'Hey, I'm still hoping. You're the one who traded in the camels for a desk,' he quipped. 'Not to mention the flies, the sand, the heat, the food, if you can call it that ...'
'Oh my God, the food.' Tess laughed. 'Come to think of it, I'm not so sure I really miss it anymore.'
'You can always come back, you know.'
She winced. It was something she often thought about. 'I don't think so. Not for a while, anyway.'
Edmondson found a grin that seemed more than a little strained. 'We'll always have a shovel with your name on it, you know that,' he said, sounding anything but hopeful. An awkward silence settled between them. 'Listen,' he added, 'they've set up a bar over in the Egyptian Room, and, from the looks of it, they've got someone who knows how to mix a decent cocktail. Let me buy you a drink.'
'You go ahead, I'll catch up with you later,' she said. 'I'm waiting for Kim and my mom.'
'They're here?'
'Yeah.'
He held up his palms. 'Whoa. Three generations of Chaykins—that should be interesting.'
'You've been warned.'
'Duly noted.' Edmondson nodded as he ventured into the crowd. 'I'll catch you later. Don't disappear on me.'
***
Outside, the air around the piazza was electric. The cameraman josded to get into a clean shot as the claps and whoops of delight from the elated crowd drowned out his reporter's efforts at commentating. It got even noisier when the crowd spotted a short, heavy-set man in a brown security guard uniform leave his position and hurry over to the advancing horsemen.
From the corner of his eye, the cameraman could tell something wasn't exacdy going according to plan. The guard's purposeful stride and his body language clearly indicated a difference of opinion.
The guard raised his hands in a stopping motion as he reached the horses, blocking their procession.
The knights reined in their horses, which snorted and stamped, obviously uncomfortable at being kept stationary on the steps.
An argument seemed to be under way. A one-sided one, the cameraman observed, as the horsemen weren't reacting to the guard's ranting in any discernible way.
And then one of them finally did something.
Slowly, milking the moment for all its theatricality, the knight closest to the guard, a bear of a man, unsheathed his broadsword and raised it high above his head, provoking another barrage of popping flashbulbs and yet more applause.
He held it there, with both hands, still staring straight ahead. Unflinching.
Although he had one eye glued to his viewfinder, die cameraman's other eye was picking up peripheral images and he was suddenly aware of something else happening. Hurriedly, he zoomed in on the guard's face. What was that look? Embarrassment? Consternation?
Then he realized what it was.
Fear.
The crowd was now in a frenzy, clapping and cheering wildly. Instinctively, the cameraman zoomed out a touch, broadening his view to take in the horseman.
Just then, the knight suddenly brought down his broadsword in a quick, sweeping arc, its blade glittering terrifyingly in the flashing artificial light before striking the guard just below the ear, the power and velocity of the blow great enough for it to shear straight through flesh, grisde, and bone.
From the onlookers came a huge collective gasp, which turned into penetrating screams of horror that rang through the night. Loudest of all was the shriek of the reporter who clutched at the cameraman's arm, causing his picture to judder before he elbowed her away and kept on shooting.
The guard's head fell forward and began to bounce hideously down the museum's steps, unspooling a splattered, red trail all die way down behind it. And after what seemed like an eternity, his decapitated body slumped sideways, collapsing onto itself while spouting a small geyser of blood.
Screaming teenagers were stumbling and falling in their panic to escape the scene, while others, further back and unaware of exactly what was happening but knowing that something big was taking place, pushed forward. In seconds, there was a terrified tangle of bodies, the air ringing with screams and cries of pain and fear.
The other three horses were now stamping their hooves, jinking sideways on the steps. Then one of the knights yelled, 'Go, go, go!'
The executioner spurred his mount forward, charging at die wide-open doorways to die museum.
The otiiers bolted and followed close behind.
Chapter 3
In the Great Hall, Tess heard the screams from outside and quickly realized something was very, very wrong. She turned in time to see the first horse burst through the door, shattering glass and splintering timber inward as the Great Hall erupted into chaos. The smooth, polished, immaculate gathering disintegrated into a snarling atavistic pack as men and women shoved and screamed their way out of the path of the charging horses.
Three of the horsemen rampaged through the crowd, swords crashing through display cabinets, trampling on broken glass and shattered timber, and damaged and destroyed exhibits.
Tess was thrown aside as scores of guests tried desperately to escape through the doors and into the street. Her eyes darted around the hall. Kim—Mom—Where are they'? She looked around, but couldn't see them anywhere. To her far right, the horses wheeled and turned, obliterating more displays in their path. Guests were sent flying into cabinets and against walls, their pained grunts and shrieks echoing in the vast room. Tess glimpsed Clive Edmondson among them as he was knocked violently sideways when one of the horses suddenly reared backward.
The horses were snorting, nostrils flared, foam spilling from around the bits in their mouths. Their riders were reaching down and snatching up glittering objects from the broken cabinets before stuffing them into sacks hooked onto their saddles. At the doors, the crowd trying to get out made it impossible for the police to get in, helpless against the weight of the terrified mob.
One of the horses swung around, its flank sending a statue of the Virgin Mary reeling over to smash onto the floor. The horse's hooves pounded down onto it, crushing the Madonna's praying hands.
Ripped from its mounting by the fleeing guests, a beautiful tapestry was trampled underfoot by both people and animals. Thousands of painstaking stitches, shredded in seconds. A display case toppled, a white and gold miter bursting through the breaking glass to be kicked aside in the mad scramble.
A matching robe drifted, magic carpet-like, until it, too, was stamped upon.
Hurriedly getting out of the way of the horses, Tess looked down the corridor where, partway along, she could see the fourth horseman and beyond him, way back at the far end of the corridor, yet more people were scattering into other parts of the museum. She searched for her mom and her daughter again. Where the hell are they'? Are they all right'? She strained to pick out their faces from the blur of the crowd, but there was still no sign of them.
Hearing a commanding shout, Tess spun around to see that the police officers had finally made it through the fleeing mob. Weapons drawn and shouting above the mayhem, they were closing in on one of the three horsemen who, from beneath his robe, pulled out a small, vicious-looking gun.
Instinctively, Tess dropped to the floor and covered her head, but not before witnessing the man loose a burst of bullets, moving the gun from side to side, spraying the hall. A dozen people went down, including all of the policemen, the broken glass and smashed cases around them now splattered with blood.
Still crouched on the floor, her heart pounding its way out of her chest, and trying to keep as still as she could even though something inside was screaming at her to run, Tess saw that two of the other horsemen were now also brandishing automatic weapons like the one their murderous consort was carrying. Bullets ricocheted off the museum walls, adding to the noise and to the panic. One of the horses reared suddenly and its rider's hands flailed, the gun in one of them sending a fusillade of bullets up one wall and onto the ceiling, shattering ornate plaster moldings that came showering down onto the heads of the crouching, screaming guests.
Risking a glance from behind her cabinet, Tess's mind raced as she evaluated routes of escape.
