The Midnight Watch: A Sigma Force Short Story Read Free

across the Mall from the Castle, the circuitous route was further complicated by an ongoing construction project to restore the Mall’s ragged turf, which had turned this section of parkland and fields into towering piles of dirt and rock.
    Jason hung up. “The director managed to convince DC Metro that it was a false alarm, blaming an electrical surge from the neighboring construction project. But such a ruse will only buy us a narrow window of time.”
    Kowalski gave a shake of his head. He had to hand it to the director. Painter was a master puppeteer when it came to pulling the strings around Washington.
    Jason added, “We’ve also got clearance to enter the museum through an entrance on the northwest side. It’s located—”
    Kowalski cut him off. “I know where it’s at.”
    He had sometimes used that entrance to reach Elizabeth’s office. It was the most direct route, bypassing the tumult of the main entrance and its flock of tourists. When the dump truck turned onto Madison, Kowalski finally got clear of it and sped up, reaching the parking lot on the western side of the museum.
    He raced across the empty lot and skidded to a hard stop near the entrance. They both tumbled out and ran for the door. Jason’s head swiveled from side to side, watching for any sign of the enemy. Someone had set off that alarm. But did that mean they were already inside, or had they merely tripped the alarm to flush their quarry out into the open?
    Only one way to find out.
    Jason reached the entrance first and swiped a black card with a holographic Σ embossed on one side through an electronic reader. The door unlocked with a loud click of its dead bolt. Jason began to open the door, but Kowalski moved him aside and led the way with his Desert Eagle. He entered a nondescript anteroom with a door ahead that opened onto the main levels of the museum. The mouth of a dark stairwell yawned on his left.
    “Where is this doctor?” Kowalski asked as Jason followed him inside.
    “The alarm was triggered from a first-floor window on the building’s north side.” He pointed in that general direction. “To keep her well away from that spot, we told her to hole up in Dr. Polk’s old office in the basement.”
    Kowalski glanced sharply back at the kid. “Elizabeth’s old place?”
    Why send her to my ex’s office?
    “We knew Dr. Polk’s room was empty. The director also chose the rendezvous because you are familiar with the surrounding area. In case we run into trouble.”
    Great . . . I’m really beginning to hate this place.
    With a sigh, Kowalski led Jason to the stairwell and headed down. The steps ended at a maze of narrow passageways that spread under the museum. The way forward was dimly lit with the crimson glow of emergency lights. It was one of the oldest sections of the building, barely touched during the periodic renovations of the public spaces. Beneath their boots, the old marble floors had been honed to a lustrous sheen by decades of shuffling feet. Wooden doors with frosted glass windows lined either side, each pane etched with scholarly enterprises: E NTOMOLOGY, M INERA L S CIENCES, V ERTEBRA TE Z OOLOGY, B OTANY.
    Kowalski knew the path to Elizabeth’s office all too well. Memories flickered in the shadows of his mind as he tried to concentrate, to listen for any sign of threat. He remembered picnicking with Elizabeth in her office, hearing her laugh, basking in her smiles. He remembered the two of them stealing away into the old steam tunnels beneath the museum to smoke cigars, which even she partook of on occasion. He also remembered other midnight hours, he dozing on her couch while she finished cataloging a new shipment from Greece or Italy, other times when they were engaged in less studious pursuits, wrapped in each other’s arms. He felt his blood stirring at those last thoughts and pushed them down—deep down.
    Now was not the time.
    Still, he could not escape darker memories, of those times when his