The Unspoken
Page 13

“I was born in the States but I spent a lot of time in Trinidad and the other islands. Conversing with the dead is far more accepted in some of those places. I think I was five. I was in Jamaica. A fisherman had been murdered.” He shrugged. “The corpse told me who did it. If only it was always that simple.” His grin was engaging. “Actually, of course, it wasn’t that simple. I told my father, who told the cops, who almost arrested my father. But when they investigated, they found out that what I’d said was true. Then, of course, they wanted to arrest my father for being an accomplice. So I learned to keep quiet. I didn’t go into law enforcement at all. I went into magic—I’m a really good magician, should you ever need one—and from there, I segued into film. And then I was called in to work with Jackson Crow, and wound up taking the training at Quantico…and here I am.”
“Strange how we were all found,” Kat said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Adam Harrison worked quietly with the FBI for years before his units were formed. And for him, it came from not having the gift, while his son, who died young, had been blessed with it. After that he began to seek out those who did.”
“I guess if you know it exists, you can find it,” Kat said.
Will glanced at his watch. “We should get some sleep. We’ll be at the dock early in the morning. I’ll meet you in the restaurant at seven. We should have something to eat before we head out.”
Kat felt her teeth grind. He was taking control again. She decided that was a childish reaction, telling herself he was right; they were going diving.
But for some reason, that made her grab the bill the moment it came to the table. He didn’t protest. Apparently, he had no hang-ups about a woman paying. She tried to take a deep breath; she really was acting childish. It was just that this was the first time she’d been on an investigation without Logan and the others, and she couldn’t help remembering that the whole thing had begun because her unit knew the filmmakers who’d requested that they step in. So she felt a little proprietary.…
They left the dining room and headed for the elevator. She hit the button for the fifth floor. He didn’t hit a button at all. She should have known. Their rooms were next to each other.
The accommodations had been booked from their central office in Virginia. Tomorrow, Kat was certain, she’d discover that Logan and the rest of her unit were booked into the surrounding rooms. Logan’s would be a suite with a big round table where they could work on their computers and discuss their findings.
“Good night,” Will said.
She wished him a brusque good-night as well and entered her room.
She shouldn’t have been tired; she should still have been on L.A. time. But, as she’d said earlier, it had been a long day.
A very long day, she thought.
Just last night she’d been in a comfortable bed in L.A., dreaming about being on a ship.
She flinched, unsure why it bothered her so much that she’d dreamed about the ship—and then been sent out to investigate a death in a shipwreck.
She really wanted to sleep. She didn’t want to dream.
Before climbing into bed, she pulled out her octopus, dive boots, mask and flippers. It had seemed prudent to bring her own equipment. With those objects packed in a rolling dive bag, she was ready for morning.
When she did fall asleep, her dream wasn’t the same.
This time, it was about mummies.
She was somewhere…somewhere in a green darkness. There were wall sconces that burned bright blue here and there along the walls. She didn’t seem to be walking, but floating.
Suddenly, ahead of her—a plethora of mummies. They all had their arms outstretched and moved with the slow, staccato movement she’d seen in classic mummy movies.
Even in her dream she paused to think that such an image was ridiculous. Mummies were bound with their arms crossed over the body. In any case, a mummy couldn’t just reach out an arm—it would break off!
But these mummies were coming toward her. And behind them, she saw a man. It was, of course, none other than the evil, robe-wearing high priest Amun Mopat. The priest who had wanted to be a pharaoh, a god.
He was laughing. In old movies, all villains had a maniacal laugh.
They were coming closer and closer and she kept floating toward them. Now that, too, was totally idiotic. She never understood why people in films just stood there and screamed. The mummies moved so slowly. If she turned and ran—or floated more quickly—she could easily escape them. In movies, the heroines usually tripped, and then lay on the ground screaming as the mummy or monster closed in on them. Scenes like that made for great movie posters!
In her dream, she reminded herself that she was a medical examiner and that she understood the human body. She understood the nature of human remains in any condition, even mummified. If she met the mummies, she could fight them—break them into a million pieces—and she’d be fine. But there were so many….
She floated into the fray. As she’d expected, the mummies were brittle, dry and fragile. They weren’t much for fighting.
But behind them was Amun Mopat, watching her from beneath his hooded cape.
They stared at each other, and she wanted to run but couldn’t and then—
Then she woke, startled by a sound. Glancing at the clock radio, she noted the time—4:31 a.m.
For a moment, she lay in bed, vividly remembering her dream and puzzled by the sound that had awakened her.
It came again and her eyes flashed to the door. Someone had tried to enter her room. The sound had been that of an electronic key card.
She rolled over and reached into the bedside table for her FBI-issue firearm and jumped to her feet, instantly alert. There was no sound now. She walked to the door and looked through the peephole. She saw nothing. Thinking quickly, she grabbed her key card from the side table and dropped it in the little pocket of her nightshirt and walked back to the door, looking out again.
She waited, then slid the top bolt, cringing when she heard the noise it made. Gun at the ready, she threw open the door.
There was no one out there, but Will Chan’s door had opened, too. She knew he was standing much as she was—his firearm leveled.
“Will?” She whispered his name.
He stepped out of his room, wearing floor-length pajama pants and nothing else, and his hair, while dead straight, was disheveled, as well. He gave her a nod, which she knew to mean cover me, and walked out into the hall, turning from one direction to another, striding away from the elevator bank, and then back toward it.
There was definitely no one in the hall.
“The elevator,” he said softly. He was standing by it.
She nodded. “I’ll take the stairs.”
As she went down the stairs in her long T-shirt of a nightgown and bare feet, stopping to look out at every floor, she thought she should have opted for the elevator.
Will was waiting for her when she got to the bottom.
One lone clerk was on duty at the reception desk across the lobby. Kat arched a brow at Will. “Did he see anyone?”
“Nope. What did you hear?” he asked her. “What woke you?”
“It sounded as if someone was trying to get into my room with a key card. What did you hear? Did they try your room, too? Maybe it was just a drunk on the wrong floor,” Kat said.
“Maybe. Or maybe someone was trying to get into our rooms. And maybe that someone has a room at the hotel.”
She shook her head. “That’s rather stupid, isn’t it? Trying to break in on agents in their rooms? Obviously we’re armed. And even more obvious—we’re going to have the doors bolted.”
“Maybe the intent wasn’t to hurt us, just to throw us off,” Will said.
“The clerk says no one’s gone through the lobby?”
“Not since about 1:30 a.m. And he assured me he would’ve noticed. The last customers left the restaurant at about 11:00 p.m., and the last drinker left the bar at one-thirty. He says it’s been quiet ever since—quiet as a tomb.”
“But there must be back entrances to the hotel,” Kat pointed out.
“True. But if someone came or went, that someone is long gone. However, we can go get dressed, come back down and speak to the security guard.”
“There’s a security guard on duty tonight?”
“It’s a legit hotel. Yes, there’s a security guard.”
“And I guess he didn’t see anything alarming?”
“He’s watching the cameras—except that all the cameras are watching the entrances. They aren’t installed in the hallways yet.”
“What about the elevators?”
He shook his head. “The cameras in the elevators inexplicably went down sometime this afternoon. They have a call in to their service center for tomorrow.”
“Coincidence?”
“Ah, what do you think?”
“I don’t put a lot of faith in such convenient coincidences,” she replied.
“The guard makes a sweep every thirty minutes and watches the screens in between.”
“So he’ll know if anyone went in or out of the building.”
“No one went in or out. I already asked,” Will said. “You were slow coming down those stairs.”
“I was not!” Kat protested. “I checked out each landing.”
“Naturally. But it gave me time to talk to the clerk and have him call security. I don’t think the guard’s bad at his job—I’m sure he’d handle rowdy young drunks or a bar fight just fine—but I doubt that he’s ready for a major espionage job. I’ll go over the tapes tomorrow, but whoever got in was, I’m afraid, one up on the guard.”
“But we didn’t imagine someone in the hallway,” Kat said stubbornly.
“No, we didn’t,” he agreed. “Okay, let’s go back up. We’re not going to get anywhere now. I’ll ask for the tapes and inspect the machinery when I’ve showered and dressed. It’s almost 5:00 a.m., and we have to be up and out in a few hours. I know cameras and security systems. I can check it all out and you can grab an hour’s sleep.”