Micah Fox, the other man returned. And actually, weve spoken. Over the phone.
Oh! Hey, that was you? Jensen said. Wow. Was I vague when I talked to you? Or worse, rude? If I was, I didnt mean to be. Its just that...well, you had to be there that night. We found Henryor, I should say, Harley found Henryand by the time the medical examiner arrived, they were screaming that the insurgents were a few miles out and we had to break camp ASAP! I know Harley and I were going crazy with concern and disbelief and...well...hey, he finished lamely.
There wasnt anything you could have done to change the situation, Micah said.
Well, youre FBI, right? I guess if you couldnt prove anything different from what was said or get anything done, Harley and I, who had no law enforcement power, couldnt have done more than complain and question. Which we did. Who knows? The thing isthing that got me, anywaywe werent in a closed or confined space. I mean if bacteria were going to get him, you mightve thought someone else wouldve had a reaction or... Anyway, had you been assigned to the caseofficially? The FBI works in Egypt? Or does it?
The FBI works all over the world, as necessary, Micah replied. But...I was there because of Henry.
Special Agent Fox was another of Henrys grad students, but years ago, Harley quickly explained.
Ah, Jensen murmured. That was obviously enough of an explanation. I guess you were crazy about him, too.
I was. Brilliant man. Horrible circumstances.
Jensen glanced at Harley. I think we were the last people who saw him. Alive, I mean. Harley was trying to get him to come out with us. But you knew him. There was no way he was going to leave his work that night.
No, Henry wouldnt want to leave his work. He paused, clearing his throat. Well, I think they must be about ready to start.
Lets go. Harley slid her fingers into Jensens and they left, nodding to Micah. It was ludicrous, but she was suddenly afraid to be too close to the man. He not only projected strengthhe was someone warm when the world had been cold. Too confident, too attractive...
She could easily give in to her feelings of sadness and loss and even anger on a night like this. With a man like this.
She was aware of Micah watching them leave.
And she wondered what he was thinking.
* * *
HARLEY FRASIER, CRAIGS COUSIN, was certainly a beautiful young woman, Micah thought, watching her leave, hand in hand with Jensen Morrow. Hed been studying her intently for some time before hed spoken with her. It was evident that she had really cared about Henry. And he knew how Henry had felt about her.
According to Craig, she had wonderful parents and a great older brother, living grandparents, all kinds of family life. Micahs parents had been lost in a bridge accident when he was a child; his aunt had raised him. Auntie Jane. He loved her and she was a talented and compassionate woman. But she was it as far as family went. He had no siblings, no cousinsno one else anywhere that he knew about. His family went far back in Virginia history; it had simply winnowed down to him and Jane.
His father had been FBI. People had feared the dangers of his job. Theyd never imagined that he might die young because of a bridge collapse.
Henry Tomlinson had treated him like a son or grandson. Hed shared his enthusiasm for Egyptology with Micah. Henry had a family he adored. He hadnt married, but he had a loving niece and nephew-in-law, and he was crazy about their kids.
Hed send Micah pictures of an unusual canopic jar right alongside ones of the kids with their new puppy. That was Henry.
Micah followed the pair whod just left, wondering if he was indulging himself in an exercise of futility. Was the truth about Henry Tomlinsons death ever going to be uncovered? Henry had been murdered, which was terrible enough, but it had happened on a night when both the Egyptian government and the US Department of State had been determined to get all the workers away from the site and out of the country. The group whod planned the attack had called themselves The Ancient Guard.
Apparently, they hadnt believed that Alchemy intended that the treasures theyd found would merely go on loan to the United States and other countriesand that theyd remain Egyptian property. Maybe they hadnt cared. And maybe, like most militant groups, what The Ancient Guard wanted, religious and political ideology aside, was a chance to fight and stave off frustration. And probably steal the treasures to finance their fighting.
Theyd either been beaten back or dissipated quickly when met with armed resistance.
Micah had gone to Cairo to investigate Henrys death on an unofficial basis, and then to Rome, where the Alchemy crew had briefly stayed. Their communication had been by phonehed been a day behind each time everyone had moved on. And by the time hed reached the States, it had all been too long.
Henry had been cremated, just as hed instructed his niece to arrange in the event of his death. Then, of course, it was too late to bring in any experts.
But Henry had never suspected that he might be murdered.
And why would he?
Why the hell kill an academic like Henry? The man had never wanted or kept anything for himselfhed never tried to slip away with even the smallest, most insignificant artifact. His work had always been about sharing treasures with the world.
Tonight... Well, tonight, Micah could watch. He could see the people whod been close to Henry in his last days.
The grand foyer of the museum had been chosen for the site of the private gala opening. The center monument here was a massive replica of a temple from Mesopotamia that sat in the center of a skylit rotunda. The museum was beautiful, and just down the street from its larger cousin, the Metropolitan. Many design ideas that worked well in the first had been used in this newer museum. The offices were deep in the basement, for the most part. The museum was dedicated to the ancient world; it was divided into sections that concentrated on the earliest humans to the rich, ancient civilizations of Greece, Egypt, Persia, Mesopotamia and more.
The exhibition hall that would open to the public in the morning was an admirable addition to the museum. Exhibits didnt stay forever, but the hall itself would continue to thrive because of the work of Henry and other archeologists and scholars; right now, however, it was all about Henry.
Men and women in pairs and groups stood around the room, chatting, while waiters and waitresses in white-and-black attire moved about with trays of hors doeuvres and flutes of champagne.
Many of those invited were here because they were sponsoring patrons of the museum. There were also a number of politicians, including the mayor.
None of them interested Micah.
He scanned the crowd, taking note of those he did find intriguing.
Arlo Hampton, young, pleasant, eager. Tall and slim, but handsomely boyish-looking in a suit, speaking with an Egyptian dignitary. Ned Richter and his wife, Vivian. He so robust, she so tiny, both smiling, standing close, chatting with the mayor. And therebetween an aging Broadway director and his latest ingénueBelinda Gray, sans her fiancé, who was still serving in the military. He saw Roger Eastman, wiry and lean, wearing thick-lensed glasses, talking with his hands as he loudly discussed a technical innovation for dealing with the security of priceless historic objects. Across the room, in the midst of a few young female museum apprentices, was Joe Rosello. Joe seemed electrically energetic; he was a square-shouldered guy who couldve been a fullback. He had a full head of curly dark hair and a very white smile.
Micah had done research on everyone involved with the last stages of the dig. Every one of the workers whod had access to the tent. It hadnt been easy finding out about the Egyptian workers. Since they werent archeologists or preservation experts, they hadnt been allowed into the inner sanctum of the camp, where the preparation tent was located. Still, hed done his best. But everything in him screamed that the guilty party was not Egyptian, but someone among those who should have loved and honored Henry.
Why? he asked himself again. Why the hell would anyone kill Henry? If he could come up with a why...
Micah?
He turned. He hadnt expected to know many people here tonight. His name had been softly voiced by one of the few people he did know, and he knew her fairly well.
Simone Bixby, Henry Tomlinsons niece.
Simone was in her midthirties, a sandy-haired woman who looked eternally like a girl. She was small and slim and wide-eyed. She was accompanied by her husband, Jerry, a banker, who was equally slim and wide-eyed.
Micah greeted them both.
Thank you for coming. And thank you for caring so much, Simone said. Its still so hard to accept what they say.
Yes, it is, Micah agreed.
But tonight, Jerry said brightly, tonight we honor his body of work.
Yes. An incredible body of work, Micah said. How are the girls?
Getting big! Simone answered. Ten, eight and five now.
He nodded. Ive seen pictures. Theyre beautiful.
They are. Thank you. They loved their uncle Henry, too, Simone said.
We all miss him.
Oh, looktheres Arlo Hampton, Jerry said. Micah, well talk later? Simone, we need to find out what he wants us to do when he speaks.
Excuse us, Simone said.
Of course! Micah told them. They moved on.
He continued to survey the room.
Hail, hail, the gangs all here. Grad students. Administration staff. Egyptologists. City officials. Museum people. And there...
An exotic woman with dark skin and almost inky black hair was speaking with Simone and her family. Arlo stood beside them.
Yolanda Akeem. Theyd met brieflyvery brieflyin Cairo. She was the Egyptian liaison with the Department of Antiquities. Naturally, shed be here tonight.
She saw him looking at her. She elegantly lifted her glass a few inches in acknowledgment.
Shed given him whatever information shed had in Cairo; it hadnt been much. A two-second autopsy report and a lecture on the dangers of the Middle East. He didnt listen to much of it. Henrys body was gone by then and the members of the expedition had been shuttled off. Hed been ready to follow them as quickly as possible when theyd been in Egyptand through their escape from the trouble that had befallen the expedition that night.
Tonight, they were all here.
And there was Harley Frasier. She had a smile on her face as she spoke with Gordon Vincent, director at large for the museum. Her smile was forced. Jensen was with her, smiling and chatting, as well. He seemed to be putting a little too much effort into being charming.
Which didnt seem necessary, since he was already employed by the museum.
Harley didnt; she worked for Fillmore Investigations, a large security and investigation company that served the civilian market, but was known for its close affiliation with the New York City PD and other law enforcement agencies. The founder of the company, Edward Fillmore, had barely survived a kidnap-for-ransom scheme as a child. He had founded his company on the premise that all agencies, public or private, should work together for the benefit of victims. Since Micahs job with the FBI had come about because of similar circumstances, he liked the man without even knowing him. Micah was pleased that Harley Frasier had chosen such a reputable company. None of his business, of course. But...
Hed felt something for her, just from hearing her voice over the phone a year ago.
And now...hed seen her.
Anyone awake and breathing would find her attractive and charming.
He was certainly charmed by her and impressed by herand so much more.
Even though he hardly knew her...
He forced himself to look away from Harley and objectively observe the other people in the room.
He was standing back, watching, when he became aware that a friend had arrived.
I have to admit I was definitely expecting you to be here, Craig Frasier told him.
Micah smiled without glancing over. And I guess Im not surprised that youre here, he said.
I cant let you get into too much trouble, Craig murmured.
Im just here to honor an old friend, Micah said.
Like hell. Craig smiled grimly, studying the crowd milling in the foyer. But I dont know what you think you can discover at this late date.
Micah turned to face Craig at last, a rueful half smile on his face. Right. Well, it would help if someone suddenly had a guilt attack and admitted going crazyfrom the bacteria in the wrappings, of courseand murdering Henry.
Not going to happen.
I know.
So?
Dont worry. Im not going to harass your cousin, Micah said.
Im not worried. I think you two can actually do each other some good it you get a chance to really talk. Maybe you can figure something out, late as it might be. There was so much done so quickly and so politically. State Department, international bull. A cover-up. Yeah, itll be good for the two of you to talk.
You say that as if you doubt the official line, too, Micah said quietly.
Because I do. I believe it was a cover-up.
Not by the government, Micah said.
By?
Micah looked at him and said, By Alchemy.
Craig didnt get a chance to respond.
Arlo Hampton took the microphone on a small portable dais set in the center of the foyer. He cleared his throat, then said, Ladies and gentlemen, friends of the museum, friends of science and exploration, and friends of the City of New York!
It took a moment for everyone to stop talking and start listening. Someone tapped a champagne flute with a fork or spoon. Then the room fell silent.
We welcome you to our amazing new exhibit, brought to us through the genius of the manthe brilliant, kind, ever-giving manwhose name will now grace our museum walls, Dr. Henry Tomlinson. Those who knew Henry loved him. He was a scholar, but he was also a very human man who loved his family and friends. No one knew Egyptology the way Henry did...
A sudden gasp from the crowd silenced him. Everyone turned.
Someone had come up from the basement steps, and was now staggering through the crowd.
Someone grotesquely dressed up in a mummys linen bindings, staggering out as if acting in a very bad mummy movie.
A performance for the evening?
No.
Because Arlo grunted an angry Excuse me! and exited the dais, walking toward the mummy now careening toward him.
What the hell? Micah and Craig were close enough to hear Arlos words. Richter, is that you? You idiot! Is that you?
It wasnt Richter; Micah knew that right away. Richter was far too big a man to be the slight, lean person now dressed up.
Or at least Ned Richter was!
Micah burst forward, phone out and in his hand. As he neared the mummy, he was already dialing 9-1-1.