inca.gold-第26部分

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　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　Customs；　she　was　the　best　undercover　agent　Gaskill　had　on　his　team　and　the　only　one　inside　Rummel's　building。　〃If　you　think　I'm　bored　with　watching　TV　monitors　depicting　basements；　elevators；　and　hallways；　and　on　my　way　out　the　door　for　a　flight　to　Tahiti；　you're　half　right。〃
　　　　〃Save　your　money；〃　replied　Pottle。　〃Tahiti　is　nothing　but　tall　palms　and　exotic　beaches。　You　can　get　that　in　Florida。〃
　　　　〃Run　tape　on　the　front　entrance；〃　ordered　Gaskill。　〃Then　trot　down　to　the　basement　and　question　the　movers。　Find　out　if　they're　moving　someone　in　or　out　of　the　building；　what　apartment；　and　why　they're　working　at　this　ungodly　hour。〃
　　　　〃On　my　way；〃　Swain　answered　through　a　yawn。
　　　　〃I　hope　she　doesn't　meet　up　with　a　monster；〃　said　Pottle。
　　　　〃What　monster？〃　asked　Gaskill　with　raised　eyebrows。
　　　　〃You　know；　in　all　those　stupid　horror　movies；　a　woman　alone　in　a　house　hears　a　strange　noise　in　the　cellar。　Then　she　investigates　by　going　down　the　stairs　without　turning　on　the　lights　or　holding　a　kitchen　knife　for　protection。〃
　　　　〃Typical　lousy　Hollywood　direction。〃　Gaskill　shrugged。　〃Not　to　worry　about　Bev。　The　basement　is　lit　like　Las　Vegas　Boulevard　and　she's　packing　a　nine…millimeter　Colt　bat　mander。　Pity　the　poor　monster　who　es　on　to　her。〃
　　　　Now　that　Rummel's　penthouse　was　dark；　Gaskill　took　a　few　minutes　away　from　the　binoculars　to　knock　off　half　a　dozen　glazed　donuts　and　down　a　thermos　bottle　of　cold　milk。　He　was　sadly　contemplating　the　empty　donut　box　when　Swain　reported　in。
　　　　〃The　movers　are　unloading　furniture　for　an　apartment　on　the　nineteenth　floor。　They're　ticked　off　at　working　so　late　but　are　being　well　paid　for　overtime。　They　can't　say　why　the　client　is　in　such　a　rush；　only　that　it　must　be　one　of　those　last…minute　corporate　transfers。〃
　　　　〃Any　possibility　they're　smuggling　artifacts　into　Rummel's　place？〃
　　　　〃They　opened　the　door　of　the　van　for　me。　It's　packed　with　art　deco　style　furniture。〃
　　　　〃Okay；　monitor　their　movements　every　few　minutes。〃
　　　　Pottle　scribbled　on　a　notepad　and　hung　up　a　wall　phone　in　the　kitchen。　When　he　returned　to　Gaskill's　position　at　the　window；　he　had　a　cagey　grin　on　his　face。　〃I　bow　to　your　intuition。　Sidney　Kammer's　home　address　is　in　Lake　Forest。〃
　　　　〃I'll　bet　you　Kammer's　biggest　client　turns　out　to　be　Adolphus　Rummel；〃　Gaskill　ventured。
　　　　〃And　for　the　bongo　drums　and　a　year's　supply　of　Kitty　Litter；　tell　me　who　Kammer　leases　his　apartment　to。〃
　　　　〃Got　to　be　Adolphus　Rummel。〃
　　　　Pottle　looked　pleased　with　himself。　〃I　think　we　can　safely　shout　Eureka。〃
　　　　Gaskill　stared　across　the　street　through　an　open　curtain　into　Rummel's　living　room；　suddenly　knowing　his　secret。　His　dark　eyes　deepened　as　he　spoke。　〃A　hidden　stairway　leading…from　the　foyer；〃　he　said；　carefully　choosing　his　words　as　if　describing　a　screenplay　he　was　about　to　write。　〃Rummel　walks　off　the　elevator；　opens　a　hidden　door　to　a　stairway　and　descends　to　the　apartment　below　his　penthouse；　where　he　spends　forty…five　minutes　gloating　over　his　private　store　of　treasures。　Then　he　returns　upstairs；　pours　his　brandy；　and　sleeps　the　sleep　of　a　satisfied　man。　Strange；　but　I　can't　help　envying　him。〃
　　　　Pottle　had　to　reach　up　to　pound　Gaskill　on　the　shoulder。　〃Congratulations；　Dave。　Nothing　left　now　but　to　obtain　a　search　warrant　and　conduct　a　raid　on　Rummel's　penthouse。〃
　　　　Gaskill　shook　his　head。　〃A　warrant；　yes。　A　raid　by　an　army　of　agents；　no。　Rummel　has　powerful　friends　in　Chicago。　We　can't　afford　a　big　motion　that　could　result　in　a　media　barrage　of　criticism　or　a　nasty　lawsuit。　Particularly　if　I've　made　a　bad　call。　A　quiet　little　search　by　you　and　me　and　Bev　Swain　will　acplish　whatever　it　takes　to　ferret　out　Rummel's　artifact　collection。〃
　　　　Pottle　slipped　on　a　trench　coat；　a　never…ending　source　of　friendly　ridicule　by　fellow　agents；　and　headed　for　the　door。　〃Judge　Aldrich　is　a　light　sleeper。　I'll　roust　him　out　of　bed　and　be　back　with　the　paperwork　before　the　sun　es　up。〃
　　　　〃Make　it　sooner。〃　Gaskill　smiled　wryly。　〃I'm　itching　with　anticipation。〃
　　　　After　Pottle　left；　Gaskill　called　up　Swain。