Loftus nodded toward a thick cable that snaked its way out of the hall, covered with a strip of rubber and secured by gaffer tape.
“I see,” said D’Agosta. “And if that cable got cut?”
“God forbid,” said Loftus. “We’d lose our simulcast. But it won’t be cut, believe me. It would take more than an accidental kick to damage that cable.”
“You don’t have a backup cable?”
“No need. That cable’s got a rubber-and-epoxy-clad sheath, with woven steel—it’s indestructible. Well, Officer… ?”
“Lieutenant D’Agosta.”
“It appears we don’t need you, after all.” Loftus turned his back and pointed to another crew member. “You ninny, never leave an open monitor unattended like that!”
D’Agosta looked around. At the far end of the hall, near the entrance, was the obligatory fire station case, containing a coiled hose and a massive Pulaski axe behind a sheet of breakable glass. He strode over, gave the glass a sharp kick, and extracted the Pulaski. Then he walked over to where the taped-down cable turned the corner, braced himself, and raised the axe above his head.
“Hey!” called one of the crew members. “What the hell!”
D’Agosta brought the axe down smartly, neatly chopping the cable in half with a shower of sparks.
An inarticulate howl of rage went up from Randall Loftus.
A moment later, D’Agosta was back in the control room. Pendergast and the technicians were still laboring over the newly rebooted computer system, which was still refusing to accept commands.
Pendergast turned toward him. “Loftus?”
“Beside himself with anger at the moment.”
Pendergast nodded, his lips twitching in a brief semblance of a smile.
Suddenly a barrage of flashing lights on one of the live monitors attracted D’Agosta’s notice.
“What’s that?” Pendergast asked sharply.
“The strobes are firing up,” said Enderby, hunched over the keyboard.
“There are strobe lights in the show?”
“In the later part, yeah. You know, for special effects.”
Pendergast turned his attention to the monitor, the blue glow reflecting his intense gray eyes. More strobe lights flashed on, followed by a strange rumble.
Enderby suddenly sat up. “Wait. That’s not how it’s supposed to go.”
The audio feed from the tomb continued over the monitor, carrying a rising murmur from the audience along with it. Pendergast turned to Hayward. “Captain, during your security review, you consulted a set of plans to the tomb and adjacent areas, I assume?”
“I did.”
“If you had to, what would the best point be to force an entry into the tomb from outside?”
Hayward thought for a moment. “There’s a corridor that connects the 81st Street subway station to the museum’s subway entrance. It goes behind the back of the tomb, and there’s a point where the masonry’s only twenty-four inches thick between the walkway and the burial chamber.”
“Twenty-four inches of what?”
“Concrete and rebar. It’s a load-bearing wall.”
“Twenty-four inches of concrete,” D’Agosta murmured. “Might as well be a hundred feet. We can’t shoot through that, and we can’t chop through it. Not in time.”
A dreadful hush fell over the little room, punctuated only by the strange booming from inside the hall, and the accompanying murmur of the crowd. As D’Agosta watched, Pendergast’s shoulders sank visibly. It’s happening, he thought with a thrill of horror. Diogenes is winning. He’s thought of everything and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.
But then, as he watched, he saw Pendergast start visibly. The agent’s eyes grew bright, and he breathed in sharply. Then he turned toward one of the guards.
“You—your name?”
“Rivera, sir.”
“You know where the Taxidermy Department is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go down there and find me a bottle of glycerol.”
“Glycerol?”
“It’s a chemical used for softening animal skins—there’s certain to be some down there.” Next, Pendergast turned to Manetti. “Send a couple of your guards down to the chemistry lab. I need bottles of sulfuric acid and nitric acid. They’ll find them where the hazardous chemicals are stored.”
“May I ask—?”
“No time to explain. I’m also going to need a separation funnel with a stopcock on the bottom, as well as distilled water. And a thermometer, if they can find one.” Pendergast looked around, found a sheet of paper and a pencil, scribbled some quick notes, and handed the paper to Manetti. “Have them ask a lab technician if they have any problems.”