A human skeleton glowed eerily within the wooden outlines of the sarcophagus. Reid glanced sidelong at Kilgore as they stood before the light panels on the lab’s back wall. Radiographs of the sarcophagus had been placed side by side to give a life-size image of the contents.
“There,” she mused softly. “See the white square atop his chest? That’s metal.”
“And for this you cut my lunch short halfway through a ham-and-havarti sandwich?”
“I sure as hell wasn’t worried about your cholesterol. Just before we left for lunch, I stopped and looked at these. I was more interested in the osteology, the bones, but this bothered me. It’s an anomaly.”
Reid glanced back where the two guards were standing by the door, their ugly black machine guns hanging from slings.
He lowered his voice. “What are you thinking, Kilgore?”
“I’m thinking we should open that sarcophagus before Bill Minor gets here.”
“That could get us shot.”
She spread her arms, giving him a knowing look that reeked of conspiracy. “We’re only doing our jobs, huh? Besides, the overhead camera is going to record it all.” She glanced around. “Which is why I want to lift the lid, prop it with those plastic storage boxes, and carefully take samples around the rim. We’ll be able to look inside, and if it’s something that shouldn’t be there, I’ll have to figure a way of sneaking it out.”
“What do you mean? Something that shouldn’t be there? It’s a fake sarcophagus, from a faked tomb.”
“And that odd metal square might be the proof!” she insisted, keeping her voice down.
Reid took a deep breath, glanced at the wall clock, and saw it was 12:35. “Okay, let’s get suited up.”
Ten minutes later they flicked on the lights and entered the sanitary room with its two sarcophagi. Kilgore went straight for the man’s and, with a scalpel, attacked the wax seal.
“Odd,” she murmured. “I don’t remember reading about these things being sealed in wax.”
“It’s not ancient Egyptian,” Reid reminded her. “I’m taking samples. If it’s commercial wax, maybe the chemical signature can be tied to a specific manufacturer.”
“Good thinking.”
Ten minutes later, Kilgore called, “That should do it. You ready?”
“How heavy are these things?” Reid asked, positioning himself at the head. He managed to pry the lid up with a flat length of metal, feeling the residual wax resist and release. “Not that bad.”
He got his fingers under and lifted. Maybe a hundred pounds? Kilgore carefully inserted some of the smaller spacers they’d brought with them: found items from the lab.
Reid moved to the bottom, inserted his gloved hands, and lifted so Kilgore could brace the lid. By slowly lifting and bracing, they elevated the top cover almost a foot.
“Let’s take a look.” Kilgore removed a small LED flashlight from a pocket and shined it into the interior.
“And?” Reid asked, purposefully ignoring the overhead camera.
“I need a sample sack,” she told him.
Reid dutifully handed her one of the cloth bags. “What do you see?”
“It’s a glass jar with a metal lid. Looks like it’s got some sort of liquid inside. Here, hold the light for me.”
Taking the flashlight, he bent down and watched her carefully insert the sack and lay it over a black metal box. The thing had about the same dimensions as a fat hardback book and lay like a pectoral plate on the mummy’s wrapped chest. From beside it, she withdrew the glass jar. It didn’t look Egyptian, but more like a modern canning jar. The screw cap appeared to be stainless steel.
“Maybe I don’t need that sack.” She lifted the clear glass jar to the light.
He reached in, careful not to shift the propped wooden cover, and lifted. The metal box might have been seven inches across, two inches thick, and seemed to weigh ten pounds.
Having placed the glass jar on one of the gurneys, Kilgore was back, crowding against him, her body obscuring the camera. He saw her shift something inside the sarcophagus.
“Put the bag back in its box,” she said offhandedly. “Then help me lift the lid off.”
With the curious metal box obscured under the sample sack, Reid tried to look casual as he placed his prize in the box.
As if that’s ever going to pass a close look!
“Kilgore? You sure you’re up to lifting this lid? It’s heavy.”
“Let’s do it. I want to see this guy.”
With Reid at the head, they lifted, Kilgore grunting as they shuffled over and laid the heavy lid on the second gurney.
When Reid looked back at the tightly bound mummy, he could see the thing she’d shifted: a square object now on the wrappings where the heavy metal box had lain.
Kilgore looked close. “Most likely papyrus.” She lifted it carefully. “It’s got writing on the cover. Something in Latin. VOX ULTIMUS. Last voice? Last message?”
“Bag it in plastic?”
She shook her head. “Outgassing from plastic will contaminate it. Use tinfoil.”
It was then that the door opened, and a fully suited Bill Minor stormed in. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Our jobs,” Kilgore answered, staring at Minor with indignation. “We want this done, Bill. The sooner you have your report, the sooner we’re out of here.” She lifted a hand in an effort to still his outburst. “And I have to tell you, I’m damned curious and anxious to get started.”
“Why didn’t you wait?”
“I just told you.”
Reid stepped forward. “She wouldn’t even let me finish lunch.”
“What did you find?” Minor asked, glancing up at the cameras, as if reassured.
“That jar of liquid. It’s a little murky, and you can see some kind of sediment in the bottom. It’s not an Egyptian jar, Bill.” Kilgore indicated the book on the supply table where Reid was unrolling tinfoil. “And he had that text on his chest. You can see it on the X-ray. Something about last words.”
Minor stopped short, a smile visible behind his mask as he turned to the glass jar. He lifted it almost reverently and held it up toward the light. “And this was inside, huh?”
“On his hands,” Reid added. “Apparently very valuable.”
Wonder filled Minor’s voice. “Now that we’ve got all the pieces, it’s time to start putting them together.”
“All the pieces?” Kilgore asked.
Minor laughed, radiating satisfaction. “Just do your work, Doctor. I need to know absolutely everything about this guy.”
With that he turned, walking back through decontamination, the glass jar held carefully in his hand.
Kilgore glanced thoughtfully at the book. She shot her eyes suggestively toward the hidden metal box and gave Reid a wink. Aloud she said, “And you? I suppose you’re going to be ragging on me for the rest of the day about being hungry?”
“Price of science,” Reid answered noncommittally, wondering what was in the canning jar, and what Minor would have said if he’d seen the metal box, too.