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mber seeing these totem poles。 Maybe the dinosaurs were through the next door。 But that led only to the boring Hall of Pacific Peoples； full of jades and ivories and silks and bronze statues。
〃Now look what you did；〃 said Billy。
〃What？〃
〃You made me get lost； that's what；〃 said Billy。
〃Mommy's gonna be real mad；〃 the kid said。
Billy snorted。 They weren't supposed to meet his parents until closing time； on the big front steps。 He'd find his way out； no problem。
They wound through several more dusty rooms； down a narrow flight of stairs； and into a long dim hall。 Thousands of little stuffed birds lined the walls from floor to ceiling； white cotton poking out of sightless eyes。 The hall was empty and smelled of mothballs。
〃I know where we are；〃 said Billy； hopefully； peering into the dimness。
The kid started to snuffle。
〃Shut up；〃 said Billy。 The snuffling stopped。
The hall took a sharp dogleg； ending in a darkened cul…de…sac full of dust and empty display cases。 There were no visible exits except back through the hall of dead birds。 The footfalls of the children echoed hollowly； far from the other Sunday tourists。 Against the far side of the chamber stood a rolling barricade of canvas and wood； pretending unsuccessfully to be a wall。 Letting go of his brother's hand； Billy walked up and peered behind the barricade。
〃I been here before；〃 he said confidently。 〃They've closed this place off； but it was open last time。 I bet we're right below the dinosaurs。 Lemme just see if there's a way up。〃
〃You're not supposed to go back there；〃 the kid brother warned。
〃Listen； stupid； I'm going。 And you'd better wait。〃 Billy ducked behind the barricade； and a few moments later the kid heard the squeal of metal as a door was pulled open。
〃Hey！〃 came Billy's voice。 〃There's a spiral staircase here。 It only goes down； but it's cool。 I'm gonna try it out。〃
〃Don't！ Billy！〃 the kid cried； but the only answer was retreating footsteps。
The kid started to bawl； his thin voice rising in the gloom of the hall。 After a few minutes he fell to hiccupping； sniffed loudly； and sat down on the floor。 He started pulling on a little flap of rubber that was ing off the toe of his sneaker； working it loose。
Suddenly； he looked up。 The hall was silent and airless。 The lights in the cases threw black shadows on the floor。 A forced…air duct thumped and began to rumble somewhere。 Billy was gone for real now。 The kid started to cry again； louder this time。
Maybe it would be okay if he followed Billy。 Maybe it wasn't such a scary thing after all。 Maybe Billy had gone ahead and found his parents； and they were waiting for him； there on the other side。 But he had to hurry。 The Museum was probably closed by now。
He stood up and slipped behind the partition。 The hall continued on； the cases filled with the dust and mold of long…neglected exhibits。 An ancient metal door on one side of the hall was slightly ajar。
The kid walked up to it and peered in。 Behind the door was the top landing of a narrow spiral staircase that circled downward out of sight。 It was even dustier here； and there was a strange smell in the air that made his nose wrinkle。 He didn't want to stand on those steps； at all。 But Billy was down there。
〃Billy！〃 he called。 〃Billy； e up！ Please！〃
In the cavernous gloom； his echoes were the only answer。 The child sniffled； then gripped the railing and began walking slowly down into darkness。
= 4 =
Monday
As Margo Green rounded the corner of West Seventy…second Street； the early morning sun struck her square in the face。 She looked down a minute； blinking； then； tossing her brown hair back； she crossed the street。 The New York Museum of Natural History loomed before her like an ancient fortress； its vast Beaux Arts facade climbing ponderously above a row of copper beeches。
Margo turned down the cobbled driveway that led to the staff entrance。 She walked past a loading dock and headed for the granite tunnel leading to the interior courtyards of the Museum。 Then she slowed； wary。 Flickering stripes of red light were painting the mouth of the tunnel in front of her。 At the far end； she could see ambulances； police cars； and an Emergency Services vehicle； all parked at random。
Margo entered the tunnel and walked toward a glass pillbox。 Normally； old Curly the guard would be dozing in his chair at this time of the morning； propped up against the pillbox corner； a blackened calabash pipe resting on his ample front。 But today he was awake and standing。 He slid the door open。 〃Morning； Doctor；〃 he said。 He called everyone 'doctor；' from graduate students to the Museum Director； whether they owned that title or not。
〃What's up？〃 Margo asked。
〃Don't know；〃 Curly said。 〃They just got here two minutes ago。 But I guess I'd better see your ID this time。〃
Margo rummaged in her carryall； wondering if she even had her ID。 It had been months since someone had asked to see it。 〃I'm not sure I've got it with me；〃 she said； annoyed that she hadn't cleaned her bag of last winter's detritus。 Her carryall had recently won 'messiest bag in the Museum' status from her friends in the Anthro Department。
The pillbox telephone rang； and Curly reached for it。 Margo found her ID and held it up to the window； but Curly ignored her； his eyes wide as he listened to the receiver。
He put it down without saying a word； his whole body rigidly at attention。
〃Well？〃 Margo asked。 〃What's happened？〃
Curly removed his pipe。 〃You don't want to know；〃 he said。
The phone rang again and Curly grabbed it。
Margo had never seen the guard move so quickly。 She shrugged； dropped the ID back in her bag； and walked on。 The next chapter of her dissertation was ing due； and she couldn't afford to lose a single day。 The week before had been a write…off…the service for her father； the formalities； the phone calls。 Now； she couldn't lose any more time。
Crossing the courtyard； she entered the Museum through the staff door； turned right； and hurried down a long basement corridor toward the Anthropology Department。 The various staff offices were dark； as they always were until nine…thirty or ten o'clock。
The corridor took an abrupt right angle； and she stopped。 A band of yellow plastic tape was stretched across the corridor。 Margo could make out the printing： NYPD CRIME SCENE…DO NOT CROSS。 Jimmy； a guard usually assigned to the Peruvian Gold Hall； was standing in front of the tape with Gregory Kawakita； a young Assistant Curator in the Evolutionary Biology Department。
〃What's going on here？〃 Margo asked。
〃Typical Museum efficiency；〃 Kawakita said with a wry smile。 〃We've been locked out。〃
〃Nobody's told me nothing； except to keep everyone out；〃 the guard said nervously。
〃Look；〃 Kawakìta said； 〃I'm giving a presentation to the NSF next week； and this day's going to be a long one。 Now； if you'll let me…〃
Jimmy looked unfortable。 〃I'm just doing my job； okay？〃
〃e on；〃 Margo said to Kawakita。 〃Let's get some coffee up in the lounge。 Maybe someone there will know what's going on。〃
〃First I want to hunt down a men's room； if I can find one that isn't sealed off；〃 Kawa