AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Seichan drew closer.
Gray and his damned hunches...
Gray kept his focus on Kwong. “So Crawfurd was in Java with Raffles when Mount Tambora erupted in 1815.”
Kwong’s brow pinched in confusion. “I suppose he was. Though I can only imagine what that horrible event must have been like for the two men.”
Gray glanced at Seichan. “Let’s hope we only have to imagine it.”
2:09P.M.
Gray rose up in the elevator with Seichan and Dr. Kwong. The director tapped a keycard to allow the cage to access the five floors of the museum above the two public ones. They were headed into the working heart of the museum.
As the elevator climbed, Gray pondered the puzzle in his head. Had Raffles and Crawfurd discovered something during the Tambora eruption, a secret that Farquhar later uncovered and shared with his Chinese conspirators? Clearly whatever it was hadn’t made any sense at the time because Farquhar had never exposed what he had learned. Neither had the Chinese, but they were notoriously detailed recordkeepers. Some account could have been preserved over the passing two centuries. Whatever secret Raffles had kept, he had placed Dr. John Crawfurd, a trusted friend, to act as its steward, hiding it in a museum that would come to bear his name.
But what was so important that it required such secrecy?
The elevator door hissed open onto the third floor, and Kwong led them over to a door that also needed a keycard to open. As they stepped through, a sharp tang stung Gray’s nose. Ahead and spreading across the breadth of the museum were shelves upon shelves of glass specimen jars of various sizes.
Kwong drew them along the rows. “These first two private floorshold ourwetcollection, both vertebrate and invertebrate species, all suspended in ethanol.”
Gray now recognized the source of the tang in the air. They passed a researcher wearing a face shield, bent over a table. A coiled, striped snake had been freshly decanted from a bottle next to it. The specimen lay sprawled on a tray. A fume hood hummed over the workstation, but it failed to completely vacuum away the alcohol evaporating off the soaked specimen.
Kwong drew them to a shelf and stopped before a collection of tiny jars that looked far older than the others. The handwritten labels were faded and peeling. The bottles held a collection of tiny crabs, some no larger than a thumbnail.
“You showed interest in our museum’s history,” the curator said. “These crustaceans were collected by a Royal Navy ship—the HMSAlert—from a Singapore beach back in 1881. Yet, they look as fresh as the day they were caught.”
“Impressive.” Gray peered closer, then straightened to face Kwong. “How far back in age does your collection go?”
“That’s hard to say. In the early days of the museum, specimens were often donated by the public. They came from explorers and adventurers or were sold to the Singapore Institution by locals. Oftentimes with poor provenance. Confounding matters, many of the labels disintegrated long ago.”
Gray glanced back to Seichan, who trailed them. Her lips were sealed tight with distaste as she looked across the drowned collection.
Kwong led them onward to the far side where a door opened into a stairwell. They headed up again.
Gray climbed alongside the director. “In regard to those historical specimens, were any of them contributed by Stamford Raffles?”
“Of course. We have a few on display in the Heritage Gallery downstairs.”
“Yes, but none were dated as far back as the museum’s founding in 1823.”
“Ah, those treasures are kept in a locked vault.”
“Really? You still have them? I’d love to see them.”
“We can end the tour there if you’d like. The specimens inside are not of any real scientific importance. We have better examples in the greater collection. They’re simply locked up due to their age. So, I hope you’re not disappointed.”
Gray nodded.
Me, too.
When they reached the next floor, Kwong led them into a sprawling labyrinth of tall metal cabinets, all stacked tightly against one another, forming solid walls. Each cabinet had a steel wheel affixed to its end, which allowed it to be rolled right or left down a track.
Kwong waved as he passed along them. “This floor houses ourdrycollection. These compactors allow us to efficiently use the space, to store as many specimens as possible. The cabinets hold thousands of drying shelves where specimens are preserved.”
He continued past a room where several researchers bustled about, pinning insects to boards. One woman concentrated on delicately pinning and separating the legs of an arachnid the size of Gray’s palm. As they forged on, Kwong elaborated on the drying, freezing, and preservation methods for the specimens. Gray let him drone on, not wanting to press him too hard or risk raising warning bells by being too direct.
Still, time was running short.
