“And all that is said to have happened here,” Peter asked, hardly able to control his tongue after two shots of Arak. Vincent nodded, “Or they would simply disappear.”
“This explains the chopper pilot going insane and heading for the blue, hey?” Purdue nudged Sam sincerely.
“My brother told me similar stories,” Hannah declared. “But he said that gold seemed to be like chum in this part of the Mediterranean Sea. But chum for what?”
“Intriguing question,” Purdue replied, his mind adrift with possible answers locked in science or physics. “If this is indeed similar to the Bermuda Triangle, nothing should be left. But they found remnants of ships. Besides, whatever is claiming these vessels is feeding on war and digests gold like fodder.”
“You see, part of why we came here, is because of this artifact,” Vincent confessed, holding up the prayer stick, “but when you showed up, we had to suspend our search for the prophecy it speaks of. We had to wait at a distance for you to leave.”
“Why?” Purdue asked.
“Because your yacht had anchored precisely where we were bound to dive, David,” the roughshod skipper replied categorically. He looked terrifying with his light eyes shining through the blackness of the shadows playing on his features. “This prayer stick Miss Hannah is so infatuated by was recovered from a World War II shipwreck off the coast of Peru, as I said. But with it came many other treasures, and among that salvage cargo were ledgers of German officers, claiming that some of their ships had disappeared on their way through the Strait of Gibraltar. Two identical ships were dispatched in secret by the SS High Command to divert attention from one another’s gold hoards. Both sank at the same time, to the hour! One off the western coast of South America. The other, short of the passage through the Gibraltar Straits.”
“That is a stone’s throw from here,” Peter mentioned.
“Correct,” Vincent said, “but that is why we are sailing west for now. Had we stayed where the crash occurred, the authorities may have questioned our presence there and our prospective scout would be compromised.”
“So you are just waiting for the dust to settle?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” Vincent affirmed. “We cannot abandon our exploration because of this glitch.”
“So, how did you know that we had found the gold?” Peter asked. Purdue’s eyes grew wide in exasperation. He could not believe that Peter had so carelessly ratted out their find to strangers they could not yet fully trust.
Vincent’s expression changed. “We did not know . . . until you just told me.”
16
Breakthrough
Javier Mantara could not pay attention in class. It was not the first time. Since his sister had committed the unspeakable crime outside her nature, he’d been having trouble functioning even on the most basic level. Even his classmates kept their distance, concerned that his erratic habits and subsequent deterioration was the result of drug abuse or some other mysterious malady.
By the looks of him the young man was ill, yet he exhibited no symptoms of any well-known diseases. His skin grew paler by the day, while his eyes had begun to look slightly milky, a dreadful vision to any observer. Javier was lurching about, unlike the way in which his usual rigid posture would carry him like a smooth conveyer belt. It was alarming to see how his usual outgoing and friendly manner had diminished into little more than a withdrawn glare, coupled with the odd sniffle.
It was not long before his lecturer, Prof. Loreno, asked Javier to stay behind after one of the evening classes to have a word with him. Prof. Loreno was genuinely concerned for the young man and wished to find out what was burdening him. In the buzzing white light of the small office behind the classroom, once but a storeroom, Prof. Loreno waited for Javier to enter before closing the door behind him.
“Thank you for staying behind. It won’t take long, Javier.” The professor smiled.
“Por favor, the lights,” Javier rasped.
“Why?” Prof. Loreno asked. “Does the light hurt your eyes?”
“Sí,” Javier replied softly, holding his hands over his brow to shield himself from the crass illumination. “It feels like needles in the back of my ocular cavities, Professor. Hurts like hell.”
“Your voice also,” the lecturer remarked, as she turned off the light and switched on her desk lamp, “sounds affected by your condition. What’s the matter, then? Have you seen a doctor?”
“Is that why you called me in?” Javier was laboring to speak clearly.
“Yes. I was concerned about your welfare and preferred to find out from you than to get outside opinions from speculative strangers,” she told him.
“I’m very grateful, Professor. The last thing I need is for people to make assumptions about me. To tell you the truth, I’m just relieved that this meeting is not about my progress in the curriculum. You had me worried that I was failing the course, or that my conduct was in question,” Javier said.
“Oh, no, no,” she dismissed his presumption with a smile and a waving hand, “there’s nothing lacking in your work at all, Javier. I’m quite impressed with your aptitude for psychology. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about talking to you regarding your further studies. You would do great in pursuing psychology as a vocation.”
“That’s good to hear. Gracias, Professor.”
“You deserve to be given the chance, but that’s why I’m so worried about your health,” she conveyed. Her silver hair was taken up in a bun, tucked neatly back above the collar of her white cotton blouse. She wiped her hands on a small towel to get rid of the moist annoyance the heat had brought.
“To be honest, Professor,” he shrugged, “apart from the pain I feel in my eyes when the light is too sharp, I feel alright. My throat is a little sore, but I figure that is from the choking heat we’ve been having. I mean, it’s been debilitating on most of us over the last few days, hasn’t it?”
“I agree on that,” she groaned, wiping the back of her neck with the towel. “But there’s more to it, is there not? Look at you, Javier. You are wasting away. Have you eaten?”
“I have. I am,” he protested, feeling a bit defensive to have to justify his eating habits to people who had no business asking. “I eat five meals a day, Prof. Loreno! Five! And here is a twisted little snippet for you. I sleep over ten hours a day! And I still look emaciated and exhausted.”
“Alright. Alright, Javier,” she calmed him. “I believe you. I just wanted to hear it from you, my friend. All you need to do is to tell me that you are okay and I will let it go.”
“I’m fine, Professor. Granted, I have no idea why I look so sick, but I assure you that I’m not suffering from some disease, and I am certainly not on drugs. My God, I don’t even like it when my sister brings vodka home.”
Prof. Loreno sat down. She opened her desk drawer and fetched her fan, hoping to repel some of the pressing heat. “I can’t believe it’s this hot at night, can you?” she sighed, fanning herself and showing instant relief at the brief waves of moving air she generated.
“That’s what I thought was causing me to feel under the weather,” he answered.
“So, how is your sister doing?” she asked suddenly, leaving him vulnerable at her unexpected change of subject. “Has she been faring better with the therapy?”
Javier was dumbstruck. Left speechless for a long awkward minute, he tried to make sense of the conversation. Since Madalina had fled, Javier had forgotten that not all the world knew about the incident. He was so deeply immersed in the nightmare, he had forgotten that the outside world was carrying on, regardless. Forgotten. Forgotten were so many things about normal life that he hardy realized that only he, and a handful of others, knew about his emotional toils.
“Have you not seen the newspapers?” he asked.
“I have. Why?” she frowned. “I mean, I don’t buy them, really. I sometimes just leaf through them while I wait for the bus or when I take a break in the university staff room. Why? What did I m
iss?”
Astonished, he sat glaring at his teacher with his mouth open. He could see that the professor was feeling utterly self-conscious about her error, perhaps even a little taken aback by his response. “What am I not aware of here?” she asked again. “Tell me.”
“My sister was involved in a bad situation that occurred at a local motel, Professor,” he divulged with a heaviness that filtered through his tone. “It was in all the local newspapers.”
Frowning, she looked to the floor, trying to recall the extensive headlines and bylines she had scanned in the past few days. Javier was actually somewhat relieved that his teacher did not know about the ghastly act that had caused him such misery. “Oh God, I hope she is alright?” she finally said, wide-eyed. “I can’t remember reading anything of the sort off hand, but then again, this heat makes it difficult for me to even perform basic mental tasks. Please tell me nothing bad happened to her.”
He hesitated. There was enough bad speculation surrounding Madalina and the circumstances under which she’d abducted a child and killed his mother. Here he had a chance to relay the terrible ordeal with more tact to a clean slate like Prof. Loreno. “My sister is missing.”
That seemed to be the best way to put it—concisely. He left her to make her own assumptions based on this little bit of information, waiting for her to ask questions. But, to Javier’s relief, his tutor trusted his words and asked very little else. It was good to know that some people did not feast on the misfortune of others simply for the sake of judging them. Prof. Loreno gave him a look of mild sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Javier. Do you think she ran away? I hope to God nobody took her. What do you think happened?”
Javier knew that his sister had fled of her own accord to evade capture, but he could not disclose this freely. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “All I know is that I hope she makes contact with me before I have to hear that she’s come to harm.”
“Oh, my dear, I hope so too. I’m sure she will be okay,” she said trying to console him, yet her eyes looked doubtful and her voice wavered. “If she makes contact with you, I’m sure you will start to heal quickly. I’m certain that it is her absence that is causing your physical malaise. Once you know where she is, I just know we’ll be able to see the betterment in your condition.” She smiled warmly.
Javier nodded in agreement, smiling to accommodate her efforts to cheer him up, but inside he felt grim. The silence was cumbersome, so Javier made an effort to end the meeting. He stood up and shouldered his bag. “Are we done here, Professor? I have to get home. I have work tomorrow.”
“Oh, of course,” she said, jumping slightly in her realization of the time. “I have to be getting on too, before my husband gets unclean ideas of my tardiness.” The fifty-something lecturer chuckled sheepishly and switched on her main light to sign off on her work after Javier left her company.
Outside the streets were teeming with parties of people out for a drink or dinner. Their congregations everywhere reminded Javier even more of how lonely he really was since his home was now void of Madalina’s presence. He had many friends and acquaintances, but a lot of them had abandoned social interaction with Javier since the incident. Long lines of cars were parked along the narrow roads, crowding up the already cramped streets.
“Javier!” he heard a few meters behind him. “Javier, wait!”
He turned to find one of his closest friends, Aldo, with two unknown men accompanying him. A bolt of panic shot through Javier’s body. Who were they? Cops? Why were they with Aldo? The three of them approached Javier from across the street, dressed in jeans and hoodies. He prepared to run if he had to. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Aldo, but he could very well have been held up to bluff Javier into their trap.
“Hey!” he exclaimed moderately, not sounding too enthusiastic, but at the same time leaving enough for a dual response. “I’ve not seen you since last week.” He tried to sound casual. The other two men babbled among themselves as Aldo skipped onto the pavement and dragged Javier aside against the wall of a closed store.
“Who are these guys?” Javier asked under his breath.
Aldo frowned, looking a bit lost at first. Then he realized Javier was enquiring about his friends. “Oh, these guys? Just two of my friends from football practice. Listen, I have a message for you and I have to make it quick.”
“A message from whom?” Javier whispered.
His friend looked around briskly, surveying the crowds frequenting their immediate vicinity. In a hushed tone he said, “Listen, I don’t want to get involved in this shit with Madi, okay? I want you to know that this is a once-off favor I’m doing and then I am out, get it?”
Confused, Javier frowned, “Out of what?”
“Out of this whole jam with you and your sister and the cops. Just fucking listen. Madi called me from a landline in Sax, in Alicante. She can’t e-mail you and she chucked her phone, so you have no way of contacting each other. Obviously they are watching your texts and e-mails, right?”
“Right, but what . . . ?” Javier tried, but his friend shoved him against the wall and gestured for him to shut up.
“Sax, Alicante. Got it? Here,” Aldo whispered urgently, and shoved a small piece of paper in his hand, “are the coordinates she gave me. No address, just this. No involving me. Got it?”
“Sí, sí,” Javier promised, feeling his heart flutter happily. Before he could thank him, Aldo and his pals had dashed off into the crowd opposite the street and disappeared.
17
Alicante Calling
Solar Eclipse Imminent: 57%
Javier hastened home to pack his bag for the trip to Alicante. His chest burned and his heart thundered, mostly because he had confirmation that his sister was alive and well. Although he was perfectly aware that it could have been a trap set for him, he could not think of a rational explanation for a set-up. No one was after him. They were looking for Madalina, so if Aldo were setting him up they would be sending Javier to Alicante for absolutely no reason. This, among a thousand other notions and scenarios, darted through his mind as he crammed a few articles of clothing into a canvas bag.
The flat he shared with his sister, the home they had shared with their late parents for most of their high school years, was silent. Javier could almost hear the echoes of its coming solitude defy time and space as he got ready to leave. It felt as if the flat begged him to stay, as if it bemoaned Madalina’s leaving and feared that he would never return. Javier felt haunted at once. He called his boss and explained that he needed to follow some leads on his sister’s whereabouts and then called his aunt to ask if he could borrow her car for two days. She was reluctant, but once he elucidated that it was to look into some information about Madalina, she agreed immediately.
With his work and transport obstacles sorted out, Javier trudged into the shower. He planned to drive to Alicante immediately, since he would never be able to sleep knowing that his sister had made contact with him. Night driving was favorable since his eyes were so sensitive of late.
While he was under the showerhead, one thing came to mind. What had she done with the boy she was so obsessed with? Javier wondered if she still had the child with her or if she had relinquished him to the care of some old convent, true to the tradition of unwanted children in fact and fiction. Javier had removed one of the two ceiling lights two days before to soothe his sore eyes. He looked down as he ran the washcloth over his body. An inadvertent gasp came off his lips as he noticed the condition of his skin, and the bony mounds protruding on his hips.
“Dios mío!” he shrieked through an impending raw throat. “What the fuck is happening?”
Javier was horrified to see how rake thin he had become in little over a week. It was unnatural, he reckoned, for his body to have reduced itself to almost half its original size. Had he changed his eating habits, he would have thought it possible to lose this much weight. But he had not changed anything. As upset as he had been since Madalina disappeared, Javier had reta
ined his nutritional habits. He slept normally, maybe even more than the average person, yet his eyes felt heavy and sensitive. If this were a virus, where would he have contracted it? Even after searching the internet, he could find no disease that correlated with an exact match of his symptoms.
“I’ll see a doctor once I get to Madi. I will. I must,” he decided out loud, picking at the sporadic films of skin that peeled from dry patches on his abdomen and arms. Repulsed, he winced as he stripped pieces of dry skin off like paper. “Oh Jesus! Oh sweet Jesus, this is not happening.”
Done with watching his body shed like a snake, Javier wrapped a towel around him and shut off the water. When he came into the bedroom to get dressed, a shadow figure scared him half to death. It sat in his chair in the low light, making no sound, but it moved to the side and reached for the light switch.
“No!” Javier protested, but it was too late. The ceiling light of the bedroom was strong and stung his eyes, prompting him to cry out in pain. His hands covered his eyes. “What do you want?” he wailed. He did not look. He could not see who was there, because he dared not open his eyes. “What do you want?” he screamed.
“Keep your voice down or I’ll cut your goddamn throat right now, Javier,” he heard as he sank to his knees. It was a voice he knew well, a voice he hated.
“Dr. Sabian,” he announced calmly. “I knew you were behind this.”
“In the state that you find yourself, my boy, I would be a lot more courteous if I were you,” Dr. Sabian warned. “And you have already done most of your damage, spreading that ridiculous theory of yours around, so don’t think I will not resort to . . . shall we say, snuffing you out.”
“So why don’t you, you creep?” Javier defied him, still unable to look. “Why are you infesting my home with your witchery? Just kill me if that’s what you think you can scare me with.”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 7 Page 30
