Furtively.
She hurried to the door and looked outside. She could run back to the statues and escape into the back to the offices and prep rooms behind the scenes.
She could demand that whoever it was show him or herself.
And wind up with a belt or other object around her neck, or poisoned linen wrapped around her body?
She realized that her heart was thundering. In a thousand years, she could never have imagined being so frightened in the middle of the day in a museum. She wasn’t sure she’d been this frightened even when they were forced to flee the Sahara.
Harley flattened herself against the wall, waiting.
She was startled to hear the scream of a cat again.
That was no damned mummy! There was a living cat in the museum—fact!
But she wasn’t staying to search for it.
She burst out into the hallway, racing toward the exit.
“Harley!”
She heard her name; it was a heated whisper. She sensed somehow that it wasn’t a threat, but by then she was propelling herself forward at a frantic pace.
“Harley!”
That whisper of her name again.
She wasn’t going to make the exit.
She turned and saw Micah Fox standing there.
One minute she was running, her feet barely touching the floor.
The next...
She’d fallen flat on her back, blinking up at the man straddling her.
“Harley! Damn!”
Fox. Micah Fox. Special Agent Micah Fox.
She stared at him blankly. For a moment, she wondered if he’d been stalking her through the Amenmose exhibit.
“There was someone in here!” she said. “Watching me.”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “And thanks to you, that someone has gotten away.”
Micah rose to his feet and helped Harley to hers. “What?” she demanded. “How?”
“I had him—or her. I don’t even know which it was. Then you made enough noise to raise a legion of the dead—”
“Oh, no, no, no! You were the one making the noise!” Harley told him.
“Harley, if you’d just stayed where you were...”
“And let someone get me? What a bright comment from a law enforcement officer!”
“Harley,” he began, then broke off and halfway smiled, lowered his head and shook it slightly. “Sorry. I guess I think of you as Craig’s cousin, and as a student of criminology, and I suppose...”
“You suppose what?”
“That you’ll behave as if you were trained in criminal behavior and...well, working a case.”
She stood there, still staring at him, pursing her lips. Then she offered him an icy smile. “Okay, let’s put it this way. Take doctors. Some are great practitioners and others are diagnosticians. My training helps us to figure out what happened—not to bulldoze our way into a situation with guns blazing!”
He listened to her speak; his reaction was undeniable amusement.
“Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the offices here and see who we can see, yes?” he asked her.
She turned and headed for the doors marked Cast Members Only—as if they were at a theme park rather than a museum—and pushed her way in. She feared for a moment that the doors would be locked. They were not.
A long hall stretched before her. To the left were offices; to the right were the labs and prep rooms.
She could see that one door was marked with the name Gordon Vincent. She hadn’t really met him, she realized, and he wasn’t just in charge of the Amenmose exhibit, but the entire museum. His appearance was perfect for the part; he was solid, about six feet even, gray-haired and entirely dignified. The office beside his bore a temporary name; that was obvious from the way the name placard had been slipped over another, the name being Arlo Hampton. Next to his office, the jerry-rigged nameplate read Vivian Richter.
Jensen Morrow had his own office, since he was now an employee of the museum.
No one was in the hall. Looking through the large plate-glass windows to the lab, they could see that Arlo wasn’t in his office; he was in the lab. He was working with one of the unnamed mummies they’d found in the tomb, running the X-ray machine over the remains. Harley waited until he’d completed his task. Then she tapped on a window. Arlo raised his head, startled. He saw Harley and offered her a large smile—then noticed Micah and didn’t seem quite so pleased. He disappeared for a moment as he walked through the changing area and then opened the hallway door to let them in.
He beamed; in fact, he seemed to come alive as he met Harley’s gaze.
He did not seem concerned that a woman, a colleague, was in the hospital. That someone had attempted to murder her in a particularly grotesque manner.
“Harley, nice to see you. Jensen said he asked you to come in. I believe he was going to ask you to work with him on a few last additions we’re thinking of adding. I’ll tell you the truth, I wish you’d been one of ours. I want a room on what we’ve discovered from the mummies—and what we know about their deaths. Oh, the whole Tut thing is still speculation, and that’s not ours to tear apart. This is!”
“Thanks,” Harley said, wondering why Jensen hadn’t mentioned that. “I’m happy to help with...whatever’s needed.”
“Great. And you, Agent Fox.” Arlo turned to him. “Are you part of the police investigation? They were here all night. They found nothing. Of course, they still have Vivian’s office closed off and we won’t open this section until tomorrow, but...wow.”
“Yeah, wow,” Micah said, his tone flat. “So, what do you think happened to Vivian Richter?”
“Her husband’s with her now,” Arlo said. “I mean, needless to say, we care most about the living. It’s just that...well, the world can’t stop because something bad happened to someone.”
“Yeah, but that bad thing happened right here,” Micah reminded him.
“Of course,” Arlo said. “But...it had to be a prank, right? She didn’t die. I’m thinking some college student who suffered some kind of slight at our hands was in here and played a prank on her.”
“Nicotine poisoning is no prank.”
Arlo looked truly perplexed. “Someone definitely came in through the back, to get to her. Otherwise, whoever it was would’ve been on the cameras. The only people picked up on the security video cameras in this section were the two of you and Jensen Morrow. But, of course, there are entrances from the basement on up—a few secret entrances. Did you know the building itself was originally erected by Astor as a bank? That’s why there’s the gorgeous foyer and all. But speaking of secret entrances, the cops are looking at everything. Oh yeah, you’re a cop. Okay, sort of a cop. Do you want a tour?”
“I would love a tour,” Micah told him. “But first, who else is working today?”
“Well, define ‘working.’ I think everyone’s been in. The only one not really part of the new exhibit is Harley. Belinda, Joe and Roger have been giving it about ten hours a week. Jensen is here full-time, which I’m sure you know. Joe and Belinda both have full-time jobs with two of the other major museums in the city, and Roger is teaching now. They were all in at one time or another this morning, checking out their space. The cops tore through everything, looking for the source of the wrapping and the poison. But honestly, I don’t think we even have any natural linen back here. And any idiot knows that’s not how you make an ancient Egyptian mummy. But—”
“So who else was here this morning, Arlo?”
“Let’s see. Ned Richter was in. Left the hospital, popped over here and went back. But he was here.”
“And the others?” Harley asked.
“Yes, like I said, at one time or another. I’ve been busy, as you can see. We still have a wealth of remains and artifacts.
There was the mess with that so-called insurgent group, but then the company and the government sent guys with big trucks and equipment, and they emptied the tomb—including all the mummies—before thieves could. Oh yeah, some people see the Western world as one giant thief, but everything we have is cleared through the Egyptian government and will be returned, and that was common knowledge from the get-go.”
Arlo seemed to consider it more important to honor international agreements than to worry about anything else.
Admirable.
But Henry had died. And Vivian might have died, too.
“I’d love that tour now,” Micah said, smiling. Harley saw the way his face moved when he smiled. Obviously, despite his work, he smiled a lot. He had the kind of smile that made her wonder what it would be like if they were just talking together at a restaurant, in a class...
“I can’t give you a tour of the entire place. We’re going to concentrate on this exhibit. You’ll notice that our offices are in this section with the directors, with Gordon Vincent. He’s a very smart, well-educated and supportive guy. He purposely keeps his office over here. That way, whatever is new, he’s in on it.”
“So he might have been in his office before Vivian came out screaming?” Micah asked.
“I suppose so,” Arlo replied. “But are you suggesting Gordon was involved? Really? I don’t think so.”
Harley didn’t, either. He hadn’t been on the expedition. She could tell that Micah didn’t think Vincent was guilty of anything, either; he was just covering his bases.
“Show me around, please. That would be great,” Micah said.
“Okay, let’s go!”
Arlo ripped off his paper lab coat and set out. “As you can see, that’s a lab—a ‘clean room’ lab, if you will. You have to coat up, glove up and mask up before going in. You never know what might’ve been in the ground for millennia! And over there, the museum offices. Now, we’re on the ground floor, or so you’d think. Directly beneath us is the cafeteria and there’s another rotunda-like area for international exhibits. That one’s a bit different. International, of course, but Egyptology has always had a place in the higher echelon of what people find fascinating in a museum. And, sadly, museums are bottom-line—everyone needs donations and funding and numbers—and mummies are a draw. Always have been. Even though they were so plentiful in Victorian times that people used them for kindling! Yes, those good religious uptight folk used human remains as kindling.”
He kept talking, pointing out different research rooms and more offices. Then he came to a staircase. It was an old stone circular staircase, high and steep. “This led down to the vaults at one time. It wouldn’t have been easy to steal from this place when it was a bank!”
They followed him down to the basement and then the sub-basement.
“Does this bypass the actual basement?”
“Yes, these stairs do. And...” Arlo turned, shining a flashlight at them, although they were still receiving ample light from above. “It’ll get dark in here!” he warned.
Harley took a penlight from her purse at the same time as Micah drew one from his pocket. She was rather proud of herself for never leaving home without one!
“You can still kind of see. There was emergency lighting put down here before the place went belly-up during the Great Depression,” Arlo told them. “As you can tell, the design of the hallways is almost like a perfect cross, and each of them opens out to five vaults. The elite of the elite had their treasure down there. The museum will use the space eventually, but at this stage, it’s not really needed yet. Anyway, the quality of the exhibits means more than the quantity.”
Arlo was quite happy to keep talking. They saw what he meant about the cross design, and each section held vaults of slightly different sizes.
“And there’s a way out?” Harley asked.
Arlo didn’t get a chance to answer. There was a narrow area that simply looked like an empty space at the end of the vault area facing Central Park. Micah headed that way.
Harley followed Micah, and Arlo followed her.
“What’s going on?” Arlo asked when Micah came to a stop.
Micah had found something. Harley could hear metal grating and squealing; she realized he’d come to a door. That he’d gotten it open.
She came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.
All she saw was black.
“Abandoned subway tunnel. They’re all over the city,” he murmured.
“I guess that’s one way out. Or you can just walk out the door that leads back up to the park and picnic area at the side of the museum,” Arlo said, pointing to the right. “But an abandoned subway. I think I’d heard rumors, but never really knew if they were true of not. Cool!”
“Yeah. Cool,” Micah said wryly. “So, does everyone know about that way out—to the park area?” he asked Arlo.
“Oh, I wouldn’t think so,” Arlo replied. “Just people who work here. And maybe people they’ve told.”
“We might want to get a lock on the door to that exit,” Micah said. “And to the subway tunnels. The info could easily have been tweeted across the country. Maybe it has.” He paused, studying Harley. “We’ll get a few of our people down here,” he told her. “I need to go over to the hospital. I’ve been told that Vivian is conscious and speaking. But I’ll need to find you later. Do you know where you’ll be?”
Harley hesitated. Then she shrugged. “Finnegan’s,” she told him. “Finnegan’s on Broadway.”
“Kieran’s family’s place?” he asked her.
“It’s the only Finnegan’s on Broadway.”
“You’ll definitely be there?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll be meeting my colleagues from the expedition.”
“Including me!” Arlo said happily. He sighed. “Well, we won’t have Vivian there, and I doubt we’ll have Ned Richter with Viv in the hospital.”
“Henry. We won’t have Henry,” Harley said.
“No, we won’t have Henry,” Arlo agreed. He tried an awkward smile. “But at least we won’t have any mummies running around at Finnegan’s. A banshee or two, maybe, but no mummies!”
Neither of them managed even a small smile for his attempt at humor.
As they left, Harley remembered the cat she’d heard earlier. There’d been no further sound after Micah had appeared—claiming she’d frightened off the person who’d apparently been stalking her. The person he, in turn, had followed. And lost.
Chapter Four
“I was in my office,” Vivian Richter said. “I was in my office...”
Her voice trailed off. Her face was set in a concentrated frown.
“In my office and then...”
“And then?” Micah pushed gently.
Vivian was in her hospital bed, in a seated position. Craig Frasier and Micah stood at the foot of the bed, patiently waiting.
Micah knew that the local cops had already been in. But it had only been a short time since the lead on the investigation had been handed over to the federal government. Vivian had let them know that she’d spoken with McGrady and Rydell. The nurse in the hallway had informed them that McGrady had brought Vivian to tears, demanding that she remember what she just couldn’t.
Micah had received a call from Rydell, since it was still a joint task force, if a small one. Rydell had apologized for his partner.
For the most part, I work with great people. No one is better than the NYPD, Rydell had assured him.
Micah had told him not to worry; any agency in the world could come with a jerk or two—and McGrady was that jerk. He hadn’t said that in so many words when he’d spoken to Rydell, but they both knew exactly who he was talking about.
“I’ll bet you were excited about the exhibit,” Micah told Vivian. “All the work that had been don
e. And then the discovery—and the terror in the desert, with Henry Tomlinson dead and the fear of armed rebels coming at the camp. But now, here, you have the culmination of your dream of getting the Amenmose exhibit up!”
“Oh, I was excited. So excited. And we were going to have all our grad students and Henry’s niece and her family at the opening. And...oh! Those children. Henry’s great-nieces and nephews. And there were probably other children there. And they saw me coming out like—?”
“A mummy. Vivian, think. Did anyone come in to see you in your office when you were getting ready for the grand celebration?”
Her frown deepened.
“Everyone had been there. Everyone. Ned, of course. We were excited together. He’s administration and I’m an Egyptologist, but we’re a married couple, and that made it an incredible night for both of us. Arlo, darting in and out with last-minute things. The grad students...they were all there. Belinda wanted me to look at her dress and Joe—that boy is such a flirt!—asked if he looked both dignified and handsome. Let’s see, Jensen. He’s full-time here now, you know. He was in more than once. And then...”
She went silent, dead silent, her mouth falling open in an awkward O of horror.
“What?” Craig asked.
“One of the mummies came in. It was walking. Yes, yes, that was it! There was a mummy. Oh, my God! A mummy... I remember now. It...stared at me!”
She began to shake. Micah and Craig glanced at each other, deciding it might be time to hit the nurse-call button.
But first they both moved close to her, each man taking one of her hands.
“It’s going to be all right,” Micah said in a soothing voice.
She shook her head. “Mummies don’t walk. Except in really bad movies. Okay, even good movies... The Mummy with Brendan Fraser was good.” She paused. The shaking had stopped, and she looked at Craig. “You any relation?”
“I’m afraid not. My last name’s actually Frasier,” Craig told her.
Vivian suddenly stared hard at Micah. “That was it, yes. I saw the mummy. I stood up—I’d been at my desk. I stood up, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It had to be a joke, a prank...but then the thing came at me and I tried to scream, or I think I did, and it kept coming...and...”