I looked at Frank incredulously. Sure. I knew the guy was smart. I knew he had an eidetic memory. I knew that in the fifteen or so years we’d worked together I’d never stumped him with any of my esoteric, only-the-gods-could-possibly-know questions. But this was too much.
"How in hell could you possibly know the difference between Aztec and Mayan writing, you big goof. And don't tell me you read it in a book, or I swear to god I'm gonna hit you with that lamp over there!"
Frank stood beside me, the corners of his lips twitching, and shrugged his shoulders as he looked me straight in the eye.
"I read a book," he said dryly.
I reached for the lamp—but stopped in mid motion when something behind us and to our left thumped loudly on a closed door. We pulled our weapons from our shoulder ho
