Douglas Preston - Relic

Frock’s head lowered until his chin was on his chest. The silence stretched out, broken only by the shuffling of the policemen by the barricade. Then Frock spoke.

“The guard who was killed? Did his wounds show evidence of a broken or missing claw?”

“Good question,” Pendergast said. “See for yourself.” He slid his hand into the plastic bag and removed a heavy plaque of latex, a long rectangle with three jagged ridges down its middle.

“This is a cast of one of the guard’s abdominal wounds,” Pendergast explained. Margo shuddered. It was a vile-looking thing.

Frock peered at the deep ridges intently. “The penetration must have been remarkable. But the wound shows no indication of a broken claw. Therefore, you are suggesting that two such artifacts are in use by the murderer.”

Pendergast looked a little uncomfortable, but nodded.

Frock’s head sank once more. The silence went on for minutes. “Another thing,” he suddenly said, quite loudly. “Do you see how the claw marks draw together slightly? How they are farther apart at the top than at the bottom?”

“Yes?” said Pendergast.

[113] “Like a hand clenching into a fist. That would indicate flexibility in the instrument.”

“Granted,” said Pendergast. “Human flesh, however, is rather soft and easily distorted. We cannot read too much into these casts.” He paused. “Dr. Frock, is any artifact capable of doing this missing from the collection?”

“There is no such artifact in the collection,” said Frock with a faint smile. “You see, this comes from no living animal I’ve studied. Do you see how this claw has a conical shape, a deep fully enclosed root? See how it tapers to an almost perfect tripyramidal cross section near the top? This appears in only two classes of animal: dinosaur and bird. That is one of the reasons some evolutionary biologists think birds evolved from dinosaurs. I would say it is from a bird, except that it is far too large. Thus, dinosaurian.”

He placed the latex claw in his lap and looked up again. “Certainly, a clever person familiar with dinosaur morphology could have shaped a claw like this, and used it as a tool for murder. I assume you have tested the original fragment to see if it indeed is composed of a genuine biological material, such as keratin, rather than being cast or carved from some inorganic material?”

“Yes, Doctor. It is real.”

“And you are sure that the DNA was real, and not simply blood or flesh from the victim?”

“Yes,” Pendergast replied. “As I said, it came from the root canal, not under the cuticle.”

“And what, pray tell, was the DNA from?” “The final report isn’t in yet.”

Frock held up his hand. “Understood, But tell me, why aren’t you making use of our own DNA laboratory, here in the Museum? We have facilities equal to that of anybody in the state.”

“Equal to anybody in the country, Doctor. But you must understand that our procedures forbid it. Could we be sure of the results if the tests were conducted at the [114] crime scene? With perhaps the murderer himself operating the equipment?” Pendergast smiled. “I hope you’ll forgive my persistence, Doctor, but would you be willing to consider the possibility that this weapon is constructed from relics belonging to the Anthropology collection, and to think about what artifact or artifacts this cast most closely resembles?”

“If you’d like,” Frock replied.

“Thank you. We can discuss it again in a day or so. Meanwhile, would it be possible to obtain a printed inventory of the Anthropology collection?”

Frock smiled. “Six million items? You can use the computer catalog, however. Would you like a terminal set up?”

“Perhaps later,” said Pendergast, replacing the latex plaque in the plastic bag. “It’s kind of you to offer. Our command post is currently in the unused gallery behind reprographics.”

Footsteps sounded behind them. Margo turned to see the tall form of Dr. Ian Cuthbert, Deputy Director of the Museum, followed by the two officers from the elevator.

“Look here, how long is this going to take?” Cuthbert was complaining. He stopped at the barricade. “Oh, Frock, so they’ve got you, too. What a damned nuisance this is.”

Frock nodded imperceptibly.

“Dr. Frock,” said Pendergast, “I’m sorry. This is the gentleman I’d been waiting for when we first spoke. You’re welcome to remain; if you’d care to.” Frock nodded again.

“Now, Dr. Cuthbert,” said Pendergast briskly, turning to the Scotsman. “I asked you to come down because I’d like some information about this area behind me.” He indicated a, large doorway.

“The Secure Area? What about it? Surely somebody else could—” Cuthbert began.

“Ah, but my questions are for you,” Pendergast interrupted, politely but firmly. “Shall we step inside?”

[115] “If it won’t take much time,” Cuthbert said. “I’ve got an exhibition to mount.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Frock, his tone faintly sardonic. “An exhibition .” He motioned Margo to wheel him forward.

“Dr. Frock?” Pendergast said politely.

“Yes?”

“I wonder if I might have that cast back.”

The copper-sheathed door to the Museum’s Secure Area had been removed and a new steel one installed in its place. Across the hall was a small door labelled PACHYDERMAE. Margo wondered how the staff had been able to fit huge elephant bones through it.

Turning away, she wheeled Frock into the narrow walkway beyond the open door to the Secure Area. The Museum kept its most valuable artifacts in small vaults on either side: sapphires and diamonds; ivory and rhinoceros horns heaped on racks like cordwood; bones and skins of extinct animals; Zuñi war gods. Two men in dark suits stood at the far end, talking in low tones. They straightened up when Pendergast entered.

Pendergast stopped at one open vault door, much like the others, sporting a large black combination knob, brass lever, and ornate decorative scrollwork. Inside, a bulb threw a harsh light across the metal walls. The vault was empty except for several crates, all of which were quite large except one. The smaller crate’s lid was removed, while one of the larger crates was badly damaged, with excelsior-like stuffing protruding.

Pendergast waited until everybody was inside the vault. “Allow me to provide some background,” Pendergast said. “The murder of the guard took place not far from this spot. It appears that afterward, the murderer came down the hallway just outside. The murderer attempted to break down the door that leads to the Secure Area. He may have tried before. The attempts were unsuccessful.

[116] “At first we weren’t sure what the killer was after. As you know, there is a lot of valuable material in here.” Pendergast motioned to one of the policemen, who came over and handed him a piece of paper. “So we asked around, and found that nothing has come in or out of the Secure Area for six months. Except these crates. They were moved into this vault last week. On your orders, Dr. Cuthbert.”

“Mr. Pendergast, allow me to explain—” said Cuthbert.

“One moment, if you please,” said Pendergast. “When we inspected the crates, we found something very interesting.” He pointed to the damaged crate. “Notice the slats. The two-by-sixes here are deeply scored by claw marks. Our forensic people tell me the marks on the victims were probably made by the same object or instrument.”

Pendergast stopped and looked intently at Cuthbert.

“I had no idea—” said Cuthbert. “Nothing had been taken. I merely thought that ...” His voice trailed away.

“I wonder, Doctor, if you could enlighten us as to the history of these crates?”