“It's Beck,” was all he said.
“Come straight,” she replied, and a loud click followed to conclude their conversation. Beck waited for exactly ten seconds, counting them down on his watch, before he drove forward into the unknown darkness with only two headlights between them and utter obscurity. The car moved at a snail's pace and it concerned Purdue, because from his sense of direction they would now be heading straight for the River Forth. His cautious eyes glanced rapidly at Beck every now and then, but he seemed to know where he was headed.
Finally, Purdue could see the environment change ahead of them. The cobbled road became gravel, although the tall, dancing grass remained to both sides of the car. Above them the clouds were growing pregnant with the imminent storm, and he could see patches of the landscape only during those blinks of light courtesy of the lightning. In the brief light he could see the smooth surface of the river substitute the coarse land, a black snake sleeping in the soil of Sterling's keep.
Fearing they would drive into the river, Purdue asked, “Should I have brought my snorkel?”
That was when he gathered that the ten second pause was probably for some automated system to accommodate them. “You do know there are bridges, old chap?”
Beck smiled, but kept his eyes straight ahead as he sped up considerably and propelled the vehicle forward with such velocity that even the adventurous and reckless Purdue fisted his hands for what was to come. “Our destination does not come after a bridge,” Beck said.
19
Final Destination
With the speed Beck attained the car reached the ramp just at the right time and instead of a massive splash Purdue heard the clatter of loose wooden boards under the tires. Curious and relieved, he looked out his window and noticed the flat bed of the ferry as the car came to a halt. Once on the river, Beck's rolled-down window allowed in a much appreciated freshness with just a hint of a drizzle that gave Purdue the second wind he needed. Feeling more awake, he started devising plans to escape and make it into the river, but somehow Beck could read his thoughts.
“If I were you, Mr. Purdue, I would play along and not think of trying anything stupid,” he told Purdue as he switched off the engine. “Your door handle is rigged to send a devastating electrical charge out on contact with anything of 37º, give or take one of two degrees.
“Ah, made especially for human contact then,” Purdue confirmed blandly.
They drifted serenely forward over the scalloping surface of the water, listening to the silence tainted with the sound of gale and thunder. Had he not been in danger, Purdue may well have enjoyed the atmosphere. “Well, since we’re adrift, I'm sure you can at least tell me who the lucky bidder is, Mr. Beck.”
Beck faced him with a stern countenance. “Oh, we are not adrift at all, my friend. Much like our situation, you are misjudging what is happening beneath the surface; how we are inexorably being pulled forward by the hand of a stranger we have relinquished our fate to.”
“That is deep,” Purdue mocked. “But I was just asking for a name.”
“You don't need any names, Mr. Purdue. As a matter of fact, all you have to know is that your days are numbered,” Beck replied snidely. Purdue was repulsed by him, but regrettably the reprehensible man was his only source of information and he had to take his word.
“Alright, since I’m going to die, you may as well tell me what happened to Dr. Gould,” Purdue challenged.
“I don't have to tell you anything, pal,” Beck sneered.
Purdue resorted to childish means. “I understand. You cannot explain things you have no knowledge of. You could have just said so, Mr. Beck. In your line of work as a lackey, I’m sure information is not imparted unless it involved the location of your next task for your master.”
“I like how you think belittling my position will provoke me into proving you wrong and telling you out of pride, Mr. Purdue. But alas, you are just not that good at reverse psychology,” Beck beleaguered him.
The investigator was not such a dumb oaf after all, and Purdue realized he would get nothing out of him by conventional methods, so he elected for the other emotional manipulation – one mostly employed by the fairer sex. He became quiet, brooding and indifferent, just peering out the window for the sky flashes to show him the beautiful and restless water. Thinking Purdue defeated, Beck finally condescended to give Purdue something. He was not the type of character to be coaxed with patronization, but he certainly fell for matters of ego.
“I'll tell you this…” Beck said, clearing his throat to sound more important.
Bingo! Purdue thought under a static expression.
“…just because I think you should know. Dr. Gould is not dead. In fact, she could be and we would never know, because I never kidnapped her.”
Positively confounded by the illogicality of Beck's confession, Purdue gasped. “But then, where is she? And why would the papers report her missing? Kidnapped?”
Beck chuckled sheepishly, wiping his brow with his hand in sheer embarrassment. “I did grab a woman in her house,” he looked at Purdue, “but it was someone else.”
A moment of silence prevailed before Beck filled in the rest for Purdue. “A woman who came to feed the cat, actually. That was a right fuck-up! Hey?” Beck laughed, incessantly wiping his face and brow in a kind of frustration. “But you know, she looked exactly like Dr. Gould.” He shook his head. Even though he’d stopped laughing, his words were laden with stress about the mistake. “So, your Nina is not in my custody. Maybe she went on holiday with a friend, who knows? But she isn’t here and she isn’t dead.” Looking proud of himself, he asked Purdue, “Happy now?”
Purdue exhaled a long, labored breath in relief and astonishment. He nodded while his eyes darted from side to side in front of him as he tried to unravel the mystery of Nina's disappearance. Did she go to see Sam? Granted, Purdue did ask that she and Sam not contact him until the dust had settled on his manhunt, but for her to just leave like that without even leaving a clue was a bit worrying. At least one consolation was knowing that she was still alive.
“Finally. Payday,” Beck remarked. His tone had suddenly shifted to more accommodating and less stressful as he pointed toward the approaching river bank. Beck still reckoned that maybe Purdue hadn’t caught his hint the last time, so he mentioned the payday for good measure, but still Purdue did not take the bait. By Beck's lighter tone Purdue knew the end of the line was near, where he would part with his abductor. Purdue's mind oscillated Between apprehension and repulsion, his heart racing.
On the other side of the bank the dark palette of the rainy night was broken by colorful lights, four in number – their nature unknown. Again, Beck started the car and pulled away with a bolt to hit the ramp just right. With a shaky dismount the wheels hit the knackered cement roadway on the other side of the watery crevice between the ferry and the river bank.
“Mother will be so pleased,” Beck grinned as they turned a sharp left and the vehicle propelled down a steep dip that quickly evened out into a clump of dark trees that seemed to rise to reach the flashing heavens above them by a trick of the light.
“Meeting your family for a shindig, Mr. Beck?” Purdue asked sarcastically, taking in the environment that looked like nothing Scotland would normally yield. The explorer was in awe of the scene, but his intuition afforded him a serious admonition as to the character Beck was referring to as Mother. The very word instilled in him a sense of dread for reasons well buried since childhood. In his mind's eye Purdue pictured Mother as some sort of hybrid monster woman from an old 1930s horror film.
“Not my family. Family is for those too weak to evolve to survive on their own,” Beck gloated with a smirk. “No, Mother is the matriarch of my employer's clan, not mine. You will not be fond of her – she is a bit of…an acquired taste.”
Oh my God, Purdue thought to himself, taking a deep breath to prepare him for what turmoil awaited him. Not once did bribery cross his mind. Early on in life,
Purdue learned that bribery only worked on men who had no honor, and men with no honor were not predisposed to keep their word at any rate. By the looks of him, Beck was a perfect candidate for the disloyal type, mercenary and fickle. Purdue wondered if his captor even had a woman, or man, for that matter, in his life. A successful relationship bearing any resemblance to a yield of emotion was somehow unimaginable given Beck's narcissism.
“Here we are,” Beck announced proudly as the car slowed down and carried them into a cathedral dome of tree branches that bore incalculable lanterns of red, white, yellow, blue, and green. It was ironic how such a cheerful looking place could be the tomb of powerful men, but then he remembered the name of the property owner and the malice that tarnished her title among the clan Beck had referred to.
“Remarkable,” Purdue whispered involuntarily.
“What is?” Beck asked as the modest, but classy home came into view.
“This place looks completely out of place,” Purdue mentioned, his wonder barely exhibiting his abhorrence for the situation and the people involved. “This house, this yard, the design; it all belongs in the American South, like some place in the bayous where voodoo chants are as natural as the song of crickets.”
Beck frowned. “Really. You’re being delivered into the hands of the darkest souls in the world and your first take is the architecture and cultural design of the snare pen. It’s a good thing you are rich, because your priorities suck,” he laughed as the brought the car to a halt next to the east wall of the old, white-washed Victorian with its large windows and rough masonry. Although it was dark, Purdue could see the wild garden hugging the walls and the quaint, antique lace that decorated the inside window sills. The porch wood was also painted white and the buttresses ornately flavored with wild growth and evergreen foliage. Dirty barge boards told of slight neglect or overly damaging weather, giving the porch a homely and rustic appearance.
“Get out,” Beck commanded after he disengaged the electrical device wired through the passenger door. The tall Purdue had to crane his neck forward to exit the car with his hands tied, and when he stepped out he saw her for the first time. She sat in an old rocking chair, dressed entirely in white, including the head scarf that snaked her skull and gathered in the grip of a broach made of ruby.
It was then that Purdue noticed the veranda stretch along the sides of the house as well, populated with rose trees in large pots and a host of rocking chairs akin to that of the one she was seated upon.
“Specifics appeal to Mother,” Beck informed Purdue as they joined in front of what Purdue now saw was a red Volkswagen Polo – the chariot to his nightmares.
20
Leaving the Ferryman Wanting
The woman stared casually at the new arrivals, bourbon in hand as she gently rocked in the stormy weather. Purdue winced visibly at the sight of her, an evil-looking woman with features close to that of a troll. He estimated her age at approximately seventy years, but her body was deceiving. Like a wasp, her waist exhibited none of the weight gain associated with age in most women and her hands looked like marble, they seemed like the hands of a pianist in how they moved around her glass.
“Wonderful night, is it not, Mr. Purdue?” she croaked in a surprisingly smooth voice over words laden with Austrian flavor. “I must say, I favor the wet weather of your country and the calamity of the clouds! Such ferocious gales.” Her deep set eyes fell hard on his and she smirked, “Like the sublime howling of demons.”
“Does that make you homesick, Madam?” Purdue sneered.
“Watch your mouth!” Beck clobbered the white haired prize he’d dragged to his mistress like a cat with a vermin kill. Purdue fell to his knees, trying not to give them the pleasure of crying out. Instead he groaned and laughed it off, looking more displeased with the mud his knees were buried in, as the downpour wet his clothing and hair.
“Mother, I beg your pardon, but I am in a hurry. If we could conclude our business?” Beck suggested respectfully. “The Ferryman needs to be paid for bringing the cursed soul across the black river,” he winked at Purdue, who was still trying to shake off the bludgeoning he’d just taken from the handle of Beck's flashlight.
“Are you?” she asked sternly. “Are you in a hurry? For what, Mr. Beck? What is your haste?”
“I just have other business to attend to,” he shrugged.
She scoffed and looked the other way dismissively, lifting her glass to drink. “You will stay for dinner, Mr. Beck. I will not allow my hospitality to be abused by flippant callers. Now, bring Mr. Purdue inside before he catches his death…too…early.”
Her voice was decisive. Purdue could feel the cold hand of death brushing over his cheek. Something about Mother was deadly serious, the type of person who did not need to make idle threats in the face of her absolute execution of will. Apart from her foul features, Purdue found her worthy of the subordination she provoked in those who worked for her. As Beck lifted him to his feet in the slippery murk and grass, Mother finished her drink and gave her lanterns one more glance of admiration before she stood up.
Again Purdue played witness to her oddly placed regality as she towered higher than he’d expected. Mother possessed a young woman's slender figure, the product of refusing most meals throughout her life. Her gait was as graceful as her tranquilly wicked demeanor as she strolled along the stretch of the banister to the wide door. “Come inside. We will have dinner and Joseph will pay you after,” she looked at Beck. “Just so you don't take your money and abandon all my hard work on your plate.”
She looked at Purdue and addressed him as if they were chatting at a cocktail party, “I do all my own cooking. Contrary to what people think of my obvious eating disorder, I spend my happiest hours in my kitchen.”
Purdue nodded politely past his scathing headache and burning wrists. Beck shoved him ahead into the lobby and closed the front door. “When will Herr Karsten join us, Mother?”
“I am here, Beck,” a familiar voice answered the investigator from another room. “I canceled my engagements for this special occasion.”
On their way to the drawing room to see Karsten, Purdue noticed the walls from the foyer to the interior of the hallway decked out with paintings of old heroes and gods. As he was maneuvered forward by Beck, he beheld the oils on canvas portraying the feats and features of historical figures like the Roman Emperor Caligula, Gaius Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, Napoleon Bonaparte, Tsar Ivan the Terrible and, as expected of a collector of such idols, Hitler in full dress uniform.
But Purdue did not have to see these paintings to know what manner of people he was dealing with. Past the framed black and white images of the Gestapo and the SS High Commission, Purdue's tall body was urged. Along with news clippings ornately framed around the photographs of Stalin and von Bismarck he perceived the red, white, and black motif of a folded cloth he knew to be the infamous Swastika flag.
Upon golden goblets lined on the sideboard at the end of the wide corridor he saw the carved insignias of various Nazi societies – the Thule, the Vril, the Black Sun, and several smaller associations within the High Command he only just recognized. The latter were not familiar to Purdue's experience and he intended to keep it that way. Certainly the more well known ones were bad enough to have to deal with.
The plump, well-dressed Karsten was crouching at the fireplace, stoking the fire. His brandy was on the side table and next to it, a dessert plate no larger than a saucer with a half eaten Apfelstrüdel, a likely candidate for the development of Karsten's belt region. Purdue was ushered into the cozy drawing room to join Karsten for what came to be an awkward inspection ritual. Fortunately, Purdue was not the subject of tedious groping or stripped for examination, as would not be above these people, but still he felt violated being stared at from head to toe for approval.
“Good. Good work, Beck. We will not insult Mother with business now,” Karsten said. “First, we eat. After that we will take care of the payments and Purdue's fate.�
��
'My fate?’ If I were you, old boy, I would put the eating off a lot more than the business, Purdue jousted with Karsten inside his mind, if only to distract himself from the disturbing reference to his 'fate.’ Maybe it was Purdue's lack of money or resources that rendered him helpless, but he felt that having Nina Gould and Sam Cleave with him would have lifted his spirits considerably. Even the thought of his most trusted allies gave Purdue reason not to accept the hand he was being currently dealt.
Mother stood silently in the corner, watching with another glass of bourbon in her hand, waiting for Karsten to approve his order. Purdue could not help but find her body impossible to fathom. Tall and slender, she looked like a perfect example of early 20th century screen goddesses, bar of course, her face, which was the only indication of her age and some unfortunate genetics. Her long white dress fell to the floor in immaculate form over the symmetry of her shape. Her troll-like eyes pierced his when he looked higher than her neck.
“What is the matter, Mr. Purdue?” she asked confidently.
“A lot is the matter, actually, but I fear that holds very little currency at this meeting,” Purdue replied smoothly. Beck leered at him, withholding the urge to slap him in the presence of his employer and the grand matriarch of the Black Sun. It was not his place anymore, since he had transferred Purdue to Karsten's charge. Mother's face remained unchanged at Purdue's response. She simply did not care enough to bat an eye.
“Right, when Mother is ready, we can have dinner. I believe Mr. Beck has more on his plate for tonight and he would like to conclude business,” Karsten declared politely, very impressed with his prize.
“Very well,” Mother replied, sounding bored beyond words with Karsten's tedious ritual. “Joseph, you can take Mr. Purdue to the oubliette while Mr. Beck and I will dish up the dinner. We will wait for you before we eat.”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 6 Page 30
