“Sorry about the holes, but Schuler…” His words trailed off as he glanced at Herr Schuler’s back. His look should have dropped Schuler to the ground, dead.
“We didn’t want to leave until we talked to you,” Carl said. “Not until we could explain.”
“Thanks, Carl.” Mike smiled at the glum man. “It’s okay. He was paying the bills so you had to do what he wanted. He’s wrecked our work so we’ll pack up and leave. Let him hire somebody else to dig random holes. Did he ever pay you? Do you guys have enough money to get home?”
“Yes, die Parkerin gave us more than enough.”
“Go home, then. We should have a few weeks of decent weather. Might be a good time to check for the northern run of the wall at the New Hope dig.”
“Sure, Mike.” Peter Matz joined the discussion. His face was serious and his eyes darted nervously toward the woods along the ridgeline. “Watch yourself. There are a couple of men lurking in those trees on the ridge.” A grin flitted across his face. “I don’t like the looks of Herr Clark’s ‘servants,’ either. They remind me of a disreputable bunch of horse traders we know. The ones that always find trouble.”
“Yeah, but if these three are down here…” Mike smiled. “…I bet we can guess who the men on the ridge are.” He shook hands with both men and swung into the saddle, his confusion deepening. What the heck was going on? He had the same nagging feeling that he got when he read a mystery story and found at the end he’d missed half of the clues.
Carl’s face split into a wide grin. “At least if trouble comes it will find these servants are war dogs, not sheep.”
“And with them around I’ll be as safe as can be.”
“Still, don’t let Schuler or any of his people get you alone.” Peter said. “He’s not happy with you. The man thinks you owe him treasure.”
“Man, that was the best dinner I’ve had since the last time I saw Grandma.” Mike leaned back in his chair and lifted his wine glass to his hosts. “Thank you. Thank you for paying the guys, too.”
“No problemo, sport,” Lannie said. “Cora cooks a mean pot roast but I think she’d be hard pressed to match this meal.”
“I don’t think you’d better tell her that.” Mike mopped a last bit of sauce with a piece of bread. “Is this a good time to ask what the heck you two are doing here?”
“Told you he’s no dummy.” Lannie poked her husband.
Rob threw his hands up in surrender. “I’ve never thought he was. Sorry, Michael, but I wasn’t certain you knew what was going on around you.”
“I know that I don’t.”
“We didn’t either until Jo Ann told us about the invitation from Schuler to check out his ‘Roman’ site. She thought there was something fishy about the whole thing. She was right.”
Mike felt his world turn upside down. He’d already knew that Schuler thought the site was Roman and remained convinced of that no matter what Mike said. Today, at the site, he’d come to the conclusion that Schuler also was convinced that treasure was buried there. As bad as that was, something in Rob’s tone and the look on Lannie’s face said there was more.
“I’ve got an extensive set of business contacts and Schuler’s name keeps popping up in odd places.” Rob’s face was set. “Schuler has a partner, one Conrad Uller. Things happen around those two. Not so nice things. When Jo Ann brought her suspicions to us I did some more digging. Then I talked to Major Stein. Turns out that the authorities in several cities have suspicions about Uller and Schuler.”
“They’re con artists, among other things. It looks like you were intended to be a front for one of Uller’s cons,” Lannie added, patting Mike’s hand. “He apparently planned to have Schuler show the site and a couple of Roman statues to suckers and then squeeze them for money to continue digging.”
“Uller’s name’s been mentioned but he’s never come around when I’ve been there,” Mike said, his tone matching his glum mood. “I told Schuler that the site isn’t Roman. All we’ve found are bits of stone walls and they don’t look anything like the pictures of Roman stonework. They don’t look like the New Hope walls, either. What I told Schuler was that there might be some Roman influences at the site. That we might, just might, find odds and ends of Roman pottery and possibly a mosaic floor. All I know right now is that there are several stone walls.” What Lannie had said about Roman statues sunk in and he asked, “Where’s this guy Uller getting Roman statues?”
“He isn’t depending on you finding any.” Lannie shook her head. “He’s got a nice little set-up in Bamberg doing bad copies of Roman statues from photographs. Your men said that he was out to the site twice while you were away for your grandfather’s birthday party. Probably figuring out which hole to stash the fakes in.”
“I’d bet that he’s counting on his suckers not knowing what a real Roman statue looks like,” Rob said. “If you ever actually found something, it would be gravy.”
“Why all the holes, then?”
“For show.” Rob gave him a sympathetic look. “Your nice, controlled square isn’t very impressive. Got to show the marks that you’re looking.”
“Schuler may seriously think that there is some kind of treasure buried there,” Lannie added thoughtfully. “He gave me that impression today. Maybe the con artist has conned himself.”
There was a soft knock on the door. Wilf stepped in and carefully closed it behind him. Mike got a glimpse of Christian leaning against the wall outside.
“There were three men, heavily armed, waiting in the trees at the stone bridge we crossed,” Wilf reported. “Reichard’s, ah, talking to them.”
“Only three?” Lannie asked.
Wilf shrugged. “Three were all Reichard found. He says the signs show only three at that spot.”
“Reichard would know.” Rob’s grin was feral. “That’s one of Uller’s other little sidelines-kidnapping for ransom. Nobody has been able to find proof he or Schuler are behind it. Schuler’s well connected so the authorities’ hands are tied without evidence. Major Stein volunteered Wilf and the guys to find some evidence. Lannie and I are the bait. Did they really intend to kidnap us?”
“Looks that way. There was a farm cart hidden in the trees. It was loaded with bags of vegetables.” Wilf pulled an extra chair up to the table. He made a crude map with several forks and a couple of spoons.
“It’s a nice spot for a snatch. The bridge is narrow and the road makes a sharp turn, parallel to the stream just the other side. If it were me, I’d wait until the party I’m intending to grab cleared the bridge. One man could slip in between them and the rest of the party. Give him a musket or pistol and he’ll have no trouble holding off a gaggle of servants. The rest then slide out of the trees and grab bridles. Hustle the victims off to the waiting cart, tie them up, toss them aboard, rearrange the sacks, and off we’d go. If I was running such a show I’d make sure that my Judas goat was also snatched to throw off suspicions.” Wilf’s grin matched Rob’s.
“Schuler insisted that we go across that bridge first. We were suspicious and ready.” Lannie didn’t smile but she did pat the fanny pack at her waist. Mike knew she kept an automatic in that pack along with extra clips.
“He kept glancing into the woods along the road. He must have been greatly disappointed,” Rob added.
“Aye, Reichard and Klaus got there first. The three kidnappers were eager to throw themselves on the mercies of the authorities. Hopefully they are equally eager to inform on Uller and Schuler.” Wilf pulled an empty wine glass over and poured himself some wine. He took a careful sip. “Good wine. The stuff they give servants here is horse piss.”
“Our part of the job is done, then.” Lannie took her husband’s hand. “You and I need to get home. We have responsibilities. We have a baby who needs his mother and father at home, not off adventuring. Besides, Grandpa is spoiling him rotten while we’re gone.”
“We can leave early and be back by late afternoon,” Rob said reasonably. “Grandpa Ev can’t spoil Little Ev too badly in that short a time. Can he?”
“Just wait, buster. Just wait and you’ll see how fast Grandpa can spoil a kid.”
“Mike, can you be ready to leave by seven tomorrow?” Rob asked.
Rob’s question interrupted Mike’s thoughts. Finding out that Schuler really was working some kind of a con made him feel like an idiot. He felt like when he was eight and his brother Aaron explained that Santa Claus wasn’t real-unbelievably stupid for having believed for so long. If he couldn’t tell when he was being used then his dad was right and he was just a dumb kid. Maybe he should give up trying to reinvent up-time archaeology-leave it to someone smarter.
