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The work was tedious and time-consuming and produced no concrete evidence of stolen goods.
Shortly after one o'clock in the afternoon, Gaskill and Ragsdale sat down in Joseph Zolar's luxurious office to compare notes amid incredibly costly art objects. The FBI's chief agent did not look happy.
"This is beginning to have the look of a big embarrassment followed by a storm of nasty publicity and a gigantic lawsuit," Ragsdale said dejectedly.
"No sign of criminal activity in the records?" asked Gaskill.
"Nothing that stands out. We'll need a good month for an audit to know for certain if we have a case.
What did you dig up on your end?"
"So far every object we've studied checks clean. No stolen goods anywhere."
"Then we've performed another abortion."
Gaskill sighed. "I hate to say it, but it appears the Zolars are a hell of a lot smarter than the best combined investigative teams the United States government can field."
A few moments later, the two Customs agents who had worked with Gaskill on the Rummel raid in Chicago, Beverly Swain and Winfried Pottle, stepped into the office. Their manner was official and businesslike, but there was no hiding the slight upward curl of their lips. Ragsdale and Gaskill had been so absorbed in their private conversation that they hadn't noticed the two younger Customs agents had not entered through the office door, but from the adjoining, private bathroom.
"Got a minute, boss?" Beverly Swain asked Gaskill.
"What is it?"
"I think our instruments have detected some sort of shaft leading under the building," answered Winfried Pottle.
"What did you say?" Gaskill demanded quickly.
Ragsdale looked up. "Instruments?"
"The ground-penetrating sonic/radar detector we borrowed from the Colorado School of Mines,"
explained Pottle. "Its recording unit shows a narrow space beneath the warehouse floor leading into the earth."
A faint ray of hope suddenly passed between Ragsdale and Gaskill. They both came to their feet.
"How did you know where to look?" asked Ragsdale.
Pottle and Swain could not contain their smiles of triumph. Swain nodded at Poole who answered,
"We figured that any passageway leading to a secret chamber had to start or end at Zolar's private office, a connective tunnel he could enter at his convenience without being observed."
"His personal bathroom," Gaskill guessed wonderingly.
"A handy location," Swain confirmed.
Ragsdale took a deep breath. "Show us."
Pottle and Swain led them into a large bathroom with a marble floor and an antique sink, commode, and fixtures, with teak decking from an old yacht covering the walls. They motioned to a modern sunken tub with a Jacuzzi that seemed oddly out of place with the more ancient decor.
The shaft drops under the bathtub," said Swain, pointing.
Are you sure about this?" asked Ragsdale skeptically. "The shower stall strikes me as a more practical setup for an elevator."
"Our first thought too," answered Pottle, "but our instrument showed solid concrete and ground beneath the shower floor."
Pottle lifted a long tubular probe that was attached by an electrical cable to a compact computer with a paper printout. He switched on the unit and waved the end of the probe around the bottom of the tub.
Lights on the computer blinked for a few seconds and then a sheet of paper rolled through a slot on the top. When the recording paper stopped flowing, Pottle tore it off and held it up for everyone to see.
