But the humor was suddenly gone, and the thought of an ancient demigod floating around the room with him made the hair on his arms stand up straight. Shaken, Grant replaced the lid.
A soft
Zahra spotted a pair of shadowy figures round the eastern side of the Reading Room. They headed around the front and kept coming her way. If Zahra had to guess, they were on patrol, looking very bored, keeping their rifles pointed nonchalantly at the floor. They spoke softly to one another before being interrupted by the squawk of a radio.
The voice on the other end hollered in angry Arabic. The man to Zahra’s left hurriedly replied, stating that they had yet to see anyone besides the “old man.” The guy who initiated the call screamed for these two to pick up their pace and keep searching.
“Yes, sir!” he replied, clipping his walkie onto his belt.
With that, the two intruders sped up their hunt. Based on the frustration and urgency in the caller’s voice, Zahra gathered that the team here had yet to find her office. It was one of the first times she was thankful for the museum director’s paranoia. Openly labeling the office rooms would have screwed them royally tonight.
The pair swung up their rifles, using their barrel-mounted lights to guide the way. Each one swept it side to side, stopping every now and again to check nearby doors, most of which were locked. A gunshot rang out as one of the men obliterated the deadbolt with a single round. Zahra laughed inwardly. He had just wasted a bullet on the lock to the Great Court’s mop room.
Benjamin “Charlie” Porter was the clean-up crew’s supervisor. And no, Zahra had no idea why he preferred to go by Charlie and not Benjamin — or even Ben. She never asked, and based on what her co-workers had told her, he wouldn’t tell, not even with half a bottle of Jameson in his system. And honestly, Zahra didn’t really care, so she left the matter alone. There were plenty of other things to focus on in her day-to-day life.
One of them continued forward. The other stopped and headed back in the direction they had come. She quietly watched them move about. When one of them entered through the archway leading to the east wing, Zahra knew who her first target would be.
Thing One swung right, passing between Zahra’s position inside the information desk and the Reading Room. She duck-walked to the opposite side of the oval workstation and decided on a course of action. She could try to bullrush him but doubted she could get close enough without being heard. She didn’t possess a long-distance weapon of any kind. This was where her Glock would have come in handy. If she was going to successfully subdue the gunman, she’d have to do it up close and personal.
Zahra looked over her right shoulder and identified something that might just close the gap between her and her target. Back toward the front doors was a stand-alone diorama dedicated to the tribes of Africa, specifically the Maasai of Kenya. At its center was the wax figure of a native man holding an authentic spear that had actually been used to hunt and kill lions. Zahra knew from personal experience that the spade-shaped tip was still plenty sharp. If used properly, the spear could do some serious damage.
Slipping from cover, Zahra stayed low and moved heel to toe. She reached the display in seconds and carefully mounted it to retrieve the weapon. Pulling it free of the native’s grasp wasn’t as easy as she figured it would be. Zahra applied some force, and it finally came free — and with a price. The mannequin’s wrist snapped in half, alerting Thing One to her presence. Zahra gripped the Maasai spear and froze out of fear of being gunned down.
But oddly, nothing happened.
The intruder’s weapon light swung her way but didn’t linger.
So, Zahra played the part and stood as still as a statue. She was facing the wrong direction and couldn’t see him. So, she used her other senses, and waited to hear him step away. When he did, she made her move. Zahra turned and leaped from the knee-high podium. As soon as she landed, Zahra launched the spear into the air like an Olympic javelin thrower. She’d done a bit of it back in college, but never competitively. It was mostly her wanting to see how far she could throw the ‘long, pointy thing.’
