‘Maybe it has something to do with the truck’s location,’ Payne suggested. ‘There isn’t a road at the bottom of the plateau, which tells me that Boyd went way out of his way to get down there. Why would he do that? If he was a thief like the CIA claims, why would he risk driving down there unless it was necessary? If he wanted to blend in, he would’ve parked in the lot where we parked then walked into Orvieto like a tourist.’
Jones nodded. ‘Furthermore, if Boyd was there for an illegal dig, there’s no way he would’ve parked at the bottom, not with Pelati’s men running around. They would’ve spotted him for sure. Unless, of course, he wasn’t worried about Pelati’s men… Wait, maybe that’s the thing we’ve been missing. Maybe he wasn’t hiding from Pelati because he was working for him?’
‘Doing what? Searching for buried treasure?’
‘Maybe. That would explain why Boyd’s truck was in the valley. He wasn’t worried about being spotted and wanted his equipment as close to the site as possible.’
‘And the helicopter?’
Jones shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe it was there to protect Boyd and some interlopers shot it down. Or maybe it belonged to treasure hunters and Pelati’s crew took them out?’
‘Or maybe it belonged to the CIA. Ever think of that?’
‘The thought had crossed my mind.’ He studied the chopper’s rear section. ‘If I had to guess, I’d say this bird was made by Bell. Perhaps part of their 206 series. Possibly an L-I.’
‘You can tell all that from one picture?’
‘Trust me, this was a Bell. Just like the chopper that Manzak and Buckner used. Same color, too. As black as my uncle Jerome.’
Payne took the picture out of Jones’s hand. ‘Probably not a coincidence, huh?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Which means one chopper was in Pamplona while a second was in Orvieto.’
Jones nodded. ‘But that’s where things get tricky. No one knows what the chopper was doing there. Furthermore, we don’t know who we talked to in Pamplona, because Manzak and Buckner are dead. Speaking of which, why kill Donald Barnes and all the people on the bus?’
‘Yeah, that doesn’t make sen -’
The sound of ringing stopped Payne midword. He probably shouldn’t have answered it, but it was after midnight, and he was curious. Thankfully, it turned out to be a good choice because Frankie was on the line, and he sounded very excited. ‘I leaving library right now. Bring pictures and meet me in my office. I promise, you will like! This will be good!’
39
The thought of asking her father for help was enough to keep Maria awake. No matter how she rationalized it, she just couldn’t get past his basic ideology of life. Women were weak, and men were strong. God, it infuriated her. How could someone living in the twenty-first century think in such an old-fashioned way? To make matters worse, she knew if she went to him for assistance, he’d use it as proof that when the going got tough, all women turned to men for help.
Then again, what choice did she have? She realized if she wanted to go public with the Catacombs, she needed to get everything documented by her father’s office. Otherwise she and Boyd would be labeled grave robbers, not archaeologists, and they would lose the rights to everything they found. The fact that he was a blatant sexist and an asshole of a father shouldn’t factor into it. He was the minister of antiquities, and he needed to be notified immediately.
Both she and Boyd knew it. Yet it was a call she was unwilling to make.
The thought of him saying that he would rescue her was one she couldn’t bear. The bastard had abandoned her as a little girl and turned his back on her when she needed him the most. So she refused to turn to him now. Not if she could help it. No way in hell.
‘Professore,’ she whispered. ‘It’s time to wake up. The sun will be up shortly.’
Boyd opened one eye, then the other, desperately searching for clues to his location. The first thing he noticed was the intricate design of the spiderwebs that hung from the ceiling. Next he felt the coldness of the concrete floor against his back. Breathing deeply, he noticed the distinct stench of urine in the air. Ah, yes! The memories came flooding back. He was in a warehouse.
‘Come on,’ she snapped. ‘We need to get out of town before breakfast.’
‘Why’s that, my dear?’
‘Because we’re bound to be on the front page of the local paper. Once people see that, the odds of us being spotted go up significantly.’
The moment Payne and Jones got to Frankie’s office they could tell he was bubbling with enthusiasm. ‘One of my jobs is making monthly bulletin for our school. Lotsa pictures, lotsa stories, lotsa nothing.’ Frankie rummaged through his desk and found an old newsletter. It was the type of thing sent to graduates and big-money donors. ‘I do whole thing myself from here.’
‘That’s great,’ Payne said. ‘But what’s that have to do with us?’
Frankie walked over to his computer and opened his scanner. ‘We scan pictures. We make pictures big on screen. We see why pictures is so important. Good idea, no?’
Payne agreed and handed him the pictures. Frankie put the first photo in and hit start.
The basic purpose of a scanner is to convert a document into a digital format (i.e., a computer file) so it can be stored on disk or manipulated on-screen. They were interested in option two, hoping to magnify Barnes’s pictures to several times their original size. Ten seconds passed before the first signs of color started to appear. The three of them stared at the image as it slowly filled the screen. A rainbow of dots here, a massive shape there. After a while it was obvious that the photo was coming in upside down. Jones had the most experience in the computer field, so he offered to man the keyboard.
‘Not to worry,’ he bragged. With a touch of his mouse, the image flipped 180 degrees and continued to grow. ‘OK, what do you want to look at first?’
Payne pointed to a section of wreckage. ‘Zoom in on the helicopter. I want to see if we can make out more of the serial number besides the last three digits.’
Jones clicked a few of buttons on the toolbar and waited for the image to be redrawn. Charred metal filled the screen, but no additional numbers could be seen. ‘Now what?’
‘I don’t know. I was hoping the chopper would show us something useful. Maybe if we -’ That’s when Payne thought of a different approach. ‘Hey Frankie, give me the photos.’ He glanced through the pile until he found the one he wanted. ‘Try this instead.’
Frankie put it in the scanner, and soon they were looking at the picture on-screen.
‘Zoom in on the truck,’ Payne said. ‘Maybe we can see a make or model.’
Jones moved his mouse across the desk. ‘And what good will that do?’
‘I bet Boyd’s truck was a rental. And if we figure out where he rented it, we might be able to get some additional information, right?’
The moment the close-up of the truck filled the screen, they realized they were on the verge of a major discovery. Jones attacked the keyboard with zeal, hoping to magnify the picture. Soon they were able to see the make and model of Boyd’s truck and his license plate as well.
‘Mamma mia!’ Frankie blurted. ‘You guys is good!’
‘Thanks,’ Jones said as he sent the image to the printer. ‘But we ain’t done yet.’
Seconds later, Jones logged on to the Internet and went to his personal website, where he punched in his secret code. Even though he rarely used his system outside the office, he’d set it up so he could access it from any terminal in the world. Once his password was accepted, he typed the truck’s license plate number into a military search engine where he was given the name of the vehicle’s title holder. The truck belonged to Golden Chariots, a rental agency on the outskirts of Rome. Next, with a quick click of the mouse, he went to the company’s website, looking for anything that might help their search.
‘What you looking for?’ Frankie wondered. ‘Name? Address? Money-saving coupon?’
Jones shook his head. ‘I need a twenty-four-hour hotline that I can call this late at night.’
Frankie pointed to the screen. ‘Look! Right there. That is number, no?’
Jones nodded. ‘And since you found it, I’m going to let you make the call.’
‘Me? Why me? Why do I make call?’
‘Frankie, relax. I’ll do the hard part. All I want you to do is call this number and pretend you’re the manager of a local hotel. I don’t care which hotel, just pick one, OK? Then I want you to find out if the rental agent speaks English. If he does, tell him one of your guests needs to talk to him about a car problem. Got it?’