Dr. Alpert broke down.
McCauley took her into his arms. Though he didn’t say it, he was actually relieved. Until this moment, he didn’t completely know if he could trust her.
Katrina pulled herself together and walked back inside the Hertz office. She casually inserted her debit card into the ATM. It was declined. She turned around and mouthed a definitive, No to McCauley who stood across the lobby.
“Try another,” McCauley implored. Four more credit cards; two from Citibank, one Barclays, and one American Express. Four more declined.
She rejoined McCauley. “What are we going to do?” she asked.
“I’ve got 250 dollars and my Yale card. But it’s only a matter of time before that gets shut down. What about you?”
She checked her wallet. “I have 440 US dollars and 300 in British pounds. We sure can’t buy airline tickets with cash.”
“Right, but it’s good for a cab downtown to the Los Angeles County Natural History Museum.”
“What for?
“To see a friend.”
The ride from Hertz was ninety-five dollars; with tip, $115. That left McCauley with only $135. He hoped his unannounced visit would pay off.
“Ever been here?” he asked Katrina.
“No. Remember, I’ve got the Natural History Museum in London. Hard to top that.”
“Oh, I think you’ll be impressed,” he offered.
“Do they have a children’s program where you can sleep with the dinosaurs?” she asked. “I’ve taken friends’ kids to the London program.”
“Don’t know if they do. They have a knockout exhibit with three Tyrannosaurus rex showing their growth spurts. There’s a two year old baby, a thirteen year old juvenile, and a fully-grown seventeen year old that’s seventy percent complete. They named it Thomas.”
“How cute. Like the engine.”
“Like a thirty-four foot long, 7,000 pound engine that tore through Southeastern Montana,” he replied.
McCauley automatically looked around to see if they were being followed. He’d done the same thing during the cab drive. It looked safe now; however he wanted to speed them along. He took Katrina’s hand. “Let’s hope my friend fondly remembers me.”
“Why fondly?”
“I gave her an incredibly hard time when I was a teaching assistant at Harvard. Probably harder than anyone I’ve ever had. But I saw great potential and I drove her in her studies, on an expedition, and right through her PhD.”
“Sounds like an evolutionary tale.”
“Yes. She’s now curator and director of the Dinosaur Institute.”
“Maybe you should go in alone. I mean, that way you two can get caught up.”
McCauley closed his eyes and let out a chuckle.
“Oh, no. You’re coming with me. Dr. Marli Bellamy is way tougher than Thomas ever was. When I said, ‘fondly,’ I meant that I hope she’ll take pity on us and not bite my head off since I gave her such a hard time.”
“Marli, great to see you!” Quinn exclaimed the moment Dr. Bellamy greeted them in Dinosaur Hall.
“Not a problem. Well, not yet. Depends,” said the museum’s resident paleontologist. She was a beautiful, statuesque brunette with a pronounced New England Brahmin accent. She could have passed for a young Katherine Hepburn, especially in her black pantsuit, white blouse and red scarf.
“You’ve done a great job here,” McCauley continued. “I’ve read about your new exhibits and how you’ve increased membership and traffic. Impressive in this day and age.”
“Well, fortunately, some kids still get excited about dinosaurs. But it’s a struggle. So, throughout the year we run all night dino-snoozes, patterned after what London’s done.”
Katrina gave McCauley a smart-ass grin.
“What?” Dr. Bellamy said, gauging Katrina’s obvious reaction.
McCauley jumped back in, wrestling control. “Dr. Bellamy, meet Dr. Alpert, from Cambridge University. She was just filling me in on the program in England.”
The women exchanged handshakes.
“Nice to meet you. You wouldn’t be Dr. Katrina Alpert?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve read your work on the South Africa expeditions. Very impressive.” Bellamy turned to McCauley. “And I see you’ve upped the company you keep.”
“Thank you, Marli.”
Katrina mouthed the word fondly as a joke.
“Want a tour?”
“Sure. We can walk and talk.”
For the next ten minutes they toured the fourteen thousand square foot space known as Dinosaur Hall. The LA Natural History Museum, under Dr. Bellamy’s supervision, had expanded the collection of fossils and dinosaurs. Marli Bellamy had lived up to her potential.
“So, can I assume you haven’t come to tell me you’re finally giving me the grade I deserved?”
“You assume right.”
“What a shame. You robbed me.”
“You didn’t deserve an A.”
“Maybe so,” Bellamy laughed. “You made me work for everything.”
“That was my job. But maybe I have a way for you to earn that grade after all.”
“Oh?”
“We need five thousand dollars,” he said without hesitation. “Call it a loan.”
“What?” Bellamy exclaimed.
“Ten thousand,” Katrina interrupted. “We’ll need ten thousand dollars.”
“Why?”
Even McCauley was surprised.
“There are two of us,” she whispered, hitting him on his side.
“How about we explain in your office.”
Money was no issue for the three men at the abandoned Air Force base. All the resources necessary had been deposited in their accounts. Moreover, they were on schedule, each working on separate parts of the mission.
Three men. Hardcore military types with three different accents. They all went by first names only. Not their own. They were motivated by two things — duty and money. Though in the privacy of their own thoughts, it was probably only one.
Franklin, Winston, and Conrad. An American, a Brit, and a German. They’d worked together before. Mostly in silence, as they did now. It’s what they preferred, what the rules required. They only spoke to get the job done.
Franklin, the American, did not discuss the last assignment he’d remotely overseen. To his mind it had been botched by an aide. The target survived and two collateral subjects got in the way. Without orders, his field man pursued them until it was necessary to break off. Franklin was pissed, but he couldn’t be in two places at the same time. He figured he’d have opportunity to clean up the mess, if and when the order came.
The American stood six foot five. He’d been trained by the Marines and went rogue after being approached by a recruiter who offered a much more lucrative life without a tax bite.
Winston had a somewhat different story. He’d been an SAS officer who concluded that his country, like much of Europe, was losing its cultural identity and religious heritage to Muslim immigrants. When the offer came to the prematurely graying special forces operative, he jumped at the opportunity. Of the three, he was more inclined to truly believe in the cause.
Conrad was the shortest, the angriest, and possibly the deadliest of the bunch. Five-seven, scarred and bald. He wasn’t pretty to look at, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t even remember how many people he’d killed: men and women, politicians, spies, clergy, explorers, reporters, former partners. They were all the same. Nothing to get weepy about. Merely assignments and targets.