“Okay, alright,” Werner admitted it was a stupid question. “Can I use your phone? I have to get Sam Cleave to run a trace on my number.”
“Oh! I’m sorry, son. I do not have one of those. When you get upstairs, use Margaret’s phone to contact Sam. Then cause a genuine emergency. Say, fire.”
“Of course. Fire. Your thing,” Werner remarked.
Ignoring the younger man’s dig, Marduk explained the rest of the plan. “As soon as I hear the alarm I will unlock the keypad. Your captain will have no choice but to evacuate the building. He won’t have time to come down here. I’ll meet you and Margaret outside the base, so make sure you stick with her at all times.”
“Got it,” Werner said. “Margaret has Sam’s number?”
“They are, as they say, ‘trauchle twins’ or something of that sort,” Marduk frowned, “but in any event, yes, she has his number. Now go and do your thing. I shall wait for the signal of chaos.” There was a hint of a jest in his tone, but Werner’s face was filled with utmost focus for what he was about to endeavor.
Although Marduk and Werner had secured an alibi at the infirmary for taking so long, the discovery of the back-up circuit called for a new plan. Werner used it, however, to aid him in a believable story for when he should arrive at the office and find that Schmidt had already alerted security.
In the opposite direction from the corner where the Base Infirmary entrance was marked, Werner slipped into an administration archive room. Successful sabotage was imperative, not only for Marlene’s rescue, but for practically saving the world from another war.
In the small corridor just outside the bunker, Marduk waited for the alarm to go off. Agitated, he was tempted to attempt fiddling with the keypad, but he refrained from it to avoid getting Werner caught prematurely. Marduk had never thought the theft of the Babylonian Mask would cause this much open hostility. Usually he could manage to eradicate thieves of the mask quickly and surreptitiously, returning to Mosul with the relic without much interference.
Now, with the political stage being so fragile and the motive behind the most recent theft being world domination, Marduk believed it was inevitable for things to get out of hand. Never before had he had to resort to breaking into places, deceiving people, or even showing his face! Now he felt like a government operative – with a team, no less. He had to admit that it felt good to be accepted as part of a team for the first time in his life, but he was just not the type – or the age – for such things.The signal he had been waiting for without warning. Red lights above the bunker started flashing as a visual silent alarm. Marduk used his technological knowledge to override the patch he’d recognized, but he knew that it would send an alert to Schmidt without the alternative password. The door opened, revealing to him the bunker filled with old Nazi artifacts and communication devises. But Marduk was not there for anything other than the mask, the most destructive relic of all.
Just as Werner had told him, he found the wall lined with thirteen masks, each of which resembled the Babylonian Mask with uncanny accuracy. Marduk ignored the subsequent intercom calls for evacuation as he checked each relic. One by one he examined them with his impressive sight, prone to scrutinize details with the intensity of a raptor. Each mask looked like the next, a slender skull-shaped covering with a dark red interior that teemed with the composite engineered by wizards of science from a cold and cruel era that could never be allowed to repeat itself.
Marduk identified the cursed mark of those scientists, adorning the wall behind the electronic technology and communication satellite controls.
He scoffed derisively, “Order of the Black Sun. It is time for you to set beyond our horizons.”
Marduk took the genuine mask and slipped it under his coat, zipping up the large, interior pocket. He had to hurry to join up with Margaret and hopefully Werner, if the boy had not been shot yet. Before he exited into the reddened illumination of grey cement in the subterranean corridor, Marduk halted to survey the hideous chamber one more time.
“Well, I’m here now,” he sighed laboriously, while gripping between his two palms a steel pipe from the cabinet. In just six blows, Peter Marduk destroyed the power grids of the bunker, along with the computers Schmidt was using to mark the territories bound for attack. The power outage, however, was not restricted to the bunker, but was actually tied-in to the administrative building of the air base. A complete blackout ensued all over Büchel Air Base, sending the staff into a frenzy.
After the world had seen the television report of Sultan Yunus ibn Meccan’s decision to change locations for the signing of the peace treaty, the general consensus was that a world war was looming. While the alleged assassination of Prof. Marta Sloane was still unclear, it was still cause for concern by all citizens and militaries globally. Peace was about to be established by two ever-warring factions for the first time, and the event in itself was apprehensive at best for most of the world’s spectators.
Such restlessness and paranoia was the order of the day everywhere, therefore having a blackout at the very air base where an undisclosed airman had crashed a fighter jet mere days before, was cause for panic. Marduk had always enjoyed the chaos of stampeding people. The confusion always lent a certain lawlessness and disregard for protocol to the situation, and this served him well in his need to move undetected.
He slipped up the stairwell to the exit that led onto the quad where the barracks and administrative buildings met. Flashlights and generator powered troopers lit up the vicinity in a yellow spray light that penetrated every reachable corner of the air base. Only the mess hall sections were dark, yielding a perfect path for Marduk to take on his way through the secondary gate.
Regressing to a convincingly slow limp, Marduk finally made his way through the rushing military staff, where Schmidt shouted orders for pilots to be on stand-by and security personnel to lock down the base. Marduk soon reached the gate guard that had first announced him and Margaret when they had arrived. Looking decidedly pathetic the old man asked the frantic guard, “What is happening? I’ve lost my way! Can you help? My colleague strayed from me and…”
“Yes, yes, yes, I remember you. Please just wait at your vehicle, sir,” the guard said.
Marduk nodded cooperatively. He looked back one more time. “Have you seen her pass by here, then?”
“No, sir! Please, just wait in your vehicle!” the guard shouted, as he listened for orders in the wail of alarms and searchlights.
“Okay. See you then,” Marduk answered as he made his way to Margaret’s car, hoping to find her there. The mask pressed against his protruding rib cage as he quickened his gait toward the car. Marduk felt accomplished and even at peace as he got into Margaret’s rental car with the keys he’d lifted off her.
As he drove off with the pandemonium in his rear view mirror, Marduk felt a weight lift from his mind, an utter relief that he could now return to his homeland with the mask retrieved. What the world did with its perpetually crumbling control and power plays was of little concern to him anymore. As far as he was concerned, if the human race had become so arrogant and filled with a lust for power that even the prospect of harmony erupted into callousness, perhaps extinction was long overdue.
29
Purdue’s Running Tab
Purdue was reluctant to speak to Nina in person, so he stayed at his mansion, Wrichtishousis. From there he continued to orchestrate the media blackout Sam had asked for. But the explorer was by no means becoming a reclusive pity party on legs just because his former lover and friend, Nina, had shunned him. In fact, Purdue had some plans of his own concerning the imminent trouble that was beginning to rear its head over the Halloween Day horizon.
Once he had his network of hackers, broadcast experts, and semi-criminal activists cued onto the media block, he was free to initiate his own plans. His work had been marred by his personal issues, but he had learned not to allow matters of emotion to influence the more tangible tasks. In his second story study,
surrounded by checklists and travel documents, he received a Skype alert. It was Sam.
“And how are things over in Casa Purdue this morning?” Sam asked. His voice carried cheer, but his face was dead serious. Had this been a mere telephone call, Purdue would have thought Sam was the epitome of joviality.
“Great Scott, Sam,” Purdue had to exclaim when he saw the bloodshot eyes and baggage on the journalist. “I thought I was the one who doesn’t sleep anymore. You look worse for wear in a very alarming way. Is it Nina?”
“Oh, it is always Nina, my friend,” Sam replied, sighing, “but not just in the way she usually drives me nuts. She’s cranked it up a level this time.”
“Oh my God,” Purdue muttered, preparing for the news by sucking in a mouthful of black coffee that had gone horribly awry since its heat had withered. He winced from the sandy taste, but was more worried about Sam’s call.
“I know you don’t want to have to deal with anything concerning her right now, but I have to implore that you at least help me brainstorm around her proposal,” Sam said.
“Are you in Kirkwall now?” asked Purdue.
“Aye, but not for long. Did you listen to the recording I sent you?” Sam asked wearily.
“I did. It is absolutely fascinating. Are you going to pursue it for the Edinburgh Post? I believe Margaret Crosby solicited you after I left Germany.” Purdue chuckled, inadvertently tormenting himself with another gulp of rancid caffeine. “Blegh!”
“I thought about it,” answered Sam. “If it were merely about the murders at the Heidelberg Hospital or corruption at the Luftwaffe’s high command, aye. It would have been a good step toward maintaining my reputation. But that is of secondary weight now. The reason I ask if you learned the secrets of the mask is because Nina wants to put it on.”
Purdue’s eyes shimmered in the brightness of the screen, turning a moist grey as he glared at Sam’s image. “Excuse me?” he said without flinching.
“I know. She asked that you contact the W.U.O. and get Sloane’s people to adapt an…arrangement of sorts,” Sam explained in a drained tone. “Now, I know you are pissed at her and all…”
“I am not pissed at her, Sam. I just need to distance myself from her for both our sakes – hers and mine. But I do not engage in juvenile silent treatment just because I’m taking a break from someone. I still consider Nina my friend. And you, for that matter. So whatever the two of you might need me for, the least I can do is listen,” Purdue told his friend. “I can always decline if I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Thank you, Purdue,” Sam exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank God you have more reason than she does.”
“So she wants me to use my affiliation with Prof. Sloane’s financial administration to pull some strings, right?” the billionaire asked.
“Right,” Sam nodded.
“And then? Does she know that the Sultan has requested a change of location?” Purdue asked, picking up his cup but realizing in time that he did not want what was in it.
“She knows. But she is adamant on taking Sloane’s face to get the treaty signed, even smack in the middle of ancient Babylonia. The problem is obtaining the Skin to get it off afterwards,” Sam said.
“Just ask that Marduk fellow from the recording, Sam. I was under the impression you were in touch?”
Sam looked upset. “He’s gone, Purdue. He was going to infiltrate the Büchel Air Base with Margaret Crosby to get the mask back from Captain Schmidt. Lieutenant Werner was supposed to as well, but he failed…” Sam took a long pause, as if he had to force out his next words. “So we have no idea how to find Marduk to borrow the mask for the signing of the treaty.”
“Oh my God,” Purdue exclaimed. After a short quiet spell he asked, “How did Marduk leave the base?”
“He took Margaret’s rental car. Lieutenant Werner was supposed to flee the base with Marduk and Margaret after they’d obtained the mask, but he just left them there and took her c…ah!” Sam realized at once. “You genius! I’ll text you her details for a trace on the car too.”
“Always a thread through technology, old cock,” Purdue bragged. “Technology is the nervous system of God.”
“Quite possibly,” Sam agreed. “It is the pages to knowing…and now I know all this because Werner called me less than 20 minutes ago, also asking for your help.” In saying all of this Sam couldn’t shake the guilt he felt for laying so much on Purdue after his efforts were so unceremoniously rebuked by Nina Gould.
Purdue was amused, if anything. “Wait just a second, Sam. Let me get my notes and a pen.”
“Are you running a tab?” Sam asked. “If not, I think you should. I feel bad, man.”
“I know. And you look like you sound too. No offence,” Purdue said.
“Dave, you can call me dog shit right now and I wouldn’t care. Just please say you can help us with this,” Sam begged. His big dark eyes looked droopy and his hair unkempt.
“Now, what must I do for the lieutenant?” Purdue asked.
“When he returned to base he learned that Schmidt had sent Himmelfarb, one of the men in the recording gone turncoat, to capture and hold his lady friend. And we should care about her because she was Nina’s nurse in Heidelberg,” Sam explained.
“Okay, points for the lieutenant’s lady friend, named?” asked Purdue, pen in hand.
“Marlene. Marlene Marx. They had her call Werner after they killed the doctor she’d assisted. The only way we can locate her is through a trace on her call to his cell phone.”
“Got it. Will forward the information to him. Text me his number.”
On the screen, Sam was already shaking his head. “No, Schmidt has his phone. I’m texting you his number for the trace, but you can’t contact him there, Purdue.”
“Oh, shit, of course. I’ll forward it to you, then. When he calls, you can give it to him. Okay, so let me get on these tasks and I’ll contact you soon with the results.”
“Thank you so much, Purdue,” Sam said, looking exhausted, but grateful.
“No problem, Sam. Give the Fury a kiss for me and try not to get your eyes scratched out.” Purdue smiled as Sam chuckled mockingly back at him before disappearing in a blink of blackness. Purdue was still smiling well after the screen had gone blank.
30
Desperate Measures
Even though the media broadcasting satellites were mostly dysfunctional across the board, there were still some radio signals and internet sites that had managed to infect the world with the plague of uncertainty and exaggeration. On the remaining social media profiles that could not yet be locked, people conveyed the panic of the current political climate, along with the reports of assassinations and threats of World War III.
By the corruption of servers in the major centers of the planet, people everywhere naturally came to the worst conclusions. According to some, the internet was under assault by a mighty faction of everything from aliens about to invade earth to the Second Coming. Some of the more dimwitted thought that the FBI was responsible, somehow deeming it more helpful to national intelligence to ‘make the internet crash’. And so every country’s citizens took to all that was left to show their discontent – the streets.
Major cities were inundated with riots, and mayoral offices had to account for the communication embargo, which they could not. At the top of the W.U.O. tower in London, a distraught Lisa looked down on a bustling city full of discord. Lisa Gordon was second in command of the organization that had recently lost its leader.
“My God, just look at that,” she said to her personal assistant as she leaned against the window pane of her 22nd Floor office. “Human beings are worse than wild animals as soon as they have no leaders, no teachers, nor any emissary with authority. Have you noticed?”
She watched the looting from a safe distance, but still wished she could talk sense into them all. “Once the order and leadership of countries falters even slightly, citizens think that destruction is the only alternative. I’ve never
been able to understand that. There are just too many different ideologies begotten by fools and tyrants.” She shook her head. “We’re all speaking different languages while at the same time trying to live together. God help us. This is Babel all over.”
“Dr. Gordon, the Meso-Arabian Consulate is on Line 4. They need confirmation for Professor Sloane’s appointment at the Sultan’s palace in Susa tomorrow,” the personal assistant said. “Shall I still use the excuse that she is ill?”
Lisa turned to face her assistant. “Now I know why Marta used to bemoan having to make all the decisions. Tell them she will be there. I’m not shooting this hard-earned endeavor in the foot yet. Even if I have to go there myself and beg for peace, I will not let this pass because of terrorism.”
“Dr. Gordon, there is a gentleman on your main line. He has a very important proposal for us regarding the peace treaty,” the receptionist said, peeking around the door.
“Hayley, you know we do not take calls from the public here,” Lisa reprimanded.
“He says his name is David Purdue,” the receptionist added reluctantly.
Lisa swung around. “Put him through to my desk immediately, please.”
After hearing Purdue’s suggestion that they use an impostor to take the place of Prof. Sloane, Lisa was more than a little taken aback. Of course, he had not included the ludicrous use of a mask to assume the woman’s face. That would have been a tad too macabre. Still, the suggestion of a changeling rattled the sensibilities of Lisa Gordon.
“Mr. Purdue, much as we at the W.U.O. Britain appreciate your ongoing generosity toward our organization, you have to understand that such an act would be fraudulent and unethical. And as I am sure you understand, those are the very methods we oppose. It would make hypocrites of us.”
“I do, of course,” Purdue replied. “But think about it, Dr. Gordon. How far would you bend the rules to achieve peace? Here we have a sickly woman – and have you not been using illness as a scapegoat to avert confirmation of Marta’s death? And this lady, who has an uncanny resemblance to Marta, is offering to mislead the right people for but a moment in history to establish your organization within its chapters.”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 5 Page 37
