So who else? Simonton? The police had spent the morning searching his home and office, boats, car. Will had heard nothing back. Simonton was big; he had the necessary strength. If not Simonton, then…Dirk Manning? No. Manning was in decent shape for his age, but he was in his late seventies. Not as old as Austin Miller, but not young enough to take down a guard in the prime of life.

It suddenly occurred to him that many people could be excellent actors. And there’d been a great deal of knowledge about the ship and Egyptology associated with recent events….

He stepped on the gas, anxious to reach the center.

When he got to the entrance, he saw that a police car was stationed in front, just as it was supposed to be. He should have felt at ease.

But as he got out of his car and approached the entrance, he felt the chill of fear. Before going in, he called Logan’s number.

“Get over here, please,” he said quietly.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.

“We’ve been missing one suspect all along.”

* * *

Kat saw the figure bending over the sarcophagus of Amun Mopat that lay on the steel table. At first it was impossible to tell who it was; the person was dressed in a bunny suit, gloves, booties, hair cover and mask.

After everything that had gone on here, Kat figured a clean suit was probably pointless and she wasn’t going to bother with one herself. Fingers curled around her Glock, she moved through the different layers of plastic, walking into the clean room.

The figure looked up at her. She recognized Jon Hunt.

“Hi,” he said. Then he frowned. “What are you doing here without a suit on?”

“What are you doing here, period?” Kat asked him.

“Working. I work here,” he said.

“Jon, I thought you were taking time off. You were a mess after we found Amanda.”

“I was, yes. But work is good therapy. And when I was at home, I remembered that we never lifted the mask—or examined the mummy.”

“Jon, Amanda was found dead in the sarcophagus. It’s still considered evidence,” Kat said.

Jon walked around the sarcophagus, looking down at the death mask and the mummy. He seemed especially intrigued. She couldn’t see what had so thoroughly attracted his attention, but he seemed protective.

“You don’t understand. The scepter is here somewhere. Everything hinges on the scepter. There’s some kind of power in the crystal head. Men bowed down before the priest because of the scepter.”

“They bowed down before him because otherwise he could have them killed,” Kat said. “Look, it was the way they governed. Jon, I’m shocked that you—a scientist—can put that kind of belief in an object. Anyway, you’re not supposed to be here,” Kat told him. “The place is closed until the deaths are solved.”

“No, I can be here, but you shouldn’t,” he said. “I have to find the scepter. I will find the scepter.”

The deaths of his colleagues seem to have unhinged him, Kat thought.

“Jon, the scepter isn’t in the sarcophagus with the mummy. The divers found it today.”

“What?” he asked, spinning to face her.

“I just talked to Agent Chan. He and two other agents were down with the film crew. They believe they’ve brought up the scepter.”

He stared at her in horror. “No!” he said.

She holstered her Glock, walking over to him. “Jon, you need to go home. You need to get some rest. You need—”

She broke off; she had reached the sarcophagus and she saw what had attracted his interest.

Jane.

Jane lay in the sarcophagus just as Amanda had, arms crossed over her chest.

Kat sprang into motion, terrified that she wouldn’t find her friend’s pulse, but when she pressed her fingers to Jane’s throat, she felt the beat of her heart. She stared at Jon. “What in God’s name—help me! Help me get her out of here!”

Jon stepped back. Kat ignored him and reached in for Jane, trying to discern what had made her lose consciousness. She had to get an ambulance quickly. Watching Jon, she searched for her cell phone, but she’d left it on the desk in Amanda’s office.

She struggled with Jane’s body, getting her out of the sarcophagus and onto the floor, then stood, realizing that Jon’s mind was far gone. She leveled the gun on him. “Jon, move away from Jane and the sarcophagus. Give me your cell phone.”

He looked back at her, a puzzled expression on his face. She shook her head. “You didn’t kill Brady Laurie, did you? It couldn’t have been you or Amanda, because you were the ones who were supposed to discover him. But, Jon, you did dress up as a mummy, didn’t you? You caused Austin Miller’s heart attack, and you caused the guard to shoot himself. Did you kill Amanda? Or did Sherry Bertelli do it?”

Jon smiled at her. “You don’t understand. I’ve read everything there is, and if you know the proper rites and incantations and you possess the scepter, you can rule the world.”

“Give me your cell phone,” she said again.

Jon stood there smiling at her. She realized that he was looking past her, and there was someone else with them.

Kat didn’t turn around. “Sherry, welcome to this little truth-telling get-together,” she said. “By the way, it’s over. The police are coming for you.”

“You bitch!” Sherry screamed. “How the hell—never mind. Drop the gun. Do it now, or I’ll shoot you in the back.”

“I can shoot Jon, you know,” Kat said.

“That’s fine,” Sherry told her.

“Sherry!” Jon protested.

“Oh, quit whining, will you?” Sherry snapped. “She isn’t going to shoot you in cold blood. You’re not even armed.”

“I’d be careful, Sherry. If I’m in danger, I just might shoot Jon. And don’t forget—you’ve already turned him into a killer. He could turn on you.”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m the killer,” Sherry said. Her voice was like ice. “I watched people. I studied people. I knew their habits and schedules. I climbed up the wall and walked right through those open doors and into his office and gave that old bastard Austin Miller the scare of his life. When he went to get his pills, I smacked them right out of his hand. Actually, I didn’t mean to lose any mummy wrapping there, but that happened when I was climbing back over the wall—when I dropped that statue. I was going to plant it in Landry’s office…oh, well. I did mean to lose some of the mummy wrapping when you two were in the hotel that night, because I wanted to warn you that you’d be dead real fast if you messed around with Laurie’s death. Do you know how easy it is to get false identification and dress up as someone else and check into a hotel? Of course, I wanted to do more.” She shrugged. “You didn’t totally suck as an agent.”

“Wow, thanks. What about Brady Laurie? He did die from drowning. He was just helped. But that wasn’t you, was it? You’re not that good a diver,” Kat said.

“I’m good enough,” Sherry insisted. “But, no. Landry was so easy to manipulate. He wanted the salvage rights on that dive.”

“So, do I understand this correctly? Landry came at Brady with some kind of weapon. He scared him half to death, then held Brady, tore his regulator from him and kept him down there until he drowned?”

“Something like that. I wasn’t there,” Sherry said. “I was waiting for him on the boat. I’d already become friends with Amanda. Good friends. The best of friends. She called me for everything. What a loser. She didn’t have any real friends, big surprise, and, of course, she was so obnoxious it sure could look like she was guilty of everything. Ah, well, information. That’s what I got from Amanda. Silly, naive, pathetic woman! She thought everyone just loved history! She fell for everything I said. Obviously. In case you were wondering, we ate here, and I dropped lobster pieces into her salad. I knew she’d have a severe reaction. Happened almost immediately. And no one knew she’d been with me.”

“Oh, someone out there saw you. Someone will always see you.”

“But I was in disguise,” Sherry told her. “I told Amanda I liked to dress up—that I’d be on stage one day. She totally believed me.”

“Every move you make, you give something away. You leave something behind.”

“Yes, well, prove it. Oh! You aren’t doing very well with that, are you?” Sherry taunted.

“Let’s see, you pulled all those histrionics at the Sand Diggers’ mansion to look like an innocent woman in terror of the mummy.”

“I did look like a terrified victim, didn’t I?” Sherry asked, preening a bit. “Maybe I should go on stage. I was really good.”

“Only to those who enjoy overacting.” Kat rolled her eyes.

“Ha-ha. Very clever. Now drop the gun or I’ll shoot you,” Sherry said. “Put it down and kick it to me.”

“But if I drop the gun, Sherry, you’ll shoot me in the back.”

“Well, how about if I shoot your friend in the heart?”

Kat could hear her coming closer. She spun around, aiming at her. “So, which of us is the better shot?” she asked. “I’ve had extensive training.”

“I won’t aim for you. I’ll aim for concussion girl on the floor.”

“It’s over. The cops are onto you, Sherry,” Kat said.

Sherry stared at her, still pretending absolute assurance. But she hesitated; she had to know that Kat had training and that she was a crack shot.

Kat heard Jon move behind her just a second too late. Something suddenly hit her in the head. Turning slightly before the lights seemed to go out, she saw that Jon had wrenched the precious death mask from the mummy.

And that he had slammed it over her head.

She managed to squeeze the trigger on her Glock as she went down, and she thought she heard Sherry cry out in rage and pain.