The German stopped short of her and inclined his head. “Good evening, Fräulein,” he said in heavily accented English. Samantha thought that once upon a time, Lunt would have been considered quite dashing, but with the ruined mangle of flesh that now adorned one side of his face, that description would never be applied to him again. “I trust that you are enjoying the holidays.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Samantha asked, lowering her voice so that no one else could hear.
“Tch. Such language.” Lunt reached into a pocket of his coat and withdrew a silver cigarette case. He shook one out and offered it to Samantha. When she refused it, he placed it between his lips and took out a small match. He struck it against the top of a nearby counter and lit the end of the cigarette, which flared brightly. “I come to ask a favor of you, Fräulein.”
“That’s a new one. What makes you think I’d help a Nazi like you do anything?”
Lunt grimaced slightly. “I have ties to the Fuehrer and share some of his beliefs but I am not a Nazi zealot.”
“Is there any other kind of Nazi?” she asked, noticing that Eun and Morgan were now within shouting distance. She gave both of them a look that indicated they should wait for a signal from her and they drew up short. Both men held their hands close to their hidden guns.
“Touché,” Lunt responded with a brief smile. He glanced over at Eun and Morgan but seemed unfazed by their presence. Returning his attentions to Samantha, he lowered his voice and said, “You need to warn your employer not to get involved in the Devil’s Circus affair. You know that I have no love lost for him — in fact, I’d be more than pleased to see him put into an early grave. But this business is convoluted enough without him meddling in it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied.
“A woman is in your headquarters right now, asking Lazarus for help. Knowing him, he’s going to give it. And I want you to talk him out of it. No good will come of it. Trust me on this.”
“None of us would trust you as far as we could throw you,” Eun said, having come close enough that he could put a tight grip on Lunt’s shoulder.
“A pity, then. You’ll join Lazarus in Hell.” Lunt began to laugh and as he did so, Eun felt the shoulder beneath his hand begin to fade. Before the young Korean even knew what was happening, the German was gone, leaving nothing in his wake but a thin wispy line of smoke.
“How in the world—?” Eun asked, looking at Samantha and Morgan. He seemed to be asking them if he’d just imagined what had happened but the look in their own eyes assured him that it was real.
“Black magic,” Morgan said in disgust. “I swear to heaven I’m too old for this.”
Samantha ignored Morgan’s complaint, knowing that he was simply venting the frustration that they all felt. “We should check in with Lazarus.”
Morgan looked over at Molly, who was still at their table, watching him with concern. “I must have really ticked somebody off in a past life.”
“She’s crazy about you,” Samantha offered. “She’ll understand.”
Morgan gave a quick nod, knowing that there really wasn’t any choice. All of them in Assistance Unlimited had taken a vow to do whatever was necessary to fight the good fight, personal lives be damned.
But seeing the sweet curves of Molly’s body made that promise a difficult one for Morgan to keep.
Chapter II
Servants of the Devil
The Sovereign Museum of Natural History was a sprawling structure, standing in the heart of downtown. Comprised of twelve interconnected buildings, the Museum housed well over a million specimens, only a relative few of which were on active display. With a scientific staff of over a hundred, the Museum funded nearly four-dozen scientific expeditions each year, sending explorers out all over the globe. The Museum was divided up into numerous displays but the most popular was the ever-present Start of Sovereign Hall, where the origins of the city were examined. To access this, visitors had to stride through the huge entranceway, where they could stare up at a full-size model of a Blue Whale, which hung from the ceiling.
Agnes stared up at the massive bulk of the whale, looking much like the tens of thousands of visitors before her. They all marveled at the size of the oceanic beast and wondered at the engineering feat it had taken to heft the creature up into the air.
“It’s made of papier-mâché, iron and basswood,” Lazarus murmured, as if reading her thoughts.
“I guess I was being silly,” she admitted. “It looks so real that I thought it was stuffed or something.”
“The museum’s curator makes his living by creating fictional representations of the past. He has to make sure that everything here is good enough to fool your senses.”
Agnes shook her head, sending her midnight tresses spinning. “And here I thought a museum was a place where actual relics were displayed. Your description seems a bit more cynical than I would have expected.”
Lazarus took her by the elbow and steered her through the hallways. He was quite familiar with the twists and turns that the museum took and several members of the staff nodded in recognition as he passed. “There’s plenty of real history to be found here,” he admitted. “But the curator also ensures that there are accurate displays to surround them. The Egyptian wing, for instance, has both actual mummies and artfully created furniture and clothing that match those actually worn in those eras.”
“You certainly make the curator sound impressive.”
“He’s one of the brightest minds in the city.”
“And that’s who we’re going to see?” Agnes asked, her hands unconsciously closing tighter around the handbag she carried.
“Actually, no.” Lazarus tightened his jaw, a brief display of emotion that didn’t go unnoticed by Agnes. “We’re here to see his daughter.”
Though many in the city thought of Kelly Emerson as merely “the curator’s daughter,” she was in fact much more. A graduate of Sovereign University, Kelly held doctorates in archaeology and anthropology. Standing nearly six feet tall and possessed of flowing red hair, she looked like a modern Amazon, with enough curves to unsettle even the most ardent of playboys. Her glittering green eyes and full lips had warmed Gray’s heart when he’d first met her and their love affair was still recent enough that both of them found it slightly uncomfortable to be in the same room. It hadn’t lasted very long and was, in fact, best described as a fling… but the passion had burned so brightly that it had threatened to consume the both of them.
Lazarus stood facing her cluttered desk, his eyes traveling over the familiar walls. Several tribal masks from Africa were placed above a crowded bookcase, while a mummified cat sat perched watchfully on a nearby table.
Kelly wore a long white dress that buttoned down the front. She normally hated to wear dresses or skirts but found that it eased dealings with men when she was at the museum. Given her druthers, she would have traipsed around in hiking boots, khaki shorts and a sensible shirt. Alas, it was still a man’s world, even in the modern era of 1935.
Kelly held the egg-shaped rock in her lap, her fingers sliding across its smooth surface. She could feel the eager stare of the dark-haired girl but she didn’t rush the moment. She was enjoying the thrill of discovery and it was a heady rush.
“You know what it is?” Lazarus asked and Kelly let out a small sigh, knowing that she’d need to slip into professorial mode now.