Tess Gerritsen's Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Bundle

by Tess Gerritsen

  “When you invited me, you didn’t warn me I’d have to walk through that mob.”

  “The press?” Robinson gave a pained look. “They’re a necessary evil.”

  “Necessary for whom?”

  “Our survival as a museum. Since the article about Madam X, our ticket sales have gone through the roof. And we haven’t even put her on display yet.”

  Robinson led her into a warren of hallways. On this Sunday night, the Diagnostic Imaging Department was quiet and the rooms they passed were dark and empty.

  “It’s going to get a little crowded in there,” said Robinson.

  “There’s hardly space for even a small group.”

  “Who else is watching?”

  “My colleague Josephine Pulcillo; the radiologist, Dr. Brier; and a CT tech. Oh, and there’ll be a camera crew.”

  “Someone you hired?”

  “No. They’re from the Discovery Channel.”

  She gave a startled laugh. “Now I’m really impressed.”

  “It does mean, though, that we have to watch our language.” He stopped outside the door labeled CT and said softly: “I think they may be already filming.”

  They quietly slipped into the CT viewing room, where the camera crew was, indeed, recording as Dr. Brier explained the technology they were about to use.

  “CT is short for ‘computed tomography.’ Our machine shoots X-rays at the subject from thousands of different angles. The computer then processes that information and generates a three-dimensional image of the internal anatomy. You’ll see it on this monitor. It’ll look like a series of cross sections, as if we’re actually cutting the body into slices.”

  As the taping continued, Maura edged her way to the viewing window. There, peering through the glass, she saw Madam X for the first time.

  In the rarefied world of museums, Egyptian mummies were the undisputed rock stars. Their display cases were where you’d usually find the schoolchildren gathered, faces up to the glass, every one of them fascinated by a rare glimpse of death. Seldom did modern eyes encounter a human corpse on display, unless it wore the acceptable countenance of a mummy. The public loved mummies, and Maura was no exception. She stared, transfixed, even though what she actually saw was nothing more than a human-shaped bundle resting in an open crate, its flesh concealed beneath ancient strips of linen. Mounted over the face was a cartonnage mask—the painted face of a woman with haunting dark eyes.

  But then another woman in the CT room caught Maura’s attention. Wearing cotton gloves, the young woman leaned into the crate, removing layers of Ethafoam packing from around the mummy. Ringlets of black hair fell around her face. She straightened and shoved her hair back, revealing eyes as dark and striking as those painted on the mask. Her Mediterranean features could well have appeared on any Egyptian temple painting, but her clothes were thoroughly modern: skinny blue jeans and a Live Aid T-shirt.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” murmured Dr. Robinson. He’d moved beside Maura, and for a moment she wondered if he was referring to Madam X or to the young woman. “She appears to be in excellent condition. I just hope the body inside is as well preserved as those wrappings.”

  “How old do you think she is? Do you have an estimate?”

  “We sent off a swatch of the outer wrapping for carbon fourteen analysis. It just about killed our budget to do it, but Josephine insisted. The results came back as second century BC.”

  “That’s the Ptolemaic period, isn’t it?”

  He responded with a pleased smile. “You know your Egyptian dynasties.”

  “I was an anthropology major in college, but I’m afraid I don’t remember much beyond that and the Yanomamo tribe.”

  “Still, I’m impressed.”

  She stared at the wrapped body, marveling that what lay in that crate was more than two thousand years old. What a journey it had taken, across an ocean, across millennia, all to end up lying on a CT table in a Boston hospital, gawked at by the curious. “Are you going to leave her in the crate for the scan?” she asked.

  “We want to handle her as little as possible. The crate won’t get in the way. We’ll still get a good look at what lies under that linen.”

  “So you haven’t taken even a little peek?”

  “You mean have I unwrapped part of her?” His mild eyes widened in horror. “God, no. Archaeologists would have done that a hundred years ago, maybe, and that’s exactly how they ended up damaging so many specimens. There are probably layers of resin under those outer wrappings, so you can’t just peel it all away. You might have to chip through it. It’s not only destructive, it’s disrespectful. I’d never do that.” He looked through the window at the dark-haired young woman. “And Josephine would kill me if I did.”

  “That’s your colleague?”

  “Yes. Dr. Pulcillo.”

  “She looks like she’s about sixteen.”

  “Doesn’t she? But she’s smart as a whip. She’s the one who arranged this scan. And when the hospital attorneys tried to put a stop to it, Josephine managed to push it through anyway.”

  “Why would the attorneys object?”

  “Seriously? Because this patient couldn’t give the hospital her informed consent.”

  Maura laughed in disbelief. “They wanted informed consent from a mummy?”

  “When you’re a lawyer, every i must be dotted. Even when the patient’s been dead for a few thousand years.”

  Dr. Pulcillo had removed all the packing materials, and she joined them in the viewing room and shut the connecting door. The mummy now lay exposed in its crate, awaiting the first barrage of X-rays.

  “Dr. Robinson?” said the CT tech, fingers poised over the computer keyboard. “We need to provide the required patient information before we can start the scan. What shall I use as the birth date?”

  The curator frowned. “Oh, gosh. Do you really need a birth date?”

  “I can’t start the scan until I fill in these blanks. I tried the year zero, and the computer wouldn’t take it.”

  “Why don’t we use yesterday’s date? Make it one day old.”

  “Okay. Now the program insists on knowing the sex. Male, female, or other?”

  Robinson blinked. “There’s a category for other?”

  The tech grinned. “I’ve never had the chance to check that particular box.”

  “Well then, let’s use it tonight. There’s a woman’s face on the mask, but you never know. We can’t be sure of the gender until we scan it.”

  “Okay,” said Dr. Brier, the radiologist. “We’re ready to go.”

  Dr. Robinson nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  They gathered around the computer monitor, waiting for the first images to appear. Through the window, they could see the table feed Madam X’s head into the doughnut-shaped opening, where she was bombarded by X-rays from multiple angles. Computerized tomography was not new medical technology, but its use as an archaeological tool was relatively recent. No one in that room had ever before watched a live CT scan of a mummy, and as they all crowded in, Maura was aware of the TV camera trained on their faces, ready to capture their reactions. Standing beside her, Nicholas Robinson rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, radiating enough nervous energy to infect everyone in the room. Maura felt her own pulse quicken as she craned for a better view of the monitor. The first image that appeared drew only impatient sighs.

  “It’s just the shell of the crate,” said Dr. Brier.

  Maura glanced at Robinson and saw that his lips were pressed together in thin lines. Would Madam X turn out to be nothing more than an empty bundle of rags? Dr. Pulcillo stood beside him, looking just as tense, gripping the back of the radiologist’s chair as she stared over his shoulder, awaiting a glimpse of anything recognizably human, anything to confirm that inside those bandages was a cadaver.

  The next image changed everything. It was a startlingly bright disk, and the instant it appeared, the observers all took in a sharply simultaneous breath.
>
  Bone.

  Dr. Brier said, “That’s the top of the cranium. Congratulations, you’ve definitely got an occupant in there.”

  Robinson and Pulcillo gave each other happy claps on the back. “This is what we were waiting for!” he said.

  Pulcillo grinned. “Now we can finish building that exhibit.”

  “Mummies!” Robinson threw his head back and laughed. “Everyone loves mummies!”

  New slices appeared on the screen, and their attention snapped back to the monitor as more of the cranium appeared, its cavity filled not with brain matter but with ropy strands that looked like a knot of worms.

  “Those are linen strips,” Dr. Pulcillo murmured in wonder, as though this was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

  “There’s no brain matter,” said the CT tech.

  “No, the brain was usually evacuated.”

  “Is it true they’d stick a hook up through the nose and yank the brain out that way?” the tech asked.

  “Almost true. You can’t really yank out the brain, because it’s too soft. They probably used an instrument to whisk it around until it was liquefied. Then they’d tilt the body so the brain would drip out the nose.”

  “Oh man, that’s gross,” said the tech. But he was hanging on Pulcillo’s every word.

  “They might leave the cranium empty or they might pack it with linen strips, as you see here. And frankincense.”

  “What is frankincense, anyway? I’ve always wondered about that.”

  “A fragrant resin. It comes from a very special tree in Africa. Valued quite highly in the ancient world.”

  “So that’s why one of the three wise men brought it to Bethlehem.”

  Dr. Pulcillo nodded. “It would have been a treasured gift.”

  “Okay,” Dr. Brier said. “We’ve moved below the level of the orbits. There you can see the upper jaw, and…” He paused, frowning at an unexpected density.

  Robinson murmured, “Oh my goodness.”

  “It’s something metallic,” said Dr. Brier. “It’s in the oral cavity.”

  “It could be gold leaf,” said Pulcillo. “In the Greco-Roman era, they’d sometimes place gold-leaf tongues inside the mouth.”

  Robinson turned to the TV camera, which was recording every remark. “There appears to be metal inside the mouth. That would correlate with our presumptive date during the Greco-Roman era—”

  “Now what is this?” exclaimed Dr. Brier.

  Maura’s gaze shot back to the computer screen. A bright starburst had appeared within the mummy’s lower jaw, an image that stunned Maura because it should not have been present in a corpse that was two thousand years old. She leaned closer, staring at a detail that would scarcely cause comment were this a body that had arrived fresh on the autopsy table. “I know this is impossible,” Maura said softly. “But you know what that looks like?”

  The radiologist nodded. “It appears to be a dental filling.”

  Maura turned to Dr. Robinson, who appeared just as startled as everyone else in the room. “Has anything like this ever been described in an Egyptian mummy before?” she asked. “Ancient dental repairs that could be mistaken for modern fillings?”

  Wide-eyed, he shook his head. “But it doesn’t mean the Egyptians were incapable of it. Their medical care was the most advanced in the ancient world.” He looked at his colleague. “Josephine, what can you tell us about this? It’s your field.”

  Dr. Pulcillo struggled for an answer. “There—there are medical papyri from the Old Kingdom,” she said. “They describe how to fix loose teeth and make dental bridges. And there was a healer who was famous as a maker of teeth. So we know they were ingenious when it came to dental care. Far ahead of their time.”

  “But did they ever make repairs like that?” said Maura, pointing to the screen.

  Dr. Pulcillo’s troubled gaze returned to the image. “If they did,” she said softly, “I’m not aware of it.”

  On the monitor, new images appeared in shades of gray, the body viewed in cross section as though sliced through by a bread knife. She could be bombarded by X-rays from every angle, subjected to massive doses of radiation, but this patient was beyond fears of cancer, beyond worries about side effects. As X-rays continued to assault her body, no patient could have been more submissive.

  Shaken by the earlier images, Robinson was now arched forward like a tightly strung bow, alert for the next surprise. The first slices of the thorax appeared, the cavity black and vacant.

  “It appears that the lungs were removed,” the radiologist said.

  “All I see is a shriveled bit of mediastinum in the chest.”

  “That’s the heart,” said Pulcillo, her voice steadier now. This, at least, was what she’d expected to see. “They always tried to leave it in situ.”

  “Just the heart?”

  She nodded. “It was considered the seat of intelligence, so you never separated it from the body. There are three separate spells contained in the Book of the Dead to ensure that the heart remains in place.”

  “And the other organs?” asked the CT tech. “I heard those were put in special jars.”

  “That was before the Twenty-first Dynasty. After around a thousand BC, the organs were wrapped into four bundles and stuffed back into the body.”

  “So we should be able to see that?”

  “In a mummy from the Ptolemaic era, yes.”

  “I think I can make an educated guess about her age when she died,” said the radiologist. “The wisdom teeth were fully erupted, and the cranial sutures are closed. But I don’t see any degenerative changes in the spine.”

  “A young adult,” said Maura.

  “Probably under thirty-five.”

  “In the era she lived in, thirty-five was well into middle age,” said Robinson.

  The scan had moved below the thorax, X-rays slicing through layers of wrappings, through the shell of dried skin and bones, to reveal the abdominal cavity. What Maura saw within was eerily unfamiliar, as strange to her as an alien autopsy. Where she expected to see liver and spleen, stomach and pancreas, instead she saw snake-like coils of linen, an interior landscape that was missing all that should have been recognizable. Only the bright knobs of vertebral bone told her this was indeed a human body, a body that had been hollowed out to a mere shell and stuffed like a rag doll.

  Mummy anatomy might be alien to her, but for both Robinson and Pulcillo this was familiar territory. As new images appeared, they both leaned in, pointing out details they recognized.

  “There,” said Robinson. “Those are the four linen packets containing the organs.”

  “Okay, we’re now in the pelvis,” Dr. Brier said. He pointed to two pale arcs. They were the top edges of the iliac crests.

  Slice by slice, the pelvis slowly took shape, as the computer compiled and rendered countless X-ray beams. It was a digital striptease as each image revealed a tantalizing new peek.

  “Look at the shape of the pelvic inlet,” said Dr. Brier.

  “It’s a female,” said Maura.

  The radiologist nodded. “I’d say it’s pretty conclusive.” He turned and grinned at the two archaeologists. “You can now officially call her Madam X. And not Mister X.”

  “And look at the pubic symphysis,” said Maura, still focused on the monitor. “There’s no separation.”

  Brier nodded. “I agree.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Robinson.

  Maura explained. “During childbirth, the infant’s passage through the pelvic inlet can actually force apart the pubic bones, where they join at the symphysis. It appears this female never had children.”

  The CT tech laughed. “Your mummy’s never been a mommy.”

  The scan had moved beyond the pelvis, and they could now see cross sections of the two femurs encased in the withered flesh of the upper thighs.

  “Nick, we need to call Simon,” said Pulcillo. “He’s probably waiting by the phone.”

 
“Oh gosh, I completely forgot.” Robinson pulled out his cell phone and dialed his boss. “Simon, guess what I’m looking at right now? Yes, she’s gorgeous. Plus, we’ve discovered a few surprises, so the press conference is going to be quite the—” In an instant he fell silent, his gaze frozen on the screen.

  “What the hell?” blurted the CT tech.

  The image now glowing on the monitor was so unexpected that the room had fallen completely still. Were a living patient lying on the CT table, Maura would have had no difficulty identifying the small metallic object embedded in the calf, an object that had shattered the slender shaft of the fibula. But that bit of metal did not belong in Madam X’s leg.

  A bullet did not belong in Madam X’s millennium.

  “Is that what I think it is?” said the CT tech.

  Robinson shook his head. “It has to be postmortem damage. What else could it be?”

  “Two thousand years postmortem?”

  “I’ll—I’ll call you back, Simon.” Robinson disconnected his cell phone. Turning to the cameraman, he ordered: “Shut it off. Please shut it off now.” He took a deep breath. “All right. All right, let’s—let’s approach this logically.” He straightened, gaining confidence as an obvious explanation occurred to him. “Mummies have often been abused or damaged by souvenir hunters. Obviously, someone fired a bullet into the mummy. And a conservator later tried to repair that damage by rewrapping her. That’s why we saw no entry hole in the bandages.”

  “That isn’t what happened,” said Maura.

  Robinson blinked. “What do you mean? That has to be the explanation.”

  “The damage to that leg wasn’t postmortem. It happened while this woman was still alive.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “I’m afraid Dr. Isles is right,” said the radiologist. He looked at Maura. “You’re referring to the early callus formation around the fracture site?”

  “What does that mean?” asked Robinson. “Callus formation?”

  “It means the broken bone had already started the process of healing when this woman died. She lived at least a few weeks after the injury.”