"You were right during lunch the other day. The Specter did sire a dynasty of rotten apples who carried on the tradition."

"We've had Zolar International under surveillance on at least four occasions that I can recall, but it always came up clean. I never guessed a connection to the legendary Specter."

"Same with the bureau," said Ragsdale. "We've always suspected they were behind just about every seven figure art and artifact theft that goes down, but we've been unable to find enough evidence to indict any one of them."

"You have my sympathy. No evidence of stolen goods, no search warrant or arrest."

"Little short of a miracle how an underground business as vast as the Zolars' can operate on such a widespread scale and never leave a clue."

"They don't make mistakes," said Gaskill.

"Have you tried to get an undercover agent inside?" asked Ragsdale.

"Twice. They were wise almost immediately. If I wasn't certain my people are solid, I'd have sworn they were tipped off."

"We've never been able to penetrate them either. And the collectors who buy the hot art are just as tight-lipped and cautious."

"And yet we both know the Zolars launder stolen artifacts like drug dealers launder money."

Ragsdale was silent for a few moments. Finally he said, "I think it's about time we stop meeting for lunch to exchange notes and start wo

rking together on a full-time basis."

"I like your style," Gaskill acknowledged. "I'll start the ball rolling on my end by submitting a proposal for a joint task force to my superior as soon as I hit the office."

"I'll do likewise on my end."

"Why don't we set up a combined meeting with our teams, say Thursday morning?"

"Sounds like a winner," agreed Ragsdale.

"That should give us time to lay the initial groundwork."

"Speaking of the Specter, did you track down the stolen Diego Riveras? You mentioned over lunch that you might have a lead on them."

"Still working on the case," Gaskill replied. "But it's beginning to look like the Riveras went to Japan and ended up in a private collection."

"What do you want to bet the Zolars set up the buy?"

"If they did, there will be no trail. They use too many front organizations and intermediaries to handle the sale. We're talking the superstars of crime. Since old Mansfield Zolar pulled off his first heist, no one in the family has ever been touched by you, by me, by any other law enforcement agency in the world.

They've never seen the inside of a courtroom. They're so lily white it's disgusting."

"We'll take them down this time," Ragsdale said encouragingly.

"They're not the type to make mistakes we can use to our advantage," said Gaskill.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I've always had the feeling that an outsider, someone not directly connected with you, me, or the Zolars, will come along and short-circuit their system."

"Whoever he is, I hope he shows up quick. I'd hate to see the Zolars retire to Brazil before we can drop the axe on their necks."

"Now that we know Papa was the founder of the operation, and how he operated, we'll have a better idea of what to look for."

"Before we ring off," said Ragsdale, "tell me, did you ever tie an expert translator to the golden mummy suit that slipped through your hands?"

Gaskill winced. He didn't like to be reminded. "All known experts on such glyphs have been accounted for except two. A pair of anthropologists from Harvard, Dr. Henry Moore and his wife.

They've dropped from sight. None of their fellow professors or neighbors have a clue to their whereabouts."

Tags: Clive Cussler Dirk Pitt Thriller
Source: readsnovelonline.net