inca.gold-第32部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


ea。　He　could　only　assume　they　had　either　stolen　it　themselves　or　bought　it　from　the　collector　who　had　dealt　with　the　original　thieves。
　　　　Having　had　his　nightly　gratification；　Rummel　turned　off　the　lights；　returned　upstairs　to　the　foyer；　and　closed　the　mirror。　Moving　behind　a　wet　bar　designed　around　a　two　thousand…year…old　Roman　sarcophagus；　he　half…filled　a　small　snifter　from　a　bottle　of　brandy　and　retired　to　his　bedroom　to　read　before　falling　asleep。

　　　　In　another　apartment　directly　level　and　across　the　street　from　Rummel's　building；　United　States　Customs　Agent　David　Gaskill　sat　and　peered　through　a　pair　of　high…powered　binoculars　mounted　on　a　tripod　as　the　artifacts　collector　prepared　for　bed。　Another　agent　might　have　been　bored　after　nearly　a　week　of　stakeout；　but　not　Gaskill。　An　eighteen…year　veteran　of　the　Customs　Service；　Gaskill　looked　more　like　a　football　coach　than　a　special　government　agent；　a　look　he　cultivated　for　his　work。　His　gray　hair　was　curly　and　bed　back。　An　African　American；　his　skin　was　more　doeskin　brown　than　dark　coffee；　and　his　eyes　were　a　strange　mixture　of　mahogany　and　green。　His　massive　bulldog　head　seemed　to　grow　out　of　his　shoulders　on　a　stunted；　tree…trunk　neck。　A　huge　mountain　of　a　man；　he　was　once　an　all…star　linebacker　for　the　University　of　Southern　California。　He　had　worked　hard　to　lose　his　South　Carolina　drawl　and　spoke　with　practiced　diction；　occasionally　being　mistaken　for　a　former　British　citizen　from　the　Bahamas。
　　　　Gaskill　had　been　fascinated　by　pre…Columbian　art　ever　since　a　field　trip　to　the　Yucatan　Peninsula　during　school。　When　stationed　in　Washington；　D。C。；　he　had　handled　dozens　of　investigations　involving　looted　artifacts　from　the　Anasazi　and　Hohokam　cultures　of　the　American　Southwest　desert。　He　was　working　on　a　case　involving　the　smuggling　of　carved　Mayan　stone　panels　when　he　received　a　tip　that　was　passed　along　to　him　by　Chicago　police　from　a　cleaning　woman。　She　had　accidentally　discovered　photographs　protruding　from　a　drawer　in　Rummel's　penthouse　of　what　she　believed　to　be　a　man's　body　covered　in　gold。　Thinking　that　someone　might　have　been　murdered；　she　stole　a　photo　and　turned　it　over　to　the　police。　A　detective　who　had　worked　on　art　fraud　cases　recognized　the　golden　object　as　an　antiquity　and　called　Gaskill。
　　　　Rummel's　name　had　always　been　high　on　the　Customs　Service's　list　of　people　who　collected　ancient　art　without　concern　about　where　it　came　from；　but　there　was　never　any　evidence　of　illegal　dealings；　nor　did　Gaskill　have　a　clue　where　Rummel　kept　his　hoard。　The　special　agent；　who　possessed　the　expertise　of　an　antiquities　scholar；　immediately　recognized　the　photo　supplied　by　the　cleaning　lady　as　the　long…lost　Golden　Body　Suit　of　Tiapollo。
　　　　He　set　up　an　immediate　round…the…clock　surveillance　of　Rummel's　penthouse　and　had　the　old　man　tailed　from　the　time　he　left　the　building　until　he　returned。　But　six　days　of　tight　scrutiny　had　turned　up　no　indication　of　where　Rummel's　collection　was　hidden。　The　suspect　never　varied　his　routine。　After　leaving　for　his　office　at　the　lower　end　of　Michigan　Avenue；　where　he'd　spend　four　hours；　sifting　through　his　investments；　it　was　lunch　at　a　run…down　cafe　where　he　always　ordered　bean　soup　and　a　salad。　The　rest　of　the　afternoon　was　spent　prowling　antique　stores　and　art　galleries。　Then　dinner　at　a　quiet　German　restaurant；　after　which　he　would　take　in　a　movie　or　a　play。　He　usually　arrived　home　at　eleven…thirty。　The　routine　never　varied。
　　　　〃Doesn't　he　ever　get　tired　of　drinking　the　same　rotgut　in　bed？〃　muttered　Special　Agent　Winfried　Pottle。　〃Speaking　for　myself；　I'd　prefer　the　waiting　arms　of　a　beautiful　woman　oozing　supple　elegance　and　wearing　a　little　something　black　and　flimsy。〃
　　　　Gaskill　pulled　back　from　the　binoculars　and　made　a　dour　face　at　his　second…in…mand　of　the　surveillance　team。　Unlike　Gaskill　in　his　Levi's　and　USC　football　jacket；　Pottle　was　a　slim；　handsome　man　with　sharp　features　and　soft　red　hair；　who　dressed　in　three…piece　suits　plete　with　pocket　watch　and　chain。　〃After　seeing　a　few　of　the　women　you　date；　I'd　have　to　say　that　was　wishful　thinking。〃
　　　　Pottle　nodded　at　Rummel's　penthouse。　〃At　least　give　me　credit　for　not　leading　a　regimented　existence。〃
　　　　〃I　shudder　to　think　how　you'd　behave　if　you　had　his　money。〃
　　　　〃If　I　had　invested　a　king's　ransom　in　stolen　Indian　art；　I　doubt　if　I　could　do　as　good　a　job　of　hiding　it。〃
　　　　〃Rummel　has　to　conceal　it　somewhere；〃　said　Gaskill　with　a　slight　trace　of　discouragement。　〃His　reputation　as　a　buyer　of　hot　goods　with　a　colorful　history　es　from　too　many　sources　in　the　antiquities　market　not　to　be　genuine。　Makes　no　sense　for　a　man　to　build　a　world…class　collection　of　ancient　artifacts　and　then　never　go　near　it。　I've　yet　to　hear　of　a　collector；　whether　he　goes　in　for　stamps；　coins；　or　baseball　cards；　who　didn't　study　and　fondle　them　at　every　opportunity。　Wealthy　art　junkies　who　pay　big　bucks　for　stolen　Rembrandts　and　van　Goghs　are　known　to　sit　all　alone　in　hidden　vaults；　gazing　at　them　for　hours　on　end。　I　know　some　of　these　guys；　who　started　with　nothing；　got　rich　and　then　lusted　to　collect　objects　only　they　could　possess。　Many　of　them　abandoned　families　or　gladly　suffered　divorce　because　their　craving　became　an　obsession。　That's　why　someone　as　addicted　to　pre…Columbian　art　as　Rummel　could　never　ignore　a　hoard　that's　probably　more　valuable　than　any　in　the　finest　museums　in　the　world。〃
　　　　〃Did　you　ever　consider　the　possibility　that　our　sources　might　be　wrong　or　highly　exaggerated？〃　asked　Pottle　gloomily。　〃The　cleaning　lady　who　claimed　she　found　the　photograph　of　the　gold　suit　is　a　confirmed　alcoholic。〃
　　　　Gaskill　slowly　shook　his　head。　〃Rummel's　got　it　stashed　somewhere。　I'm　convinced。〃
　　　　Pottle　stared　across　at　Rummel's　apartment　as　the　lights　blinked　out。　〃If　you're　right；　and　if　I　were　Rummel；　I'd　take　it　to　bed　with　me。〃
　　　　〃Sure　you　would…〃　Gaskill　stopped　abruptly　as　Pottle's　wit　triggered　a　thought。　〃Your　perverted　mind　just　made　a　good　point。〃
　　　　〃It　did？〃　muttered　a　confused　Pottle。
　　　　〃What　rooms　do　not　have　windows　in　the　penthouse？　The　ones　we　can't　observe？〃
　　　　Pottle　looked　down　at　the　carpet　in　thought　for　a　moment。　〃According　to　the　floor　plan；　two　bathrooms；　a　pantry；　the　short　hall　between　the　master　and　guest　bedrooms；　and　the　closets。〃
　　　　〃We're　missing　something。〃
　　　　〃Missing　what？　Rummel　seldom　remembers　to　draw　his　curtains。　We　can　watch　ninety　percent　of　his　movements　once　he　steps　off　the　elevator。　No　way　he　could　store　a　ton　of　art　treasures　in　a　couple　of　bathtubs　and　a　closet。〃
　　　　〃True；　but　where　does　he　spend　the　thirty　or　forty　minutes　from　the　time　he　exits　the　lobby　and　steps　into　the　elevator　until　he　sets　foot　in　his　living　room？　Certainly　not　in　the　foyer。〃
　　　　〃Maybe　he　sits　on　the　john。〃
　　　　〃Nobody　is　that　regular。〃　Gaskill　stood　and　walked　over　to　a　coffee　table　and　spread　out　a　set　of　blueprints　of　Rummel's　penthouse　obtained　from　the　building's　developer。　He　studied　them　for　what　had　to　be　the　fiftieth　time。　〃The　artifacts　have　to　be　in　the　building。〃
　　　　〃We've　checked　every　apartment　from　the　main　floor　to　the　roof；〃　said　Pottle。　〃They're　all　leased　by　live…in　tenants。〃
　　　　〃What　about　the　one　directly　below　Rummel？〃　asked　Gaskill。
　　　　Pottle　thumbed　through　a　sheaf　of　puter　papers。　〃Sidney　Kammer　and　wife；　Candy。　He's　one　of　those　high…level　corporate　attorneys　who　saves　his　clients　from　paying　a　bushel　of　taxes。〃
　　　　Gaskill　looked　at　Pottle。　〃When　was　the　last　time　Kammer　and　his　wife　made　an　appearance？〃
　　　　Pottle　scanned　the　log　they　maintained　of　residents　who　entered　and　left　the　building　during　the　surveillance。　〃No　sign　of　them。　They're　no…shows。〃
　　　　〃I　bet　if　we　checked　it　out；　the　Kammers　live　in　a　house　somewhere　in　a　plush　suburb　and　never　set　foot　in　their　apartment。〃
　　　　〃They　could　be　on　vacation。〃
　　　　The　voice　of　agent　Beverly　Swain　broke　over　Gaskill's　portable　radio。　〃I　have　a　large　moving　van　backing　into　the　basement　of　the　building。〃
　　　　〃Are　you　manning　the　front　security　desk　or　checking　out　the　basement？〃　asked　Gaskill。
　　　　〃Still　in　the　lobby；　walking　my　post　in　a　military　manner；〃　Swain　answered　pertly。　A　smart　little　blonde；　and　a　California　beach　girl　before　joining　Cust