Krewe of Hunters 7 The Unspoken (22 page)

“Is Austin
speaking?
” Dirk asked.

“Yes.”

“You can see him? You can have conversations with him?”

“Yes. And you can feel him. I see that you do,” Kat said. “Okay, listen. This is what we think. Whoever is doing this isn’t after treasure. Any treasure belongs to the State of Illinois, or probably to the Egyptian people. Our theory is that the person or persons behind this followed Brady’s steps and actually reached the
Jerry McGuen
first, but they didn’t go down to get various little pieces or even big pieces that they might put on the black market. I believe they’re after something specific for reasons that have nothing to do with money or with Egyptology, per se. Someone purposely sank the
Jerry McGuen
because of whatever this object might be. And someone is killing now, with the express purpose of recovering that object. Someone or several someones,” she added.

Dirk stared at her blankly. Then he said, “Ask Austin. He has a book somewhere with pictures of ships from the late 1800s, including the icebreakers of the time. Maybe you can find what you’re looking for there.”

Kat wasn’t sure
what
she’d discover by studying the ships, but it was worth a try.

“Where is the book, Austin?” she asked.

“Under the golden jackal in the display case,” Austin told her. He walked to the case and pointed. “Here.”

Kat pulled it out and brought it to the desk, sitting in the guest chair across from Dirk. She began to flip through the pages, wondering what she could see in a photograph.

Then she froze. The picture had been taken more than a hundred years ago and it was grainy and unclear, but it gave her what she wanted.

She turned the book to face Manning and shoved it toward him.

“She was called the
Egyptian,
” Kat said.

“Yes, yes, I’ve seen pictures of her. But she went down, too.”

“When?” Kat grabbed the book back.

“The same year the
Jerry McGuen
went down, but she was discovered decades ago. She’s in deep water, below two hundred feet. And she’s completely wrecked—pieces scattered all over the lake bed,” Manning said.

“But she was an icebreaker, right?”

Manning tapped the book impatiently. “That’s what it says, is it not?”

“Look at her closely. What’s that on the bow?” Kat asked.

“A figurehead. Ships back then had figureheads.”

“Look at it
closely,
” Kat insisted.

Manning bent over the book. “The figurehead’s an Egyptian man. It’s a myth, really, that all figureheads were female. I’ve seen stunning examples of figureheads that were carved as males. That one is of—”

He looked up at Kat.

“That’s Amun Mopat,” she finished for him. “That’s the exact image of the death mask on the mummy.”

13

W
ill was eager to speak with Dirk Manning. Now that he knew the medical examiner had given a speech that was, for all intents and purposes, on
ways
to kill without being detected, he wanted to know precisely who among the Egyptian Sand Diggers and their so-called associates
had been at the lecture.

But when Kat answered his call, he noticed that her tone was odd, and before he could make his request, she told him what she’d learned.

“So, there really was an icebreaker, and it was named the
Egyptian
and it went down the same year,” he summarized.

“Yes, and the figurehead was Amun Mopat,” she said.

“Well, it explains your dream.”

“I’m looking up more information on it now,” she told him.

“Great. Find out anything you can. And tell Dirk Manning what I need the names of all those who were at Dr. McFarland’s lecture.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Ask him to write up a list for me,” Will said. “And in the meantime, ask him if Stewart Landry and Andy Simonton attended. I think it’s time to bring them in for questioning, as well.”

He heard Kat speaking with Dirk; a moment later she came back to the phone. “Yes, Will. Both men were there. The lecture was presented at a barbecue luncheon at the Sand Diggers’ mansion.”

“Thanks, Kat. I’m going to see that both men are now invited down to the station for a bit of discussion.”

“We still don’t have any proof,” she said.

“Yes, but those two are looking more and more suspicious. They both have small boats that would work well as dive boats. Both men own diver motor devices, and both have been with the Sand Diggers. If they were connected with Brady Laurie or Amanda in any way, they’d know about the facilities at the Preservation Center, and if Amanda had relationships with either of these men, she might have thought she was encouraging help while she was giving away information she shouldn’t have been. I don’t know how it all fits together yet, but I feel we’re making progress. And questioning the men in a police station might get more out of them, just as it did with Dr. McFarland.”

“You go for it,” Kat said. “I’ll keep reading.”

“Keep me posted on whatever you learn.”

“Okay. Oh, anything from Jane or Kelsey about the guard?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Will replied.

They rang off a minute later.

“Who should we bring in first?” Tyler asked him. “Landry or Simonton?”

“I say we bring them both in,” Will said. “Make sure each knows the other is there, and then we’ll see if any accusations fly.”

Tyler nodded in agreement. “I’ll tell Riley to send out escorts with our invitation.”

* * *

“Your grandfather would have been a talented journalist,” Kat told Austin Miller.

“My grandfather?” Dirk asked her blankly.

“Sorry. Austin’s grandfather,” Kat said. “Austin, can you show me which of these might have been written
after
the
Jerry McGuen
went down?”

Austin tried to push the journals toward her, but his spectral fingers went right through them. Impatiently, he tried again.

A book moved half an inch.

Dirk Manning jumped to his feet, staring at the journals and then at Kat.

“He’s really here. I mean…
really,
” he said, his voice a mere breath.

“Yes, and I think this is the book I want,” Kat said, picking up the journal he’d indicated. It was dated late February, about two months after the sinking of the
Jerry McGuen.

Since the two men were with her, she read aloud.

“‘The
Egyptian
was lost today—the news was terrible. Twenty-two men on board, and not a survivor among them. But then, I always thought Captain Ely was more of a fanatic than any man on a dig. He was a
believer.
His wife told me once that he adhered to spiritualism and that he had an intense belief in magic, in ghosts—and in curses. I spoke to him once, soon after the loss of the
Jerry McGuen.
He told me that men were fools if they did
not
believe in a higher power. I assured him that I was a good and active member of the Episcopal Church. He shook his head and said I did not begin to understand all the powers we could not see. He told me that day that the
Jerry McGuen
had gone down because of the curse, that no man should have interfered with the tomb of Amun Mopat. I should’ve known, he told me. Amun Mopat had been a powerful sorcerer. He had maintained vast power through his scepter. Of course, I had seen the scepter—I was there the day it was found in the tomb. It was a beautiful piece, a rod or staff of the most valuable ebony, carved with vultures and lions and cobras and topped with the largest, most fantastic ball of crystal I have ever seen. I knew, from what hieroglyphics I could decipher in the tomb and the painting within, that Amun Mopat had used the scepter in his ceremonies. He had raised it to the sun, and when the sun caught the crystal, it seemed that the entire sky lit up, and whenever it did, people kneeled before him. I held the scepter myself, and I tried to explain to Captain Ely that it was a beautiful artifact, nothing more. But legend claimed that it was the scepter that gave Amun Mopat the power of the gods. He could save lives with it, and he could take lives away. The power was so great that he was beloved of Ramses II. Riches came to him, and people bowed to the ground when he walked by, as if he were himself a god or a pharaoh. Captain Ely seemed to believe that I was the crazy one. I do not understand precisely why he was so determined to retrieve the scepter, whether his intent was for good or ill. They say that after the sinking of the
Jerry McGuen,
he became worse and worse, more and more deluded. Men were afraid to sail aboard his ships, and on the night his
Egyptian
went down, many had warned him that was not a night for even an icebreaker to be out on the water.’”

Kat set the book down. “That’s it,” she said quietly. “I believe that whoever is doing this is after the scepter, and that’s why the center was broken into, why Amanda is dead and why the guard was shot. But the scepter wasn’t in the sarcophagus.”

“Well, of course not,” Dirk said, frowning. “You just read from the journal. Austin’s grandfather was there when it was discovered in the tomb. It must have been packaged and crated separately.”

“So,” Kat said. “It’s still down in Lake Michigan.”

“And Captain Ely went down to the bottom of Lake Michigan, too,” Dirk said, shaking his head.

“He did die because of the curse,” she said, and when both men looked at her, she said, “It was in his head. He let himself believe in the evil of it, and he brought it to life. Curses are only real when we allow them to be.”

* * *

As Will and Tyler watched from their vantage point behind the glass, Landry and Simonton met each other in the hallway leading to the interrogation rooms.

Both men came to a sudden halt. Landry spoke first. “Simonton. What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine.” Landry shrugged. “Trying to help them figure out what’s going on with the salvage on the
Jerry McGuen.
”

“Yeah,” Simonton said. “They asked me down.”

“Think we were really
invited?
” Landry drawled.

“What difference does it make? We’re here, right?”

Will remained behind the one-way glass of the interrogation room. As arranged, Tyler came up to the two men. “Mr. Landry, if you will? The room right here. Mr. Simonton, can you accompany me down the hall, please?”

Landry sat at the table in the small interrogation room, and Will decided to let him wait there for a few minutes.

Landry drummed his fingers on the scarred wooden table, leaned back in his chair, then sat forward again.

He looked impatiently at his watch and fidgeted some more.

Finally, Will went in to join him, dropping his file on the desk between them.

Landry frowned. “
You?
I thought the cops wanted to talk to me.”

“Despite what you might see on TV, the FBI and the police are after the same outcome, Mr. Landry.”

“I’m at a total loss as to what you want from me. An idiot diver drowns, and an old man has a heart attack. Then that crazy Egyptologist at the center tries to kill a guard or whatever and offs herself—and you think
I
might be involved?”

Will smiled. “Mr. Landry, you were very upset last night when you believed Ms. Bertelli was being attacked by a mummy.”

“By some fake mummy, yes. Not by me!”

Will didn’t reply.

“Hey, you could see me almost every second—and I sure as hell wasn’t dressed up as a mummy.”

Will pushed the folder forward. “Mr. Landry, you own an Aquasport Explorer and an Osprey, along with two Sea Ray boats. You also own a UPD—an underwater propulsion device. And you attended a lecture given by Dr. Alex McFarland on ways to kill.”

“
What?
That lecture was on Egyptian embalming!”

Will shrugged. “According to Dr. McFarland, he also talked about poisons that weren’t easily detected—or that might be accidentally ingested.”

Landry waved a hand in the air. “I attended that lecture for the lunch!” he said. “And what the hell—I like the Sand Diggers. You people are so busy looking for evil, you don’t look at the good that group does for the community.”

“I like the Sand Diggers, too,” Will said pleasantly. “But here’s the thing. Let me show you one more document.”

Landry stared down at the paper. “What the hell is this?”

“Amanda Channel’s phone log. You’ll see the number for your company multiple times over the past few months.”

“She wasn’t calling me.”

“Who runs your company, Mr. Landry?” Will asked.

“I do!”

“Yes, that’s what Mr. Simonton said,” Will threw in.

“Simonton! He’s probably guilty!”

Will ignored that. “Would you know if any of your possessions—personal or corporate—were being used?”

Landry leaned forward. “I’ve had my UPD under cover at the boat dock on my
private
property. It hasn’t been used this year. I haven’t been out on the water at all.”

“Getting old? That’s tough, when you’re in love with a sweet young thing like your receptionist.”

He straightened in his chair. “I’m married, Agent Chan,” he said indignantly. “I care about Ms. Bertelli and she attends many business functions with me. I’m not
getting old
—I’m a CEO and I have staff to do the day-to-day work. But guess what? None of them have used my UPD. It’s in the boat hangar, along with my private pleasure boats. You want to go see?”

Will rose. “I think that would be a great idea, Mr. Landry. I’d very much like to see the inside of your hangar and your boats.”

* * *

It was late afternoon when Logan called Kat. He told her quickly that Jane had slept for a while and had awakened and was back at the library, researching the icebreaker
Egyptian
and her captain.

“But I’m really calling you about our shooting victim—Abel Leary. Kelsey just phoned me. The doctors say he’s taking a turn for the better. They believe he’ll wake up soon.”

“I’ll go over there,” she said.

“Have Sean drop you at the hospital and then bring Manning to me. He’ll be safe. Kelsey can keep an eye on him, and I’m sure they’ll entertain each other.”

“We’ll head out right now.”

Manning didn’t want to leave the house; he wanted to believe that eventually he’d see Austin Miller.

But even more than that, he didn’t want to be alone where a mummy had stalked his friend, so he was willing to go with Kat and Sean. He clearly felt relieved that Sean would stay with him until he could deliver him to the safety of more agents.

Kat liked Dirk Manning, and she liked the ghost of Austin Miller. She assured Manning she’d be with him as much as possible and would see him later. He watched her as she got out of the car at the hospital.

“You be careful!” he told her anxiously.

She found her way to the floor where Kelsey had been sitting outside Abel Leary’s room, reading a book on Egyptology.

“Decided I should do some research,” she said. “I always thought of Ramses II as the Yul Brynner character in the old movie. And I hated him, of course, because he was enslaving people. But this is a fascinating book. We’re looking at millennia. Most people believe that Ramses II was king at the time of Moses, but it’s not really certain, and it’s not specifically stated in the Bible. And all the evidence says that Ramses II was truly a great ruler. Egypt prospered under him. So, if Amun Mopat was one of his priests, maybe he wasn’t as evil as he’s been portrayed.”

“Maybe not,” Kat agreed, but she told Kelsey about the icebreaker, the
Egyptian,
and how it had carried a figurehead of Amun Mopat. “Which sounds crazy. Apparently, Captain Ely, who had Amun Mopat for a figurehead, believed in the curse. Why have the man as a figurehead if you thought he was capable of such evil?”

“Maybe he felt evil warded off evil?” Kelsey suggested. “Or maybe he was avenging what was done to Amun Mopat’s tomb?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Do you really think the man would have been crazy enough—or obsessed enough—to ram the
Jerry McGuen?
”

Kat nodded. “Yes. I believe he had his icebreaker ram the ship and that’s why she went down, not because of the storm. There
was
a storm, of course, but the
Jerry McGuen
was an impressive ship. It would have taken an impact like that of an icebreaker to tear out her hull.”

The door to Abel Leary’s room opened and his doctor stepped out. Kelsey introduced the young man as Dr. Gilliam, and she introduced Kat as Dr. Sokolov instead of Agent. Kat grinned; when the title worked, they used it.

“He’s conscious and he’s stable, but…five minutes,” Dr. Gilliam said. “He’s still floating in and out, and on top of his injuries, we’re pumping him full of medication, several of them for pain.”

“Has he said anything to you?” Kat asked.

“He’s tried, but I honestly have no idea what he’s babbling on about. Perhaps he’ll make more sense to you. Five minutes,” he repeated emphatically.