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d said his name was Ven Stevens； and no one questioned it。 They wouldn't have believed a first name of Stevenson； anyway。
The setup had all the right ingredients。 He'd had plenty of practice in Miami； plenty of time to sharpen his instincts。 Those instincts paid off down here。 Deliberately； he spoke Portuguese badly； haltingly； so he could read eyes and gauge responses。 Ricon； junior assistant to the harbormaster； was the last link Ven had needed。
Ven was alerted when a shipment was ing in from upriver。 Usually he'd just be given two names： ining and outgoing。 He always knew what to look for； the boxes were always the same。 He'd see that they were safely off…loaded and stowed in the warehouse。 Then； he just made sure they were the last cargo loaded onto the designated freighter headed for the States。
Ven was naturally cautious。 He'd kept a close eye on the dock foreman。 Once or twice he'd had a feeling； like a warning bell in his brain； that the foreman suspected something。 But each time Ven had eased up a little； and in a few days the warning bell had gone away。
Now he checked his watch。 Eleven o'clock。 He heard a door opening； then closing； from around the corner。 Ven drew himself up against the wall。 Heavy footfalls sounded against wooden planking； then the familiar form passed under a streetlight。 When the footsteps receded； Ven peered around the corner。 The office was dark； deserted； as he knew it would be。 With a last glance； he edged around the corner of the building； onto the docks。
An empty backpack slapped damply against his shoulders with each step。 As he walked； Ven reached into a pocket； withdrew a key； and clenched it tightly。 That key was his lifeline。 Before he'd spent two days on the docks； he'd had an impression made of it。
Ven passed a small freighter berthed along the wharf； its heavy hawsers dripping black water onto rusted bitts。 The ship seemed deserted； not even a harbor watch on deck。 He slowed。 The warehouse door lay directly ahead； near the end of the main pier。 Ven glanced quickly over his shoulder。 Then； with a quick turn of his hand； he unlocked the metal door and slipped inside。
Pulling the door closed； he let his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness。 Halfway home。 He just had to finish up in here and get the hell out。
As soon as possible。 Because Ricon was growing greedy； cruzeiros running through his hands like water。 Last time； he'd made a crack about the size of his cut。 Just that morning； Ricon and the foreman had been talking fast and low； the foreman looking over at Ven。 Now； Ven's instincts told him to get away。
Inside； he saw the darkened warehouse resolve itself into a vague landscape of cargo containers and packing crates。 He couldn't chance a flashlight； but it didn't matter： he knew the layout well enough to walk it in his dreams。 He moved forward carefully； threading a path through the vast mountains of cargo。
At last； he saw the landmark he'd been waiting for： a battered…looking stack of crates； six large and one small； stacked in a forlorn corner。 Two of the larger crates were stenciled MNH； NEW YORK。
Months before； Ven had asked about these crates。 The quartermaster's boy had told him the story。 Seemed the crates had e downriver from P？rto de Mós the previous fall。 They'd been scheduled for air shipment to a New York museum； but something had happened to the people who'd made the arrangements…the apprentice couldn't say exactly what。 But payment hadn't e through in time； and now the crates were snarled in a mass of red tape； seemingly forgotten。
Except by Ven。 There was just enough room behind the forgotten crates for him to stash his shipments until the outgoing freighters were loading。
The warm night breeze came in from a broken window high in the wall； stirring the sweat on Ven's forehead。 He smiled in the darkness。 Just the other week； he'd learned that soon the crates would finally be shipped back to the States。 But he'd be long gone by then。
Now； he checked his own cache。 Just a single box this time； whose contents would fit nicely into the corners of his backpack。 He knew where the markets were and what to do。 And he'd be doing it…somewhere far away…very soon。
As he was about to squeeze behind the large crates； Ven stopped abruptly。 There was a strange odor here： something earthy； goatish； decaying。 A lot of odd cargoes had e through the port； but none smelling quite like this。
His instincts were going off five…alarm； yet he couldn't detect anything wrong or out of place。 He slid forward； between the Museum cargo and the wall。
He stopped again。 Something wasn't right back here。 Something wasn't right at all。
He heard； rather than saw； something moving in the cramped space。 The pungent odor welled forward； blanketing him with its rotten stench。 Suddenly； he was slammed against the wall with terrific force。 Pain exploded in his chest and gut。 He opened his mouth to scream； but something was boiling in his throat； and then a stab like lightning tore through his skull； leaving only darkness behind。
PART ONE
MUSEUM OF UNNATURAL MYSTERY
= 3 =
New York； Present Day
The red…haired kid was clambering onto the platform； calling his younger brother a chicken； reaching toward the elephant's foot。 Juan eyed him silently； easing himself forward just as the kid's hand touched the exhibit。
〃Yo！〃 Juan yelled； breaking into a trot。 〃Hey； no touching the elephants。〃 The boy looked scared and snatched back his hand； he was still at an age where a uniform impressed him。 Older ones…fifteen； sixteen…would give Juan the finger sometimes。 They knew he was only a museum guard。 Lousy fucking job。 One of these days he was going to finish that equivalency shit and take the police exam。
He watched suspiciously as red…hair and little brother walked around the cases in the darkened hall； looking at the stuffed lions。 At the case full of chimps； the boy started hooting and scratching under his arms； showing off for junior's benefit。 Where the hell were the parents？
Now Billy； the redhead； tugged his little brother into a chamber filled with African artifacts。 A row of masks with flat wooden teeth leered at them from a showcase。
〃Wow！〃 exclaimed Billy's kid brother。
〃That's dumb；〃 said Billy。 〃We're going to see the dinosaurs。〃
〃Where's Mommy？〃 said the kid； screwing his head around。
〃Aw； she got lost；〃 said Billy。 〃e on。〃
They began to move through a vast； echoing hall filled with totem poles。 At the far end； a woman holding a red flag was leading the final tour group of the day； her voice shrill。 To Billy's younger brother； the hall smelled faintly spooky； like smoke and old tree roots。 When the group disappeared around a corner； the hall fell silent。
The last time they had been there； Billy remembered； they had seen the biggest brontosaurus in the world； and a tyrannosaurus and a trachydent。 At least； that's what he thought it was called； a trachydent。 The teeth on the tyrannosaurus must have been ten feet long。 That was just about the greatest thing Billy had ever seen。 But he didn't remember seeing these totem poles。 Maybe the dinosaurs were through the next door。 But that led only to