Amazed, Lance stared at his wife in admiration. “You know, Sylla, that is a very cool way of looking at it. And it is beautifully logical.”
“Why thank you, Doctor,” she smiled. “God, my hair has a mind of its own. You left the doors locked for too long. I think the water spoiled my style.”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed light heartedly. “It was the water. Of course.”
She ignored his insinuation and drew down the little mirror again, desperate to get the coils back in the two locks of hair she left untied to frame her face. “Holy shi…!” she exclaimed irately and turned in her seat to look back. “Can you believe this idiot with his lights? I cannot see a bloody thing in the mirror.”
Lance glanced up at his rear view mirror. The piercing headlights of the car behind them illuminated his eyes and blinded him momentarily. “Good God! What is he driving? A lighthouse on wheels?”
“Slow down, love, let him pass,” she suggested.
“I am already driving too slow to make the party on time, darling,” he argued. “I am not going to let this asshole make us late. I will just give him some of his own medicine.”
Lance adjusted his mirror to reflect the trailing car’s beams directly back at it. “Just what the doctor ordered, tosser!” Lance sneered. The car slowed down after the driver clearly suffered a glare in the eyes and it stayed at a safe distance.
“Probably Welsh,” Sylvia joked. “He probably did not realize his high beams were on.”
“Geez, how could he not notice those bloody lights searing the paint off my car?” Lance gasped, evoking a fit of laughter from his wife.
Aldlochlay had just released them as they travelled south in silence.
“I must say, I am pleasantly surprised at the meager traffic tonight, even for a Thursday,” Lance remarked as they sped down the A82.
“Listen darling, could you slow down a bit?” Sylvia implored, playing her victim face at him. “I am getting scared.”
“It’s alright, love,” Lance smiled.
“No, really, the rain is coming down much harder here, and I think the lack of traffic at least affords us time to slow down, don’t you think?” she insisted.
Lance could not argue. She had a valid point. Being blinded by the car behind them would only exacerbate things on the wet road if Lance maintained his maniacal speed. He had to concede that Sylvia’s request was not unfounded. He slowed down considerably.
“Happy?” he asked her.
“Aye, thanks,” she smiled. “Much better on my nerves.”
“And your hair seems to have recovered too,” he laughed.
“Lance!” she shouted suddenly as her make-up mirror revealed the horror of the car on their tail speeding frantically forward. In a moment of clarity, she assumed the car did not see Lance apply the brakes and could not reduce speed in time on the soaking road.
“Jesus!” Lance grunted as he watched the lights grow larger, coming at them way too fast to avoid a collision. All they could do was to brace themselves. Instinctively Lance put out his arm in front of his wife to bar her from the impact. Like a flash of dragged lightning, the piercing headlights behind them bolted to the side. The car behind them had swerved slightly, but connected with their right backlight, sending the BMW into a volatile spin upon the slippery tarmac.
Sylvia’s inadvertent scream faded in the cacophony of crumpling metal and shattering glass. Both Lance and Sylvia felt the sickening gyration of their out-of-control vehicle, knowing there was nothing they could do to avert tragedy. But they were wrong. They came to a standstill somewhere off the side of the road, among the strip of wild trees and brush between the A82 and the black, cold water of Loch Lomond.
“Are you alright, darling?” Lance asked frantically.
“I’m alive, but my neck is killing me,” she replied through the bubbling of her broken nose.
For a moment they sat still in the twisted wreck, listening to the hard patter of the rainstorm on the metal. They were both caught behind the forceful protection of their airbags, trying to ascertain which parts of their bodies still functioned. Dr. Lance Beach and his wife, Sylvia, never expected the car from behind them to charge through the darkness, heading straight for them.
Lance tried to take Sylvia’s hand when the diabolical headlights blinded them one last time and struck them at full speed. The velocity snapped Lance’s arm off and severed both their spinal chords, sending their car into the depths of the loch, there where it would become their coffin.
15
Casting the Players
At Wrichtishousis, spirits were high for the first time in over a year. Purdue had come home, gracefully saying goodbye to the men and women who had been occupying his home while it was in the grips of MI6 and its callous executive, the two-faced Joe Carter. Much as Purdue used to love throwing lavish parties for academic professors, businessmen, curators and international benefactors of his grants, this occasion called for something more low key.
Since those days of grand feasts under the roof of the historical mansion, Purdue had learned that prudence was imperative. Back then, he had not clashed yet with the likes of the Order of the Black Sun or its affiliations, although, in hindsight, he had been closely acquainted with many of its members without realizing it. However, one wrong move cost him that perfect obscurity he had moved in all those years when he was just a playboy with a penchant for historical items of value.
His attempt at appeasing the dangerous Nazi organization, mostly to stroke his ego, came to a tragic conclusion on Deep Sea One, his offshore oilrig in the North Sea. It was there, when he stole the Spear of Destiny and aided in the breeding of a super human strain that he first stepped on their toes. From there, matters only worsened until Purdue went from an ally to an annoyance, until he finally progressed to the biggest thorn in the side of the Black Sun.
Now there was no turning back. No recovery. No way back. Now, all Purdue could do was to systematically eradicate all the members of the sinister organization until he could safely appear in public again without fearing assassination or attacks on his friends and staff. And that gradual eradication had to be discreet, subtle and methodical. By no means did he intend to kill them off or anything, but Purdue was wealthy and smart enough to clip them one by one by using deadly weapons of the age – technology, media, legislation and of course, the mighty Mammon.
“Welcome back, Doctor,” Purdue jested about Sam’s previous guise, as he and Nina got out of the car. Drips and drabs of the recent siege were still evident as some agents and Purdue’s staff stood around waiting for MI6 to clear out their posts, remove their temporary reconnaissance devices and vehicles. Purdue’s address of Sam confused Nina a bit, but she could see by their exchange of laughter that it was probably another thing best left between the two men.
“Come now, lads,” she said, “I am famished.”
“Oh, but of course, my dear Nina,” Purdue reacted kindly, reaching out to embrace her. Nina said nothing, but his still emaciated looks bothered her. Although he had healed on much since the incident in Fallin, she could not believe that the tall, white haired genius could still look so thin and weary. In the breezy morning Purdue and Nina stayed locked in their embrace for a while, just savoring each other’s existence for a moment.
“I am so glad you are alright, Dave,” she whispered. Purdue’s heart skipped a beat. Nina rarely, if ever, called him by his first name. It meant that she wished to address him on a very personal level, which was like a stroke of heaven to him.
“Thanks, love,” he replied softly into her hair and he gave her a kiss on the top of her head before letting her go. “Now,” he cheered, clapping his hands together and wringing them, “shall we have a bit of a celebration before I tell you what comes next?”
“Aye,” Nina smiled, “but I am not sure I can wait to hear what is next. In your company all these years, I have come to quite loathe surprises, you see.”
“I do understand,” he conceded as h
e waited for Nina to enter the manor’s front doors first. “But I assure you it is safe, under the scrutiny of the Ethiopian government and the ACU and perfectly legal.”
“For once,” Sam teased.
“How dare you, sir?” Purdue joked with Sam, dragging the journalist into the lobby by his collar.
“Hello Charles,” Nina smiled at the ever-loyal butler who was already setting the table in the drawing room for them to have their private assembly.
“Madam,” Charles nodded courteously. “Mr. Cleave.”
“Greetings, my good man,” Sam greeted cordially. “Has Special Agent Smith left yet?”
“No, sir. In fact, he has just gone to the restroom and will join you presently,” Charles informed Sam, where after he left the room hurriedly.
“He is a bit tired, poor lad,” Purdue explained, “having had to cater to this crowd of intruders for so long. I gave him tomorrow and Tuesday off. After all, in my absence there would be very little to do for him apart from the dailies, you know?”
“Aye,” Sam agreed. “But I hope Lillian is on duty until we come back. I already charmed her into keeping an apricot strudel pudding ready for me when we return.”
“From where?” Nina asked, feeling terribly left out, once more.
“Well, that is the other reason why I asked you two to come over, Nina. Have a seat please, and I’ll pour you a bourbon,” Purdue said. Sam was pleased to see him so cheerful again, almost as suave and confident as he used to be. Then again, Sam supposed, reprieve from the prospect of prison would make a man celebratory of the smallest matters. Nina sat down; slipping hand under the brandy glass Purdue poured the Southern Comfort in for her.
The fact that it was morning in no way altered the dark room’s ambience. Tall windows bore lavish green drapes down to graze the thick brown carpet, the tones giving the palatial room an earthy feel. From the narrow slits of lace between the drawn open curtains the morning light tried to illuminate the furniture, but failed in painting anything more than the immediate carpet with light. Outside the clouds were typically heavy and dark, stealing the power of any sun that could have delivered a proper semblance of day.
“What is that playing?” Sam asked nobody in particular as a familiar tune floated in the house, coming from somewhere near the kitchen.
“Lillian, on duty, as is your preference,” Purdue chuckled. “I allow her to play her music while she cooks, but I have no idea what it is, exactly. As long as it is not too intrusive on the rest of the staff I don’t mind a bit of atmosphere about the front of the house.”
“Nice, I like it,” Nina remarked as she softly placed the brim of the crystal to her bottom lip, careful not to stain it with lipstick. “So, when am I going to hear about our new mission, then?”
Purdue smiled, surrendering to Nina’s curiosity and that which Sam did also not yet know. He put down his glass and rubbed his palms together. “It is quite simple, and it will absolve me from all my sins in the eyes of the governments involved while ridding me of the relic that caused me all this trouble.”
“The fake Ark?” Nina asked.
“Correct,” Purdue affirmed. “It is part of my deal with the Archaeological Crimes Unit and Ethiopia’s high commissioner, a history lover called Col. Basil Yimenu that I return their religious relic…”
Nina’s mouth opened to justify her frown, but Purdue knew what she was going to say and presently mentioned what perplexed her. “…fake as it may be, to its rightful place in the mountain outside the village, the site from where I removed it.”
“They are this protective of an artifact they know is not the true Ark of the Covenant?” Sam asked, voicing Nina’s precise inquiry.
“Yes, Sam. To them it is still an ancient remnant of great value, whether it contains the power of God or not. I understand that, so I’ll take it back,” he shrugged. “We don’t need it. We got what we wanted from it when we searched for the Vault of Hercules, did we not? I mean, there is not much more contained in this Ark of any use to us. It taught us about the sick experiments on children performed by the SS in the Second World War, but it is hardly worth keeping anymore.”
“What do they think it is? Are they still convinced it is a holy box?” Nina asked.
“Special Agent!” Sam announced Patrick’s entrance into the room.
Patrick smiled coyly. “Shut it, Sam.” He took his place next to Purdue and accepted a brew from the recently liberated host. “Thank you, David.”
Oddly, no glances passed between Purdue and Sam regarding the fact that the other two carried no knowledge about the true identity of MI6’s Joe Carter. That was how discreet they were about keeping their secret doings to themselves. Only Nina’s female intuition occasionally challenged this clandestine business, but she could not put her finger on it.
“Right,” Purdue started again, “Patrick, along with my legal team have drawn up legal documents to facilitate the excursion to Ethiopia to return their holy box while under supervision of MI6, you know, just to make sure I do not collect intelligence for another country and such.”
Sam and Nina had to giggle about Purdue’s mocking of the matter, but Patrick was weary and just wanted to get it all done with so that he could return to Scotland. “I was assured that this would not take longer than a week,” he reminded Purdue.
“You are coming with us?” Sam gasped sincerely.
Patrick looked both amused and a bit taken aback. “Aye, Sam. Why? Are you planning such ill conduct that a babysitter is out of the question? Or don’t you trust your best friend not to shoot you in the ass?”
Nina snickered to lighten the mood, but it was evident that there was a bit too much tension in the room. She looked at Purdue, who, in turn, boasted the most angelic innocence a scoundrel could manage. His eyes did not meet with hers, but he was very aware of her eyes on him.
‘What is Purdue keeping from me? What is he keeping from me that he is, again, letting Sam into?’ she wondered.
“No, no. Nothing like that,” Sam denied. “I just don’t want you to be in danger, Paddy. The very reason all this shit happened between us in the first place was because the stuff Purdue, Nina and I were into placed you and your family in danger.”
‘Wow, I almost believe him,’ Nina criticized Sam’s explanation in the sanctuary of her mind, convinced that Sam had other intentions for keeping Paddy away. He seemed deeply serious, though, and still Purdue kept an even, expressionless face where he sat nursing his drink.
“I appreciate that, Sam, but you see, I am not going because I don’t trust you lot,” Patrick revealed with a laborious sigh. “I am not going to crash your party or to spy on you. Truth is…I have to go. My orders are clear and I have to abide by them, unless I want to lose my job.”
“Wait, so you are under command to come, regardless?” Nina asked him.
Patrick nodded.
“Jesus,” Sam said, shaking his head. “What asshole is making you go, Paddy?”
“Who do you think, old boy?” Patrick asked indifferently, having accepted his fate.
“Joe Carter,” Purdue stated firmly, as his eyes stared out into space, his lips hardly moving to form the dreaded Karsten’s English name.
Sam felt his legs numbing in his jeans. He could not decide if he was worried or furious for the decision to send Patrick out on an expedition. His dark eyes blazed as he asked, “An expedition into the desert to put an item back in the sandbox it came from is hardly a task for a high ranking officer of Military Intelligence, don’t you think?”
Patrick gave him the old look he gave Sam when they were side by side in the principal’s office awaiting some sort of punishment. “That is just what I thought, Sam. I dare say including me in this mission is almost…deliberate.”
16
Demons Don’t Die
Charles was absent while the group had their brunch, discussing what was to be a quick trip to finally help Purdue complete his legal penance and to finally rid Ethiopia of Pu
rdue.
“Oh, you have to taste it to appreciate this particular cultivar,” Purdue told Patrick, but included Sam and Nina in the conversation. They were exchanging information on good wines and brandies to pass the time while enjoying the delicious light meal Lillian had prepared for them. She was elated to see her boss laughing and teasing again, being among his most trusted allies and being his old flamboyant self.
“Charles!” he called. After a brief moment, he called again and rang the bell, but Charles did not answer. “Wait, I’ll go and get a bottle,” he suggested and got up to go to the wine cellar. Nina could not process how lank and gaunt he looked now. Even before he was a tall and lean man, but his recent weight loss during his ordeal in Fallin had left him looking even taller and a lot more fragile.
“I’ll come with you, David,” Patrick proposed. “I don’t like that Charles is not answering, if you know what I mean.”
“Don’t be daft, Patrick,” Purdue smiled. “Wrichtishousis is sound enough to avoid unwanted guests. Besides, instead of using a security company I have decided to hire private security at my gates. They do not answer to any paycheck but those signed by yours truly.”
“Good thinking,” Sam approved.
“And I will be back shortly to show off this obscenely expensive bottle of liquid majesty,” Purdue bragged with some reservation.
“And we will be allowed to open it?” Nina teased him. “Because it is pointless to boast things one cannot verify, you understand.”
Purdue smiled proudly, “Oh, Dr. Gould, I look forward to banter with you over historical relics while watching your inebriated mind spin.” And with that, he left the room hastily down to the cellar past his laboratories. He did not want to admit it this soon after having reclaimed his domain, but Purdue was in fact concerned about the absence of his butler. He mainly used the brandy as an excuse to part from the others in the pursuit of Charles’ reason for abandoning them.
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 6 Page 46
