Chapter 48 Section 47

Standing at the long table with the hors d'oeuvres, Smithback could just see Wright dancing in front of the microphone as his speech boomed from the left speaker.Smithback didn't bother to listen because he knew with dismay that Rickman was sure to give him a typescript.Half an hour had passed since the speeches were finally over, and the crowd was thronging hopefully to the new exhibition, but Smithback was still standing, long forgotten.He looked down at the long table again, wondering whether to eat a fat and tender Gulf prawn or a small caviar pancake.He took five pancakes in one go and started to gobble them up.He noticed that the roe was gray and not salty at all—real sturgeon roe, not the vendace roe that got away at a publishing party.

With nothing to do anyway, he had another prawn, followed by a second, a big scoop of ceviche, three shortbread topped with capers and lemon, a few slices of paper As thin as raw Wagyu beef - no steak tartare can compare.Thank you, two sea urchin sushi are also good... His eyes swept over the exquisite meals on the fifty-foot-long table. He had never seen such a grand reception, and he didn't intend to miss any of them. The orchestra suddenly stopped playing, and almost at the same time, someone elbowed him hard in the side ribs. "Hello!" Smithback just wanted to yell, but when he raised his head, he found that the turbulent crowd of people pushing and yelling had engulfed him, knocked him against the long table where the meals were placed, and tried desperately to stand up. Straight, but slipped and fell to the ground, and quickly rolled under the table.He squatted up, watching countless feet rumbling past, the screams and the terrible muffled sound of people colliding with each other came from his ears.He caught a few words: "... corpse!" "... murder!" Did the murderer attack again in front of thousands of guests?impossible.

A black felt shoe with a frighteningly high heel rolled under the table and stopped against his nose.He pushed the shoe away in disgust, and found that there was still a small piece of shrimp in his hand, and threw it away.Things obviously happened too suddenly.The speed at which panic spreads is never surprising. The table jerked and slid out of place, and Smithback saw a large tray fall to the floor against the edge of the tablecloth.Biscotti and Camembert were flying around.He grabbed shortbread and cheese from the pleated tablecloth and stuffed them into his mouth.He watched as dozens of feet trampled a square of meat pie to a slime from twelve inches away.Another tray fell to the floor with a thud, spreading gray caviar all over the floor.

The lights dimmed a bit.Smithback put a tooth of cheese into his mouth, stopped biting, and suddenly realized that he was actually eating, and the most dramatic event that he had ever experienced in his life was happening in front of him.He reached for the miniature cassette recorder in his pocket, and the lights dimmed, then came on.Smithback pressed his mouth to the microphone and spoke at top speed, hoping the deafening din would not drown out his voice.Rickman, to hell.Everyone wants this story.He hoped that there were no other reporters attending the reception, even if there were, they were running away with their heads in their arms.

The lights flickered again. A down payment of 100,000 yuan, even a penny less is worthless.He was there, covering the story from the beginning.No one can challenge his priority. The light flashes a third time, then goes off. "Son of a bitch!" cried Smithback. "Who turned out the light?" Margot pushed Flock around another corner, and waited for Flock to call Pendergast.The cry echoed bleakly down the corridor. "It's getting hopeless," Flock exasperated. "There are several large storage rooms in this area. He may be in one of the storage rooms and can't hear us calling him. Try a few storage rooms, only This is the last solution." He grumbled and fumbled in his jacket pocket. "You must never forget to take this with you when you go out." He smiled and held up the master key of the researcher.

Margo opened the first door and looked into the dark depths. "Mr. Pendergast?" she called.Metal frames piled high with huge bones rose from the shadows.On a wooden pallet not far from the door, there are dinosaur skull fossils the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, part of which is still wrapped in gangue, and the black teeth are shining dimly. "Next room!" said Flock. The lights dimmed a bit. The second storage room was still unanswered. "Try again," Flock said, "the one across the hall." Margo stopped at the door marked "Pleistocene 12B" and noticed a door at the end of the corridor leading to a stairwell.She was about to open the storage room door when the lights flickered again.

"This is—" she began. Suddenly, there was a piercing explosion in the narrow corridor.Margo looked up, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from, and her heart beat faster—it seemed to be coming from a bend they hadn't checked yet. The lights went out. "Just a moment," Flock said, "the emergency backup system will kick in." Only the faint crackling of the building pierces the silence.A few seconds turned into a minute, then two minutes. Margo smelled a strange fishy smell, almost stench.She whimpered softly in despair, recalling the place where she smelled this smell last time: in the exhibition hall with no lights on.

"You—" she whispered. "Yes," said Flock through his teeth, "go in and lock the door." Margo, breathing heavily, fumbled for the door frame.As the smell became stronger, she called softly, "Dr. Flock? Can you follow my voice?" "There's no time," Flock whispered in the dark. "Go, leave me alone, and go into the room." "No," said Margot, "come slowly towards me." She heard the clatter of the wheelchair.The smell is overwhelming, like the smell of rotting swamp mud mixed with the sweet and cloying smell of warm raw beef.Margo heard a wet sniffling sound.

"Here I am," she whispered to Flock. "My God, come on." The darkness was unbearably heavy and suffocating.She retracted into the door frame, flat against the wall, suppressing the urge to escape. In the darkness, the wheelchair rattled and bumped against her leg.She grabbed the railing, dragged Flock through the door, turned and slammed the door shut, locked it, and collapsed, sobbing silently, shaking with it.Silence enveloped the room. There was a scratching sound from the door, soft at first, then louder and more urgent.Margo backed away, bumping her shoulder against the wheelchair.In the darkness, she felt Flock take her hand lightly.