Douglas Preston - The Cabinet of Curiosities

She sidled over and accepted the cigarette through the gap in the chain-link gate, positioning herself to ensure his back would be turned to the construction site. She hoped to God Smithback would work fast.

The guard withdrew a lighter, tried to stick it through the gate, failed. “Just a minute, let me unlock this.”

She waited, cigarette in hand.

The gate swung open and he flicked the lighter. She approached and bent over the flame, drawing the smoke in, hoping she wouldn’t cough. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” said the guard. He was young, sandy-haired, neither fat nor thin, a little dopey-looking, not terribly strong, clearly flustered by her presence. Good.

She stood there, taking another drag. “Nice night,” she said.

“You must be cold.”

“A little.”

“Here, take this.” With a gallant flourish he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thanks.” The guard looked as if he could hardly believe his good fortune. Nora knew she was attractive; knew that her body, with all her years spent backpacking in the remote desert, wasn’t too bad, either. The heavy makeup gave her a sense of security. Never in a million years would he later be able to identify the archaeologist from the New York Museum of Natural History. In an odd way the outfit made her feel sassy, bold, a little sexy.

She heard a distant rattle; Smithback must be climbing over the chain-link fence. “You work here every night?” she said hastily.

“Five nights a week,” the guard said, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Now that construction’s begun. You, er, live around here?”

She nodded vaguely toward the river. “And you?”

“Queens.”

“Married?”

She saw his left hand, where she had previously noted a wedding band, slide behind his gun holster. “Not me.”

She nodded, took another drag. It made her dizzy. How could people smoke these things? She wished Smithback would hurry up.

She smiled and dropped the butt, grinding it under her toe.

Instantly the pack was out. “Another?”

“No,” she said, “trying to cut back.”

She could see him eyeing her spandex top, trying to be subtle. “You work in a bar?” he asked, then colored. Awkward question. Nora heard another sound, a few falling bricks.

“Sort of,” she said, pulling the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

He nodded. He was looking a little bolder now. “I think you’re very attractive,” he said, hastily, blurting it out.

“Thanks,” she said. God, it was a thirty-second job. What was taking Smithback so long?

“Are you, ah, free later?”

Deliberately, she looked him up and down. “You want a date?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

There was another, louder sound: the rattling of a chain-link fence. Smithback climbing out? The guard turned toward it.

“What kind of date?” Nora asked.

He looked back at her, no longer trying to hide the roaming of his lascivious eyes. Nora felt naked beneath his gaze. There was another rattle. The guard turned again and this time saw Smithback. He was pretty hard to miss: clinging to the top of the fence, trying to unsnag his filthy raincoat.

“Hey!” the guard yelled.

“Forget him,” said Nora hastily. “He’s just some bum.”

Smithback struggled. Now he was trying to slip out of his raincoat, but had only succeeded in becoming more tangled.

“He’s not supposed to be in there!” the guard said.

This, unfortunately, was a guy who took his job seriously.

The man clapped his hand to his gun. “Hey you!” he yelled louder. “Hey!” He took a step toward the writer.

Smithback struggled frantically with the raincoat.

“Sometimes I do it for free,” Nora said.

The guard swiveled back to her, eyes wide, the bum on the fence instantly forgotten. “You do?”

“Sure. Why not? Cute guy like you…”

He grinned like an idiot. Now she noticed his ears stuck out. What a weenie, so eager to cheat on his wife. Cheap, too.

“Right now?” he asked.

“Too cold. Tomorrow.” She heard a ripping sound, a thud, a muffled curse.

“Tomorrow?” He looked devastated. “Why not now? At your place.”

She took off the coat and gave it back to him. “Never at my place.”

He took a step toward her. “There’s a hotel around the corner.” He reached over, trying to snake an arm around her waist.

She skipped back lightly with another smile as her cell phone rang. Flooded with relief, she flipped it open.

“Mission accomplished,” came Smithback’s voice. “You can get away from that creep.”

“Sure, Mr. McNally, I’d love to,” she said warmly. “That sounds nice. See you there.” She made a smacking kiss into the phone and snapped it shut.

She turned to the guard. “Sorry. Business.” She took another step back.

“Wait. Come on. You said—” There was a note of desperation in the guard’s voice.

She took a few more steps back and shut the chain-link gate in his face. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

“No, wait!”

She turned and began walking quickly down the sidewalk.

“Hey, come on! Wait! Lady, please!” His desperate pleas echoed among the tenements.

She ducked around the corner. Smithback was waiting, and he hugged her briefly. “Is that creep following?”

“Just keep going.”

They began running down the sidewalk, Nora wobbling on her high heels. They turned the far corner and crossed the street, then paused, panting and listening. The guard was not following.

“Christ,” said Smithback, sinking against a wall. “I think I broke my arm falling off that goddamn fence.” He held up his arm. His raincoat and shirt had been torn and his bleeding elbow stuck out of the hole.

Nora examined it. “You’re fine. Did you get the dress?”

Smithback patted his grimy bag.

“Great.”

Smithback looked around. “We’re never going to find a cab down here,” he said with a groan.

“A cab wouldn’t stop anyway. Remember? Give me your raincoat. I’m freezing.”

Smithback wrapped it around her. He paused, grinning. “You look kind of… sexy.”

“Stow it.” She began walking toward the subway.

Smithback skipped after her. At the entrance to the subway, he stopped. “How about a date, lady?” he leered. “Hey lady, please!” He imitated the guard’s last, despairing entreaties.

She looked at him. His hair was sticking out in all directions, his face had become even filthier, and he smelled of mold and dust. He couldn’t have looked more ridiculous.

She had to smile. “It’s going to cost you big-time. I’m high-class.”

He grinned. “Diamonds. Pearls. Greenbacks. Nights dancing in the desert under the coyote moon. Anything you want, baby.”

She took his hand. “Now, that’s my kind of john.”

NORA LOCKED THE door to her office, placed the packet on a chair, and cleared her desk of papers and tottering stacks of publications. It was just past eight in the morning, and the Museum seemed to be still asleep. Nevertheless, she glanced at the window set into her office door, and then — with a guilty impulse she did not quite understand — walked over to it and pulled down the blind. Then she carefully covered the desktop with white acid-free paper, taped it to the corners, laid another sheet on top, and placed a series of sample bags, stoppered test tubes, tweezers, and picks along one edge. Unlocking a drawer of her desk, she laid out the articles she had taken from the site: coins, comb, hair, string, vertebra. Lastly, she laid the dress atop the paper. She handled it gently, almost gingerly, as if to make up for the abuse it had endured over the last twenty-four hours.