The sound-and-light show had begun, and millions were watching.
56
Hayward arrived in the hall just behind D’Agosta, stepping into a blaze of light and color. To her dismay, she saw that the doors to the Tomb of Senef were closed, the decorative red ribbon lying cut on the floor. The most important guests were already inside, while the others were scattered about the hall, seated at cocktail tables or clustered in knots by the food and liquor.
“We’ve got to get those doors open—now,” said Pendergast, coming up beside her.
“The computer control room is this way.”
They ran across the hall—receiving startled glances from some of the guests—and burst through a door at the far end.
The computer control room for the Tomb of Senef was small. At one end was a long table on which stood several computer monitors and keyboards. On either side rose up racks of equipment: hard drives, controllers, synthesizers, video equipment. A muted television was tuned to the local PBS affiliate, currently simulcasting the opening. Two technicians sat at the table, observing a brace of monitors displaying video feeds from inside the tomb, as well as a third monitor, on which scrolled a long series of numbers. They turned, surprised at the sudden entry.
“What’s the status of the sound-and-light show?” Hayward asked.
“Going like clockwork,” said one of the technicians. “Why?”
“Shut it down,” Hayward said. “Open the tomb doors.”
The technician removed a pair of earphones. “I can’t do that without authorization.”
Hayward stuck her badge in his face. “Captain Hayward, NYPD Homicide. How’s that?”
The technician hesitated, staring at the badge. Then he shrugged and turned to the other. “Larry, initiate the door release sequence, please.”
Hayward glanced at the second technician and noted it was Larry Enderby, a staff member she had questioned about the attempted murder of Margo Green, and again about the diamond theft. He seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time a lot these days.
“If you say so,” Enderby said a little dubiously.
He had just begun to type when Manetti charged in, his face red, followed by two guards.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“We’ve got a problem,” said Hayward. “We’re stopping the show.”
“You aren’t stopping anything without a damn good reason.”
“No time to explain.”
Enderby had paused in his typing, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, looking from Hayward to Manetti and back.
“I’ve been as accommodating as I can, Captain Hayward,” Manetti said. “But now you’ve gone too far. This opening is critical to the museum. Everyone who counts is here and we’ve got a live audience of millions. No way am I going to allow anything or anybody to disrupt that.”
“Stand down, Manetti,” Hayward said in a clipped voice. “I’ll take full responsibility. Something is about to go terribly wrong.”
“No go, Captain,” Manetti said brusquely. He gestured at the television. “See for yourself. Everything’s fine.” He reached over and turned up the sound:
In the fifth year of the reign of the pharaoh Thutmosis IV…
Hayward turned back to Enderby. “Open those doors now.”
“Hold off on that order, Enderby,” Manetti said.
The technician’s hands, still poised above the keyboard, began to tremble.
Manetti glanced past Hayward and abruptly caught sight of Pendergast. “What the hell? Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?”
“I said, open the goddamn doors,” Hayward barked.
“Something’s not right.” Manetti began to fumble for his radio.
Pendergast moved smoothly forward. He turned his bruised face to Manetti and said in a courteous voice, “My sincerest apologies.”
“What for?”
The blow came so fast that it was little more than a blur, and with a muffled oof! Manetti doubled over. With a smooth, swift gesture, Pendergast whisked Manetti’s sidearm out of its holster and pointed it at the two guards.
“Weapons, batons, pepper spray, radios, on the floor,” he said.
The two guards obeyed.
Pendergast plucked one of their guns from its holster and handed it to D’Agosta. “Watch them.”
“Right.”
Pendergast took the second guard’s gun and tucked it in his waistband as a spare. Then he turned back to Manetti, who was on his knees, one hand cradling his midriff, trying to suck in air.
“I am truly sorry. There’s a conspiracy under way to destroy everybody in the tomb. We’re going to try to stop it, whether you like it or not. Now: where is Hugo Menzies?”