Krewe of Hunters, Volume 2: The Unseen ; The Unholy ; The Unspoken ; The Uninvited

by Heather Graham

  “The wall. There’s something on the wall.”

  She stood close to him, examining the wall, which looked as if someone had stuck a yellowed and dirty old bandage against it.

  “This looks like…”

  “Mummy wrapping,” Kat said. Her dream rushed back to her. “Except it’s not. Mummies are treated after they’re wrapped, and this just seems like someone’s idea of a Halloween prank.” Her tone was harsh. Despite her training, common sense and logic, it was unnerving to see that someone had been outside both of their rooms, either out to do actual harm or trying to…unnerve them.

  “Mummies aren’t always treated,” Will said quietly. “There are a number at various museums around the world that haven’t been soaked in any kind of resin. The reign of the pharaohs went on for thousands of years, and I don’t know about all their interment rites, but I’ve seen mummies that were buried only in wrapping. I agree with you, though. I don’t think this is real. I think it’s something bought from a Halloween shop. But I’m going to get an evidence bag and see what we can find out.”

  She waited, her fingers tight around the grip of her Glock, while he went to his room for an evidence bag. He returned in a matter of seconds. He’d relinquished his gun—because he felt there was no more danger or because he had faith in her, she didn’t know—and had brought a knife and the bag. She noticed then that his chest and arms were lean, sleek and well-muscled, and that he could move with the silence and agility of a cat, despite his height and build.

  He scraped the fragment of slimy gauze from the light gray wall into the bag.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “You’re not going back to sleep?”

  “I had my alarm set for six-thirty. Not much point now, even if I felt I could fall asleep.”

  He shrugged. “Then we’ll be good and early. I’m going to shower and dress. I’ll meet you downstairs at six. That’s when they have the coffee ready so we should get the first cups.”

  She nodded, wondering if she should say what was on her mind—that she didn’t like the idea of people crawling around the hall.

  He seemed to read her thoughts. “You know what? I’m going to do a setup. It won’t take long and it’ll help put you at ease.”

  “I have been trained. I’m not a coward,” Kat said.

  “There’s a major difference between being wary and being a coward,” he said. “Give me a minute, and you’ll see what I’m up to.”

  The man seemed to be prepared for anything. He disappeared into his room and reappeared with a small camera, a thick wad of duct tape and a desk chair. He used the chair to stand on while he attached the camera just above her door. It was wireless and she thought it was small enough to go unnoticed, especially with the ornate trim over the lintel.

  “You’ve got a laptop, right?” he asked her.

  “Of course.”

  “The camera works on a frequency. It’ll come in on a screen in my room, but I can have it zapped on to your computer. Then you can see what’s going on in the hall, and so will I. Any problems with that?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I really like it,” Kat said.

  “I have to grab a bit of software.” He disappeared into his own room again, then followed Kat into hers. She showed him where she’d set up her computer on the desk and he went to work. As he did, she noticed the door to the adjoining room—his.

  He’d been concentrating on the task at hand, and when he finished, he turned to her. “There’s your icon. Hit it, and you’ll see whatever is going on in the hall.”

  “Thanks. I wonder if we should unbolt the connecting doors, too.”

  He grinned. “Not a bad idea. Hey, knowing someone might be in the hallway is creepy, no matter how well-armed you are,” he said. “And it’s hard to take your gun in the shower, especially when you’re washing your hair.”

  She laughed. “Which is exactly what I want to do.” She walked over and unbolted her side.

  “I’ll do the same from my room,” he told her. “Though I’m not expecting anything else for now.”

  “You think it was done to warn us?” Kat asked.

  “There’s nothing in the local news about us,” he said, “but I’m sure that word gets around and those who need to worry about us are aware. But, yeah, I think it was done for effect. Okay, meet you downstairs at six.”

  He strode to the door and opened it.

  “Thanks again,” she called after him.

  “It’s what I do,” he said. “See you soon.”

  A moment later, she heard the bolt slide open on the other side of the connecting door. The sound made her smile. With the camera in place and the connecting door unlocked, she felt safe enough to take a shower.

  * * *

  The first day manager came on at 6:00 a.m. He arrived a little early and was surprised to find that Will was waiting for him the minute he stepped into the lobby. But apparently he’d been informed that he was getting an FBI crew as clientele. He didn’t blink an eye when Will asked if he’d allow him to look through their security footage. If the technical crew who handled their video surveillance didn’t show up that afternoon, Will went on, would the manager let him check out the elevator cameras that evening?

  The manager, Jonah Rumble, didn’t mind. Will ran through the tapes from the night before and decided that nothing had been altered. Whoever had come to their door had clearly returned to a room in the hotel. Knowing that, he thanked the security man on duty, and the manager, then discreetly made a call to the office in Virginia.

  Afterward, he found Kat waiting for him. She was talking with the manager and had obviously charmed him. But then, it seemed that his diminutive blonde counterpart had a way of charming everyone she met.

  Maybe he should leave her to it. He should’ve been a lot more patient with Dr. McFarland but he wasn’t a medical examiner; he’d just been around enough corpses now to know a few things. It frustrated him that he could make a few observations and discern that Brady had taken a beating, yet the expert missed what had been apparent to Will. That seemed inexcusable to him. And hiding his feelings was not Will’s strong point.

  He’d learn.

  “Anything?” Kat asked politely as he joined them.

  He shook his head.

  Jonah, the manager, turned to him to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine that another guest was lost or disoriented, realized the mistake and moved on to his or her own room. In this day and age, we should probably have more security, but…we’re a small hotel. We specialize in a business clientele and we seldom have even a minor disturbance. Mr. Harrison’s been coming here for years, and truly, he’s never had a problem. I understand that his office made your travel arrangements.”

  “The hotel is just great, and we’re sorry to have disturbed you,” Will said, glancing at Kat. “We truly enjoy it here.”

  “Well, thank you,” Jonah said. “I assure you that we’ll be vigilant as to the elevator cameras. Still, no harm was done.”

  “No harm at all,” Will agreed pleasantly.

  “Then, please, coffee is available in the lobby. And if you want to reach me, the reception staff can find me at any time, day or night.”

  Will thanked him, took Kat’s elbow and led them toward the coffee.

  “How’d I do?” he asked her.

  “Suck up to a pathologist or a cop like that, and we’ll have it made,” she told him. “But shouldn’t we get a list of hotel guests?”

  He grinned. “Of course. I’ve called the higher-ups to see that we’re given the list. If Adam makes the call, we won’t have to hear about privacy laws and all that.”

  “Good thinking,” she said.

  Complimentary coffee was served out of a silver urn on a marble counter by the restaurant. He poured them both a cup of coffee and offered her cream and sugar.

  “I take it black,” she said.

  “We all do, I guess, with the places we go and the hours we keep,” he murmured.<
br />
  “You’re right. I used to add cream,” she said, heading toward the dining room.

  He followed her. She was a strange choice for one of the Krewes, he thought. She was tiny—maybe five-four, and a hundred and five pounds. She was a blue-eyed blonde and looked like a little Russian fairy princess. Katya Sokolov was also a certified medical examiner. He’d always known that. It was her appearance and her manner that surprised him. She was just so…tiny and perfect.

  Each Krewe member had a talent beyond that of communication with the dead. His was film and cameras—and determining what was illusion, what was reality. He knew that in the Texas Krewe, Sean Cameron was the video/film man, and of course, Sean’s association with the documentary crew hired to film the salvage of the Jerry McGuen was why they were involved.

  “I got a nice long email from Logan Raintree this morning. Research on the Egyptian Sand Diggers,” she told him as they chose a table in the dining room.

  “And?”

  She drew out her phone and pulled up the email, not reading but checking it now and then as she spoke to him.

  “The society was actually formed back in 1932. There’ve been many times that Egyptology was the rage, and even as we plunged into the Great Depression, this group raised money to find the ship. Through the years, many of the members have been high-ranking politicians, respected scientists, you name it. It’s a private society—like the Masonic Order or the Shriners or Elks—that does community service. Their dinners and dances and events support major children’s hospitals. Right now, they’re busy supporting exploration in the pyramid of Cheops—or Khufu—one of the ‘great’ pyramids at Giza, built over four thousand years ago for the pharaoh. But they’ve also financed various expeditions and the preservation of Egyptian antiquities from the different kingdoms.”

  He nodded eagerly. “The Old Kingdom, which would be roughly the third millennium, leading up to the New Kingdom, the Greek and Roman periods, and then invasion by what we consider more or less modern Europeans. Ramses II, or Ramses the Great, was a nineteenth dynasty king and ruled from 1279 to 1213 BC.”

  “Yeah, he was a warrior king, and very nicely played by Yul Brynner in the old movie,” Kat said. “He was considered a magnificent general and a good ruler, whether he did or didn’t lose half his men when the Red Sea fell back after Moses. So Amun Mopat, as his high priest, is of tremendous interest to scholars.” She grinned. “Those poor people in the Sand Diggers must have been cringing when the movie Sam Stone and the Curious Case of the Egyptian Museum was originally made. A number of liberties were taken.”

  “Maybe they were upset, maybe not. Maybe they were happy to see some interest—any interest—in ancient Egypt. And maybe they enjoyed sharing their information. Just as they were probably happy to correct everyone when the press got it all wrong reporting on your last case in California.”

  “You know about that?”

  He laughed. “I read the papers. Usually online, which means the New York, L.A., Chicago and London papers. I know the FBI is downplaying our part in the Hollywood case as much as possible, but if you’re with a Krewe…well, you read between the lines. And I guess it must be somewhat disconcerting to go from Amun Mopat to…Amun Mopat.”

  “It’s what we do, right?” She smiled, aware that she was paraphrasing an earlier remark of his.

  “Yeah, it’s what we do. And I love Egyptology,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing the artifacts on that ship. Especially the mummy.”

  “I’m used to the dead. But I’ve never been asked to examine the remains of a mummy, although I know pathologists who have. I believe in speaking for the dead, but…I think my sympathies are with the people who died on the ship, rather than a priest who apparently lived well and had many convinced that he was all-powerful.”

  “And Brady Laurie?” he asked quietly.

  “I know we’re learning more about him. That he was determined to follow through on his discovery and that he might have had a temper and—in short—been human.” She paused. “I really wanted his death to be an accident.”

  “But you don’t buy that any more than I do,” he said.

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Okay, we’ll figure out what went on,” Will said solemnly. “And I’m intrigued by this group. Neither Amanda Channel nor Jon Hunt at the Preservation Center mentioned them to me. Then again, maybe they just dismiss them as amateurs.”

  “Yes, but the Sand Diggers are also avid—and scholarly,” Kat said. “And apparently they do good works.”

  “Do we know where to find them?”

  “Their meeting house is on Michigan Avenue,” she told him. “We can start there, and if we don’t find the two men Landry mentioned—Austin Miller and Dirk Manning—we can get information on their schedules. I’m sure Logan sent me their home addresses. I’ll go through the notes again.”

  “Then I say we head over there after a lovely morning of diving!” Will said. “Hey, come on. How often will you see a freshly discovered shipwreck and treasure so far untouched?”

  Only in my dreams, Kat thought. Only in my…dreams.

  She realized that she dreaded seeing the Jerry McGuen.

  No.

  She dreaded discovering that she’d already seen it.

  5

  Kat remembered meeting Alan King, Bernie Firestone and Earl Candy in Texas, when she was involved in the case at the Longhorn Saloon. They’d been helpful, and they were interesting people—and friends of Sean Cameron’s. She’d seen more of Bernie and Earl, but when the case came to its conclusion, she, Logan and the others had dinner with the group, and she’d enjoyed their company.

  They all met at the docks. It was decided that Kat and Will would go out on the film crew’s boat and meet up with the Preservation Center’s boat at the dive site. Today’s dive would be on video, from beginning to end.

  Kat was glad. That meant lots of people in the water.

  And it meant that everything would be on video.

  Bernie Firestone was a man of about forty, pleasant, with graying hair and warm brown eyes. He greeted Kat with a crushing hug and called out to his main cameraman, “Earl! Dr. Sokolov is here. Agent Sokolov these days, right?”

  “Yes, Bernie. Hey, Earl!”

  She received an equally warm hug from Earl. He was stocky and shaggy-haired and reminded her of a teddy bear.

  She’d only met Alan King, the billionaire producer, once, but he, too, was friendly when they greeted each other. Alan didn’t look or behave like her idea of such a wealthy man. At the moment, he was in swim trunks and a worn T-shirt and his cap of white hair was unruly in the breeze.

  He shook hands with her and Will, and thanked them for being there.

  “Happy to,” she murmured, feeling somewhat guilty. She didn’t tell him that it hadn’t been her choice.

  “Amanda and Jon haven’t arrived yet. You want to come into the cabin and have some coffee?” he asked.

  “Sure, more coffee sounds great,” Will said.

  Kat wondered about the wisdom of that, considering they’d be spending time in dive suits, but she supposed one more cup couldn’t hurt, and they’d have a chance to talk with the filmmakers for a few minutes.

  The filmmakers had hired a charter out of Chicago, and the cabin wasn’t luxurious but comfortable and well-appointed. The charter came with Captain Bob Green, who looked like he could’ve been whaling in New England a century earlier, and first mate Jimmy Green, his nephew, an eager young man in his early twenties. They went about their business on the boat, apparently unfazed by any rumors of a curse.

  “You’ve had private security watching the site since Brady Laurie was brought up, right?” Will asked as they sat at the galley table and Bernie got them coffee.

  Alan King nodded.

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Well, boats on the lake, but nothing at the dive site,” Alan said. “Thing is—it’s a dive site. We can’t station people 24/7 down at the wreck. A
nd we can’t stop other boats from being out on the lake. My people have reported curious boaters going by, but they just see them looking over, then moving on. Someone with the right equipment could anchor at another spot and go beneath the surface.”

  “That’s true, but not so easy. You have to know how to dive, and you have to allow for air consumption,” Will pointed out.

  “It’s not that deep,” Earl Candy said, sitting next to Kat. “I was worried about this project, but you don’t have to go below a hundred feet. When you think about it, it could have been a lot worse.”

  Alan turned to Kat. “You’re a pathologist, Kat. You saw Brady Laurie. Are we being alarmists? Did he die by accident? We were down there, you know, when his body was discovered.”

  She hesitated. “Mr. King, I can’t say for sure. There were some suspicious marks on the body that mean an investigation is in order.”

  “I heard a talk-radio show today.” Alan sniffed impatiently. “The host had on half a dozen people who were convinced the ‘curse’ is real—that Amun Mopat hadn’t wanted his tomb raided way back when, and that he doesn’t want his watery grave disturbed. Half the guests on the show were convinced that Brady Laurie was killed by Amun Mopat.”

  “If there’s one thing I’ll say didn’t happen—it’s that a mummy came out of a sealed container and killed a guy!” Bernie said. Then he sighed. “But it doesn’t mean that evil isn’t alive. We all know it is. Evil exists in psychopaths the world over.”

  “Bernie, could you show me what kind of equipment you’re working with?” Will asked. “Were you able to get the remotes I suggested?”

  Bernie nodded. “Anything I film will show up on the screen over there,” Bernie said, pointing at the console.

  “We can rig up a remote camera, too, for when no one’s down there?”

  “I got the little remote casing yesterday afternoon,” Bernie said. “Yeah, we can watch whatever goes on,” he assured Will.

  “And we have a videographer coming in from the Keys. He’s done underwater work all over the world, so we’ll be in good shape,” Alan King told them.