Hawke and Kim exchanged a glance — that was them told.
Melissa opened a door leading to the archives and after shuffling down a short series of steps they reached a locked room. The curator deftly turned the key in the lock and then opened the door. They were met with the smell of musty books. “It’s right here in this case.”
She opened the case and revealed what Hawke and Kim had both expected — a worn-out, battered-looking old manuscript with a hefty leather cover, crumbling at the edges. On its front cover was a bevelled Celtic triptych, scuffed and worn and showing its incredible age.
The former commando stared at the manuscript and was massively unimpressed. It wasn’t much bigger than a hardback and appeared to be in three parts, held together with twine. “That’s it?”
“But of course,” Melissa said. “Why do you ask?”
“Looks like a manky old pile of newspaper.”
Melissa Miller’s eyebrows did the talking but then Kim stepped in. “We’re very grateful for this, Dr Miller, and I think it looks absolutely amazing. To think of all that history!”
Melissa looked down her nose at Kim Taylor. “Quite.”
“I thought it was the Book of Gold,” Hawke said, not the Books of Gold. Why are there three of them?”
“It’s a triad. It was written in three parts over many years, but sadly some of the final section has been lost to history.” she said. “Now, as I understand it you wish to view this manuscript before it goes on display here at the museum.” She looked at Kim. “Are you an academic researcher of some kind?”
“No, I’m not.”
Melissa looked Hawke up and down, dwelling for a moment on his scuffed boots. “I presume you’re not either then?”
“Not exactly…”
“Please don’t be offended,” she said haughtily.
“Offended?” Hawke said cheerily. “Hardly, I’d have been offended if you had presumed I was an academic.”
“Well, I…”
Hawke broke in before she could finish her sentence. “But I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. We’re not here simply to view the manuscript, but to make an offer to purchase it from the museum.”
“Oh goodness, no,” she said. It was the longest ‘no’ Hawke had ever heard. “This isn’t for sale to the… public.”
“You might be pleasantly surprised by the price we can offer,” he said.
“No, I’m afraid it’s not for sale.”
As she spoke, Kim picked up the manuscript and instantly all three books fell apart from one another. “I’m so sorry!” Kim picked one of them up and held it in her hands.
“My goodness, what have you done?” Dr Miller said, fussing around and picking up the other two books. I’m going to have to ask you to leave or…”
Hawke heard the sound of gunfire coming from above them in the museum. He looked from Kim to a terrified Melissa Miller. “I know you want us to leave but setting armed gunmen on us is a bit over the top, don’t you think?”
“What’s going on?” Melissa said, clutching the manuscripts to her chest and starting to hyperventilate. “Is this some kind of robbery?”
“Looks that way,” Kim said. “I’d bet my last dollar on them wanting that manuscript as well.”
“Over my dead body!” she snapped.
“This way,” Hawke said. “We’re fish in a barrel while we’re down here in the archives.”
Kim, who was still holding one crumbling part of the manuscript in her hands, nodded in agreement.
Hawke moved to the door and after checking it was clear they jogged up the steps and returned to the main museum. The first thing he saw was a security guard across the lobby raising his handgun and ordering the attackers to lower their guns. Their response was to open fire on him with what sounded like at least three automatic weapons and perforate him like a teabag. His shredded body slammed back into the front desk and slid down into a bloody heap on the floor.
“Richards!” Melissa screamed. “Oh my God!”
She dashed over to him with the manuscripts still clutched against her body.
“Get down!” Hawke yelled.
Diving down beside the guard, Melissa tried pathetically to revive him, but Hawke and Kim had both seen enough gunshot wounds to know he’d have been dead before he hit the deck.
“She’s got the Book of Gold!” one of the men yelled, and pointed at Melissa.
Hawke saw the man first — slicked-back, black hair, a lean, tanned face, aquiline nose and dark eyes like sparkling, polished obsidian. He was holding a Beretta M12 submachine gun and without giving any warning he fired on the museum curator.
“No!” Kim shouted.
The rounds tore Melissa Miller to pieces and she released the mansucripts before collapsing on top of them. Before either Hawke or Kim could move, the man with the submachine gun ordered two more men forward. One of them booted the curator’s dead body over while the other snatched up the bloodied manuscripts. The man with the M12 fired short bursts over their heads to keep Hawke and Kim pinned down in the archive room stairwell.
“Who are they?” Kim said.
“Hard to tell,” Hawke said. “The M12s are used by over twenty countries, including the US.”
Another guard ran forward and fired on the gunmen. He killed one of them before the others turned their guns on him. The guard was faster than his colleague and returned fire while diving for cover behind the front desk. The robbers’ bullets streaked along his right leg just as he vanished behind the desk.
Hawke pointed at the gunmen. “Heads up — they’re pulling out!”
The men blasted a hole in a large window at the front of the museum and leaped through it. After jogging down the steps leading to the street they turned north and started to sprint away from the destruction.
Kim, who was still holding the first section of the ancient text in her hands, gave Hawke a concerned glance. “They have the other two parts of the manuscript, Joe!”
“In that case it looks like the chase is on!” he said.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Are you crazy?” Kim said. She stared at the dead bodies strewn over the museum lobby before facing the Englishman. The wounded guard behind the desk called out for help. “Let the cops deal with it, Joe!”
“I don’t think so. This was no ordinary museum robbery — those guys wanted the manuscript specifically and they killed to get it.”
“So you’re just going to chase them all over Boston?”
Hawke looked at her like she was insane. “Of course.”
She shook her head. “Do you even know the city?”
“Of course not, but that’s never stopped me before,” he said, snatching up the dead guard’s gun. “You stay here. Keep those papers safe, help the wounded guard and try and keep this thing quiet if you can. I’m going to make sure those bastards don’t slip away.”
“Just hang on a minute, Hawke. You heard what the President said back in the Oval Office. While we’re in the US, I’m the ranking officer in charge of… dammit!”
Before she finished her sentence he was gone. He knew this was definitely what President Brooke meant by maverick bullshit but he had no choice. Checking the guard’s gun as he charged out of the museum, he emerged into a flat day of low, gray cloud and a thin drizzle. The subdued hum of late morning traffic drifted on the air. Buses and cars shuffled forward in the rain.
He scanned the scene for any sign of the men, and then caught sight of three of them as they weaved in between some buses. Their next move was to dart behind the enormous IMAX theatre.