The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Come on, DJ, just play it back. He slowed the car. Elmo looked over at him, but remained silent; he knew what was going on.
DJ replayed everything, quickly, like Elmo’s computer, but his mind was even more agile, faster. He’d been driving, thinking about the house ahead. He’d turned on his blinker, hit the brake, and seen the Land Rover. He remembered thinking the Discovery was good in foul weather and that he liked the Army green color. Then, briefly, he’d seen the silhouette. The profile of a man through tinted windows. The driver’s profile. Hmmm. What about it? Could it possibly have been . . . ? DJ peered into the rearview mirror. The Discovery was gone. Without warning Elmo, he immediately whipped into the nearest driveway and jerked the car to a stop.
He had it now. The profile of the driver of the Discovery reminded him of the archeologist! No. Impossible. Driving down his own street in the middle of the day? Right past the surveillance van? Come on, he told himself, get to the house and look for clues. Don’t waste time with your little mental games.
Despite already being late to the scene, DJ knew himself too well. He would never change. He had to follow the man in that Discovery, until he was sure it either was or was not Thomas McAlister. He rolled his eyes at himself as he shoved the car into reverse.
Elmo also knew what was happening. In his ten years with DJ, he had seen him do a great many unpredictable things. Things that Elmo would never have thought of doing. He had seen DJ link seemingly unrelated information, synthesize it, and use it to solve unsolvable mysteries. DJ sometimes had “feelings” about things, and Elmo could tell he’d had one of his feelings about the SUV they’d just passed. For DJ, solving crimes was an art but for Elmo, it was a science. Together, they had solved more crimes than any other team in the history of the Bureau. It was a record they took pride in, though they never discussed it.
DJ pulled out of the driveway and sped back to the stop sign. “Pull up a picture of the archeologist!”
Elmo began typing, accessing the case files that he’d downloaded to his laptop computer.
DJ wanted to get to the McAlister house and this was probably going to be a huge waste of time, but he had to do it. Christ, he thought, I wasn’t even looking at the guy behind the wheel of that car. What the hell am I doing following him? Wasting time. I’m two blocks from the goddamn house! DJ knew that ninety-nine times out of a hundred these hunches led nowhere, but he lived with the memory, of the ecstatic feeling he got, when, one time in a hundred, they solved cases. He always followed them and Elmo never doubted him.
He could see the Discovery about a mile up the road. He floored the Taurus and was a car behind the Discovery in seconds. Elmo turned his laptop toward DJ. It showed both a head shot and a profile of Thomas McAlister, taken at an annual anthropological meeting of Egyptian specialists. He was at a podium, giving a speech on early Egyptian architecture. It showed a youngish face, sun-bleached blond hair, and blue eyes alive and excited with the thought that an ancient Egyptian civilization might have shared architectural concepts with other early cultures.
DJ looked at the picture. He needed to see the driver again. The Discovery pulled into the parking lot of a drugstore. DJ pulled into the lot, but kept his distance. The man got out and walked into the drugstore. DJ didn’t see his face. After ten minutes of waiting, DJ called the McAlister house and told his team to sit tight, he’d be there soon.
The man came out of the drugstore with two heavy-looking plastic bags. At forty yards, DJ was almost positive it was McAlister. But what the hell was the man doing driving down his own street in the middle of the day? Especially if he was trying to escape from under their surveillance? Moreover, how the hell did he get out from under their blanket of surveillance? DJ had