Curse of the Pharaoh: A Brock Stone Adventure

2 The Museum

The sun shone brightly on the lush grass of the National Mall. Up ahead loomed the National Museum of Natural History. Opened in 1910, the building combined Gothic Revival and twelfth-century Romanesque architecture, featuring a flat roof, arched windows, a symmetrical granite facade, and a domed rotunda. Its collection included plants, animals, fossils, minerals, rocks, meteorites, human remains, and cultural artifacts.

“Tell me again what I’m looking for?” Alex was already having second thoughts about Trinity’s hastily concocted plan.

“Anything that looks important.”

“In an exhibit full of treasures from Ancient Egypt? Everything will look important.”

“Something out of the ordinary, then. Something hidden. Anything Kane could use to help the Nazis.”

“Lower your voice,” Alex warned. Nearby, a trio of men cast angry glances their way. “Hitler’s supporters are everywhere, even in America.”

Trinity had mulled the problem over on the drive from the newspaper, and she had a hunch Alex had been correct about one thing. “What if you’re right about the significance of his final expedition? Maybe Kane wants to get his hands on whatever frightening discovery Orion made. Perhaps we can learn where Orion went.”

“I’m looking for a Texaco Roadmap of the Upper Nile?” Alex winked, then let out a grunt when Trinity elbowed him in the ribs. “Only joking.”

“This is no time for humor. Have you figured out how you’ll get past security?”

“What?” Alex stopped dead in his tracks. “I thought you had a plan.”

“I do have a plan. I distract Fischer and Kane while you search the exhibit for clues.”

Alex ran a hand through his short ginger hair and let out a deep sigh. Sometimes he wondered how Stone tolerated this woman. To be fair, he also wondered how Trinity put up with Stone’s exploits. They were perfect for one another.

“Should we wait a few minutes in case Stone shows up?” he asked.

“If he arrives in the next ten seconds, he is welcome to lend a hand.”

“Fine,” Alex groaned. “I will figure something out or get arrested trying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Trinity gave him a pat on the cheek. “Swiftly, now. I believe that is Magda Fischer’s car.” She pointed at a long, sleek vehicle pulling to the curb. It was cherry red with black trim and whitewall tires.

Alex let out a low whistle. “That’s a 1930 Cadillac Series 353 Fleetwood limousine. Only 1,400 were made.”

“You can admire it later. We have work to do.” Trinity turned and double-timed it across the street, making a beeline for the crowd gathered near the limo.

Alex jogged up the steps of the museum. He paused to watch as Trinity elbowed her way to the front of the throng. The chauffeur stepped out of the limousine and hurried to open the back door.

A man in a tailor-made suit climbed out first. He was a distinguished-looking fellow, tall and broad-shouldered. Alex paid him little mind. His attention was focused on the leggy blonde bombshell Kane was helping out of the car. John Kane and Magda Fischer made a handsome couple, a regular Sheikh and Sheba. But there was no time for him to stare. He needed to get a move on.

“May I help you?” A short, round man bursting out of an old three-piece suit waddled over to him.

“Nothing comes to mind.” Alex craned his neck for a better look at Magda Fischer, but Kane and the limousine driver were in the way.

“The museum is closed for the next hour,” the man said.

“Thanks for that.” Alex caught a glimpse of blonde hair, but the crowd drew in closer to the actress and he could no longer see.

“I must ask you to move along,” the officious man said. “A private group will be entering soon.”

“That is why I’m here. I’m with the Bureau,” Alex bluffed.

“The Bureau?” The man nodded, knowingly. “I knew that woman was lying.”

“What woman is that?” Alex asked.

“The blonde girl who showed up an hour ago claiming the Bureau had sent her to keep an eye on things while our guests visited.” He nodded in the direction of the limousine, where Trinity was chatting amiably with Magda Fischer.

“Did she give a name?” Alex’s mouth was dry.

“Constance something.” The man scratched his balding head.

“Constance Cray?” Alex asked. Curse his luck!

“That’s the one. A tasty little muffin, but she’s got a holier-than-thou attitude if you ask me.

It required all of Alex’s self-control to maintain a straight face. He knew Constance well, and more importantly, she knew Alex was not employed by the Bureau.

“She is an agent, but a junior one. Makes a fine cup of coffee but requires supervision.” Alex winked at the man. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Through the atrium, turn right, and follow the signs.”

Alex walked with a sense of purpose, and no one bothered to question him as he made his way through the quiet corridors. He flashed a wink at a brunette with big green eyes, who smiled back. He considered asking her name, but he froze when Constance came stalking down the hallway in his direction.

Constance Cray was blonde with creamy skin and blue eyes as cold as ice. She had a way of looking down her nose at everyone, even someone as tall as Alex.

“What are you doing here, Alex?” Her voice was the hiss of a viper.

“It’s a museum, and it’s open to the public.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Constance hissed. “You are here because of John Kane.”

“And you aren’t?” He could tell by the way her eyes bulged that his shot in the dark had hit the bullseye. “The Bureau didn’t send you, did they?”

“No, but that doesn’t change the fact that you should not be here.”

“I’m not leaving until I see the exhibit.” Alex stood straight, folded his arms, and tried to appear imposing.

“I could take you into custody.” There was a twinkle in her eye that suggested she had tried the idea on for size and liked the fit.

“Not without your superiors finding out you’ve gone rogue… again.”

“You’re wasting your time. I have already searched the exhibit and found nothing of interest.” Constance smirked. “And stop standing like that. You look like the statue of Ramesses II holding his crook.” She tapped Alex’s hook.

“That is unkind,” Alex said.

“So is never calling on a lady after making your feelings known.”

“Can we discuss this later?” Alex tried to suppress the wave of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. “Trinity can only stall Kane for so long.”

“Trinity is here?” Constance closed her eyes, put her hand to her forehead. “Let me guess. While you distract me, Brock Stone is sneaking in through the back door, and Moses is waiting around the corner in a getaway car.”

“No. This is my and Trinity’s operation.”

“Operation? Listen to me, Alex. You are not an agent.” She said the last slowly as if speaking to a small child or a West Virginian.

“No? Well, the man at the front door believed me when I told him I was your superior.” The words were out before he could stop himself.

“My superior?” Constance’s voice was dangerously soft. “Fine, then. You are on your own… Agent English.” Her cheeks crimson, Constance shouldered past him and stalked away.

“Your conduct will be in my report, Agent Cray,” Alex called. Constance ignored him. “Well done, Alex,” he chided himself. “You fail so often you ought to play for the Senators.” He checked his watch. Time was running short. He hoped Trinity could stall Kane, or else his goose was cooked.