Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [85]
“Sam.” Drake rose to his feet. He was tall and lanky, dressed in khakis and blue T-shirt, and looked not a day over thirty. “Take as long as you like.” He grinned. “It probably won't do you any good, but I'll enjoy the show. Your phone call interested me and I'm a simple soul who doesn't need much to intrigue him.”
She didn't believe that for a minute. He might be easygoing but there was keen intelligence in those blue eyes. She braced herself for the fight to come. Study him, search out any weakness, and use it. Ambition? Perhaps. Security? She doubted it. It could be he just wanted to be liked and respected. That would be easiest to handle. Sit down and chat for a few minutes and see if he revealed anything. “Then maybe I can entertain you for the next quarter hour or so.” She smiled and moved toward the visitor's chair beside his desk. “Or maybe we can entertain each other. You're very young to hold down such an important position. It makes me feel much more comfortable about approaching you. I have to admit I was a little nervous. . . .”
She phoned Trevor that night when she got back to the lake cottage. “We've got Archaeology Journal.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Drake is going to run a short article in this week's issue about Sontag's find. It won't be a total confirmation but close enough. He wants you to e-mail him a photo of the bust of Cira. He promised he'd blur it so that Aldo wouldn't recognize it as the one he sold to that collector. He'll need it right away if he's going to insert the story in—”
“Slow down,” Trevor said curtly. “How the devil did you do it?”
“You said you didn't have time and we needed them. So I went to Drake's office and did it myself.”
He swore long and obscenely. “You left the cottage and went to Newark?”
“Not alone. Joe went with me. He made sure no one knew I'd left here, and was there to protect me.”
“The idiot.”
“No, he's smart and tough and did what I asked him to do.”
“Where was Bartlett? I'm going to strangle him.”
“I told you, Joe's smart. It's not Bartlett's fault. He wasn't expecting to have to watch for us to slip away from the cottage.” She paused. “And I did what was needed. I was tired of listening to you tell me about how everything was moving so splendidly when the only thing I wanted was to do something. So stop cursing and send Drake that photo.”
He was silent a moment. “How did you convince him?”
“It wasn't easy,” she said wearily. “I almost blew it. I couldn't read him. Then I saw something in his expression and I had the key. . . .”
“The key?”
“He's aching to be an adventurer. He's tied to a desk reporting on dry-as-dust discoveries when he wants to shake the world.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“I was talking casually, feeling him out, and I hit it lucky. I was joking and mentioned Indiana Jones. He lit up like the Fourth of July.”
“He wants to be Indiana Jones?”
“There's nothing wrong with wanting to be a hero. So I gave him his chance. I told him the whole story about Aldo and the connection with Cira and how we needed him to spring the trap. I pulled Joe in to show him how upright and law-abiding we were. And I also promised him an exclusive after we catch Aldo. And, unlike you, I'll keep my promise. Now what's the next step?”
“You stay there and don't move a muscle.”
“I'll do what I please. Tell me how we get Eve invited to Herculaneum after Aldo reads the confirmation in the magazine.”
“We do two days of prep work in the newspapers having Sontag talk about forensic sculptors and the need to get the foremost professional in the business to do it. Then we wait another couple days and have Sontag announce his choice.”
“That's almost another week of waiting.”
“Then that's what we'll do.”
“I should think you'd be able to hurry it.” She yawned. “I'm too tired to argue right now. I was up all last night researching the magazine and convincing Joe that helping me was the right thing to do. I'm