Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) (23 page)

“In English,
Professor
,” the one with the thick mustache commanded. “What is your name?”

“Dr. Simon Minkel.” His friend’s eyes were wide and his body was shaking.

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Lieutenant Gonzales.”

“We are unarmed, sir,” Minkel informed. “Please, lower your weapons so I can clear up this misunderstanding.”

With his heart thudding in his chest, Wilson saw some of the soldiers going tent to tent. The graduate students were being marched out, with guns to their backs, and placed in a line behind Minkel.

They will come to my tent next.

With his gun still aimed at Minkel’s chest, Gonzales asked, “What are you and your people doing here?”

Wilson held his breath and stepped quietly away from his tent, into the darkness of the tree line.

“This is an academic pursuit, sir. I have the paperwork in my tent. It is signed by Colonel Carlos Manuel Arana Osorio himself. We have the right to be here. This is not a military threat, I swear.”

“Where are the mummies?”

Gonzales knows about them. He must know we are only scientists then. What is really going on here?

From his hiding place, Wilson counted two-dozen soldiers with machine guns pointed at Minkel and the rest of the team.

“The mother mummy is over there,” one of the female students said, pointing to the main site. “The baby is in that tent on the left. We moved him there two days ago. Please, we’ll do anything you ask, answer any questions you have. Just don’t hurt us.”

Gonzales smiled and then gave some orders to his men.

One of the soldiers that had gone into his tent said something to Gonzales, but Wilson was too far away to hear him, and even if he could his Spanish was too limited to be of any use.

A man in a truck arrived. When he stepped out, Wilson was shocked to see he was wearing a black mask and carrying an axe.

The lieutenant walked over to the newest arrival.

“What is the situation?” the masked man asked in perfect English with a tinge of a Slavic accent.

“We have the mummies. One of the two professors is missing, but my men will find him. The rest are all accounted for.”

“Which one of these is the professor who stayed behind?”

“Dr. Minkel is over here.” Gonzales led the man to him.

The masked man placed his hand on Minkel’s shoulder. “Sir, where is Dr. Thomas Wilson?”

How does he know my name? Minkel’s paperwork.

The masked man knew who they were and what they were doing here.
Why the guns?

“He was in his tent earlier,” Minkel said nervously. “I suppose he might have gone for a walk to enjoy his pipe. I am sure he will be back any moment.”

“Which direction do you think he went?”

“I don’t know.”

The tallest of the students pointed Wilson’s way. “I’ve seen Dr. Wilson head out down that path before.”

Gonzales yelled something to a couple of his men. The duo ran straight in Wilson’s direction.

He flattened himself to the ground and held his breath. The soldiers stepped several feet from him, but thankfully continued on down the trail.

“According to my records, this is your entire team, not counting Dr. Wilson,” Black Mask said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Minkel answered, his hands still held high above his head.

Should I show myself? Would that diffuse the situation?

The soldiers stacked the research papers, equipment, and even personal items in a pile in front of Minkel. Two others brought out the mummies and placed them on the ground next to the masked man.

“You are disturbing the site, sir,” Minkel lowered his hands to his sides. His friend had found some courage inside him. Minkel’s passion for the work had always impressed Wilson. Until now. It was foolish to push these men. “The damage you and your soldiers are doing cannot be repaired. This is history you are tampering with.”

“My apologies.” The masked man swung the axe and chopped off the head of the baby mummy. “Is that better?” he asked, laughing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Minkel asked, clearly stunned and angry.

He heard the soldiers that had passed him moments ago returning. Once again, he held his breath; once again they did not see him.

The two of them reported back to Gonzales, who was visibly upset that he hadn’t been found. “No sign of the other professor,” he told the masked man.

“That is disappointing. I will ask you again, Dr. Minkel. Where is Dr. Wilson?”

“I do not know. Honestly.”

He prepared to stand and wave at the masked man, pushing down the paralyzing fear. Before he could get to his feet, Black Mask swung his axe and beheaded Minkel.

The students screamed, drowning out his gasps at the horror they had witnessed.

“Now does
anyone
want to tell me where Dr. Wilson is? No? Too bad.” The masked man motioned to the lieutenant. “Now, Gonzales.”

The lieutenant yelled, “
Fuego
.”

The soldiers fired their weapons. The men and women Wilson had been working with the past three weeks fell to the ground, their bodies riddled with bullets.

Overtaken by panic and a primal instinct to survive, he slinked away. Once he had gotten a considerable amount of distance between him and the soldiers, remaining low to the ground, he cautiously turned around to make sure he had not been spotted.

The site was ablaze. The tents, the pile Gonzales’ men had created from their equipment and paperwork—
and the bodies.
Everything. Including his slides with the reanimated cells of the baby mummy.

Unsure he would survive the night, Wilson ran as fast as humanly possible into the darkness.

CHAPTER 40

5:22 PM – Present Day

Dr. Thomas Wilson glared at the receptionist of the executive wing of the International Business Council Bank, a young woman with short, dark hair. “Miss Martin, I told you already I will not leave until I see Mr. Walt Turner.”

His patience had vanished the moment the cameras had come on and Andrea White had begun grilling him. That was hours ago.

He had come directly from the BBC studios to this location. It had taken forty-five minutes to convince the staff on the lower floors to allow him access to this level. Now he had been trying, without success, to get this young woman to contact Walt Turner, the man who was in charge of the donors of Dr. Vickers’ mummy exhibit.

“Sir, as I told you before, I have not heard from Mr. Turner all day. This office closes at half past five. I’m sure he’s not coming in.” She’d been very kind to him since his arrival hours ago, offering him coffee while he waited.

“Who is his supervisor?”

“He reports to the CEO, his brother.”

“Let me talk to him then.”

“He isn’t here either. I’m so sorry. I can take your name and number and have one of them ring you.”

She grabbed a piece of paper and he noticed the palm of her hand was a pale violet. Very similar to Gita’s.
Strange for a young woman of her age to have poor circulation.

He gave her his contact information, which she jotted down. “Do you have their personal numbers, Miss Martin? This is of the upmost importance, I can assure you.”

“Dr. Wilson, I’m not at liberty to give those out.”

He smiled, trying to appear as sweet and harmless as possible. “But you do know their personal numbers, correct?”

She returned the smile. “Yes, of course.”

“Would you ring them for me and tell them how urgent this is? Please. My life’s work is at stake.”

“It’s quite unusual, but I will try. You seem like such a nice gentleman. But after this you must leave.”

“I promise.”

She brought the receiver to her ear and dialed a number. “Voicemail.”

He cursed under his breath.

“I’ll leave a message. Mr. Turner, this is Sophia. I have an urgent request for you from a Dr. Wilson. He asks that you call him as soon as possible.” She read his number off the paper into her phone. “Thank you.”

She returned the receiver to the cradle. “Let me try our CEO.”

“I really appreciate this, Miss Martin. You’ll never know how much.”

“I’m so sorry, but again, voicemail.” She left a similar message for the other Mr. Turner. “Mr. Oliver Turner was scheduled to arrive in London this afternoon. Let me check to see if his plane landed as planned.”

“Thank you.”

“Hello, this is Sophia Martin at IBC, Executive Assistant to Mr. Oliver Turner. Did his plane arrive? It did. I have not heard from him.” Miss Martin frowned. Like any good secretary, she likely kept the calendars of the executives she supported. She seemed disturbed that in this case she didn’t know where either of the Turner brothers was. “Do you know if Mr. Turner was going home or somewhere else? I understand. If he returns, please have him call this office. I will be here until six. Thank you.” She hung up the phone. “Dr. Wilson, again, I am sorry I cannot help you. If either of them calls I will pass on your message.”

At least I have the finger samples. Gita should have completed the tests. The results should be in by now.
“Thank you, miss. You have my contact information. Do not hesitate to call me if you hear from either man.”

“I promise I will.”

CHAPTER 41

5:40 PM

Austin rang Dr. Thomas Wilson’s doorbell. Angelique stood two steps behind him.

The three-story home was impressive with its stone walls and large windows.

A woman in her late forties answered the door, dressed plainly in a navy tea-length dress and white apron. She had a wide forehead accentuated by the severe bun she had pulled her hair back into. Despite the clothes and hairstyle, she was still an attractive woman. With a distinct Slavic accent, she asked, “May I help you?”

“We’re looking for Dr. Wilson.”

“He’s not home. Was he expecting you?” The woman folded her arms over her chest in a dismissive manner.

“No, but it is very important that we speak with him.”

“I’m not sure when he will return today. You will need to contact him another time.”

As she began to shut the door, Angelique stepped closer.

“Please, ma’am. I’m Dr. McCord. It really is very important.”

“Angelique McCord? You are assisting Dr. Vickers with the mummy exhibit?”

“Yes. My husband works at the U.S. Embassy. He should be here any moment to speak with Dr. Wilson on a very important matter.” She held out her hand. “Won’t you let us in?”

The woman stared at Angelique’s hand, which seemed odd to him. “I’m Gita, Dr. Wilson’s assistant.” She smiled and shook his sister’s hand. “And who is this gentleman with you?”

“My brother, Austin.”

Gita’s eyes narrowed. “Your brother?”

“Yes.”

The woman had warmed instantly to Angelique but seemed uncertain about him. She sighed and then swung the door wide. “Come in. Both of you.”

Entering, they stepped into a foyer. An impressive Persian rug lay on top of the dark wooden floors. A pair of chairs sat side by side to their left. To their right were three doors along the wall. Straight ahead were stairs.

“The lift is this way.” Gita moved deeper into the building, passing the stairs and the three doors. At the end of the hall and behind the stairs was an elevator just big enough for the three of them.

“This is quite a large place,” Angelique said. “Are there more tenants here?”

“Only me. My apartment is on the ground floor. Dr. Wilson’s laboratory is on the floor just above us, and his residence is on the top floor.”

When they exited the lift, they walked into a large room that seemed ancient, though the exterior of the building had appeared quite modern. The space was filled with bookcases along every wall. In the center was a table stacked with newspapers. Next to it was a large, leather wingback chair with a well-worn seat. The air had a distinct aroma of rich tobacco.

Gita guided them to a couch by a large window covered in thick, dark drapes. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely,” Angelique answered. She’d obviously picked up some of the English phrasing during her time in London.

Gita excused herself.

When she was gone, Angelique turned to him. “Isn’t it odd how quickly she warmed up to us?”

“Very.”

The woman didn’t seem dangerous, but he knew looks could be deceptive. He kept his hand ready in case the need came to pull out the gun.
Better to be on guard for the unexpected than to be ambushed.