The Cabinet of Curiosities (Pendergast #3)(56)

The thought of Brisbane roused her. Cretins or not, this was the New York Museum. She’d never get another opportunity like this again—not ever.

Briskly, she stepped into the office, closing and locking the door behind her. Now that she had the money for the carbon-14 dates, she could get back to real work. At least that was one thing this whole fiasco had done for her: get her the money. Now she could prepare the charcoal and organics for shipping to the radiocarbon lab at the University of Michigan. Once she had the dates, her work on the Anasazi-Aztec connection could begin in earnest.

She opened the first cabinet and carefully removed a tray containing dozens of stoppered test tubes. Each was labeled, and each contained a single specimen: a bit of charcoal, a carbonized seed, a fragment of a corn cob, a bit of wood or bone. She removed three of the trays, placing them on the white table. Then she booted her workstation and called up the catalogue matrices. She began cross-checking, making sure every specimen had the proper label and site location. At $275 a shot for the dating, it was important to be accurate.

As she worked, her mind began to wander back to the events of the past few days. She wondered if the relationship with Brisbane could ever be repaired. He was a difficult boss, but a boss nonetheless. And he was shrewd; sooner or later he’d realize that it would be best for everyone if they could bury the hatchet and— Nora shook her head abruptly, a little guilty about this selfish line of thought. Smithback’s article hadn’t just gotten her into hot water—it had apparently inspired a copycat killer the tabloids were already dubbing “The Surgeon.” She couldn’t understand how Smithback thought the article would help. She’d always known he was a careerist, but this was too much. A bumbling egomaniac. She remembered her first sight of him in Page, Arizona, surrounded by bimbos in bathing suits, giving out autographs. Trying to, anyway. What a joke. She should have trusted her first impression of him.

Her mind wandered from Smithback to Pendergast. A strange man. She wasn’t even sure he was authorized to be working on the case. Would the FBI just let one of their agents freelance like this? Why was he so evasive about his interest? Was he just secretive by nature? Whatever the situation, it was most peculiar. She was out of it now, and glad. Very glad.

And yet, as she went back to the tubes, she realized she wasn’t feeling all that glad. Maybe it was just that this sorting and checking was tedious work, but she realized Mary Greene and her sad life was lingering in the back of her mind. The dim tenement, the pathetic dress, the pitiful note…

With an effort, she pushed it all away. Mary Greene and her family were long gone. It was tragic, it was horrifying—but it was no concern of hers.

Sorting completed, she began packing the tubes in their special Styrofoam shipping containers. Better to break it down into three batches, just in case one got lost. Sealing the containers, she turned to the bills of lading and FedEx shipping labels.

A knock sounded at the door. The knob turned, but the locked door merely rattled in its frame. She glanced over.

“Who is it?” she called.

The hoarse whisper was muffled by the door.

“Who?” She felt a sudden fear.

“Me. Bill.” The furtive voice was louder.

Nora stood up with a mixture of relief and anger. “What are you doing here?”

“Open up.”

“Are you kidding? Get out of here. Now.”

“Nora, please. It’s important.”

“It’s important that you stay the hell away from me. I’m warning you.”

“I’ve got to talk to you.”

“That’s it. I’m calling security.”

“No, Nora. Wait.”

Nora picked up the phone, dialed. The officer she reached said he would be only too glad to remove the intruder. They would be there right away.

“Nora!” Smithback cried.

Nora sat down at her worktable, trying to compose her mind. She closed her eyes. Ignore him. Just ignore him. Security would be there in a moment.

Smithback continued to plead at the door. “Just let me in for a minute. There’s something you have to know. Last night—”

She heard heavy footfalls and a firm voice. “Sir, you’re in an off-limits area.”

“Hey! Let go! I’m a reporter for—”

“You will come with us, please, sir.”

There was the sound of a scuffle.

“Nora!”

A new note of desperation sounded strong in Smithback’s voice. Despite herself, Nora went to the door, unlocked it, and stuck out her head. Smithback was being held between two burly security men. He glanced at her, cowlick bobbing reproachfully as he tried to extricate himself. “Nora, I can’t believe you called security.”

“Are you all right, miss?” one of the men asked.

“I’m fine. But that man shouldn’t be here.”

“This way, sir. We’ll walk you to the door.” The men started dragging Smithback off.

“Unhand me, oaf! I’ll report you, Mister 3467.”

“Yes, sir, you do that, sir.”

“Stop calling me ‘sir.’ This is assault.”

“Yes, sir.”

The men, imperturbable, led him down the hall toward the elevator.

As Nora watched, she felt a turmoil of conflicting emotion. Poor Smithback. What an undignified exit. But then, he’d brought it on himself—hadn’t he? He needed the lesson. He couldn’t just show up like this, all mystery and high drama, and expect her to— “Nora!” came the cry from down the hall. “You have to listen, please! Pendergast was attacked, I heard it on the police scanner. He’s in St. Luke’s–Roosevelt, down on Fifty-ninth. He—”