CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Taylor glanced at the phone and saw Kelly’s ID. She ignored it, slipped into a heavy coat and drove her Audi to the local grocery store. Inside, she wheeled her cart to the rear of the store and dialed his direct line from the pay phone. He answered immediately.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Grocery store. Pay phone. What’s up?”

“I found the Mary Dyer.”

Taylor felt her pulse surge. Edward Brand, within their grasp. “Where?”

“It’s docked in the marina at Puerto Vallarta.”

“I know Puerto Vallarta. I’ve been there three or four times. So he’s still in Mexico.”

“He is—and that’s unfortunate for us. It’s tough to get any sort of police force or government agency to try to extradite a criminal unless it’s been proven beyond the wildest glimmer of doubt that he’s guilty. Guilty of something pretty substantial. I’m not sure the scam he pulled with NewPro would fall inside those guidelines. Two hundred million dollars is a lot of money, but it’s probably too complicated to find him, drag him back to the States and convict him in a court of law. So my guess is that he’s safe—for now at least. No wonder he likes it down there so much.”

“Yeah, that and the weather,” Taylor said cynically. She didn’t want to dwell on the thought that they may know where Brand was but that there would be no help forthcoming from the cops. “So what can we do? I mean, we know who he is and where he is. There must be something we can do with what we know.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure what.”

There was a long, silent pause. Taylor had been toying with something, and she figured this was as good a time as ever to mention it. “Listen, Kelly, Brand being in Mexico might not be a bad thing.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got an idea. It’s kind of been banging around in my head the last couple of weeks, and I’ve done a lot of poking around on the Internet and in a few research books. I think I might have something.”

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

It was complicated and she decided that face-to-face would be the best way to let Kelly know what she was thinking about. “Not on the phone. Let’s get together.”

“Where?”

“Is it okay if I come back to your place?”

“Of course. I’d like that.”

“Thanks, Kelly,” she said. The sincerity in his voice wasn’t lost on her. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if I fly direct to Washington. I might be getting paranoid, but I think I’m being followed.”

“Dark four-door cars? Tinted windows?”

“Exactly.”

“Could be our friend at the FBI. What are you thinking?”

“I’ve got a friend in Houston. I fly down to see her, then continue on to Washington. But I leave her my credit card, and she goes out every day or two and buys dinner or a piece of clothing. That way, if they’re watching me electronically, like you think they might be, they’ll think I’m still in Houston.”

“You’re starting to think like a spook. That’s kind of scary.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s a good idea. Will your friend go for it?”

“Sure. She’ll just buy the clothes to fit her, not me.”

“Okay. How do you plan on getting to D.C. from Houston.”

“I’ll probably have to take the bus. You need ID to fly.”

There was a silence, then Kelly said, “I doubt if Hawkins would risk tracking your passport. That requires an entirely different level of clearance than just watching your credit cards. You’re probably fine to fly from Houston to Washington. Just make sure you pay cash for your flight.”

“You can do that?” she asked.

“Sure. Just go to a travel agent in Houston and pay cash. So long as you have ID, they’ll sell you a ticket.

“Okay, I’ll get to Houston and link up with my friend. Once I know when the flight arrives in D.C. I’ll call you at the office.”

“That’ll work fine.”

Taylor hung up and left the grocery store. She went back home, called her travel agent and had her book a flight from San Francisco to Houston, returning in twenty days. She had no intention of using the return portion of the ticket, but if Brent Hawkins was watching her he would think she was planted in Texas for a while and maybe get lazy. If her friend didn’t mind signing her Visa card and picking up some free clothes, Taylor had the perfect cover. Hawkins would think she was in Houston, and that worked for her. Because she had an idea that might relieve Edward Brand of some of the money he had stolen.

Taylor had always been fascinated by tales of treasure. Treasure of any sort—buried, entombed, plundered—it didn’t matter. The thought that great wealth was just sitting there, ready for the taking, was powerful. She had read Treasure Island three times, always wondering why Robert Louis Stevenson never let his infamous Captain Silver find at least a taste of what lay buried under the sand. The National Geographic channel was one of her favorites, and she never missed a special on the Egyptian tombs or any archeological dig that may unearth objects of value. She read extensively on the subject, and that’s how she first heard of the treasure of Oaxaca.

The state of Oaxaca, which she learned was pronounced wa-HA-ka, was a perfect setting for lost treasure. Over a seven hundred-year period, no fewer than fifteen different Indian tribes had settled in the fertile valleys nestled between the mountain ranges of the Sierra Madre del Sur and the Sierra Madre de Oaxaca. Their level of advancement rivaled or exceeded that of twelfth-century Europe, with intricate pyramids and temples rising above the virgin cloud forests that blanketed the region. The Zapotec people devised a primitive alphabet and began using the 365-day calendar. They also built a city they called Monte Alban.

As Taylor dug into the history of the area, she found that throughout the rule of the Zapotec tribe, the city grew in wealth and prosperity. When the Aztecs finally arrived in the 1400s, there was already an incredible base of wealth, measured in gold and jewels. The Aztecs simply added to that trove. The result was one of the most substantial treasures ever amassed.

But what intrigued Taylor was that the treasure the Spaniards looted when they overthrew the Aztecs was not even close to what had been recorded by the Zapotec tribes. Something was missing. That fact had not gone unnoticed. In the last two decades, a couple of top-level treasure hunters had put together expeditions and tried to find the remaining cache of gold and precious stones. Despite a logical and exacting approach to the problem, the undiscovered treasure had eluded them. Then, in 1999, there was a major earthquake that had essentially sealed the abandoned city of Monte Alban. The Mexican government put a moratorium on hunting for treasure anywhere in the region, and that meant the treasure was still there. Sitting, waiting to be found.

That treasure, buried somewhere in the ancient city of Monte Alban, was her bait.

Edward Brand was a cautious man who dotted every i and crossed every t. He was also a greedy man who liked wealth and what it could buy. She knew a bit about Edward Brand, having met him and having seen the scope of his con. This was not a man who thought small. If she and Kelly could somehow get Brand to believe they had the key to the Monte Alban treasure, maybe they could retrieve some of the money he had stolen.

Maybe. It was a long shot.

She packed and headed to bed early, her flight leaving at just after ten in the morning. Sleep didn’t come for a while, and she lay in bed staring around her bedroom thinking of what Alan was doing that very moment. Paris was six hours ahead of the West Coast of the United States, which meant it was almost six in the morning in the Latin Quarter. Was he waking up next to another woman? Did she know who he was? Did she care? Alan was wealthy, having taken her for millions of dollars. There were a lot of women in the world who didn’t care where the money came from—so long as it was there. Somehow she doubted he was sleeping alone. Her mind finally slowed, and she drifted off. But just before darkness slipped over her, she had one last vision.

Alan and Edward Brand, on the street and penniless.