Setting the small cup down on the bistro table, he took a look at his Bulgari watch, annoyed. He wondered what was taking Ulrich so long?
Right on cue, the cell phone in his jacket pocket rang to life. Sitting up a little straighter, though no one was looking at him, he answered the phone. “I do not like being kept waiting.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience sir. I have been…,” he paused, “busy.”
“It’s quite alright…it’s just that,” he wasn’t sure if the younger man on the other end of the line could tell his boss was not nearly as composed as other employers he’d had in the past. “It’s just that this is something that we need done quickly and quietly, and it makes me a little nervous when you don’t check in.”
“With all due respect, sir, I am paid very well for what I do. There are a great number of people all over the world that would gladly pay for my services and they would have the common decency to expect that job get done without my having to check in every day.” His tone had become somewhat irritated. “You hired me to take care of this, and I will. Do I make myself clear?”
The bluntness of the younger man’s voice struck him as both cold and somewhat threatening. Indeed, he was of a reputation as one to not be angered. Still, some respect must be paid. “Why is Wyatt still alive?”
There was a pause on the other line. “How do you know he is?”
“Because I have not heard otherwise. The police are looking for him, though. Are you trying to use that to your advantage?”
Maybe this old guy wasn’t so dumb after all. “I have changed plans, sir. He could prove useful to us after all.”
“I’m glad you consulted me about this,” the old man fought his anger, then thinking for a moment, he then said, “No, this is why I hired you. You think on your feet from your reputation, you have always been successful. Better that I not know what you are going to do with Wyatt. Just let me know when you have the map.”
“Thank you, sir. That is all I ask. The map will be in your possession soon, I assure you.”
The line went dead and the old man slid the phone back into his pocket. He paused momentarily, looking up in at the mountain that shadowed the mansion, deep in thought. “It better be,” he said finally and took a bite of his dessert.
Back in Atlanta, Ulrich set his phone down in the center console of the Black Lexus IS 250. Its motor hummed quietly as he maneuvered through the back streets of Buckhead.
He turned to the man that had tried to ambush Wyatt at his house. The hired gun still clenched his jaw from the heavy blow of the shovel.
“It wasn’t my fault. I had no idea Wyatt would react so fast,” he could feel his boss’s eyes glaring at him and his reply to the gaze sounded like an elementary school child after being caught throwing food in the cafeteria.
“I warned you to be cautious, but you didn’t listen.”
“I said I was sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Glancing over, the driver replied coldly, “Well, that’s true.” Before the man even realized what was happening, there was a puff of smoke accompanied by the cough of a silencer. At first the hole in the man’s head just looked like a black dot. Moments later dark red liquid began oozing from the wound as the head toppled over against the window, lifeless. Vacant eyes stared at the ceiling. Ulrich pulled the car over next to a church on Vine Street. He moved quickly to slip the body out of the car and onto the pavement. Only a minute passed before he was cruising down the street again. Glancing over at a small splotch of blood on the passenger’s seat, his only thought was that he was glad he’d gotten the leather package. It would be easier to clean than fabric.
Ulrich wiped off the stain with a handkerchief; satisfied it was gone, he simply tossed the cloth out the window and continued down the street headed to where the beeping dot on the LCD screen indicated the direction of his quarry.
Chapter 9
Detective Morris sat, staring at his computer with a look of indignation. He had been there for hours pouring over paperwork and searching international databases for anything about Sean Wyatt. Nothing he had found indicated anything unusual. The man had been everywhere on missions for the IAA, but he was apparently a ghost the few years before he worked there.
Born and raised just a few hours north near Chattanooga, Tennessee, Sean had attended a small private high school. His parents still lived in the area, experiencing the joys of retirement on the many beautiful golf courses the region had to offer. This luxury was certainly helped in no small part by contributions from Sean’s six figure IAA salary.
After high school, Wyatt earned a Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology from The University of Tennessee in Knoxville, a Master’s Degree in Archaeology four years later. Usually, a Masters program only took two to three years but students had up to six to complete their coursework. During that time, Wyatt’s file claimed that he had been employed by a local businessman as his personal gardener/landscaper. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. No wife. No kids. Not even a girlfriend. A loner. That explained the motorcycles at least.
Trent leaned back in his black standard issue fake leather chair and scratched his head. The blue and white striped tie he’d been wearing earlier had long since been discarded on top of mounds of paper. Leaning forward again, he took a deep breath and gazed at the file on Tommy Schultz.
Schultz had met Wyatt in high school. Their love of sports, history, and a similar sense of humor caused them to be nearly inseparable, with the exception of when teachers had to actually separate them into different parts of the classrooms.
As it turned out, Schultz’s parents had quite a large sum of money they had kept secret. From the lifestyle they lived, no one would have guessed that they had possessed such wealth. The Schultz home was moderately sized and neither of Tommy’s parents drove fancy cars. Luxuries were few and far between to the outside observer. Yet, when his parents died unexpectedly, he inherited a sum just over $18 million. With some keen financial guidance and shrewd investment maneuvers, that money had grown into just over $40 million in a little over a decade.
Thomas Schultz set up several charitable organizations, the primary non-profit being the International Archaeological Agency. With seemingly unlimited funding, the IAA, established in 2001, had recovered an inestimable amount of artifacts in its first seven years of existence. The discovery of the Sahara Temple was one of the most fascinating. In a seemingly endless array of sand dunes, the IAA was able to uncover what was believed to be an ancient Egyptian colony for priestly training. In South America, an ancient Incan City was discovered in a part of rain forest thought to be completely vacant of any ancient civilization.
Perhaps their greatest achievement, though, came from last year’s amazing find. A ship, dating back to the early 12th century, was located off the coast of Alabama. This was something that rocked the history world. Of course, most historians claimed it had been misdated or perhaps was simply the result of one European country being unable to keep up with evolving technology in sea faring. However, after intense study and analysis, it was confirmed that the ancient ship was indeed over 800 years old.
That was always the case. Whenever some kind of evidence came around that might shake up what everyone was taught in the history books, a throng of people were waiting to hide it, discredit it, or simply bash it into the ground. Heaven forbid the world had been taught an incorrect history up until this point. To some, it seemed ignorance was indeed bliss.
The more that Detective Morris read into the IAA, the more fascinated he became. This was not a group that searched the world for known archaeological locations or artifacts. It seemed that they specialized in finding things that were both lost to the eye and to history.