by Alan Baxter
She sat up, pulled her knees into her chest and hugged them. “Maybe we should go back to the airport and poke around.”
Crowley considered that. “I think there’s certainly more to be learned there,” he said eventually. “It’s just too bizarre a place and we barely scratched the surface.”
“I think it’s what’s under the surface that matters.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But I’d rather avoid the place unless we have hard evidence Lily’s there. Or some better idea about what to look for. Where to look.”
Rose sighed. She took her phone out and began searching through websites.
Crowley moved to sit beside her. “What are you looking for?”
“Seeing if there are any images of that stolen canopic jar, but there aren’t. No mention even of the theft that I can find.” She searched again, different terms. “And there’s not even any information about that particular part of the museum’s display. It’s too specific, I suppose.”
Crowley fished out his phone. “I wonder if Cameron can hack the museum’s computer system and search for information on it.”
Rose looked up, eyes bright. “That’s a good idea! Museums keep inventories and detailed records. If he can hack those it’ll be great.”
Crowley dialed the number. “Let’s see.”
As the phone rang, Crowley had a sudden lurch of guilt that he hadn’t even thought to check the time difference. He glanced out the window at the darkening sky, tried to do some quick mental arithmetic, but Cameron answered.
“Jake! You must be psychic, I was just about to call you.”
“Ah, not too late?” Crowley was relieved.
“Nah, man. I’ve never been one to go to bed early, you know that. What do you need?”
“What were you just about to call for?”
Cameron laughed. “You first. How much are you going to abuse my good will this time?”
Crowley grinned. He missed his old mate. How long, he wondered, before Cameron wouldn’t be able to help himself and had to come out into the field again. Crowley wondered if his pal’s leg would be up for it. He was still guilty at effectively getting the poor man shot last time. “I was wondering if you could hack the records of the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. We need the notes on a particular exhibit.”
“No problemo. I can probably do that. Give me the details.”
Crowley told Cameron as much as he could about the display and the collection of canopic jars. Rose threw in extra information that he relayed and added that one jar had been stolen and that might be in the records too. Rapid tapping stuttered over the line as Cameron typed up the notes as they were related.
“Okay,” he said, when Crowley ran out of details to share. “You’ll have to leave that one with me.”
“And what do you have for me?” Crowley asked.
“I’ve finally hacked into ‘Iris Brown’s’ credit account. She’s covered a lot of territory in a short period of time.”
Crowley grinned. “He’s got your sister’s credit card details,” he said to Rose’s questioning expression. “Go on, Cam, I’m putting you on speaker.” He tapped the button and Cameron’s voice came through, tinny, but loud.
“Five days ago, she was in Denver, as you already know.”
“What specific purchases here?” Crowley asked.
Cameron named a rental car agency at the airport, a restaurant, and the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. “None of that is particularly helpful I imagine, given what you just told me. Seems you’re ahead of this stuff.”
“We are. So where did she go next?”
“There’s a string of petrol and food purchases south along the interstate highway system, through New Mexico and into Arizona.”
Crowley and Rose exchanged a confused glance. “Where could that be leading?”
“The last purchase being at a place called Dragoon,” Cameron said. “That’s in Arizona, and happened three days ago.”
Crowley frowned. “Where the hell is Dragoon, Arizona?”
“Near Tucson.”
“That doesn’t really help, mate. I’m as English as you are and not looking at a map.”
Cameron laughed. “You ever heard of Tombstone? Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, Wyatt Earp, Johnny Ringo, and Doc Holliday?”
“Sure, I’ve seen the movie. Isn’t that near the Mexican border?”
“Sure is. And it appears to be in the middle of nowhere.”
“Why would Lily go there?” Crowley wondered aloud.
Rose shook her head, shrugged. “Hardly seems in keeping with the theme of things so far.”
“And it beats the hell out of me,” Cameron said. “But the good news is, her next stop is much more interesting.”
“That right?” Crowley said. “So where are we going next?”
He could hear the amusement in Cameron’s voice. “Vegas, baby!”
Chapter 34
Driving west on I-70
Rose stared straight ahead as they drove west on Interstate 70 toward the Rocky Mountains. The peaks and ridges, dappled with white snow against the steel gray sky, were mesmerizing. She wished the circumstances were different so she could enjoy the experiences more. Last time her life had been threatened for her strange, back-covering birthmark. This time she was worried about her sister and murderous unknowns were on her tail. And Lily could already have fallen prey to them for all she knew.
They had decided to forego the twelve-hour drive to Dragoon, Arizona and head directly to Las Vegas in hopes of shaving some time off Lily’s lead. Flying would certainly have been faster, but the airport seemed an unnecessary risk. She wondered if this third rental car would survive or end up wrecked or abandoned like the others. She stole a glance across at Crowley, his face passive as he drove. She’d be lost without him and that bothered her. She would be forever grateful for his help, but preferred to think she could do all of this without him if necessary.
And maybe she could. Sure, she didn’t have Cameron as a contact, but a lot of the leads and information came from her own associates through the museum and her own research. Though she and Jake did make a formidable team. Truth be told, he wouldn’t be nearly so effective without her. Maybe she should stop thinking about how much she needed him and remind herself that they needed each other. But that set off a chain reaction of thoughts she wasn’t prepared to face and she quickly looked out at the view again, eager to shake them off.
They had driven in a companionable silence for a long time when Crowley said, “I just can’t figure out why Lily went nearly all the way to Mexico. Surely it’s not a hotbed of the Anubis Cult.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. There must be a reason. We’ve learned so far that she’s damned focused and determined. She wouldn’t take a break for sightseeing. Let me see what I can dredge up.”
“Good idea.”
She fired up her phone again and reclined the seat a little, settling in for some detailed research. She pulled a notepad and pen from her bag to keep track of anything she discovered. After only a minute or two, she said, “I don’t suppose she’d visit the JH Smith Grocery Store and Filling Station.”
Crowley laughed. “Well, she might. You know, for groceries or fuel. Is that relevant?”
“It’s the first place listed on the ‘Things to Do in Dragoon’ website. Along with the local cemetery, Texas Canyon, and an art gallery.”
“Dragoon pretty proud of its tourist attractions then?”
Rose gestured with the phone. “It would seem so.”
“I wonder if the art gallery has any Egyptian artifacts,” Crowley said.
Rose looked up the gallery website and perused the images. “It looks like Southwestern artwork for the most part. Let me search a bit more specifically. She opened a new browser window and began looking up various terms along with ‘Dragoon Arizona’. She tried Egypt, Egyptian, Anubis and got no relevant hits. She tried regional stuff, like Cairo, Darshur, Denver, the Denv
er museum, anything that might cross-reference with their search or anything they’d uncovered so far. Still nothing. On a whim, she tried mummy and immediately got results.
“The Thing,” she read out, then barked a laugh. “Best horror film ever made.”
Crowley frowned. “What?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You haven’t seen The Thing?”
“A horror film?”
She was a little bemused by his lack of recognition. “Yes a horror film! John Carpenter’s The Thing. Kurt Russell, Wilford Brimley, Richard Dysart?”
Crowley stared at her, slowly shook his head.
Rose pointed, nearly shouted, “Look at the road!”
Crowley swerved back into his lane, grinning a little manically. “Sorry about that.” He glanced over again and she gestured angrily at the road ahead.
“Eyes front!”
“Okay, okay.”
“But seriously, I can’t believe you haven’t seen The Thing.”
“Never even heard of it.”
“Man, it’s truly the greatest horror film ever made. We have to rectify that situation and watch it soon.” Rose couldn’t help laughing, shook her head.
“But why did you bring up The Thing?” Crowley asked.
“Because I saw it here.” She tapped her phone. “But not the 1980s horror film.”
“What then?”
Rose turned her attention back to her research. She smiled subtly. She enjoyed these bursts of passion she occasionally elicited from Crowley; he was often so taciturn otherwise. So pragmatic. She really didn’t know all that much about him, and wanted to know more. But that came with complications.
“It’s a roadside attraction in Dragoon,” she said. “It’s called The Thing.”
Crowley harrumphed. “Disappointing.” He flicked her a grin, then looked forward again.
“They claim,” Rose went on, “that it’s an Egyptian mummy found somewhere in the southwestern US.”
“Bollocks!” Crowley said. “A mummy found there? That’s ridiculous.”
Looking at the website, Rose found herself doubtful too, but the claim was bold as brass. Then again, a lot of places made bold and entirely fictitious claims, especially if they were hard up for tourist dollars and there wasn’t much other industry in the region. The place was clearly a tourist trap. “I agree,” she said to Crowley. “It’s almost certainly codswallop. But there’s no harm in checking. I’d hate myself if I ignored even the most tenuous lead and it turned out to be important.”
“So you want to change direction and go to Dragoon after all?” Crowley sounded as though he was entirely reluctant to do that, and Rose had to agree.
“Not yet,” she said. “Hang on.” She found the phone number and called, bracing herself for a conversation with a complete kook.
It rang a few times and then, “The Thing, Kelly speaking, how may I help you?”
Rose smiled. That had to be one of the more unusual receptions she’d ever received. “Hi, Kelly, I hope you can help me. I’m trying to track down a missing person and I know she was in your neck of the woods recently.” She gave the date they had learned from Cameron of Lily’s visit to Dragoon from her fake credit card. “Her name is Iris Brown. She’s half-Chinese, short black hair, but English, so she has an English accent. Does that ring any bells?”
“Sounds pretty specific,” Kelly said. “But I wasn’t working that day. I maybe could pass the information along to Burt, he was working then. Maybe he can give you a ring?”
“Thank you, that would be really good of you.” Rose read out her phone number and heard the scratch of a pencil as Kelly wrote it down. “While I’m on,” Rose said, “can you tell me about The Thing?”
“Oh, The Thing is truly wonderful, dear. It’s a sight like you wouldn’t believe. A wonder of the world, a thing utterly unexplained!”
Rose stifled a laugh at the woman’s sudden switch into her sales patter. “But what is it?”
“Oh, honey, you really need to see it for yourself.”
Rose knew from the websites she’d already looked at before calling that the thing was supposedly a mummified mother and child. One story said it was purchased around 1950 for fifty dollars, another said it was found in the desert nearby. Numerous theories had sprung up, but Rose hadn’t dug too deeply before calling. “Well, if ever I get down that way I certainly will come to see for myself,” she said. “Out of interest, do you guys have any artifacts related to Anubis?”
A moment of silence hung in the air, then Kelly said, “I’m sorry, a new what?”
“No, no. Anubis. Ancient Egyptian god of the underworld. Has the head of a jackal?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. But you really should come and see all the wondrous things we do have.”
“Thank you, I’ll surely try. And if you could get Burt to call me about Iris Brown, that would be really helpful.”
“I will. I hope you find her. Bye for now.”
“Bye.” Rose hung up, disappointed. She should have known the call would be as good as pointless, but a part of her had hoped it might suddenly crack things wide open. She grew tired of running across the country, picking at one tiny, useless clue after another. It felt like they were on a treadmill, going nowhere fast. “How much further to Vegas?” she asked.
Crowley laughed. “This land is nothing like England. A good eight hours, I’d say. You might as well get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”
Chapter 35
Las Vegas
Night had fallen by the time Crowley cruised the rental car slowly down South Las Vegas Boulevard, commonly known as the Strip.” He admired the sights which were strangely so familiar, even though he had never seen them in person before. American culture permeated the English-speaking world like water through canvas. It was impossible not to be exposed to it, particularly via movies and television. And given the nature of those mediums, there was little more visually enticing than the Strip. He had seen it a thousand times, from the 60s or 70s onwards. He’d enjoyed it from afar in dozens of films and now he found himself driving along it. The sensation was a little surreal.
They passed the pirate ship of Treasure Island, brightly lit and wrapped in ropes of white light. Everything was brightly lit, countless bulbs and LEDs and neon tubes. Crowley couldn’t imagine the amount of power this single street would suck out of the grid every hour. He drove by The Mirage’s famed volcano, wide, squat and brown, sitting in its lake of fire. It stood dormant at that moment, but ready to spring to life. Then Caesar’s Palace, with its faux-Roman architecture, impossibly tall columns topped with enormous triangular pediments. Up ahead and to the left, the Paris Casino, with its replica of the Eiffel Tower lit up in golden light, and a huge hot air balloon, vertically striped with bright blue neon, wrapped with crisscrossed gold bands.
“Look at that,” Rose said, her voice quiet with wonder. She was looking out of her side of the car, across the street at the dancing fountains of the Bellagio. Lit gold and white, they burst up and arced, crossed each other and made rising and falling waves with their incessant jets.
They passed the epic cross-shaped MGM Grand, its facade of green and glass standing out even among the other sparkling and dancing lights. Moving images along each side advertised a forthcoming David Copperfield show.
“Holy crap,” Crowley said, laughing under his breath. “Look at this one!”
New York New York dominated their view, a behemoth of a recreation of the city’s skyline, a pale blue lit Statue of Liberty standing high over them as they drove by. Liberty looked down on the tourists swarming the pavements, wide-eyed and grinning, snapping photos and losing dollars. Dozens of costumed characters paraded around, sequins and giant feathers, rainbows of color and acres of bare, tanned flesh. Numerous shysters and hucksters shilling for business. “Porn slappers,” agents who advertised prostitution, milled along the strip wearing brightly colored T-shirts emblazoned with logos and phone numbers.
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“Where are the women advertising the male hookers?” Rose asked, half-amused, half-appalled at the brazen displays of decadence and debauchery.
“You make a good point,” Crowley agreed. “I just think women would naturally be more discreet about the whole thing. I don’t doubt there are plenty of male sex workers busy in this town.”
Rose smirked. “Every variation of gender for any kind of taste and persuasion, eh?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Shrill cries rang out from passengers in the bright yellow cars of the New York New York roller coaster high above. The loops and whorls of red track swept around over the roofs of the fake skyline, a swirling, complicated pattern.
They drove by the Excalibur, looking like a giant child’s play castle with its tall white crenelated turrets and bright red, blue and yellow colored roofs, then left the crush of the busiest part of the Strip. As they moved along, the spaces were wider, the crowds less dense, and up ahead they saw their destination. The massive black pyramid of the Luxor Casino.
Its glassy, jet surface danced with reflected light. A brilliant spotlight beamed up from the capstone, an enormous Sphinx lying out front surrounded by golden light and palm trees.
“Classy,” Rose said sardonically.
Crowley laughed. “Can’t argue with that, but, you know…” He gestured back over his shoulder at everything else they had seen so far.
“True,” Rose said. “I don’t think the word ‘ostentatious’ appears in any Las Vegas dictionaries.”
“Or garish, tasteless, crass.” He flashed her a grin. “The list is pretty long, I think.”
“I think so, too. Man, what a place. It’s so horrible, but just so incredible too. So enticing. And in the middle of the desert!”
“Insane.”
A street-side obelisk, with the word LUXOR in lights, loomed up ahead. Behind it, the massive sphinx guarded the entrance to the casino.
“This, though,” Crowley said, jabbing his chin towards the huge black pyramid. “After so recently seeing the real thing, it’s...” He searched for the word.