The structure had been built during the late nineteen thirties as a maintenance facility for early commercial airliners. In 1980, it was condemned and scheduled for demolition, but Pitt took pity on the deserted and forlorn structure and purchased it. Then he talked the local heritage preservation committee into having it placed on the National Register of Historic Landmarks. Afterward, except for remodeling the former upstairs offices into an apartment, he restored the hangar to its original condition.
Pitt never felt the urge to invest his savings and a substantial inheritance from his grandfather into stocks, bonds, and real estate. Instead, he chose antique and classic automobiles, and souvenirs large and small collected during his global adventures as special projects director for NUMA.
The ground floor of the old hangar was filled with nearly thirty old cars, from a 1932 Stutz towncar and French Avions Voisin sedan to a huge 1951 Daimler convertible, the youngest car in the collection.
An early Ford Trimotor aircraft sat in one corner, its corrugated aluminum wing sheltering a World War II Messerschmitt ME 262 jet fighter. Along the far wall, an early Pullman railroad car, with Manhattan Limited lettered on the sides, rested on a short length of steel track. But perhaps the strangest item was an old Victorian claw-footed bathtub with an outboard motor clamped to the back. The bathtub, like the other collectibles inside the hangar, had its own unique story.
Loren stopped beside a small receiver mounted on a post. Pitt whistled the first few bars of "Yankee Doodle" and sound recognition software electronically shut down the security system and opened a big drive-through door. Loren eased the Allard inside and turned off the ignition.
"There you are," she announced proudly. "Home in one piece."
"With a new speed record from Dulles to Washington that will stand for decades," he said dryly.
"Don't be such an old grunt. You're lucky I picked you up."
"Why are you so good to me?" he asked affectionately.
"Considering all the abuse you heap on me, I really don't know."
"Abuse? Show me your black-and-blue marks."
"As a matter of fact--" Loren slipped down her leather pants to reveal a large bruise on one thigh.
"Don't look at me," he said, knowing full well he wasn't the culprit.
"It's your fault."
"I'll have you know I haven't socked a girl since Gretchen Snodgrass smeared paste on my chair in kindergarten."
"I got this from a collision with a bumper on one of your old relics."
Pitt laughed. "You should be more careful."
"Come upstairs," she ordered, wiggling her pants back up. "I've planned a gourmet brunch in honor of your homecoming."
Pitt undid the cords to his baggage and dutifully followed Loren upstairs, enjoying the fluid movement of the tightly bound package inside the leather pants. True to her word, she had laid out a lavish setting on the formal table in his dining room. Pitt was starved and his anticipation was heightened by the appetizing aromas drifting from the kitchen.
"How long?" he asked.
"Just time enough for you to get out of your grimy duds and shower," she answered.
He needed no further encouragement. He quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower, reclining on the tile floor with his feet propped on one wall as steaming hot water splashed on the opposite side. He almost drifted off to sleep, but roused himself after ten minutes an
d soaped up before rinsing off. After shaving and drying his hair, he slipped into a silk paisley robe Loren had given him for Christmas.
When he entered the kitchen, she came over and gave him a long kiss. "Ummm, you smell good, you shaved."
He saw that the metal case containing the jade box had been opened. "And you've been snooping."
"As a congresswoman I have certain inalienable rights," she said, handing him a glass of champagne.
"A beautiful work of art. What is it?"
"It," he answered, "is a pre-Columbian antiquity that contains the directions to hidden riches worth so much money it would take you and your buddies in Congress all of two days to spend it."
She looked at him suspiciously. "You must be joking. That would be over a billion dollars."
"I never joke about lost treasure."