Cradle of Solitude (7 page)

Annja took off after him.

He only had a few seconds head start, and so she should have been able to catch up to him quickly, but her head was still pounding and the lack of a light source quickly had her steps faltering and slowing to a stop after only a few dozen yards. Getting lost in the dark was not something she wanted to experience, no matter how badly she wanted to know who it was that had followed her down here or why they'd attacked. Wandering for hours through pitch-dark tunnels until she fell down an unseen chasm or died of thirst was not on her list of happy endings.

In the distance, her attacker's footfalls faded away to silence.

She took a moment to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. She realized, with no little surprise, that her left hand was still clenched tightly around the ring that she'd picked up off the floor.

Thank goodness for small favors, she thought.

Not wanting to lose it after all this, she slipped it into her pocket to look at later. With her hand against the wall to use as a guide, she made her way carefully back down the tunnel until she could see the thin beam of light from her flashlight spilling out of the entrance of the antechamber.

She stepped into the room, retrieved her flashlight and decided that she'd had enough excitement for one day. Sword still in hand, she cautiously retraced her steps back up to the subway tunnel and from there to the station itself. She kept on the lookout for any sign of her attacker, but didn't see or hear anyone along the way. Before entering the station she released her sword back into the otherwhere, for coming out of a dark tunnel carrying a sword in hand didn't seem like the saf
est way to reacquaint herself with the police officer on duty.

As it turned out, she needn't have worried. The guard was nowhere in sight.

That's not a good sign, she thought uneasily.

He wouldn't have left on his own without being relieved; at least, she couldn't imagine him doing that knowing full well that she was in the tunnels. That meant that something had happened to him.

He probably ran into the same bastard that I did.

If that was the case, he could be lying somewhere unconscious, perhaps even seriously injured. She couldn't leave without looking for him.

It didn't take very long. She found the police officer lying against the far side of the ticket booth, a thick trickle of blood leaking from the swollen lump on the side of his head. His breathing was steady enough, she was relieved to discover. Annja used his radio to make an Officer Down call to headquarters. When they asked her to identify herself, she broke the connection. The officer was starting to stir so she got up, and walked off without a backward glance. It wasn't the most Good Samaritan–like thing to do, but all she wanted was to return to her hotel and take a hot bath to ease the aches and pains out of her muscles. She wouldn't get that if she had to spend the next three hours downtown answering questions.

Back at her hotel, she had room service send up hot chocolate and some croissants. While she waited, she took the ring from the pocket of her jeans, cleaned it off and held it up to the light for a good look.

It was a man's signet ring, just as she'd thought. The stone set in its face was a deep crimson in color that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. It had
been gently cut, with a beveled face and eight short sides. The gold itself was unadorned. She suspected it was Parker's, but it could also have belonged to whomever he had been meeting there. There was no way of telling at this point. She slipped the ring into a little glassine envelope and then tucked it inside one of the zippered pockets of her backpack.

Her snack arrived, so she signed the check, locked the door behind her and devoured the food. Then she headed into the bathroom where she had drawn a bath. She stripped off her clothes and climbed into the water for some relaxation. She'd been going nonstop ever since she'd left for the dojo that morning and her body was telling her to take it easy or else. The hot water soothed her tired limbs the same way the hot chocolate had her throat.

When she was clean and relaxed, she climbed into bed and was asleep in what felt like seconds.

Given the type of activity that went on at the Museum of Natural History on a daily basis, as well as the priceless nature of some of the artifacts that were cleaned and restored within its walls, the lab there had a highly sophisticated alarm system designed to prevent unauthorized entrance to the facility. The alarm was the pride of the museum's director, for he had spent nearly two years on the research and testing that went into selecting the product they had finally decided to install. It was, the manufacturer said, the best of the best and perfect for protecting a facility such as this.

The three men who entered the lab at half past two that morning went through it like butter.

The fact that they had the sixteen-digit code that was needed to render the alarm system inoperable made things a bit easier.

Once inside the lab, one of the men moved to the drawer containing Captain Parker's remains. He didn't hesitate, didn't pull out any of the other drawers looking for the right one, but went immediately to his in
tended target, like a man who knew precisely what it was he was looking for and where it could be found. He opened the canvas duffel bag he was carrying and started placing the captain's remains into the sack.

As he was doing so, his two companions were carefully scouring the lab for any trace that the long-missing Confederate soldier's remains had ever graced the building with its presence. Papers, thumb drives, video cards—if it could possibly contain any information about the discovery of the dead man's remains it was picked up and dropped into a sack identical to the first. Within ten minutes the three men had searched the entire lab and removed everything that might possibly contain any information relative to the discovery of Captain Parker's body. When they were finished the leader gave a quick nod to the other two and what had once been a carefully organized search-and-retrieval mission turned into a free-for-all as they set about ruthlessly destroying everything they could get their hands on. Computer monitors were thrown to the floor and then stomped under foot. Desks were overturned and the contents of their drawers scattered throughout the room. High-tech spectrometry equipment costing hundreds of thousands of dollars was covered with foam from the wall-mounted fire extinguishers and then smashed with what was left of the desk chairs.

It became like a game to them, seeing who could cause the most destruction in the shortest amount of time. It wasn't long before the room was practically unrecognizable.

Finally, their energy spent and their job complete, the three men left the same way they came in, with no one the wiser.

When Annja arrived at the museum early the next morning, she was met with a scene of confusion. Several law enforcement vehicles were parked outside the entrance and when she tried to use the temporary pass Bernard had given her to gain access, she was politely informed by a uniformed officer that she would have to wait.

“It's okay, I'm expected,” she told him.

The officer wasn't impressed, and told her that they had a “situation” on their hands, and that all unnecessary personnel were to wait in the lobby.

The officer's emphasis on the word
unnecessary
irked her enough that she let her irritation show. “Wait for what, exactly?” she asked.

“Wait for someone to come get you,” was the reply.

“Can you at least call down and let Dr. Reinhardt know I'm here waiting?”

“No. Sorry.”

Yeah, I'll just bet you are, she thought.

It seemed that something was terribly wrong. There
was no way she was just going to stand and wait; she'd be here all day. If the officer wouldn't call down to the lab, she'd just have to do it herself. She pulled out her cell phone and called Bernard's office.

The phone rang several times and then went to voice mail.

She hung up without leaving a message and tried again. “Come on, Bernard,” she coaxed beneath her breath as she waited for him to answer.

No luck.

Annja was trying to figure out what to do next when she caught sight of Commissaire Laroche crossing the lobby behind the police line.

“Commissaire!” she called. “Henri!”

He turned at the sound of his first name, recognized her and made his way across the room.

“What can I do for you, Miss Creed?”

Annja smiled, trying to ease the tension she could see on his face. Something must have happened to one of the museum's pieces, she thought.

“I'm sure you have your hands full with whatever this all is,” she began, waving her hand to indicate the police officers milling about, “but I'm due to continue work on the Metro skeleton with Bernard and the officer on duty won't let me past the police tape.”

Henri stared at her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable.

“You haven't heard, have you?”

Her stomach clenched as anxiety shot through her. “Bernard? Is he…?”

“Professor Reinhardt is fine, Miss Creed,” Laroche said gently, putting a hand on her arm as he realized the distress his offhand comment had caused her. “My apologies. I didn't mean to alarm you.”

“Well, if it's not Bernard, then what… It's Captain Parker, isn't it?”

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Captain Parker?”

Annja remembered that they hadn't informed anyone of their suspicions yet. “The skeleton from the Metro.”

Henri's eyes widened. “You've identified the body already?”

They had as far as she was concerned, but she knew that they didn't have enough conclusive evidence to prove it yet so she explained that all they had at the moment were a few suspicions and that they were using the name as a matter of convenience only.

“It seemed more respectful than referring to him as ‘the skeleton' all the time. I think we're getting closer, though, and I can show you what we've done so far if you'd like.”

“I see. That's too bad—you had my hopes up for a moment there. You see, proving your theory is going to be much more difficult now, as the museum was burglarized during the night and the thieves made off with the skeleton.”

Annja couldn't believe what she was hearing. Why would someone steal the skeleton?

Laroche's next comment made her heart sink.

“Professor's Reinhardt's office was ransacked, as well.”

Annja grimaced. “Our notes and photographs?”

The commissaire shook his head. “Gone, as well, I'm afraid.”

At least they still had the Davis letter in their possession. Bernard had insisted on locking it away in the museum's vault for safekeeping the minute he'd recognized the letter's potential value. If the U.S. government didn't exercise their right to claim it, there were
more than two dozen universities and museums he could think of off the top of his head that would pay handsomely to add it to their collections, his own included. He hadn't been inclined to take any chances with it. And thank heaven for that.

Laroche was looking at her expectantly, making her realize that she must have missed his question while thinking about the letter.

“I'm sorry. What was that again?”

“I asked if you had any idea why the thieves would be interested only in our Confederate friend's remains?”

Annja frowned. “That's all they took?”

The museum was full of priceless artifacts worth far more than the missing Confederate remains. A fair number of excellent pieces were stored just down the hall from Bernard's office. Once past the security system and inside the museum, it would have been a simple matter to force the locks on those storerooms and walk off with dozens of priceless artifacts. She had assumed that the thieves had hit Bernard's office and lab as part of a larger sweep for items of value.

“They were only interested in the skeleton and the documentation pertaining to it that you and Professor Reinhardt assembled. Nothing else was taken, including items of considerable value that were in plain view in Dr. Reinhardt's office.”

That put an entirely different spin on things. Breaking and entering to steal museum pieces worth millions was one thing; doing so just to make off with the recently recovered remains of a Confederate captain no one even knew was there was another, she thought.

Her thoughts turned immediately to the shadowed figure she'd encountered in the catacombs the night before.

There was far more going on here than she'd realized.

Laroche was still waiting for her to answer his question so she put on her game face and told him that she didn't have any idea. She didn't like keeping information from him, but she also didn't feel that she had any choice. Someone must have revealed the skeleton's presence to the thieves and until she knew who that someone was, she wasn't taking any chances with the information she had gained. Right now everyone was suspect, including the commissaire. After all, she barely knew him. It was clear that Laroche didn't quite believe her, but he didn't push the issue and that was good enough for her. Since she was an integral part of the team that had been responsible for the skeleton's retrieval and examination, he let those on duty know that she was free to come and go as she needed. He then escorted her through the police barrier and over to the elevator leading to the lower floors where Bernard's laboratory was located.

“If you think of anything that might be helpful, please give me a call,” he told her as she got inside the elevator car.

Annja assured him that she would. And at some point, if she decided it was the right thing to do, she would.

The scene was no less erratic on the lower floor than the one above. Police officers stood in small groups of twos and threes while crime scene technicians moved through the various rooms, carrying out their usual duties. She spotted Bernard standing off to one side, a pained look on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand. He must have felt her attention on him for he looked up,
caught her gaze and then nodded his head in the direction of a nearby staff room.

Annja met him there a moment later, away from the scrutiny of the others in the hall.

“Is it true that they got everything?” she asked.

Bernard nodded glumly. “I'm afraid so.”

It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but no more than she'd expected. “At least we still have the Davis letter.”

Bernard didn't say anything.

“You did put the letter in the vault, right?”

“I was going to do so, but it was late and I thought the safe in my office would be adequate for one night.”

Damn it! There went their only possible proof that not only were the remains those of William Parker but that he had been there on an official mission for the president of the Confederate States.

This was not turning out to be a good day.

Annja could see that Bernard was feeling guilty over his part in the process, and right then she was having a hard time forgiving him.

He used that moment to break what little good news he did have.

“I took the liberty of calling Abbot Deschanel late last night,” he said quietly.

“And?”

“He's agreed to see you. Apparently mention of Captain Parker piqued his curiosity.”

“Well, at least there's that.”

Bernard didn't appear thrilled with the idea, however.

“This has become very serious business, Annja. It's obvious that someone out there knows more about what's going on than we do. If they went to the trouble
of breaking into the museum to disrupt our investigation, there's no telling what they're willing to do.”

Again, she thought about the man she'd encountered in the tunnels. Who was he? What did he want?

Without mentioning any of that to Bernard, she reassured him that she would be careful.

Not fully satisfied, but knowing he couldn't do anything about it, Bernard shrugged and continued speaking.

“Abbot Deschanel expects you later this afternoon,” he said, handing over some handwritten directions outlining the route to the monastery and a pair of car keys. “You can use one of the vehicles from the museum motor pool, as well. I had it arranged when I came in this morning, before I discovered this mess.”

Annja gave him a quick hug, surprising him, and herself.

“We've still got a chance to break this wide open, Bernard,” she said as excitement over what was to come stole over her. “The monastery holds the answer to all this, I know it does!”

With a four-hour drive ahead of her, Annja didn't waste any more time. She said her goodbyes to Bernard, thanked him again for the directions and the vehicle and then got out of there before the police decided that they wanted to question her.