The Cabinet of Curiosities by Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child Read Free Book Online

alcove.”
    “They probably removed it with the rest of the stuff, then.”
    “I don’t think so. I stuffed it into a crevice in the rear of the alcove. They were rushing. They could easily have missed it.”
    Smithback saw the gleam in Nora’s hazel eyes. He’d seen that look before.
    “No way, Nora,” he said quickly. “They must have security at the site. It’s probably lit up brighter than a stage. Don’t even think about it.” Next thing, she would insist on his coming along.
    “You’ve got to come with me. Tonight. I need that letter.”
    “You don’t even know if it is a letter. It might be a laundry slip.”
    “Bill, even a
laundry
slip would be an important clue.”
    “We could be arrested.”
    “No, you won’t.”
    “What’s this
you
shit?”
    “I’ll distract the guard while you go over the fence. You can make yourself inconspicuous.” As she spoke, Nora’s eyes grew brighter. “Yes. You can be dressed like a homeless bum, say, just poking through the garbage. If they catch you, the worst they’ll do is make you move on.”
    Smithback was aghast. “Me? A bum? No way.
You
be the bum.”
    “No, Bill, that won’t work. I have to be the hooker.”
    The last forkful of steak froze halfway to Smithback’s mouth.
    Nora smiled at him. Then she spoke. “You just spilled brandy sauce all down the front of your nice new Italian suit.”

SIX
    N ORA PEERED AROUND THE CORNER OF H ENRY S TREET, SHIVERING slightly. It was a chilly night, and her scant black mini-dress and silver spandex top provided little warmth. Only the heavy makeup, she thought, added any R-factor to her person. In the distance, traffic droned through Chatham Square, and the vast black bulk of the Manhattan Bridge loomed ominously nearby. It was almost three o’clock in the morning, and the streets of the Lower East Side were deserted.
    “What can you see?” Smithback asked from behind her.
    “The site’s pretty well lit. I can only see one guard, though.”
    “What’s he doing?”
    “Sitting in a chair, smoking and reading a paperback.”
    Smithback scowled. It had been depressingly easy to transform him to bumhood. His rangy frame was draped in a shiny black raincoat over a checked shirt, a dirty pair of jeans, and tattered Keds. There had been no shortage of cheesy old clothing in Smithback’s closet to choose from. A bit of charcoal on the face, olive oil rubbed into the hair, and a tote consisting of five nested plastic bags with unwashed clothes at the bottom completed the disguise.
    “What’s he look like?” Smithback asked.
    “Big and mean.”
    “Cut it out.” Smithback was in no mood for humor. Dressed as they were, they had been unable to flag down a cab in the Upper West Side, and had been forced to take the subway. Nobody had actually propositioned her, but she had gotten plenty of stares, with follow-up glances at Smithback that clearly read,
What’s a high-priced call girl doing with that bum?
The long ride, with two transfers, had not improved Smithback’s mood.
    “This plan of yours is pretty weak,” Smithback said. “Are you sure you can handle yourself?” He was a mask of irritation.
    “We both have our cell phones. If anything happens, I’ll scream bloody murder and you call 911. But don’t worry—he’s not going to make trouble.”
    “He’s going to be too busy looking at your tits,” said Smithback unhappily. “With that top, you might as well not be wearing anything.”
    “Trust me, I can take care of myself. Remember, the dress is in the second to last niche on the right. Feel along the rear wall for the crevice. Once you’re safely out, call me. Now, here goes.”
    She stepped out into the streetlight and began walking down the sidewalk toward the construction entrance, her pumps making a sharp clicking noise on the pavement, her breasts bouncing. As she got close, she stopped, fished in her little gold handbag, and made an exaggerated little
moue.
She could already feel