Chapter 32 Section 31

In the curator's office, Mrs. Lavinia Rickman sat in a burgundy leather armchair. The room was dead silent.The glass of the tower is so thick that the sound of cars three floors down cannot penetrate at all.Wright sat at the desk, which was extremely small against the exaggeratedly wide mahogany desktop.Reynolds' portrait of the museum's founder, Ridley A. Davis, overlooks the crowd behind Wright. Dr. Ian Cuthbert sat on a sofa against the opposite wall of the room.He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his tartan suit hanging loosely on his thin body.Cuthbert frowned. He usually lacked a sense of humor and was irritable. This afternoon, he was even more serious.

Finally, Wright broke the silence. "He's already called twice this afternoon," the curator said gruffly to Cuthbert. "I can't hide from him forever. Keep denying him access to those crates, and sooner or later he'll have to complain." , and may even drag Mbawang into the water. There will definitely be criticism at that time." Cuthbert nodded: "Just don't make trouble now, let him do whatever he wants later. When the grand exhibition opens, it will start normal operations, receive 40,000 visitors a day, and all the journals will promote it for us. Then let him make a fuss all over the city." "

Another long silence. "Although I don't want to be heartless," Cuthbert said after a long pause, "but, Winston, don't you hope to increase the number of visitors? When the dust settles, your wish will come true. Rumors of curses may be annoying now, but when museums are safe again, who wouldn't want to hear the gossip and experience the thrill of being in their shoes? Everyone will want to go in and see it for themselves. It's good for business. Honestly , Winston, we couldn't have done better if we had arranged it ourselves." Wright frowned at the deputy curator, "Curse the rumors. Maybe it's true. Look, the disaster has followed that ugly statuette halfway around the world." He sneered darkly twice.

"You're not serious, are you?" Cuthbert said. "Let me tell you what I'm serious about," Wright said angrily. "Don't let me hear you say that again. Flock has a lot of respectable friends. If he starts complaining to them... well, you Knowing how rumors are born and spread. They'll think you're withholding information, they'll think you're expecting the murders to flood the show. Is that going to do our public image any favors?" "I agree," Cuthbert sneered, "but I must also remind you that if the exhibition does not open as scheduled, everything will become an academic discussion. We must control Flock. He has already started to find helpers to do it for him Dirty job, one of his men tried to sneak into secure holding less than an hour ago."

"Who?" Wright asked. "The guard didn't figure it out," Cuthbert replied, "just remembered the guy's name—Bill." "Bill?" Rickman sat up. "Yes, it should be the name." Cuthbert turned to face the PR director, "Isn't that the name of the reporter who wrote the book for Dazhan? He is your man, right? Can you control him? I heard that he is asking around. " "It's 100% under control," Rickman said with a very happy smile. "I did have friction with him, but he's submissive now. As I always say, if you control the source of the news, you can control it." reporter."

"Submissive?" Wright said. "Then why did you email the world this morning to remind them not to talk to strangers?" Rickman immediately raised a nail-painted hand. "I'll take care of him." "You've got to keep him under control," Cuthbert said. "Lavinia, you've been in this clique since the beginning. I'm sure you don't want your reporters digging out some dirty panties." Inside There was a hissing static from the intercom system, and a voice said, "Mr. Pendergast please see me." "Tell him to come in," Wright replied, then looked at the others sullenly and said, "Let's talk about this first."

Pendergast appeared at the door, newspaper under his arm, and squatted for a moment. "My God, what a fascinating scene," he said, "Dr. Wright, thank you for seeing me again. Dr. Cuthbert, it is always a pleasure to see you. As for this lady, you are Lavinia Rickman, right?" "Yes." Rickman smiled cautiously. "Mr. Pendergast," Wright squeezed out a polite smile, "please sit down wherever you want." "Thank you, Doctor, but I'd rather stand." Pendergast walked to the huge fireplace, folded his arms, and leaned on the mantelpiece.

"Are you here to report progress? Surely the meeting was called to tell us that the police have arrested the criminal?" "No," replied Pendergast. "I am very sorry that no arrests have been made. To tell the truth, Dr. Wright, we are making slow progress. Not as much as Mrs. Rickman has told the papers." He showed everyone the headline on the front page of the newspaper: "Museum monster" murder case solved soon.It was momentarily cold in the room.Pendergast folded up the newspaper and placed it lightly on the mantelpiece. "What went wrong?" Wright asked. "I don't understand why it took so long."

"There's a lot going on, and you're probably aware of it," Pendergast said, "but I'm not here to give a briefing. Suffice it to say there's a dangerous serial killer hanging around the museum. There's no reason to believe he'll Stop the killing. As far as we know, he only kills at night. In other words, after 5pm. As Special Agent in charge of the investigation, I regret to inform you that the curfew that has been put in place will be enforced until the murderer Until captured. No exceptions." "Opening ceremony..." Rickman wailed. "The opening has to be postponed. Maybe a week, maybe a month. I'm sorry, I can't guarantee anything. I'm very sorry."

Wright stood up, his face pale: "You said that if there are no more murders, the opening ceremony can be held as scheduled. That is an agreement between you and me." "Doctor, I have not reached an agreement with you," Pendergast said indifferently, "I'm sorry, but we are no closer to capturing the murderer than on the first day of this week." He gestured to the newspaper on the mantelpiece, "This is The kind of headlines that lull people into ignorance. The opening ceremony is likely to be overcrowded. Thousands of people, entering the museum after dark..." He shook his head. "I have no choice."

Wright stared at the detective with a look of disbelief, "Because of your incompetence, you dare to ask us to postpone the opening and cause irreparable damage to the museum? My answer is no." Unmoved, Pendergast walked to the middle of the room. "I'm sorry, Dr. Wright, but I seem to have misunderstood my words. I'm not here to ask for your permission, but to inform me of my decision." "Very well," the curator replied, with a trembling voice, "I see. You can't do your own thing well, but you still want to tell me what to do. Do you understand what delaying the opening means for the exhibition? Knowing that you are asking What kind of signal does the public send? Tell you, Pendergast, I won't allow it." Pendergast stared straight at Wright: "Any unauthorized individual present in the venue after five o'clock will be immediately arrested and charged with trespassing. This is a minor crime. Two violations will be charged with obstruction of justice, which is a felony. Mr. Wright, believe me I have made it clear enough?" "The only thing that is clear now is that the door is over there," Wright's voice became louder and louder, "The door is open, please go ahead." Pendergast nodded: "Gentlemen and Madam, goodbye." He turned around and walked out of the room without a sound. Quietly closing the door, Pendergast stood for a moment in the curator's outer office, and then recited to the door: Therefore, I have been blamed, but I am satisfied; because of misfortune, I have obtained the infinite happiness of the past. Wright's executive secretary, who was chewing bubble gum, paused to ask Pendergast, "What?" "Nothing, Shakespeare," replied Pendergast, heading for the elevator. In the room, Wright grabbed the phone with trembling hands. "What's the matter?" Cuthbert raged. "There's no way a bloody cop would kick us out of our own museum!" "Cusbert, be quiet," Wright ordered, and then into the receiver, "Get me to Albany, quick." The operator asked him to wait, and the room fell silent.Wright's gaze shifted from the receiver to Cuthbert and Rickman, trying to control his heavy breathing. "I'm going to pay my friend back," he said, "to see who's more capable, a born idiot from some Delta region, or the curator of the largest natural history museum in the world."

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