A sound like sandpaper on stone drew his attention away from the ceiling. He dropped his eyeline and looked left. There was only one thing between him and the western wall.
Originally discovered in Turkey, the Lion of Knidos was a colossal marble statue weighing more than 13,000 pounds. It depicted an powerful, male lion in a resting position, and had been created sometime in the third or fourth century, sourcing marble from the same quarry as was used in the construction of the Parthenon. The beast was situated as such that it was staring longingly through the darkened court…and right at Bernie. The animal’s empty eye sockets were eerie in the lowlight. The sight gave the tenured museum employee the chills every time he caught the predator gazing at him in his periphery.
Even though he loved the museum more than anything, Bernie would have rather been back at his station finishing up The Monuments Men instead. Now in his mid-sixties, Bernie was having trouble with his feet and knees. They had been bothering him for a number of years, but never as bad as they were now. Bernie feared he’d have to retire soon. He wasn’t afraid of losing his job.
Bernie was terrified of boredom.
His father had been the same way. Bernard Switzer Sr. died while on the job at a local lumber mill at the age of seventy-seven. He had been the oldest member of the staff by over a decade and outworked most men thirty years his junior.
Bernie Jr. was twenty-two years older than the next oldest guard employed by the museum. He was proud of that fact, but it also advanced the growing concern of his eventual departure. He knew he couldn’t do it forever.
Thirty-four years… He thought, shaking his head. Where has the time gone?
Bernie had been at the museum for over three decades, watching patrons and co-workers come and go. The second longest-tenured employee was the museum’s curator, Ian Freeman. He was a man Bernie avoided at all costs. Luckily, the curator worked mostly days and rarely ever ran into the senior guard. Freeman wasn’t an awful person — quite the opposite. His overly bubbly personality was one that just didn’t mesh well with Bernie, a man that kept to himself. In fact, the only person that Bernie truly got along with was Zahra.
She was different.
The lights in the Great Court went out, save for a handful of red emergency lights. The lone man was cast into near pitch-black darkness. What was left was a looming, infernal setting. The multitude of figures and full-scale diorama exhibits seemed to come to life all around him. Bernie’s heart raced.
He scolded himself. Quiet your mind, you old fool.
The grinding sound immediately picked up again. It — everything that was happening — deeply concerned Bernie. He was the only person out right now. His subordinates were “on break” in their office playing cards. It was why Bernie had gone for a walk. Their hooting and hollering had become too much to bear. So, he had paused his movie and left his station to come here.
It had been over a decade since the last incident that had caused Bernie any concern. A trio of crooks had attempted to break into the museum through a roof access, but their efforts had been denied by the building’s tough security system.
An animal? he asked himself, flicking on his flashlight. He aimed it at the lion but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he needed to confirm that he was still alone. Bernie stepped lightly, creeping up to the statue.
“I swear,” he mumbled, “if this is just Josh or Drew pulling a prank, I’ll fire their arses tonight!”
Halfway to the lion, the scratching noise stopped, and so did Bernie.
“Hello?” he called out, tracing his light around the creature. “Anyone there?”
Bernie nearly had a heart attack when a figure stepped out from behind the lion and collapsed to the hard floor. “How did you —?”
“Help…” the voice was female, and she sounded like she was injured. “Please, help me.” She reached a hand up and attempted to crawl toward the guard but stopped, favoring her side.
Bernie stepped forward but stopped. There were protocols to follow. He needed to contact Josh and Drew and report his findings. From there, they would contact the authorities.
“Please…” The woman’s face fell, and her forehead clunked to the floor. She didn’t move.
Bernie rushed to her and knelt, feeling his aching joints protest the quick movements. He gently turned her over and swept her dark hair away from her face. The first thing he noticed was that she was young, maybe in her early thirties. Her skin tone and hair color spoke to a Middle Eastern background, though he didn’t hear it in her voice. Her accent, in the few words she had spoken, was undeniably British. This woman reminded him of Zahra in a way, though his co-worker spoke with a brutish American inflection.
The second thing he realized was that he recognized her, though he didn’t know from where. Bernie saw hundreds, even thousands, of people a day while wandering the halls, even when he came in a few hours before closing time.
The woman roused and blinked awake. Her eyes were striking, even in the dim red lighting. Bernie held her head in his lap with one hand and reached for his radio with the other.
“Don’t,” the woman said. Four sets of footsteps closed in around him. Her face transformed from one of terror to one of joy. She smiled wide and held up Drew’s keycard. “You’ve already done enough.”
“You!” Bernie cried, standing. He backpedaled into a huge individual, bouncing off him as if he were a small child.
Earlier in the day, just as he and Drew had arrived, a woman had careened into them. The younger night guard had taken an elbow to his ribs, growling at the museum visitor in protest. Bernie had quickly stepped in and dissolved the situation to the point of getting the headstrong Drew to apologize for running into her. But now, Bernie could see that it had been all a ruse to steal the guard’s keycard. Whoever these people were, they had then used the card to access the museum unperturbed.
Before Bernie could call for help, someone grabbed him from behind and dragged him around to the other side of the Lion of Knidos. He gazed up at his beloved glass ceiling as something cold and sharp pressed up against his throat. Then, the unidentified assailant yanked the unseen object sideways and dropped Bernie to the floor as he gasped for air.
But none came.
Chapter 18
Baahir
Baahir was surrounded on all sides. The only reason his exact location had yet to be discovered was thanks to the poor lighting inside the hotel’s parking lot. It also helped that he was wearing mostly black clothing. The beam of a high-powered flashlight swung his way. He stooped beneath it and scurried under a truck. Voices called out all around him. The men searching for him were confused. Rahal was the loudest of them all. He angrily chastised the others for losing Baahir.
The Egyptologist stayed put and waited. He’d do so all night if it meant his survival. Footsteps approached his position. Baahir ducked his head down and allowed his dark hair to hide his face. But just as quickly as the light came, it went. As the seconds passed, his hunters grew restless.
Baahir lifted his head and spied a lone individual standing perfectly still some thirty feet away. He had yet to join in the search. Baahir figured that it could only be one man, considering who he was dealing with.
Khaliq Ayad.
Never in his life had Baahir thought he would be in this position. He had never done anything to warrant this kind of attention. Sure, like his mother, he had ruffled a few feathers within the historical community over the years, but besides that, Baahir had been a stand-up guy to everyone he met. His involvement in the golf course dig had been a classic wrong-place-wrong-time scenario. If he had been out of town, or sick, it would have been a coworker running for his or her life and not him.