouldn't be expecting the bonus. Then he thought better of it. Father Patrick had a way of smelling deception. It wasn’t worth the risk.

The truck pulled up without its lights on. Good, they can follow directions, Randy thought. He watched them get out at the loading dock.



***

Speaking in Greek, the tall one said, “I need a drink.”

“This wasn’t worth it. We should ask for more money. We could have died,” the younger one complained.

“Yes, maybe, but what are we going to do if they say no? Take it back? Not on your life.”

“You are right, my friend, this box is cursed. We should be paying them to take it.”

They both laughed, though not too heartily, as sea sickness had taken its toll. The crate was hoisted onto the cart and wheeled to the freight elevator. The siren from a distant ambulance barely disturbed the eerie quiet.



***

The aged elevator cables creaked as it lifted the two men and their precious cargo.Randy new they were on their way. Both men look surprised to be greeted by only one man. They expected a small army.

“Hello, my name is Randy. Do you speak English?”

The tall one looked at his friend, who said, “I do. He doesn’t. He is old.”

Randy shook both their hands. “You had a rough trip, boys, but it's almost over.” His easy tone seemed out of place.