Frock reached out, “Ian, there is a terrible beast loose in the Museum. I know we’ve had our differences, but trust me, please. Tell Wright we’ve got to get these people out. Now.”
Cuthbert looked at Frock intently. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” the Scotsman said, “or what your game is. Perhaps it’s some desperate eleventh-hour attempt to derail the exhibition, to turn me into a laughingstock. But I will tell you this, Frock: If you make one more outburst, I will have Mr. Ippolito forcibly remove you from these premises and I will see to it that you never set foot in here again.”
“Ian, I beg of you—”
Cuthbert turned and walked back to the podium.
Margo laid a hand on Frock’s shoulder. “Don’t bother,” she said quietly. “They’re not going to believe us. I wish George Moriarty were here to help. This is his show, he must be around somewhere. But I haven’t seen him.”
“What can we do?” Frock asked, trembling with frustration. The conversations around them resumed as the guests near the podium assumed some kind of joke had taken place.
“I guess we should find Pendergast,” Margo said. “He’s the only one with enough clout to do something about this.”
“He won’t believe us, either,” Frock said, dispiritedly.
“Maybe not right away,” Margo said, wheeling him around. “But he’ll hear us out. We’ve got to hurry.”
Behind them, Cuthbert signalled for another drumroll and fanfare. Then he walked over to the podium and held up his hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he cried out. “I have the honor to introduce to you the Director of the New York Museum of Natural History, Winston Wright!”
Margo looked around as Wright took the podium, smiling and waving to the crowd.
“Welcome!” he cried out. “Welcome my friends, fellow New Yorkers, citizens of the world! Welcome to the unveiling of the greatest museum show ever mounted!” Wright’s amplified words echoed through the Hall. A tremendous burst of applause rose to the domed ceiling.
“We’ll call security,” said Margo. “They’ll know where Pendergast is. There’s a bank of phones out in the Rotunda.”
She began to push Frock toward the entrance. Behind her, she could hear Wright’s voice booming through the PA system: “This is a show about our deepest beliefs, our deepest fears, the brightest and the darkest sides of human nature ...”
= 44 =
D’Agosta stood behind the podium, watching Wright’s back as he addressed the listening crowd. Then he grabbed his radio. “Bailey?” he said in a low tone. “When they cut that ribbon, I want you and McNitt to get in ahead of the crowd. Just behind Wright and the Mayor, but ahead of everyone else. You got that? Blend in as much as possible, but don’t let them push you out of the way.”
“Roger, Loo.”
“When the human mind evolved to understand the workings of the universe, the first question it asked was: What is life? Next, it asked: What is death? We’ve learned a lot about life. But, despite all our technology, we’ve learned very little about death and what lies beyond ...”
The crowd was rapt, listening.
“We have sealed the exhibition so that you, our honored guests, will be the first inside. You will see many rare and exquisite artifacts, most on display for the first time ever. You will see images of beauty and ugliness, great good and ultimate evil, symbols of man’s struggle to cope with and comprehend the ultimate mystery ...”
D’Agosta wondered what that business with the old curator in the wheelchair had been. Frock, the name was. He’d shouted something, but then Cuthbert, the honcho of the event, had sent him off. Museum politics, worse even than down at One Police Plaza.
“... most fervent hope that this exhibition will launch a new era at our Museum: an era in which technological innovation and a renaissance in the scientific method will combine to reinvigorate the interest of the museum-going public in today’s ...”
D’Agosta scanned the room, mentally spot-checking his men. Everyone seemed to be in place. He nodded to the guard at the exhibition entrance, instructing him to remove the chain from the heavy wooden doors.
As the speech ended, a roar of applause filled the vast space once again. Then Cuthbert returned to the podium.
“I want to thank a number of people ...”
D’Agosta glanced at his watch, wondering where Pendergast was. If he was in the room, D’Agosta would have known it. Pendergast was a guy that stuck out in a crowd.
Cuthbert was holding up an enormous pair of scissors, which he handed to the Mayor. The Mayor grasped one handle and offered the other to Wright, and the two of them walked down the platform steps to a huge ribbon in front of the exhibition entrance. “What are we waiting for?” said the Mayor facetiously, drawing a laugh. They snipped the ribbon in half to an explosion of flashbulbs, and two of the Museum guards slowly pulled open the doors. The band swung into “The Joint Is Jumpin’.”