by P. W. Child
“Geez, no wonder I feel like a shit storm on legs,” she whispered to herself.
“No wonder you did not answer my calls,” Purdue mentioned as he took a seat. Nina threw the bottle in the trash bin by the back door. Bruich strolled into the kitchen, tangling his body in between the small historian’s feet to remind her that he has not had dinner yet.
“Oh shit. Sorry Bruich,” she gasped. “I just have to feed the cat, Purdue. Do you want some coffee or something?”
Purdue was surprised that she was so cordial, but he was not about to complain.
“Coffee, thank you,” he said from the kitchen doorway behind her.
“So, why are you here?” she asked outright, as the old Nina would.
Purdue took a moment to formulate his words correctly. “Nina. I know this is the last thing you want to hear ever again, but I need your help.”
Chapter 11
In Edinburgh, it had been raining for days.
Costa Megalos was preparing to leave, having completed his work at the University and having visited all the people he had been there to see. His ticket back home was lying on the pillow of his hotel room while he showered. He liked the rain, relishing the droplets from the shower head pattering down on him to the sound of the rain against his window.
He did not hear the room door unlock, having no idea that his things were being rummaged through by some stranger looking for something. The restless Scottish weather only aided the intruder in their task, masking the noise they made when opening and closing the cabinet doors. Carefully, Costa’s clothing was lifted and replaced exactly as it was found. His laptop was left untouched. The intruder was not looking for data or information. They were looking for something quite concrete, an object he was said to be in possession of.
Costa’s phone rang, alerting the unsuccessful burglar to flee. In the bathroom, the water was cut off, and Costa rushed to get the call, not bothering with a towel drying or covering. As the door barely shut, the art professor appeared from the bathroom, racing to find his phone in the bundle of luggage he had left on his bed.
“Yes,” he answered slightly out of breath.
“Hello, Professor Megalos?”
“Yes?” he frowned, unable to place if he knew the female caller.
“I hope you are well, and I am sorry to bother, but my boss asked me to get in contact with you. My name is Claire, from the British Museum in London,” she said.
Costa was surprised, as he had not dealt with this institution before.
“Oh,” he said more amicably, “how can I help you?”
She sounded a little coy, like a smitten admirer. “Well, we know you by reputation, so to speak. I work for the curator of the museum, and she gave me your number to find out if you would possibly be able to consult for us?”
Coast felt flattered. “Really? By reputation? When exactly did you need me to help and how long were you hoping to use my services?”
“Soonest, actually. Yesterday,” she replied. “It is quite urgent, but we heard you were lecturing in Scotland for a bit, so I hope I am not interrupting your…”
“No, no,” he interrupted. “I am done in Scotland with my…uh, business, but I can travel to London before I return home to Greece.”
The friendly lady on the phone sounded elated. “You are done with your lectures? Perfect! However, you would not have to come to London, Professor. Our benefactor, the man who needs your assistance, is currently in Edinburgh.”
“Oh! That is convenient,” Costa agreed. “I can be there as soon as I check out of the hotel.”
“Excellent,” Claire replied. “Let me give you the details. Do you have a pen?”
“Uh, give me a second. I am naked and wet,” the Greek mentioned without a second thought. He upturned his leather case to get something to write with.
“Excuse me?” Claire exclaimed, sounding flushed and humored by his revelation.
“Oh,” he chuckled, “I was in the shower when you called.”
He heard Claire giggle, “Aaah, I see.”
After he took down the details and got dressed, Costa packed up and checked out of the Old Town Chambers, waiting in a coffee shop for his lift to arrive. The hired car’s driver helped him load his luggage in the light drizzle that had replaced the previous hour’s downpour.
“All done. Where to, Professor?” the driver asked.
“I am not sure how to pronounce this, actually,” Coast admitted. “And I am confident that I spelled it hideously wrong too.” He passed the shred of paper he had scribbled on to the driver who took a moment to decipher what it could be. Then his face lit up.
“Oh! I think you mean, ‘Wrichtishousis’?” he exclaimed.
“That’s it!” Costa nodded cheerfully. “Is that an actual place?”
“Aye, sir,” the driver smiled. “Home of billionaire playboy inventor and explorer David Purdue, it is. You are in for an interesting time, I’m sure.”
“Why?” Costa asked as the car pulled away.
“The man is a world renowned explorer, as I have mentioned. He is always involved in groundbreaking discoveries, most of them quite controversial too,” the babbling driver informed the professor like a tour operator. “Wrichtishousis is his mansion up there near the University of Edinburgh, so you should be familiar with the area, I suppose.”
The art professor was impressed, but having no idea who this wealthy man was he could not help but feel a measure of apprehension about the matter he was summoned for. Costa had no problem with new faces or places, but he always felt a tad nervous when he was about to meet influential people.
“How do you know I would find the area familiar?” the professor inquired, sounding a little defensive. “I am a foreigner, and I have only been to Edinburgh twice in my life.”
“Please, don’t take offence, sir,” the driver apologized. “I merely assumed you would know the area because you have been lecturing here for two weeks at the University. Same area.”
“Oh, so you know who I am? How do you know that I was lecturing at the University of Edinburgh?” Costa frowned. He was feeling somewhat vulnerable because he was by no means famous and the driver looked the farthest thing from an academic with an interest in Greek Art.
“Um, well, actually my daughter told me all about you. She is a student at the University,” the driver clarified, leaving Costa feeling a hell of a lot better. “Her name is Abbie, and she attended your lecture the other night,” the man smiled. “You must be an excellent teacher. Over the weekend, she could not shut up about you!”
Chapter 12
In the soundproof safety of his study, Purdue was completing a phone call on his tablet. He did not want staff or his accountants to find the number on registered lines. It was strictly off the record. This call was his own business.
“Please let me know how the operation went, doctor. And if there is anything you and your team need to speed up his recovery or better the task, please contact me. And, as always, the utmost discretion is imperative. Thank you, doctor. Thank you very much.”
Purdue was waiting for the last two people he lined up to join the excursion that would probe the origin and authenticity mysterious stone statues and whatever method was used to make them. He could not resist the unshakable fascination he had with such an anomaly, the works of the impossible, and he had to know what the phenomenon was all about.
Outside in the pouring rain, the massive gates to his estate remained open with only two security guards on duty to keep an eye on the entrance. Inside the vast mansion, Purdue was entertaining those he had already employed officially to join him in the search. His first order of business was to locate the warehouse Dr. James Heidmann had spoken of to get better insight as to the cause of the calcification and to make a record of any identification symbols or names the statues might hold.
It was late afternoon, but the dark grey skies of the vicious storm had draped Edinburgh in dusk. Fires were lit in the hearths of the first
floor, and dinner had just been started by Purdue’s head cook, Grützmacher. Purdue had elected not to leave Dr. Heidmann’s statues at the British Museum because he did not need any other agents to discover what he and his colleagues had. So, as to avoid any untimely surprises, Purdue arranged for the statues to be transported by his own people at Pinnacle Regent Transport, of which he was the owner. They had already collected the sculptures and were en route to his estate.
“This is some excellent Scotch, Dave, but I would kill for a Guinness, actually!” he heard from the billiards room. It was Donovan Graham, the huge and rugged archeologist who was grittier than the terrain he excavated during his own digs.
“You have no refinement, my friend. None at all,” Purdue smiled as he gestured for one of his house staff to come over. “Please Janet, could you go down to the wine cellar and check one of the fridges for …” he sighed, shaking his head facetiously, “…some Irish beer for my friend, Dr. Graham?”
The servant smiled amusedly, “Certainly, Mr. Purdue.”
“Guinness! Thank you, Janet!” Don shouted after her. He walked over to where Purdue was standing from where he was looking out from the window that overlooked the driveway. “So, who else are we waiting for, besides Zorba the Greek?” Don asked Purdue.
“Heidmann is late. We are just waiting for the two of them. Then we can start arranging our plans, get the logistics and visas sorted out,” Purdue informed him.
“How much of this story do you believe?” Don asked.
“How do you mean? You saw that broken body with your own eyes,” Purdue replied, taken aback by his friend’s doubt.
“No, I get that. But do you believe Heidmann’s story of how he acquired the pieces? It just sounds a little too cut and dried to me. For instance, how did he and his laborers get back to the compound and managed to steal those pieces without being detected at first?” he scowled, trying to make sense of the details. “I don’t know. If someone stole my secret victims, especially a huge historically significant find like that, I would have pursued them to the ends of the earth.”
Purdue nodded, “I see where you doubt all that. But right now, all we can do is take this as far as we can so that we can unravel this thing. However, if Heidmann does not show up tonight, we will know that he was lying and that he cannot be trusted.”
“I second that,” Don agreed. He saw the staff lady bearing a box marked with his favorite logo. “Excuse me,” he told Purdue, “I have to go and alleviate that poor woman’s burden over there, being the gentleman that I am.”
Purdue chuckled as Don eagerly eased the box from the woman, but his attention was stolen by the headlights coming up the driveway.
“Ah! Smashing!” he exclaimed and went to welcome the occupant of the taxi. “Professor Megalos, how kind of you to agree to help us out,” Purdue smiled as the Greek professor cowered up to the front porch of the massive manor with the hood of his coat pulled forward to cover his forehead.
“It's good to be here, Mr. Purdue,” he panted as he and the driver crossed the front door threshold. Only after he tipped the driver for bringing in his luggage could he finally remove his hood and give his host the proper attention. “Costa Megalos, at your service,” he said charmingly and shook Purdue’s hand.
“Is it Heidmann or Zorba the Greek?” they heard Don shout from the billiards room. Purdue looked mortified, but Costa had a hearty chuckle.
Don peeked in and did not flinch at the sight of the professor, not worried in the least that he may have offended. He shifted his bottle of stout into the other hand and extended a hand, “Donovan Graham from Dundee. Archeologist. Nice to make your acquaintance.”
Costa grinned and wiped his hands before shaking Don’s hand. “Zorba the Greek from…Greece. How do you do!”
Purdue had to smile at the professor’s welcome sense of humor. One had to be thick skinned and have some crude affability to keep company with Dr. Graham after all.
“How was your trip through the city?” Purdue asked as Costa shed his coat and opted for a brandy near the fireplace.
“Good, good, thanks,” Costa said. “It is not the climate I am used to back home; that is for sure. But the cool rain was a welcome change I must say.”
Shortly after, Heidmann arrived. After all the introductions, Purdue filled them in on the basic plan for his expedition which he called Operation Medusa. He briefed them by just touching on his outline.
“The only snag I have at the moment, gentlemen, is that we cannot yet plan out the rest of the excursion until we know more about the first location. Until we have investigated the warehouse and its contents we will not have a clear idea where to go next,” Purdue lectured while his colleagues took their seats on the casual seats around the snooker table. “All I know is that I am getting Dr. Graham’s forensics people to analyze the composition of the organs found in the broken piece so that we can ascertain how the mysterious transformation occurs. From there on, we will know how to go about the rest.”
“So this other statue was a man from the Second World War? Correct me if I did not understand correctly,” Costa inquired with great interest.
“That’s right,” Heidmann affirmed. “The two entwined figures, which I think Mr. Purdue should have by… tomorrow?” he looked quizzically at Purdue, who nodded to confirm, “… are apparently two much older specimens of the same phenomenon. The statue that broke, however, was from a Nazi concentration camp, from what we could surmise.”
“But you do not know for sure?” Costa asked.
Heidmann shrugged, “We are pretty certain of that.”
“So when do we go to this warehouse?” Costa persisted, answering the urgency of his curiosity while Don watched enthusiasm of the newcomer in silence. He smiled at Purdue as if saying ‘Check out this zealous puppy’, and Purdue returned his sentiments with an almost imperceptible nod. They were amused at the interest shown by the art professor, clearly not accustomed to such adventurous endeavors. It was refreshing.
“In two days. Tomorrow the statues will arrive from London, and Don’s analyst should be here in the morning to check the substance of the damaged piece. The day after we should be ready to travel to the Czech Republic, to Ostrava,” Purdue enlightened them. “From what we managed to get there, I will map our next move, but you will be informed well in advance.”
“So you are not sure how long we will be engaged in this venture, Dave?” Heidmann asked.
“I’m afraid I do not have a definite time frame yet, James, but we should know soon enough,” Purdue assured him.
“Right!” Don groaned as he stood up to get another stout. “Is class dismissed, sir?”
“It is. Enjoy recess, Master Graham,” Purdue chimed.
“Many thanks!” Don exclaimed and headed for the couches in front of the large flat-screen mounted on the wall. “I believe we are playing Denmark.”
After catching up on the details, Heidmann and Purdue played a game of billiards while Costa joined Don. They watched the football match on Sky Sports 1, quickly realizing to their delight that they were fans of the same sport.
“I hope the power holds out,” Heidmann remarked as the windows shuddered under a particularly great clatter of thunder.
“It will. I have an independent source of backup electricity generated by one of my own inventions,” Purdue smiled with his usual laid back demeanor that could put anyone at ease. He was always in control, and it showed in his movement, his voice, and his eyes. It was a relief for James Heidmann to be in the company of such a powerful ally, contrary to the worrisome situations he typically found himself in.
Heidmann always inadvertently plunged himself into the company of unsavory people with bad intentions. Perhaps it was his constant desperation to survive in his world, or maybe he was just a bad judge of character. Yet he found that most of the time he was alone against the world, alone against those who managed to find their way across those carefully burned bridges he could never flee. Now he fe
lt relatively safe for the first time in his long career as a collector.
Though everything was vague in the background of the intense football game, Purdue heard the front door opened by the butler. He was curious about the caller and excused himself from the merriment to investigate. Costa, Don, and James carried on drinking and arguing about everything from sports to the paranormal until the new guest accompanied Purdue into the billiards room.
Purdue raised his voice above the voices and the television broadcast to announce the last member of the expedition.
“Gentlemen, I would like to introduce Dr. Nina Gould, last member of our party. She is an invaluable member of this group, an expert on German history, specifically Nazi Germany and World War II.”
“Jesus!” Don growled unwittingly. Costa slapped him on the back to remind him of his crudeness, which he instantly took note of and made an apologetic gesture.
All three men looked frozen when they laid eyes on the beautiful historian. As Purdue introduced them one by one, they managed basic speech and some form of propriety, but it was evident that the petite 40- year-old with the big, brown eyes had them all weak at the knees. In her one arm, she held a gigantic ginger cat, and when Purdue was done, she lifted the cat slightly and smiled, “And this is Bruichladdich. But he will be staying here at Purdue’s house while we are gone.”
She looked at Purdue and said softly, “I could not get a cat sitter. You know how my neighbors hate me.”
Purdue just chuckled, “It’s perfectly alright, Nina. I don’t care if you brought the Ark with you, as long as you are here.” He kissed her to seal his welcoming but made sure it did not feel romantic for the sake of their colleagues and also because she made it clear that she still resented him.
Nina could not take her eyes off Costa. It was a strange familiarity for a stranger she had not felt since she met Sam. In fact, the Greek’s dark long hair and eyes almost matched Sam’s to a T. Had she not been so smitten by the elegant professor’s charms, his appearance may have dumped her into another bucket of Sam-yearning. But she was feeling great. A renewed excitement for the expedition now fueled Nina’s demeanor.
