She mulled it over but wasn't able to connect the dots. "I still don't understand. What could that man have found over a hundred years ago that could pose a threat today?"
Jack smiled without breaking character. "Again, Annie, I'm afraid I can't share that information with you. It's sensitive material."
"Oh, right."
She bought the story. Now he had to see what else she knew.
"Hopefully we will have this whole thing resolved soon enough, and you'll be back in your museum. I just have to ask one more question."
She gave a reluctant nod.
"What do you know about the Baiame Boomerang?"
Annie thought for a moment. "I only know a little bit about Baiame from books I've read on Aborigines. He was one of the creator gods in the many stories they have about Dreamtime. Other than that, I'm afraid I can't be much help. While I do love history, I'm afraid my job is more in tune with cataloguing things from the past instead of learning about them."
"So you don't know anything about this deity's boomerang or where it might be?"
She shook her head. "No. I sent that email to Reece because I wanted to see if he could figure out the riddle at the bottom of the journal entry. Like I said, he's better with that stuff than me. I figured if someone went to the trouble of hiding that document in a false drawer, it must be important."
Jack's demeanor turned in a second. "And yet you didn't feel like that was something you should report to your boss or perhaps the authorities?"
"What? No." Her head twitched back and forth again. The new aggression from her inquisitor was clearly throwing her off. "I… What are you suggesting? That I was trying to steal it?"
Jack rolled his shoulders. "No one is accusing you of that, Annie. But you have to admit, it does look a little suspicious. I mean, you find some old note hidden in an antique desk, and you didn't tell anyone about it except a friend who may or may not be able to help you figure out what it means?"
"No," she shook her head violently at the accusation. "I was never going to steal it."
"No. Maybe you were just going to use it to find whatever treasure it mentioned. I imagine you don't make a great deal of money working at the museum. And you're getting up there close to retirement age now. Maybe you figured it was time to give your retirement plan a little boost."
"I never—"
Jack stood up suddenly, cutting her off. "Where is the paper, Annie? What did you do with the original? We know who you sent a copy to. Now we need to know where you hid the journal entry." His voice thundered in the tiny room.
She winced with every emphatic syllable until she broke out in another fit of tears. "It's at the museum. I swear, I never meant to steal it. I never cared about any treasure." Her words were barely intelligible with the sobbing and moaning. "I just thought it might interest my friend. I swear that's all."
Jack decided to play another card to make sure she understood the stakes. "Well, you got your friend killed, Annie."
The crying stopped for a moment, and she stared at him with eyes full of shock, of horror, of disbelief. "What?"
Jack gave a slow nod. "That's right. Your friend Reece Skelton is dead. Someone murdered him in cold blood, and we think it has something to do with what was in the journal."
A new bout of tears was fought off by the shocking revelation. "I… I… Reece is dead?"
Jack stepped close and crouched down so their eyes were level. "Annie. We can't protect you if you don't tell us everything you know. I need you to start with exactly where you hid that piece of paper."
Chapter 8
Reece let the phone ring one last time before ending the call. "Still no answer," he said.
He'd tried calling Annie at least a dozen times over the course of their drive to Sydney. Each one had the same result.
The visitors had been fighting fatigue for the last several hours. As the car passed beyond the borders of the Sydney city limits, they started losing the battle.
Adriana slept with her head on Sean's shoulder. He managed to stave off exhaustion by replacing it with paranoia. Keeping a watchful eye on the road behind them kept him awake. Still, he was ready for a bed.
Tommy sat in the front passenger seat with his arms crossed and head leaning against the headrest. He'd decided to let Reece drive because dying in a fiery car crash due to a sleeping driver wasn't in anyone's best interest. Sean couldn't tell if his friend was asleep or not under those sunglasses, but sudden snappy movements alluded to him dozing off or waking up intermittently.
Sean let his eyes wander out the window to the passing city. Night washed over the buildings, shops, apartments, and condos. Somewhere beyond the skyline, the famous Sydney Opera House loomed over the water with its dramatic white roof.
Tommy had made a call and set everyone up with rooms at one of the upscale hotels in the downtown area. The group agreed they would check in after they paid a visit to Annie's museum. The chances that she'd somehow be there were slim, but they at least had to check.
Reece parked the car around the back of the old brick building. Getting access to the museum after normal business hours had required another Tommy Schultz phone call, this time to the director of antiquities. The man — a guy by the name of Wilbur Kurt — had been almost excited to have agents from IAA coming in for a visit, much less the one in charge of the entire operation.
Wilbur was waiting for them at the back entrance when the group exited the car. He was a portly man with a ruddy face, splotches of red on his nose and cheeks, and a receding gray hairline. He greeted the visitors with an exaggerated smile and waved them over.
"Welcome!" he said. He eagerly reached out a hand to Tommy first. "It's just such an honor to have you here with us. I've heard and read so much about your exploits. The historical world is lucky to have you."
Tommy blushed in the pale light of a metal halide bulb shining down from a lamp post near the street. "Why, thank you. I really appreciate you accommodating our unusual request at this hour of the day."
"Not at all. Anything for you, Mr. Schultz."
"Please. Call me Tommy."
Sean, Adriana, and Reece all exchanged befuddled expressions.
Wilbur bit his lower lip at the offer.
"Thank you… Tommy. I'm honored." He stepped to the side and held the door open with one hand while motioning with the other.
Tommy twisted around for a moment to see the looks on his friends' faces. "Thank you, Mr. Kurt."
"Wilbur," he corrected.
Tommy patted the guy on the shoulder and stepped into the building.
The others followed, and Wilbur closed the door behind, rushing past the other three to catch up to Tommy.
"Wilbur," Tommy said, "these are my friends Sean, Adriana, and Reece." He put the side of his hand to his cheek as if about to share a big secret and lowered his voice. "Reece is a local."
"Ah well. It's a pleasure to meet you all. Any friend of the great Tommy Schultz is a friend of mine."
Again, Sean turned his head to Reece. This time he mouthed, "Great Tommy Schultz?"
Reece twirled a finger around his ear to indicate what he thought about the guy.
Wilbur didn't notice the interaction because he was already walking down the long corridor.
"I'm sorry if our coming here on such short notice is an inconvenience, Wilbur," Tommy said.
Wilbur shook his head vigorously. "Not at all. I must apologize. One of our curators disappeared a few days ago, and we haven't heard from her. Very unlike her, actually. She's one of the most reliable employees I've ever worked with."