18 Welcome to Nekenhalle
In the bright morning sun, the two brothers left early and drove to Christchurch, on the eastern coast of South Island, where Cecil Harding planned to obtain the necessary medical materials to facilitate his rustic pathological examination. They were there by the time the doors opened, and Gary was astonished at the warm welcome his brother received from the local medical staff. For once, the plump older brother was the talkative one and Gary allowed him the limelight. After all, he was a doctor, and merited his younger brother’s respect.
Gary wandered through the facility, looking at the wall-mounted posters and paging through some of the AgriVet publications on the reception counter while he waited for Cecil to finish his business. He would never tell Cecil, but every free thought moment he had was brimming with shards of memory from the fateful day his father was taken. Gary prided himself on being a typical New Zealand bloke, a tough and masculine brute who had no time for sensitive feelings and therapy. Yet, he could not deny that those brief moments alone with his own mind was a cumbersome torture.
He could still hear Lewis screaming when he was dragged into the mountain, just like the tractor was pulled back into the darkness. Now and then, when he was not distracted, he remembered how he could briefly hear his father cry like a child, wailing hopelessly in the dark. Gary, the man’s man, could not come to terms with the level of terror that prompted him to be such a perfect coward. The way in which he dashed down that hill to escape the same fate as his father, would forever shame him.
Ringing switchboard phones and the conversations around him faded in favor of the unholy memories of how his father shouted his name, calling for his son to save him, as his voice gradually grew weaker. Thoughts of what took Lewis, of what it intended to do with him, would not allow Gary any peace. The sense of not knowing what had befallen his father after he slid over the black sand into the chasm, was the pinnacle of Gary’s despair.
Instead of proving he was as good as Bill Best, Gary did not come to his father’s aid during the attack. He simply scurried away like a cockroach, tripping over weeds and falling most of the way down. And still he rather took the hitching of the thorns to rip at his skin than to suffer similar pain and effort up by the mouth of the mountain, for the sake of his father’s life. The guilt was killing him.
“And now you want to see if they were poisoned like your dogs? My God, Cecil, I hope you can get to the bottom of this,” said Dr. Elaine Foxworth, as she accompanied Cecil out into the main reception lobby. He had relayed the entire story to her in her office and subsequently, she agreed to give him the instruments and material he needed on loan.
“We have to get to the bottom of this, Elaine,” he said. “I mean, the condition in which we find the animals, screams predator, but we all know there are no large predators in New Zealand. I mean, Christ, we have someone out there acting like a poacher, but only kills pets and livestock. I need to find out why, and only the carcasses will tell us that.”
“Well, you know the reason I am breaking the rules of the Veterinary Association to accommodate you, is because you have always taken veterinary science seriously. Now me, I am just satisfied saving pets and healing the sick puppies, while you are a true pioneer. You delve into the cellular secrets that could present solutions instead of just treating animals. Your father should be proud of you,” she rambled courteously. Gary smirked as his inner voice amused him. ‘She is clearly a fan. Wonder if she knows he is into cock.’
“This is my brother, Gary.” Without warning, Cecil suddenly introduced him to the busty, blond Elaine, catching him off guard. Gary felt stupid and unprepared, but he held his pose when he shook hands with the sexy veterinarian. “Nice to meet you,” was all he could utter at such short notice, but at least he did not stutter or say ‘fuck’ as readily as he did with Mrs. Cockran. Besides, with the tone Cecil introduced his brother with, and the accompanying leer, Gary knew he had to behave.
“You know, now that you mentioned animals getting poisoned,” Elaine told Cecil, “I believe our colleagues in Oz are having a time of it, hey?”
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“Haven’t you heard about the latest scourge over there? Apparently, some conservationist with a God-complex has now introduced poison capsules into a few dingoes, like a time bomb,” she said under her breath to maintain a professional demeanor in the public area.
“What?” he frowned.
“Some people there are ‘managing wildlife’, as they put it, in a controversial manner that has the conservation groups in uproar. To cull wild goats, they are sending in a handful of dingoes, due for extermination to do the job. Hey? How do you like that?” she pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow.
“You are shitting me,” Gary said.
“Nope, I swear, that is what they are doing. Now I am thinking, maybe that kind of poisoning is somehow involved here in New Zealand too. Maybe it is supposed to be a test. Maybe the poison was introduced by accident when one of those wildlife organizations introduced a tarnished specimen, if you know what I mean.”
“Holy shit,” Cecil gasped. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“You would have to call out the head of the wildlife association or something, mate,” Gary urged his brother in all sincerity.
Cecil was contemplating the suggestion, under the influence of all the new information he just got from Elaine. His brother was not wrong either, he realized. “That is a good idea,” Cecil said. “I’ll call Mr. Olden. He is the senior manager of the Wilderness Society. Maybe he could assist us in locating the origin of this poison.”
“Good idea,” Elaine smiled. “According to the people at the media branch of the Wildlife office, Olden has been actively battling this dingo poison thing for some time. He was looking for the suppliers of the poison, I know, so that he could launch a global legal battle on these people.”
“Great, then he will know what to do,” Cecil confirmed. “As soon as I know what is poisoning these animals I can have a bit more credence when I contact him.”
“But that still doesn’t tell us why they are mutilating the livestock,” Gary added the first genuine contribution to the relevant conversation. For a moment, he actually sounded mature.
“That is alright,” Elaine answered. “As soon as we know the strain of venom used, we will know if it corroborated with the ongoing cases in Australia.”
“Alright, then, let’s get going, bro,” Cecil told Gary. Both picked up the large boxes containing the borrowed forensic apparatus and bid the forthcoming Dr. Foxworth goodbye.
“Fuck me, but it is hot today!” Gary was heard exclaiming in the parking lot.
“Great. Just when I thought you would not embarrass me,” Cecil complained as they loaded the boxes in the SUV.
“Come on, don’t tell me this heat is not making your skin melt,” Gary defended.
Cecil sighed. “Get in the car, Gary.”
The sweltering day was no kinder on the search party that Sgt. Anaru had gathered. They arrived at the station at 7am, had a quick breakfast of sandwiches and coffee and completed the roll call from Const. Ballin’s clipboard. A heatwave had been predicted for most of South Island, but it was not due until a few days later. Then again, nature did not care for mortal predictions, and by the moaning of the men and discomfort of most living creatures it was safe to assume that it had arrived prematurely.
“Right friends, it is time to go out to Nekenhalle and see if we can find Mr. Harding!” Sgt. Anaru declared from the cement fence wall he was perched on. His brow glimmered with sweat, and under his damp black curls, his neck was drenched in perspiration that stained the top of his uniform collar. “Now this is going to be Day 1 of the search for Mr. Harding. Depending on how meticulously we comb the area around the house and mountain, we will add another day or two onto the search.”
The men were fanning themselves with rolled up newspapers and hats, most of them wearing T-shirts and jeans with good h
iking boots. Although their attire was on the thick side, the boots and jeans were imperative for protection. New Zealand may have had no large predators or snakes, but it had plenty that could hurt a man up in the bush. Ticks and mosquitoes could not beat denim and hiking boots were necessary for obvious reasons.
“Now, we have a water car coming up with us, so don’t worry about getting thirsty. As you might know, this particular farm does have a small dam, but it is on the other side of the hill, through thick brush and matagouri. So don’t be stupid and wander off, else we will be looking for you tomorrow,” the charismatic officer continued. “Take your canteens to the water car before we start the search, people! We will not have time to mess around too much looking for water, so carry it with you and hydrate as you need it, alright?”
A resounding answer of ‘yes, sir’ echoed through the small cement parking area before they all dispersed to their respective vehicles. It was a relatively smooth ride up to the farm. Dispatch had contacted Sgt. Anaru to inform him that Dr. Harding would be available to join the search the following day, if need be.
“Why? Is he still in Christchurch?” he asked the dispatch officer as they traversed the snaking road toward the infamous mountain that marked Nekenhalle on the watery looking horizon.
“On their way back, sir,” dispatch replied. “His brother is going to come join the search, though, as soon as they are back.”
“Very good, thanks,” the sergeant answered. He looked at Const. Ballin. “Heather, you alright, love?”
“I’m not going to lie, Mick. I am fucking terrified, but it feels much better having all these blokes with us,” Const. Ballin admitted. He placed his large, calloused hand on hers and pressed affectionately.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to my fiancé, would I?” he smiled.
Heather scoffed and smiled. “Anything almost happened to me yesterday.”
Sgt. Anaru kissed her hand and countered smoothly, “Yes, but it didn’t, did it?”
Soon after, the bonnet of the police vehicle reared its nose over the last rise of the road and the entrance to Nekenhalle became visible. Heather’s heart started beating faster as she leaned forward to look up at it. “There it is – the gates of hell.”
Sgt. Anaru agreed with her, but he did not say it. Const. Ballin did not need her fears affirmed by his concurrence. The vehicles crowded the normally barren and desolate shoulder of the road until one of the men used his bolt cutter to dislodge the heavy padlock. He unwrapped the enormous chain from the frame, but it took three men to push the gates open. The sound that erupted from the antique hinges started all those who heard it; a loud screech that sounded like a crying woman in the jaws of steel cogs, a most abhorrent welcome to Nekenhalle.
19 The Common Denominator
Nina did not think that Harris was far off in his jest of asking the corpses how they had died of snakebites and if there were actually snakes present on the ship. After he excused himself and left for work, Purdue and his colleagues sat down at the dining table.
“There might be a way to ask them, you know,” she smiled, reaching into her satchel. She produced a small book that used to be covered in red canvas material, but with its age and deterioration, it was reduced to a pig-eared, ripped article with rust spotted pages.
Purdue looked intrigued. “What is that?”
“This, old boy, is from my own attic collection. I call it ‘The Grisly Tales of the Fallen Reich’, but you can just call it our saving grace,” she explained.
“Please tell me what I want to hear,” Purdue said, looking quite ready for good news. His long fingers played with the pages of the lab results while he waited for her to make his day.
“I might just,” she replied, opening the book on the table. Inside it was blue pen scribbles in German, the lettering thickened by the dissolving ink into the fiber of the page. “Look, this, whoever wrote this, was using the same insane grammar while talking bollocks in a supposed love letter to Heike.”
She flicked the book upside for Sam and Purdue, who were sitting opposite her at the table. Together they grabbed hold of the book and pulled it nearer to peruse the contents.
“This Heike must be a hot bird,” Sam muttered. “She’s been around the SS a few times, it seems.”
Purdue wanted to laugh at Sam’s remark, but he was too awestruck by the similarities in words and phrasing. “Astonishing,” Purdue raved in a whisper. “Absolutely astonishing.”
Sam scrutinized the writing, understanding some of the words, but having nowhere near the knowledge of German as his friends. As Purdue read through another piece, his concentration gradually drifted back to the Williams girl and her bloody punishment for aiding him. It only reiterated the constant blame that he bore for people involved in his ventures getting hurt or killed.
The horrible incident from the other night still haunted him quite strongly, yet he dared not share his feelings with Nina. She was weary of the trouble brought on them all too and she did not need to know that he, the mighty and powerful David Purdue, was feeling frail about their efficient relic hunting squad. Inevitably, the latter matter evolved into a more pressing notion he had been suppressing – the furtive infection of his business by the Order of the Black Sun. Had he been more on his guard about their influence and power, indirectly, the Williams girl would not have been attacked. Had he paid attention to his communications, she would still have been healthy, happy, and oblivious to the evil people would resort to in the name of greed and control.
“Purdue,” Nina yelled, snapping him back to reality.
“Sorry, yes, Nina?” he babbled.
“Where did you go, mate?” Sam asked sincerely. “Wherever it was, it doesn’t look like the kind of place I would like to go.”
Purdue shook off his inadvertent lack of focus like a wet dog, and shrugged, “Remind me to go and see Mrs. Williams once we are done here.”
“Will do,” Sam replied quickly. “Now, Nina, you were saying?”
She took a deep breath to collect her thoughts and repeated what she was saying before Purdue went into his state of daze. “What I was saying is, if I use this same method to unravel the letter in Storage 4, I think we might find out where the snakebite business comes in.” She leaned forward to make another point. “By the way, I was thinking about the poison in the samples, right? It is possible to trace poison in the remains of very old specimens, but what I want to know, is how an apparently simple compound used in medicine, can be so potent that Bruich could virtually be killed by it after so many years.”
“Aw, Bruich,” Sam lamented, being suddenly reminded of his pet’s suffering.
“That is a valid point too, my dear Nina,” Purdue agreed. “That is precisely what I have to find out, because this substance is causing everyone around me serious trouble.” He stood up and wiped back his hair. “Nina, can you start on the letter and see how much information you can unlock there? In the meantime I have to go and visit Mrs. Williams.”
“Can I tag along?” Sam asked. “I am done editing and Nina is going to be too busy to be good company. Besides, when she does research, she is a right bitch.”
She stuck out her tongue at Sam and replied, “Alright. I should have most of this figured out by tonight. I just hope whoever took that cipher book is not coming to claim the Heike letter from me. I’m too tired to fight.”
“I don’t think they will, Nina. I think they want to destroy the book to keep us from finding out what happened on the twin ships to Argentina.”
“I hope you are right,” she sighed, placing her glasses back on her nose.
Over the radio in the background, a familiar name caught Purdue’s attention. He gestured for them to hush and listen, and then he raced to turn it up.
“Edinburgh police spokesperson, Libby Helens, told Radio Highland News this afternoon, that Dr. Martino was accompanied by Mr. Cruz, of the Spanish Embassy in Edinburgh. The two Spanish delegates were on their way back to Madri
d, after leaving the residence of renowned Edinburgh philanthropist and explorer, David Purdue, allegedly with a consignment of historical artifacts. Mr. Purdue had previously been in the news when he was under investigation by MI6 for espionage, relic theft, and several criminal transgressions on foreign soil.”
“Jesus Christ!” Nina howled, but Sam hushed her to listen to the rest of the report.
“The truck following the delegates’ vehicle on a secondary road off the M9 south of Stirling, could also not be saved. Both vehicles had exploded on impact and authorities are still trying to ascertain the nature of the collision. Becky Hanson for Radio Highland.”
Purdue felt yet another sledgehammer blow to the gut. Once more, his involvement had caused carnage and destruction. Deep inside, he had begun to believe that he is cursed. Sam and Nina just stared at one another after the devastating news of the Spanish delegates, speechless at the unbelievable incident.
“And so soon after leaving here with the German soldiers’ remains,” Nina remarked softly as she tried to make sense of the coincidence. “It is terrifying how close these events follow after we discovered the Heike letter.”
“Purdue!” Sam suddenly gasped. “Don’t you find it uncanny that the bodies that happened to be infused with the same poison that doubles as snake venom? Don’t you find it a little odd that the same compound you are being accused of supplying to people killing wildlife in Australia?”
This was Sam’s forte. He was gifted in connecting dots in places where most people had a blind spot for logical detection. Years as a reckless journalist who disrespected the innate fear of death had bestowed on him some sort of deeper vision than the obvious. Purdue just looked at him with blank eyes and a resting countenance that challenged his theory, but in truth, the white haired genius was mentally testing Sam’s notion.
Keepers of the Lost City Page 11