Krewe of Hunters 7 The Unspoken (16 page)

For long moments they lay panting, damp, their breathing ragged, their pulses still racing. He stroked her hair and drew her against him. He didn’t speak, and neither did she.

Eventually, he said, “We should sleep.”

“Yes, we should.”

But they didn’t. Not then. They were a modern wonder of the world to each other, and there was simply no way they could restrain that feeling so easily.

They made love again.

And when Kat finally slept it was deeply, and if she dreamed or was plagued by any nightmares, she didn’t know it.

* * *

“An underwater propulsion device,” Will said. “A diver propulsion device.” He was speaking to the group at the breakfast table. “I believe that our mystery diver, the person who killed Brady Laurie and has been looking for something ever since Brady’s calculations found the
Jerry McGuen,
has what is basically an underwater motorcycle,” he said, looking at each person in turn.

“Like James Bond,” Jane murmured.

Will smiled. “I have some friends up on the northeast coast who have them—they’re great for going after lobster. Yes, you’ve seen them in movies, but they
are
real. I think they were developed for the military, but they can be bought easily enough, although not quite as easily as a regulator or a dive tank. Even with that kind of motorized help, you have to watch your pressure, but as long as you take the proper steps descending and ascending, it can get you somewhere quickly
and
allow a fair amount of bottom time.” He glanced at them all. “Someone could have a boat anchored a good distance away, and still be able to get to the site, spend time there, then return to the boat.”

“Why didn’t we think of that before?” Logan asked blankly.

“Because we don’t see a lot of people using them,” Kat suggested. “Considering the temperature of the water at depth, and the speed, it would be one cold ride. Not all that pleasurable. A lobsterman does it for the lobster. He isn’t thinking, ‘Oh, boy, let me go freeze my buns off!’”

“In other words, even with that security boat at the site,” Logan said, “we have no real idea how many times someone might have been down there.”

Will nodded. “What we need is Brady Laurie’s computer. The police went through it, but I don’t think they’d have known what to look for. And we need to find out who he was communicating with about the
Jerry McGuen.
”

“I’ll get hold of his computer,” Logan told them.

“I’ll start research on motorized diving mechanisms and vehicles—and who might have one,” Kelsey said.

“And I’ll work with the pictures and reference books,” Jane put in.

“Kat and Will, you need to get going for the dive. The big guns are coming out today, right?” Logan asked.

“Some of them, yes. They’re bringing the larger research vessel with the crane,” Will replied.

When Kat and Will rose to head out to the dive site, Tyler and Sean rose, too.

Sean grinned at them both. “Safety in numbers,” he said.

“I’m all for it,” Will muttered.

The four of them piled into his rental car, stuffing their scuba gear in the trunk. It was a tight fit, even with Kat, the smallest, in the cramped backseat.

“This is good. One of us needs to keep an eye on Kat while the others are watching Amanda and the salvage efforts,” Will said. He felt a pinch; she’d gotten him from the backseat. He was startled and caught her eyes in the rearview mirror.

But Tyler turned to her. “You’re daydreaming in the water?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You’ll be fine as long as one of us is with you,” Sean told her firmly.

“Hey, I’m not arguing,” Kat said. “It’s just that…I’m a good diver, so once we’re past the salon and down in the hold, don’t worry about me.”

When they got to the dock, they discovered that they were all going out on the
Glory,
the Preservation Center’s main exploration and recovery vessel. It was outfitted with the cranes and wenches and chains they’d need to bring up larger objects.

Again, Amanda was taking the lead. “I can’t stress enough how important it is to make sure the crates are properly secured. We’re going back more than
three thousand years
to the New Kingdom and the time of Ramses II. One of those crates contains the sarcophagi, inner and outer, of Amun Mopat, and it’s possible—just possible—that we could safely bring up the mummy. That would be extraordinary. We’ll make news across the entire world. You can’t imagine what an amazing feat that will be. So you have to understand that the filming doesn’t matter,” she said, looking at the crew, “and that protecting us because someone drowned earlier doesn’t matter.” She paused again and looked at the agents. Then she stared at Captain Bob and Jimmy, who’d been hired on for the day, Captain Bob to watch the boat and Jimmy to keep an eye on the divers.

There were also two interns from the Preservation Center, two twentysomethings, Ted and Carlo. They were gazing at Amanda wide-eyed.

“You are all working for me on this,” she announced.

“Actually,” Alan King said, “I believe we’re all working under the jurisdiction of the State of Illinois and that I’m still financing what’s going on. But we appreciate your expertise, Dr. Channel, and we will be excruciatingly careful in all endeavors.”

“Yes, that’s it. You have to understand the value of what we’re doing. And if you don’t, we should let it go to someone else!”

When they turned away, Will heard Jon warning Amanda, “Hey, ease up. The film guys could get pissed off and pull out.”

“Yeah?” Amanda said. “And go through all the paperwork to get started again—with someone else?”

Jon sighed. “You don’t need to come on like the Hulk,” he told her.

As they walked away, Will joined the Krewe; the others were carefully checking their air tanks.

Kat sat at his side, staring out at the water as they headed to the site. Sean came over and hunkered down near them. “I’m going to take a few minutes after the first dive to work with Earl on setting up a remote. After what you said last evening, I think we need a camera down there. Someone’s coming and going from the site, or at least that’s what it looks like.”

Will nodded. He indicated Kat with the slightest movement of his head, but she saw him. “Hey, if you need to work on that, too, just do it!” she said. “I only have the vision or whatever it is when we first reach the salon. Once we get to the hold, I’m okay, and coming up I’ll be okay, too. If we’re connecting chains to big crates, I have a feeling that all hands will be required.”

“If I’m needed, I’ll help out with them,” Will assured her.

“I’m a functioning member of the Krewe,” Kat said.

Sean was watching her intently. “Every one of us needs the others to watch our backs—and whatever you’re learning may be very important. What Kelsey saw in dreams led us to the truth at the Alamo, remember?”

Kat didn’t argue. She studied the water, her blond hair streaming around her, blue eyes as deep as the lake and sky.

But that day, Will needn’t have worried. Kat paused by the salon, then turned to him and shook her head. Nothing was happening. They followed everyone else to the hold.

The real difficulty was fitting themselves and the chains that were attached to the crane above inside the hold. The hull was broken out, but it was jagged in some areas and, in others, zebra mussels could cause serious damage to dive suits and equipment. Jimmy didn’t attempt to help. Amanda managed to be just as authoritative with her hand signals beneath the water as she was with her voice on top. Tyler, Sean and Will moved as directed, trying to maneuver the large, tarp-covered crate through the broken area of the hull and onto the lake bed. Will noticed the big block writing that indicated it contained the valuable sarcophagi. Once they had it out, he and Tyler handled the crate while the others worked with the chains at Amanda’s command. Finally, the crate was secured, the massive hook set into the center ring and two more on either side, and it was time to raise it. Jimmy gave the chain a tug, indicating to his uncle and the two interns above that they should start turning the giant winch, and the divers began to follow the slow ascent of the crate.

When they reached the boat again, the divers emerged while the weight of the water balanced the crate. They divested themselves of their tanks and regulators as they got the crate on board. Finally, the feat was accomplished, and although Amanda wouldn’t allow anyone to touch the crate once it was positioned, she was beside herself with jubilation, certain they had, at the very least, obtained the sarcophagi.

Amanda was happy; she didn’t want to dive again that day, she wanted to get her treasure back to the center where it could be opened in a climate-controlled room under the right circumstances.

“And without any fear of a curse!” Jon said cheerfully.

She was immediately dismissive. “Oh, please! Newspapers started all that. Sure, the pharaohs warned people away from their treasures. Who wants to go to the world of the gods without a lot of jewels and servants? But did the lights in Cairo go out because Tut’s tomb was discovered, or did they
always
go out in Cairo at the time? I’m pretty sure that was the case. Some people did die naturally, or through accidents that would have occurred, anyway. It’s like…even a broken clock is right twice a day. People can make events look like a curse. I mean, Howard Carter lived for years and years—and he’s the one who actually found the tomb.”

“Didn’t someone die when the sarcophagus was opened?” Tyler asked.

“If so, it had to be that some kind of organic matter in the corpse was toxic. Anyway, we take precautions in the laboratory,” Amanda said. “There’s no curse, and you know that!” she said, glancing around at the others. “Let’s go back. This is a triumphant day!”

Earl Candy stared at Will and Sean, and Will said, “A few of us are going to board the security boat for the day and set up a remote camera, Amanda.”

“What? Why? You already have a boat standing guard,” Amanda said.

“To keep an eye on everything below. We want to guard your treasures,” Will told her.

“That’s great!” Jon said with undisguised eagerness.

“I’m still confused.” Amanda frowned. “You’re not bringing anything up, right? It’s illegal. The Preservation Center is the only entity approved to handle the recovery.”

“Amanda, I swear, we’re not going to touch anything,” Will said. “We’re just trying to safeguard what you’re doing.”

“Fine,” she agreed, although she was clearly unhappy about it. Then she looked at her crate again, and Will wondered if she’d ever be capable of giving a lover such a look of absolute adoration.

Alan contacted the security boat, and the two vessels brought out their bumpers, linking up long enough to transfer men and equipment.

Will paused, feeling anxious as he thought of Kat.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Tyler Montague. “I’ll stick with Kat like glue, I promise.”

Will nodded, ready to resume his work. But then he felt another touch on his shoulder and turned to see that Kat was smiling.

“I’m okay. You take care, huh? And don’t let Sean get too carried away with his filming.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, then waved as he and Sean joined the film crew on the security boat.

With an uneasy feeling, one he couldn’t explain, Will watched the
Glory
head back to dock. But he gave himself a mental shake and listened to Earl describe the camera; he even joined in on the discussion about where he and Sean should set it.

As he prepared for the dive, Will thought about the uncomfortable feeling that seemed to be gnawing at his gut.

And then he knew why.

It was the mummy.

Amun Mopat’s mummy was going into Chicago.

And, according Austin Miller’s revenant,
the mummy did it.

10

K
at wasn’t worried about getting back to the hotel or wherever she needed to go; she could always call a cab.

But when they reached the docks, she found that Tyler had gotten Will’s keys to the rented Honda, and they could leave whenever they were ready. Alan King and the film crew would bring Sean and Will back.

“Want to watch them unload?” Tyler asked Kat as they looked at the ship and everyone milling around.

“I think I’d rather watch Amanda when they open that crate,” Kat told him.

He nodded. “They’ll open the crate in a climate-controlled room at the Preservation Center. And it won’t be for a while. They have to get it off the boat now, into a truck and then get it to the center.” Tyler gestured down the dock. “And all hail! The press is here.”

Media had come in droves. Kat could see TV reporters and cameras from all over the country—and the globe. She recognized some of the major networks: CNN, BBC, NBC and more.

Apparently they’d all gotten word that the mummy of Amun Mopat was coming in. Kat wondered if someone—Amanda?—had purposely alerted them.

“Hey,” Kat whispered to Tyler. “How come they’re here
today?
This is the third day we’ve been out on the lake, and Brady actually discovered the wreck and died on Monday!”

“Either they learned that the
Glory
went out this morning, or they got a heads-up that something major was happening.” He grimaced and indicated Amanda.

“I wondered about that myself,” she murmured.

“They’re here!” Amanda announced grandly. She looked like a queen about to meet her people.

“We don’t know what’s in there yet,” Jon warned her. Obviously he hadn’t been party to this media scrum.

Amanda leaped from the boat to the dock and started down its length to the gate, where the reporters had been held at bay.

Questions shot out at her.

“You’ve brought up the first of the treasures!” one man cried. “Is it the mummy?”

“Do you have visual proof that it’s the
Jerry McGuen?
” a woman with an English accent asked.

“Are you afraid of the curse?” someone else asked.

“Did the ship kill your coworker?”

“Did the curse kill Brady Laurie?”

“Do you think the death of Austin Miller is connected?”

“Do you believe in the curse?”

“When will you report to the scientific community on your discovery?”

“Will you be filming when you open the crate?”

The questions came in a flurry from all directions. Amanda raised a hand. “Please!” she said and laughed pleasantly. “Yes, it’s the
Jerry McGuen,
and King Productions—working on a documentary about our historic find—will have footage for the media soon. I’m a scientist, and I don’t believe in curses. I’m heartbroken that both Brady and Austin are dead. Brady’s excitement led to his carelessness, I’m afraid, but I’m sure he’s watching over us as we continue his work, and that he’s thrilled! Austin must have died knowing that, as well. We’ve followed through on his dream! Now, I believe we’ve found—”

Jon Hunt had been standing quietly behind her. He stepped forward at that, cutting her off. “We believe we have definitely found a major artifact from the tomb, but exactly what it is, we don’t really know yet. As soon as we do, we’ll have a press conference, and tell you all about it. We have to ask you to clear the way, however. We’re going to unload and get our find to the Preservation Center.”

Captain Bob and Jimmy were maneuvering the crane again, carefully lifting the crate from the deck of the
Glory
to the dock and onto a dolly, held tightly by the two interns. A large truck lettered with the Preservation Center’s name waited beyond the group of reporters.

“I’m going to give them a hand with this. That’s a heavy crate for two skinny scientific types to handle,” Tyler said.

“You go, cowboy,” Kat told him.

The media didn’t disperse; meanwhile, Captain Bob, Jimmy, Tyler and the interns managed to move the crate while Amanda continued to talk to the press. Jon hovered behind her, listening closely for what she might say.
It was actually an amusing spectacle,
Kat thought.

“When will you open the crate?” one of the reporters asked Amanda.

“As soon as possible!”

“We’ll open it when the conditions are right—and the film crew is there to document every step,” Jon corrected.

“Quite a show, quite a show!” Captain Bob said. He’d finished his work with the crane and had come to stand by her. “By the way, someone left a cell phone in the galley. Is it yours? Or maybe one of your coworkers’?”

“I’ll go see. Thanks, Bob.”

Kat hurried down to the galley. The phone on the table wasn’t hers, which she’d known; hers was in her bag. When she turned it on, the picture on the screen was of King Tut’s death mask.

It was Amanda’s phone.

She scrolled through the numbers called recently but none of them meant anything to her.

Then she paused. Looking at Amanda’s phone like this wasn’t legal.

Of course, it
was
in plain sight. Kat told herself that she was only taking it to return to its rightful owner. Any information gleaned from it without a warrant couldn’t be used in court, but…

They were searching for a killer.

She took out her own cell phone and started snapping pictures of the numbers called over the past few days. But then she heard voices. She quickly checked Amanda’s last few emails, and snapped pictures again, then hurried up the galley stairs in time to innocently hand the phone to Amanda.

“Oh, thank goodness it was here!” Amanda said, accepting the phone. She was flushed with pleasure from her moments in the spotlight. “Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

With the crate packed in the van and on its way to the center, the media finally scattered.

“Shall we go back to the hotel?” Tyler asked Kat.

“I’m afraid to let that van out of our sight,” Kat said.

Tyler grinned. “Not to worry.” He pulled out his cell, calling Logan. When he ended the call a minute later, he said, “They’ll be met by one of our people.”

“It’s great to be part of a team, isn’t it?” She smiled wearily. “I am
so
ready for a hot shower!”

They returned to the hotel and split up, agreeing to meet in thirty minutes. Kat was greeted by Bastet at the door to her room and stopped to give her some attention. “I wish you could speak,” she said. “I’m sure you knew it wasn’t a mummy coming after your master!”

Showered and changed, she met Tyler across the hall in the suite as planned. “Have you spoken with Logan again?” she asked.

“He’s at the center himself. He said we have a few hours. Amanda won’t let anyone touch the crate until the film crew’s there, which could be two hours. And I’m just here to serve. What do you want to do while we wait?”

She grinned, removing her cell phone with a flourish. “In her enthusiasm over the press, Amanda forgot her phone. I took pictures of her recently called numbers and some of the emails she’s received. I’d like to see who she’s been calling and emailing.”

“Let’s do it,” Tyler said.

Kat connected her cell to one of the laptops on the table. Then she brought up the photos on Tyler’s screen.

“You’re not going to win any photography contests,” he said.

“Hey! I was in a hurry!”

“I’ll take the phone numbers. You can work on the emails.”

They set to work. Kat was disappointed. Amanda had written to her cousin in Phoenix, to a superior on the board at the Preservation Center to assure him that she was following protocol and to someone she’d met at an online dating site, telling him she’d be too busy to see him for the next few months.

The next email written, however, was intriguing. “Listen to this,” she said to Tyler.

Tyler looked up.

“‘Please be advised,’” Kat read, “‘that legal action will be taken with the State of Illinois should either of your companies seek to investigate the
Jerry McGuen,
find artifacts or in any way hinder the efforts of the Chicago Ancient History Preservation Center. We will prosecute any interference to the full extent of the law.’”

“Who was she writing to?” Tyler asked.

“Landry Salvage
and
Simonton’s Sea Search,” Kat said.

Tyler nodded grimly. “Strange. She’s still on speaking terms with someone at Landry Salvage—she’s made calls to their switchboard every day for the past two weeks. Guess who else she’d been calling? Austin Miller.”

* * *

Will and Sean went back down to the wreck to adjust the position of the remote camera, trying to make sure it wouldn’t be caught in any debris and that it would focus on the hold. Earl had rigged the mechanism so the divers could see up to the control station on the security boat, while anyone at the desk could view the dive site.

Will held up a thumb to Earl Candy. Earl grinned and raised a thumb in return. Sean moved to Will, and they both waved at him in approval. Earl seemed pleased with his success; he had all the training and equipment he needed but didn’t customarily film in the depths.

Before ascending, Sean studied the wreck again. He could look all the way over to the starboard side, since so much of the massive steel hull had been ripped out. Of course, it was astonishing that the ship had gone down in one piece. It appeared to have sunk quickly—with greater speed than the
Titanic!
—and flooded evenly. If one section of the ship had filled with water first, it was likely that the
Jerry McGuen
would have broken in two. As it was, she lay with her port side jagged and exposed, at a slight angle, the aft section with the storage holds almost ten feet deeper than the deck and the grand salon.

Sean tapped him on the arm. Time to surface. The two of them did so, following safety procedures.

On deck, Alan King was pacing anxiously. “We need to get back to town. How did I
ever
become associated with someone like that woman?” He groaned, shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” Will asked.

“Dr. Amanda Channel. She’s got ants in her pants. She can’t stand waiting. God, the woman doesn’t have an off switch!”

“There is a board of directors,” Earl said. “We could go to them with our complaints.” He grinned. “I have video to show them!”

“Or,” Bernie suggested, “we could take the high road—at least for now.” He explained to Will and Sean. “Amanda just called Alan. The crate’s at the center. They’ve removed the outer tarp, and the wooden box inside seems to have withstood the wreck, the water and the ravages of time. She sounds as if it’s all her doing. Yep, it’s all her doing. Anyway, she knows she can’t go any further without us, but she’s threatening to do exactly that.”

“Someone in the Krewe must be there,” Sean said, frowning.

Bernie nodded. “Oh, yeah. Your man Logan, and he’s keeping her down. But we need to head back immediately.”

Will and Sean looked at each other. He wasn’t sure how they were getting back, because the security boat had just been rigged to maintain the remote camera.

“We have help coming,” Bernie told them. “Captain Bob and Jimmy should be here in about five minutes.”

“I’ll take a look at the computer, see how our remote’s doing,” Will said.

The brawny young security guard on duty gladly relinquished his chair at the computer to Will. “Boring, really,” he said. “But don’t worry. We know our jobs.”

Will sent him to take a break, to the guard’s evident relief.

Once the guy had left, Will studied the footage and understood what he meant—the camera was focused solely on the hold. Then, unexpectedly, something in the corner of the screen caught his attention. He could just see the grand salon and, for a moment, it seemed that ghostly images danced by him. He blinked; they were still there. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing with his eyes and what with his mind, but he saw the water in a horrible maelstrom. There were women in beautiful long dresses and men in tuxedos and suits, scrambling, fighting the roiling rush of the water, spinning and turning….

“What do you see?” Sean asked him.

Will almost jumped. He’d been so intent he hadn’t heard Sean behind him.

“I’m not sure. I had an image of the ship wrecking. I wish we could learn more about what happened that night. As far as I know, there wasn’t even a Mayday sent out. The
Jerry McGuen
had reported her estimated time of arrival the next day—and then she was never heard from again. That’s the way I understand it, anyway. I’ve got to do more reading.”

“I went through all the files, too,” Sean said, “and that’s my understanding, as well. Nothing. She was coming in and then she disappeared. A terrible storm had struck, with blinding snow and sleet. Search parties went out as soon as possible, but nothing was found. Not so much as a floating deck chair.”

“She must have gone down really fast—as if a plug was pulled on her,” Will said.

“Half the port side is missing.”

“You’d almost think she was rammed by something like an icebreaker,” Will mused.

“Say there
was
an icebreaker out on the lake… Wouldn’t they have tried to save any survivors or at the very least reported what happened?”

Will shrugged. “You’d hope so,” he said.

Earl took a step into the cabin. “Transport is here,” he told them.

Will had no idea how Captain Bob and Jimmy managed to stay calm while working with Amanda, but they were pleasant and ready to move with their usual speed and competence when they picked up the film crew, plus Sean and Will. Two of Alan King’s security guys remained on the control boat, including the young man who’d resumed watching the screen.

Will stood with Captain Bob as he took the helm.

“Press has gone wild.” Bob rolled his eyes. “The dock was a zoo when we came back in.”

“I guess it’ll be frenzy for a while. This is pretty momentous. Finding a ship in one of the Great Lakes would be enough, but the
Jerry McGuen
held a mummy,” Will said. “I assume the crate made it safely off the dock?”