The Matador's Crown by Alex Archer Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alex Archer
because she predicted Soto would have real smoke coming out of his ears once he got her message. Unless he already knew about Simon Klosky’s death…because he’d been there when the guy was killed.
If the police had stolen artifacts and were reselling them on the black market, they were likely involved in looting other digs in the area. Annja immediately got online and searched for digs in progress. The closest was in Granada. Two hundred and fifty kilometers away. Depending on the illicit operation’s size, it could be local or international.
The museums, along with dealers and collectors, often inadvertently supported the illegal antiquities trade, and sometimes made the unconvincing argument that looters put history into the hands of the people. History yanked from its origins and placed without provenance or context before the unaware but appreciative public. Right. She was glad James Harlow was one museum employee not on that list. Much as he’d wanted to get his hands on the bull statue, he was as concerned about the illegal buying and selling of antiquities as was she.
Archaeologists and the source nations would continue to fight the underground trade, but it was getting more difficult every day as war, and pillaging of the spoils, saw major museums looted and priceless artifacts damaged or lost.
Sipping the passable coffee, she paced before the open seaside window, breathing in the ocean breeze.
Professor Crockett’s suggestion the Cádiz police were accomplices in the looting still didn’t place a name to Diego’s murderer. If the police were involved they would cover it up. Had likely already marked the file Unsolved.
She hated knowing Diego’s death would be swept under the carpet like so much trash. She didn’t know the guitarist, but everyone deserved justice.
Flipping open her cell phone, she dialed James Harlow, who answered on the first ring.
“I’ve just returned from Crockett’s dig site.”
“So what have you learned?”
“I spoke to Jonathan Crockett while he held an AK-47 on me.”
“I knew it. The bastard,” Harlow said on a hiss. “He’s implicated himself. He’s probably behind the young musician’s murder, as well.”
One thing was clear, James Harlow really wanted to pin this on Crockett. Annja made a mental note to find out if the two men had a rivalry. She wasn’t about to judge anyone until she got all the facts. And what did she really know about Harlow?
“Crockett’s site was raided, he claims, by the Cádiz police.”
“What? Really? That doesn’t make sense. The authorities have always proved helpful to me.” She heard the familiar sound of a fingernail tapping a watch crystal. “Don’t you suspect it was a lie? The man is shifty.”
“Not sure. The dead body in the dig pit makes me wonder. Crockett said the police killed Simon Klosky, his assistant. Did you know Simon?”
“No, sorry. Another dead man?” The pause on the line was disturbingly long. She had second thoughts about revealing this information to Harlow, but his knowledge of the city and the local archaeological digs and personnel could help her. He finally asked, “Where’s Crockett now?”
“Said he’s going to pack up and get out.”
“Did you call the police?”
“I left a message about finding the dead man. This links me to the two deaths. I worked on the dig for two days. I handled the bull statue before it was stolen.”
“Right. I didn’t think of that. You could also be implicated. But still…you had to call in a report.”
“It’s my duty.”
“So the product circulates in a close range,” Harlow said. “Interesting. Though it could be a starting point for something larger. I can’t pinpoint a source. I suspect they must be operating close to shore, for shipping, perhaps. I haven’t gone so far as to cruise the area, mind you. Skulduggery is not my strong suit. Besides, I imagine there are countless illegal operations in the
area. Always seem to be in
If the police had stolen artifacts and were reselling them on the black market, they were likely involved in looting other digs in the area. Annja immediately got online and searched for digs in progress. The closest was in Granada. Two hundred and fifty kilometers away. Depending on the illicit operation’s size, it could be local or international.
The museums, along with dealers and collectors, often inadvertently supported the illegal antiquities trade, and sometimes made the unconvincing argument that looters put history into the hands of the people. History yanked from its origins and placed without provenance or context before the unaware but appreciative public. Right. She was glad James Harlow was one museum employee not on that list. Much as he’d wanted to get his hands on the bull statue, he was as concerned about the illegal buying and selling of antiquities as was she.
Archaeologists and the source nations would continue to fight the underground trade, but it was getting more difficult every day as war, and pillaging of the spoils, saw major museums looted and priceless artifacts damaged or lost.
Sipping the passable coffee, she paced before the open seaside window, breathing in the ocean breeze.
Professor Crockett’s suggestion the Cádiz police were accomplices in the looting still didn’t place a name to Diego’s murderer. If the police were involved they would cover it up. Had likely already marked the file Unsolved.
She hated knowing Diego’s death would be swept under the carpet like so much trash. She didn’t know the guitarist, but everyone deserved justice.
Flipping open her cell phone, she dialed James Harlow, who answered on the first ring.
“I’ve just returned from Crockett’s dig site.”
“So what have you learned?”
“I spoke to Jonathan Crockett while he held an AK-47 on me.”
“I knew it. The bastard,” Harlow said on a hiss. “He’s implicated himself. He’s probably behind the young musician’s murder, as well.”
One thing was clear, James Harlow really wanted to pin this on Crockett. Annja made a mental note to find out if the two men had a rivalry. She wasn’t about to judge anyone until she got all the facts. And what did she really know about Harlow?
“Crockett’s site was raided, he claims, by the Cádiz police.”
“What? Really? That doesn’t make sense. The authorities have always proved helpful to me.” She heard the familiar sound of a fingernail tapping a watch crystal. “Don’t you suspect it was a lie? The man is shifty.”
“Not sure. The dead body in the dig pit makes me wonder. Crockett said the police killed Simon Klosky, his assistant. Did you know Simon?”
“No, sorry. Another dead man?” The pause on the line was disturbingly long. She had second thoughts about revealing this information to Harlow, but his knowledge of the city and the local archaeological digs and personnel could help her. He finally asked, “Where’s Crockett now?”
“Said he’s going to pack up and get out.”
“Did you call the police?”
“I left a message about finding the dead man. This links me to the two deaths. I worked on the dig for two days. I handled the bull statue before it was stolen.”
“Right. I didn’t think of that. You could also be implicated. But still…you had to call in a report.”
“It’s my duty.”
“So the product circulates in a close range,” Harlow said. “Interesting. Though it could be a starting point for something larger. I can’t pinpoint a source. I suspect they must be operating close to shore, for shipping, perhaps. I haven’t gone so far as to cruise the area, mind you. Skulduggery is not my strong suit. Besides, I imagine there are countless illegal operations in the
area. Always seem to be in