Reid and Kilgore sat side by side at a long banquet table. The thing was massive, made out of some dark tropical wood and waxed until it gleamed under the opulent light fixtures. The table fit the room: absolutely grand. High-arched windows let in slanting sunlight that cast beams across yellow hand-stuccoed walls. The brown marble floor had seashell inclusions. A black-garbed guard stood at either end of the table.
“Delightful company, aren’t they?” Kilgore asked between bites as she shoveled away a ham-and-cheese omelet.
“At least the food’s good.”
“Eat all you can.” She gave Reid a knowing glance. “Might be the last we get.”
“I just love an optimist.” He winked to reassure her. “My call is that when they ask us to look at the mummies, we act like government employees.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know a BLM archaeologist who still hasn’t finished a single site form after twenty years of field work.”
“How does he get away with it?”
“He’s a government employee.”
Her lips quirked. “Hope I really did manage to lose that four pounds. After this, it’s coming back.”
“Given the towel queen I saw this morning? You’re doing fine.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the captive women you share rooms with.”
The guard to the right called, “If you’re finished, my employers want to see if you’re worth the trouble and expense. Up and at ’em, Doctors, or we’ll drag you.”
Reid tried to give the man a cold look as he pushed his chair back and stood. Not that an archaeologist could really give a man like him any kind of chill.
“That way.” The guard pointed.
Reid took Kilgore’s hand for reassurance as they started down a long hallway, then right down a flight of wide, Saltillo-tiled steps. At the bottom they entered a cement-floored and industrial looking corridor. White fluorescent lights glowed from the acoustical-paneled ceiling. The guard pushed double metal doors open and ushered them into a handsomely outfitted laboratory.
The central island included a sink, slate work top, microscope, and equipment rack. Centrifuges, a PCR machine, chromatograph, several computer consoles, and an X-ray machine rested on countertops. Test tubes, beakers, glass tubing, and the other accoutrements filled both shelving and cabinetry. A steel door dominated the far wall. Light panels for viewing X-rays hung to either side.
“Hopefully, you’ll find this sufficient,” a familiar voice announced.
Reid turned, stunned to see Bill Minor as he stepped out from behind a stainless-steel cabinet door.
“Bill?” Kilgore cried. “Thank God, we thought you were either dead or captured.”
“Hopefully, the government does, too.”
Reid watched understanding dawn on Kilgore’s face. “You son of a bitch.”
Minor was wearing a black T-shirt that emphasized the man’s slablike shoulders and the depth of his chest. He turned, washing his hands in one of the sinks, and said, “If this was written for Hollywood, I’d go through this trite and friendly bullshit about ‘Welcome to the mansion.’ And we’d have this warm and fuzzy talk about ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ and ‘please forgive my uncaring associates for the manner of your arrival.’”
He looked up as he dried his hands, swollen biceps knotting like pythons. “Instead of that horseshit, here’s the deal: While you were catching up on sleep, we x-rayed the coffins. Unlike the images we lifted from your laptop, these don’t seem to have booby traps. One’s a male and one’s a female. We want you to look at the male first. If we’re right, he’s gonna blow your mind, Doctor France.”
“For God’s sake, Bill, why don’t you just tell me what this is all about?”
Minor’s smile mocked. “We want you to figure it out on your own, Doctor. We’re going to do nothing to bias your analysis. Doctor Farmer is here to help you record and offer his insight, since he’s seen the tomb.”
Reid crossed his arms. “So, we play along, do the work. How do we know—”
“Having either one of you dead doesn’t serve our best interests, Doctor Farmer. All we require is good science. And afterward we want you alive and capable of explaining what you’ve found to your peers. Just do that—and don’t cause me any trouble—and you walk out of here alive, healthy, and well-reimbursed for your time and inconvenience.”
Minor’s face lit. “You don’t know it yet, but you’re on the ground-floor of the greatest archaeological discovery ever. I actually envy you.”
As quickly, Minor’s expression went cold. “Now, you fuck with me, even in the slightest, and you will get hurt.”
Kilgore raised her hand. “Yeah, Bill. We’ve figured that out. Not that credibility is your strong suit.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. “But you’ll see. Now, let’s go into the sterile room and open that sarcophagus. I think, Dr. France, that by the end of the day, you’re going to be absolutely amazed.”
He indicated the back of the lab. “The dressing room is behind that steel door. I have to insist that we all suit up and limit the possibility of contamination to the specimen.”
Reid took a deep breath. “You ready for this?”
Kilgore let her gaze linger on his. “Let’s do it. As for myself, I really liked that part about having the whole future ahead of us.”
“Me too.” But when he shot a sidelong glance at Bill Minor, the python man was watching them with reptilian eyes.