The Babylonian Mask (Order of the Black Sun Book 14)

by P. W. Child

  “Just got a call from an old colleague of mine at the Edinburgh Post, Margaret Crosby,” Sam shared, still staring at his phone a little nostalgically just after he got into the rental car with Purdue. “She’s on her way here to offer me a co-authorship on the investigation concerning the German Air Force’s involvement in some sort of scandal.”

  “Sounds like a good story. You should do it, old chum. I smell an international conspiracy here, but I’m no news hound,” said Purdue as they made their way to Nina’s temporary sanctuary.

  When Sam and Purdue pulled up in front of the house they were directed to, the place looked ghastly. Although the modest little house had been recently painted, the garden was wild. The contrast between the two made the house stand out. Bushes with thorns hugged the beige exterior walls under a black roof. The chimney’s pale, pink paint chips showed the decay from before the paint job. Smoke slithered upward from it like a lazy, grey dragon, blending in with the cold, monochrome clouds of the overcast day.

  The house stood at the end of a small street near a lake, which only added to the desolate loneliness of the place. As the two men stepped out of the car, Sam could see a twitch in one of the windows as the curtains were being disturbed.

  “We’ve been detected,” Sam announced to his companion. Purdue nodded, his tall body towering above the frame of the car door. His fair hair fluffed in the moderate wind as he watched the front door crack open. A podgy, kind face peered from behind the door.

  “Frau Bauer?” asked Purdue from the other side of the vehicle.

  “Herr Cleave?” she smiled.

  Purdue pointed to Sam and smiled.

  “Go, Sam. I don’t think Nina should see me right off the bat, you know?” Sam understood. His friend had a fair point. After all, he and Nina did not part on the best of terms on account of Purdue hunting her in the dark, threatening to kill her and all that.

  When Sam skipped up the front steps to where the lady was holding the door open, he could not help but wish he could stay a while. The interior of the house smelled divine with the blended scent of flowers, coffee and a faint reminiscence of what could have been French toast a few hours ago.

  “Thank you,” he told Frau Bauer.

  “She is through here. She’s been sleeping since you and I spoke on the phone,” she informed Sam, shamelessly staring at his rugged good looks. It gave him an uncomfortable, prison-rape feeling, but Sam pinned his attention on Nina. Her small frame was curled up under a pile of blankets, some of which turned into cats when he pulled them away to see Nina’s face.

  Sam did not show it, but he was shocked to see how bad she looked. Her lips were blue upon her pasty face, hair clinging to her temples as she breathed hoarsely.

  “Is she a smoker?” Frau Bauer asked. “Her lungs sound terrible. She refused to let me call the hospital before you’d seen her. Should I call them now?”

  “Not yet,” Sam said quickly. On the phone Frau Bauer had told him about the man who had accompanied Nina, and Sam reckoned it was the other missing person from the hospital. “Nina,” he said softly, running his fingertips along her crown and repeating her name a little louder each time. Eventually her eyes opened and she smiled, “Sam.”Jesus! What’s wrong with her eyes? he thought with a jolt of dread at the light sheet of cataracts that had made cobwebs all over her eyes.

  “Hey beautiful,” he answered, kissing her forehead. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Are you kidding me?” she said slowly. “Your voice is burned into my mind…just like your scent.”

  “My scent?” he asked.

  “Marlboro and attitude,” she jested. “Christ, I’d kill for a fag right now.”

  Frau Bauer choked on her tea. Sam chuckled. Nina coughed.

  “We were worried sick, love,” Sam said. “Let us take you to the hospital. Please.”

  Nina’s damaged eyes bolted open. “No.”

  “Things have calmed down there now.” He was trying to dupe her, but Nina would have none of it.

  “I’m not stupid, Sam. I’ve been following the news from here. They haven’t caught that son of a bitch yet, and the last time we spoke he made it clear that I was playing on the wrong side of the fence,” she wheezed hastily.

  “Alright, alright. Calm down a little and tell me exactly what that means, because to me it sounds as if you had direct contact with the killer,” Sam replied, trying to keep his voice void of the true terror he felt for what she was insinuating.

  “Tea or coffee, Herr Cleave?” the kind hostess asked quickly.

  “Doro makes a mean cinnamon tea, Sam. Try it,” Nina suggested wearily.

  Sam nodded amicably, sending the eager German woman into the kitchen. He was concerned about Purdue sitting in the car during the time it would take to get to the bottom of Nina’s current situation. Nina faded into semi-sleep again, lulled by the Bundesliga war on television. Concerned for her life in the midst of her juvenile tantrum, Sam sent Purdue a text.

  She is stubborn, as we thought.

  Deathly ill. Any ideas?

  He sighed, waiting for any ideas of how to get Nina to a hospital before her obstinacy signed off on her mortality. Naturally, non-violent coercion was the only way with someone delirious and pissed at the world, but he feared that would alienate Nina further, especially from Purdue. His phone’s tone shattered the monotony of the commentator on TV, waking Nina. Sam looked down to where he was concealing his phone.

  Offer a different hospital?

  Otherwise knock her out with loaded sherry.

  On the latter Sam knew Purdue was being facetious. The former, however, was an excellent thought. Immediately after the first message came the next.

  Universitätsklinikum Mannheim.

  Theresienkrankenhaus.

  A deep scowl fell into Nina’s clammy forehead. “What the fuck is that constant ruckus?” she murmured through the spinning funhouse of her fever. “Make it stop! Geezusss…”

  Sam muted his phone to appease the vexed woman he was trying to save. Frau Bauer came in with a tray. “I’m sorry, Frau Bauer,” Sam apologized very quietly. “We will be out of your hair in just a few minutes.”

  “Don’t be crazy,” she rasped in her hefty accent. “Take your time. Just make sure Nina gets to the hospital soon. She looks bad to me.”

  “Danke,” Sam replied. He took a sip of the tea, trying not to scald his mouth. Nina was right. The hot beverage was as close to ambrosia as he could imagine.

  “Nina?” Sam dared again. “We have to get out of here. Your pal from the hospital deserted you, so I don’t exactly trust him. If he comes back with a few friends we’re in trouble.”

  Nina opened her eyes. Sam felt a bolt of sorrow cripple him as she looked past his face into the space behind him. “I’m not going back.”

  “No, no, you don’t have to,” he soothed. “We will take you to a local hospital here in Mannheim, love.”

  “No, Sam!” she pleaded. Her chest was heaving alarmingly as her hands tried to find the hair on her face that bothered her. Nina’s thin fingers folded against her skull as she tried to remove the clingy tresses repeatedly, getting more annoyed every time she failed. Sam did it for her while she looked at what she thought was his face. “Why can’t I go back home? Why can’t I be treated in a hospital in Edinburgh?”

  Nina suddenly gasped and held her breath, her nostrils wagging slightly. Frau Bauer was standing at the door with a guest she had gone to fetch.

  “You can.”

  “Purdue!” Nina gagged, trying to swallow with her dry throat.

  “You can be transported to the medical facility of your choice in Edinburgh, Nina. Just allow us to get you to an ER nearby to stabilize you. As soon as they do, Sam and I will fly you home immediately. I promise you,” said Purdue informed her.

  He kept his voice soft and even, so as not to excite her nerves. His words were bathed in positive tones of resolution. Purdue knew he had to give her what she desired without any
talk of Heidelberg as a whole.

  “What do you say, love?” Sam smiled, stroking her hair. “You don’t want to die in Germany, do you?” He looked up apologetically to the German hostess, but she only smiled and waved it away.

  “You tried to kill me!” Nina growled into somewhere all around her. She could hear where he was standing at first, but Purdue’s voice moved as he spoke, so she lashed out anyway.

  “He was programmed, Nina, to follow the commands of that Black Sun twat. Come on, you know Purdue would never hurt you intentionally,” Sam tried, but she was panting wildly. They could not tell if Nina was furious or terrified, but her hands felt around madly until she found Sam’s arm. She clutched onto him as her milky eyes shot from side to side.

  “Please, God, don’t let this be Purdue,” she said.

  Sam shook his head in disappointment as Purdue walked out of the house. There was no doubt that Nina’s remark had hit him very hard this time. Frau Bauer looked sympathetic as she watched the tall, fair-haired man leave. Finally, Sam decided to get Nina up.

  “Come,” he said, gently handling her frail body.

  “Keep the blankets. I can knit more,” Frau Bauer smiled.

  “Thank you so much. You’ve been a great, great help,” Sam told the hostess as he lifted Nina into his arms and carried her out to the car. Purdue’s face was plain and expressionless while Sam loaded the sleeping Nina into the car.

  “Right, she’s in,” Sam announced light heartedly, trying to comfort Purdue without getting soppy. “I think we’ll need to go back to Heidelberg to get her file from her previous doctor after she is admitted in Mannheim.”

  “You can go. I’m returning to Edinburgh as soon as we sort Nina out.” Purdue’s words left a hole in Sam.

  Sam frowned, dumbfounded. “But you said you would fly her to a hospital there.” He understood Purdue’s frustration, but it was not worth playing with Nina’s life.

  “I know what I said, Sam,” he said harshly. The empty look was back; that same look he had had at Sinclair, when he told Sam that he was beyond help. Purdue started the car. “I also know what she said.”

  Chapter 17 – Double Subterfuge

  In the top office of the Fifth Floor, Dr. Fritz was meeting with an esteemed representative of the Tactical Air Force Wing 34 Büchel Air Base on behalf of the high commander of the Luftwaffe, who was currently being hounded by the press and family of the missing airman.

  “Thank you for seeing me unannounced, Dr. Fritz,” Werner said cordially, disarming the medical specialist with his charisma. “The Lieutenant-General asked me to come because he is inundated with visits and legal threats at the moment, as I am sure you can appreciate.”

  “Yes. Please sit down, Mr. Werner,” Dr. Fritz said abruptly. “As I am sure you can appreciate, I also have a tight schedule, what with critical and terminal patients to see to without unnecessary interruptions of my daily work.”

  Werner sneered as he sat down, put off not only by the doctor’s looks but also by his reluctance to see him. However, when it came to missions, such things were not in the least troublesome to Werner. He was there to retrieve as much information about Airman Löwenhagen and the extent of his injuries as he could. Dr. Fritz would have no choice but to assist him in finding the burn victim, particularly under the pretense that they wished to set his family at ease. Of course, in actual fact, he was fair game.

  What Werner also did not bring to the fore was the fact that the commander did not trust the medical facility enough to merely accept information. He was keeping well under wraps that, while he was engaging Dr. Fritz on the Fifth Floor, his two colleagues were sweeping the building with a well-trained, fine-toothed comb for the possible presence of the pest. Each scoured the area individually, moving up one flight of fire stairs and down the next. They knew they only had a certain amount of time to complete the search before Werner would be done interviewing the presiding physician. Once they were sure Löwenhagen was not in the hospital, they could spread out their search to other possible locations.

  It was just after breakfast time when Dr. Fritz asked Werner a more pressing question.

  “Lieutenant Werner, if I may,” his words twisted sarcastically. “How is it that your squadron commander is not here to speak to me about this? I think we should cut the bullshit, you and I. We both know why Schmidt is after the young airman, but what does it have to do with you?”

  “Orders. I am but a representative, Dr. Fritz. But my report will reflect accurately how swiftly you assisted us,” Werner replied firmly. But in truth he had no idea why his commander, Captain Gerhard Schmidt, was sending him and his associates out after the pilot. The three of them assumed they were out to exterminate the pilot just for embarrassing the Luftwaffe when he crashed one of their obscenely expensive Tornado fighter planes. “Once we have what we want,” he bluffed, “we will all receive a reward for it.”

  “The mask does not belong to him,” Dr. Fritz declared defiantly. “You go and tell Schmidt that, errand boy.”

  Werner’s face went ashen. Rage filled him, but he was not there to disassemble a medical professional. The doctor’s blatant derogatory derision was an undeniable call to war, which Werner mentally placed on his to-do list for later. But for now he was focused on this juicy morsel of information Captain Schmidt had not counted upon.

  “I shall inform him of just that, sir.” Werner’s clear, narrowed eyes pierced through Dr. Fritz. A smirk formed on the fighter pilot’s face while the clatter of dishes and the chatter of hospital staff drowned their words of secret jousting. “Once the mask is found, I will be sure to invite you to the ceremony.” Again Werner was prying, trying to throw in keywords untraceable to specific meaning.

  Dr. Fritz laughed out loud. He slammed the desk in amusement. “Ceremony?”

  Werner feared that he had ruined the play for an instant, but it soon benefitted his curiosity. “Did he tell you that? Ha! Did he tell you that you need a ceremony to assume the face of the victim? Oh, my boy!” Dr. Fritz sniffed as he wiped tears of amusement from the corners of his eyes.

  Werner was elated at the doctor’s arrogance, so he milked it by discarding his ego and apparently admitting he had been fooled. Looking utterly disappointed, he proceeded to answer, “He lied to me?” His voice was down, barely louder than a whisper.

  “That’s right, Lieutenant. The Babylonian Mask is not ceremonial. Schmidt is deceiving you to keep you from profiting from it. Let’s face it, it is an extremely valuable piece for the highest bidder,” Dr. Fritz spilled eagerly.

  “If it is so valuable, why did you give it back to Löwenhagen?” Werner ventured deeper.

  Dr. Fritz stared at him in utter befuddlement.

  “Löwenhagen. Who is Löwenhagen?”

  ***

  While Nurse Marx was busy clearing out the last of the used medical waste from her rounds, the faint sound of the ringing phone in the nurses’ station drew her attention. With a laborious groan she jogged to answer it, since none of her colleagues were finished with their patients yet. It was the reception desk on the Ground Floor.

  “Marlene, there is someone here to see Dr. Fritz, but there is no answer in his office,” the receptionist said. “He says it is very urgent and lives depend on it. Can you put the doctor on the line?”

  “Um, he’s not nearby. I’d have to go and look for him. What is it about?”

  The receptionist answered in a subdued voice, “He insists that if he does not see Dr. Fritz, Nina Gould will die.”

  “Oh my God!” Nurse Marx gasped. “He has Nina?”

  “I don’t know. He just said his name is…Sam,” whispered the receptionist, a close acquaintance of Nurse Marx who knew about the burn victim’s assumed name.

  Nurse Marx’s body went numb. Her adrenaline edged her forward and she waved her arm to get the attention of the Third Floor security man. He came running from the far side of the hallway, hand on his holster, passing visitors and staff on the pristine fl
oor that mirrored his reflection.

  “Okay, tell him I’ll come to get him and I’ll take him up to see Dr. Fritz,” Nurse Marx said. After she hung up, she told the security officer, “There is a man downstairs, one of the two missing patients. He says he must see Dr. Fritz or the other missing patient will die. I need you to come with me to apprehend him.”

  The security guard released the strap of his holster with a click and nodded. “Got it. But you stay behind me.” He radioed his unit to report that he was about to arrest a possible suspect and proceeded with Nurse Marx to the reception area. Marlene felt her heart racing, terrified, but excited about the development. If she could be part of the arrest of the suspect who had kidnapped Dr. Gould, she would be a hero.

  With two other officers flanking them, Nurse Marx and the security man descended the stairs to the Ground Floor. As they reached the landing and turned the corner, Nurse Marx peeked eagerly past the huge officer to see the burn unit patient she knew so well. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Nurse, which man is it?” asked the officer, while the other two readied themselves to evacuate the area. Nurse Marx just shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t see him.” Her eyes examined every single man in the lobby, but there was nobody with burn injuries on their face and chest anywhere. “This cannot be,” she said. “Wait, I’ll call out his name.”Standing amidst all the people in the lobby and waiting area Nurse Marx stood still and called out, “Sam! Can you come with me to see Dr. Fritz, please?”

  The receptionist shrugged at Marlene and said, “What the hell are you doing? He is right here!” She was pointing at the handsome, dark-haired man in the posh coat waiting at the side of the counter. He approached her immediately, smiling. The officers drew their guns, stopping Sam in his tracks. At the same time, the onlookers caught their breath; some disappeared around corners.

  “What is going on?” Sam asked.

  “You’re not Sam,” Nurse Marx frowned.

  “Nurse, is this the kidnapper or not?” the one officer asked impatiently.