Relic

It will be irresistible to the beast! We’ve got to stop this right now.” He pointed to one side. “Look—there’s Gregory!” He gestured to Kawakita, standing by the edge of the dance floor, drink in hand.

The Assistant Curator worked his way toward them. “There you are, Dr. Frock. They’ve been looking for you. The ceremony’s about to start.”

Frock reached out and gripped Kawakita’s forearm. “Gregory!” he shouted. “You’ve got to help us! This event has got to be cancelled, and the Museum cleared at once!”

“What?” said Kawakita. “Is this some kind of joke?” He looked quizzically at Margo, then back at Frock.

“Greg,” said Margo over the commotion, “we’ve discovered what’s been killing people. It’s not a human being. It’s a creature, a beast. It’s nothing we’ve ever come across before. Your Extrapolation program helped us to identify it. It feeds on the packing fibers in the Whittlesey crates. When it can’t get those, it needs the human hypothalamus hormones as a substitute. We believe it must have a regular—”

“Whoa! Hold on. Margo, what are you talking about?”

[303] “Dammit, Gregory!” Frock thundered. “We don’t have any more time to explain. We’ve got to get this place cleared now.”

Kawakita backed up a step. “Dr. Frock, with all due respect ...”

Frock clutched his arm harder and spoke slowly and deliberately. “Gregory, listen to me. There is a terrible creature loose in this Museum. It needs to kill, and it will kill. Tonight. We must get everyone out.”

Kawakita backed up another step, looking toward the podium. “I’m sorry,” he said over the noise. “I don’t know what this is all about, but if you’re using my extrapolation program for some kind of joke ...” He prized his arm free of Frock’s gasp. “I really think you should go up to the platform, Dr. Frock. They’re waiting for you.”

“Greg—” Margo tried to say, but Kawakita had moved away, looking at them speculatively.

“To the podium!” said Frock. “Wright can do it. He can order this place evacuated.”

Suddenly they heard a drumroll and a fanfare.

“Winston!” shouted Frock, rolling into the open space in front of the platform. “Winston, listen! We’ve got to evacuate!”

Frock’s final words hung in the air as the fanfare faded away.

“There is a deadly beast loose in the Museum!” Frock shouted into the silence.

A sudden murmur arose in the crowd. Those closest to Frock backed away, looking at each other and muttering in low tones.

Wright glared at Frock while Cuthbert quickly separated himself from the group. “Frock,” he hissed. “What in bloody hell are you doing?” He bounded off the platform and came over.

“What is the matter with you, Frock? Have you gone mad?” he said in a vicious whisper.

Frock reached out, “Ian, there is a terrible beast loose [304] in the Museum. I know we’ve had our differences, but trust me, please. Tell Wright we’ve got to get these people out. Now.”

Cuthbert looked at Frock intently. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” the Scotsman said, “or what your game is. Perhaps it’s some desperate eleventh-hour attempt to derail the exhibition, to turn me into a laughingstock. But I will tell you this, Frock: If you make one more outburst, I will have Mr. Ippolito forcibly remove you from these premises and I will see to it that you never set foot in here again.”

“Ian, I beg of you—”

Cuthbert turned and walked back to the podium.

Margo laid a hand on Frock’s shoulder. “Don’t bother,” she said quietly. “They’re not going to believe us. I wish George Moriarty were here to help. This is his show, he must be around somewhere. But I haven’t seen him.”

“What can we do?” Frock asked, trembling with frustration. The conversations around them resumed as the guests near the podium assumed some kind of joke had taken place.

“I guess we should find Pendergast,” Margo said. “He’s the only one with enough clout to do something about this.”

“He won’t believe us, either,” Frock said, dispiritedly.

“Maybe not right away,” Margo said, wheeling him around. “But he’ll hear us out. We’ve got to hurry.”

Behind them, Cuthbert signalled for another drumroll and fanfare. Then he walked over to the podium and held up his hands.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he cried out. “I have the honor to introduce to you the Director of the New York Museum of Natural History, Winston Wright!”

Margo looked around as Wright took the podium, smiling and waving to the crowd.

“Welcome!” he cried out. “Welcome my friends, [305] fellow New Yorkers, citizens of the world! Welcome to the unveiling of the greatest museum show ever mounted!” Wright’s amplified words echoed through the Hall. A tremendous burst of applause rose to the domed ceiling.

“We’ll call security,” said Margo. “They’ll know where Pendergast is. There’s a bank of phones out in the Rotunda.”

She began to push Frock toward the entrance. Behind her, she could hear Wright’s voice booming through the PA system: “This is a show about our deepest beliefs, our deepest fears, the brightest and the darkest sides of human nature ...”