As the women went to the trapdoor to ask for Sam to go to the store for them, a majestic roar filled the neighborhood, sending them jolting backward onto the floor.
“What the fuck!” Nina screamed at Gretchen.
It had sounded like the clap of a cannon, its sub-toned bass punching them in the gut as if a thunder cloud released a bolt of lightning in the house. A blinding white and blue light filled the whole place, its rays shooting forth into the night for all of Oban to see. In the streets, cars slammed into one another and posts were dislodged by disoriented drivers as all eyes turned to the house on Dunuaran Road. From the windows and roof tiles, daylight emanated like beams from a spaceship and residents raced outside to behold what had not happened in the small town since the late 1950s.
Here was irrefutable proof. The legend was real.
20
Jaap Roodt inhaled deeply. He wanted to smile, but instead he just kept his content to himself. Venice was rife with tourists from all corners of the planet, it seemed, and the place bustled with posing lovers, spoiled children with tantrums, and the odd photographer with proper equipment aiming at the Basilica’s rounded crowns, spires, and domes. The day was beautiful. The piazza smelled of Italian cuisine and flowers where the light breeze carried it across the channels from side to side. Gardens were hardly ever in dearth for the blessing of the warmer temperate weather and the skilled hands of their keepers who delighted in beauty, as much as Italy reveled in its art.
Upon the water from the Adriatic, the cooler squalls persisted and to the trained eye this was a sign of impending rain. Jaap traversed Piazza San Marco leisurely, looking at all the people minding their own business, each blissfully unaware of what he was planning for them. At his age there was much reason to contemplate the condition the world had been dumped into, and on those odd occasions when his conscience threatened, all he had to do was walk among the population of the cities he visited. Soon it reminded him how a supreme cleansing was the only logical advancement of the human race, or those left to survive it.
He sat down and waited for his companion to show up. With fingers like talons betraying his age, regardless of the speed and agility with which he moved, Jaap Roodt pulled out his buzzing cell phone.
“Roodt,” he said sternly, perfectly aware by the caller ID display that it was his young wife calling. As he listened to her, his colleague finally showed up. He motioned for the sullen man to sit down across from him while he completed the call. The wind picked up and stirred his guest’s hair, giving him an appearance of feral fury. His eyes were bloodshot and it was abundantly clear that he had not been sleeping.
When Jaap hung up the phone, he gave Dave Purdue a long, serious look.
“My God, boy! You are a mess,” he told Purdue and offered him a donut, which was gracefully refused. “For the fate you escaped, my friend, you should be grateful for what you still have. And considering the position you have been awarded after betraying us, it is nothing short of a miracle. So chin up.”
Purdue’s expression was static and all he heard from Roodt’s words were the steely disrespect for his plight. Yes, he was rescued from an awful send-off, courtesy of the council and the Black Sun’s respective factions, but that did not absolve them from what they had done to him. Still, Roodt made it sound like Purdue was a stray dog put to good use for the privilege of scraps. Perhaps that was exactly what he was these days, but he knew what he was getting into. His wealth, like it did most fools, blinded him to his vulnerability for long past the point of peril. Now all that was left was to stop antagonizing the organization and do as he was told, at least until things settled and he could assess his position.
“How is the project coming on?” Jaap Roodt asked, breaking off a piece of the confectionary with his sunspot-riddled hands.
Dave Purdue looked up at the clear sky and the sea birds floating above all the human misery below. “Apart from a few details, it is on schedule. I need the materials I requested urgently, but I have had no success in obtaining them yet. Are you sure we are in the right place?”
“David, I would bet my life on it. For centuries it has been a well-kept secret in our ranks that the Library of Forbidden Books was located here in Venice. How you discover it is your own charge. As long as the Longinus is ready by deadline and the ARK is sufficiently populated . . . ” Jaap looked at Purdue with a smug amusement that proved him to be more callous than judged before, “and Purdue, make sure you make the ferry, old boy. We would not want the Renatus, the great architect of the New World Order, to be late for his own Armageddon.”
Fuck you, you should make sure you don’t kick it before then, Purdue thought with not a second consideration. In fact, he could hear Nina’s voice saying it for him. Nina. His chest ached as he kept his composure and nodded at Roodt’s conceited warning.
“My wife is becoming a serious thorn in my side. I tell you, I have doubts on taking her with me to ARK,” Roodt chuckled dryly, looking down at the paving under his polished shoes. He was quite serious. “In fact, most of the women we drag on our arms are not worthy of the ARK’s refuge. Fortunately being a member of the council means that we carve our own niches. So should you.”
“I intend to,” Purdue spoke, his tone not as guarded as he had hoped. He had nothing left to lose, and even with all his properties, luxuries, and status in the world he felt barren. Nothing was left of the cheerful tycoon with his whimsical sense of adventure and eternal optimism. All that was left was a sense of loss and the desire to equalize the cheating he endured by any means necessary. “I shall find the Library of Forbidden Books soon, I hope. My scouts have found nothing, so it looks like something I have to undertake myself. However, I will need the help of one of the council’s . . . ” He sought the right word—“prisoner, hostage, and captive” were a bit too rich to use during a demand of this sort.
“The council’s what, Purdue?” Roodt asked, chewing in haste with ill manners that sickened Purdue.
“Advisor, I think. She is currently in service of Izaak Geldenhuys, I believe. With her knowledge of books, mostly so the more arcane ones, she would prove invaluable to my mission,” Purdue said as nonchalantly as he could.
“Really?” Roodt replied with brute sarcasm. “I did not think she’d be much use to anyone anymore. She is lucky to be drawing breath, poor thing. You do know that she is one of our bargaining chips to keep you loyal. If we gave her to you, for whatever time, we risk your flight, you understand.”
“I do. But I think it would be absolutely idiotic to flee from the position of power you and the council have presented me with, not to mention surviving Final Solution 2. If you do not trust me yet, you never will. Have I not served your agenda well thus far, Jaap? Come now,” Purdue’s mouth curled in a smirk.
Roodt looked at his puppet. Dave Purdue was the most powerful double agent in the Black Sun organization, utilizing the power of brain capacity, the knowledge of technology, and just enough subversion to make him mutable. Depending on what he offered Purdue, the genius billionaire would oblige. Especially since he was Renatus of the Order of the Black Sun now, even by the design of Jaap Roodt to overthrow his own brethren and make the democracy an autocracy, Purdue would not hesitate to fulfill Roodt’s wishes. They had a nice, cushy mutual understanding.
“All right, I’ll arrange for her to be brought to you. But you have two weeks to find the library, Purdue, or else I turn her into a permanent fixture of Venice’s channels,” Roodt threatened.
“No need for threats, Mr. Roodt. You’ll get what you fish for, and I’ll get my work done sooner. When can I expect her?” Purdue asked.
“Within the day, Purdue. Just out of curiosity, what is it exactly you need from the Library of Forbidden Books?” he asked, stuffing his mouth with the last chunk of sweet bread. “Provided it contains what you need, how would it benefit your work on the Longinus and the ARK?”
Purdue did not want to disclose too much, but he would need to tell at least half-truths, just in ca
se his tracks were trailed and found to be deceitful. He had to share information with Roodt, but only as much as needed for him to be able to claim no knowledge if the rest of the details came to light. In other words, Purdue needed to be able to play dumb should his agenda be discovered.
“The so-called heretics of the past two or three centuries had written secret books that would be burned, banned, or worse done to the authors, if the contents would ever be discovered by the church,” Purdue related, taking great care to make it all sound less potent than it really was.
“Why? We all know the earth is round—we’ve known now for some time,” Roodt shrugged.
“Oh, yes, but that was not the kind of heresy these books contained. They spoke of old gods, superior beings, who used to rule the Earth—godless cruel creatures of unsurpassed intelligence who would challenge the concept of God as the Vatican portrays him at every end,” Purdue explained. “But that aside, these beings were reputed to have taught humankind things we were not supposed to know.”
“Like what?” Roodt frowned, but his face was riddled with eager intrigue. He shifted in his place to better hear Purdue’s account in the annoying rush of the wind on the open expanse of the piazza.
“Um, I don’t know. Let me see,” Purdue feigned contemplation to win time enough to sift his facts before delivery. “Scientific knowledge and alchemy, I suppose. Things the church deemed sacrilegious as the undermining of God’s work and so on.”
Jaap Roodt nodded in thought and agreement. He did not utter a word. It did make him awfully curious what these books held other than things previously forbidden. Had they not held more ludicrous or arcane things than mere science, would they not have been released to the world yet? After all, what was miracle was now science, what was alchemy was now metallurgy and its mutable properties, and demonic possession was now psychology. What more could this chaotic, super-informed world still conjure that was not already knowledge in some form by some cultures already?
Finally he sighed and patted a steady old hand on Purdue’s knee, “I must get some rest. I suggest you do the same, Purdue. I shall send her to you by tonight, but I expect some clear progress from the Black Sun’s scientists within the next two weeks. Don’t force the council to depose you, eh, Purdue?” He smiled as if in jest, but Purdue knew there was no mistake that Roodt would do just that. And Purdue knew that for him to be deposed would mean certain death, not mere dismissal, and that alone was incentive for him to hasten.
“I will. I’m over the shock now. Time to carry on with my work,” he told Roodt plainly.
“Ja. That is the spirit. Good man,” Jaap Roodt nodded and rose to leave. “I will be at ARK tonight to oversee the progress there and then,” he sighed laboriously, “it is back to Rotterdam until the implementation of Final Solution 2. Make me proud.”
With a youthful cadence in his stride, the old council member walked off toward St Mark’s Campanile. The gigantic square tower of dark tan brick and spires above its bell tower lurched overhead, silently standing guard over the grave secrets of Lady Venice and her people. Purdue looked up at the steeples of the Basilica, the Campanile, and the Doge Palace, calculating with eyes narrowed in concentration. They formed a pattern of markers he mentally mapped. From his pocket he took his little black tablet and began to connect the dots, feeding it into the small hard drive to be deciphered once he had returned to the old barracks the Order of the Black Sun had converted into luxurious chambers for prestige members.
And all he was waiting for was her.
21
It was raining profusely in Venice, such that the tourists feared a flood of the city’s canals. The locals knew better, but they kept silent and only smiled when they heard visitors frantically scatter to find out if there was “higher ground” somewhere. Purdue had come to the Hotel Cassatia’s bar for a drink or two before embarking on his imperative architectural treasure hunt to locate the sinister library that had always been nothing more than legend. Usually in the ranks of the Black Sun organization, things of legend and myth were addressed as if they were perfectly mundane objects and places, so it was not a huge surprise for Purdue to learn that the Library of Forbidden Books actually existed.
Not only that, but he also knew how to look for it, courtesy of a smitten university tenure from Tokyo who was only too zealous to assist the wealthy bachelor with abstruse information. She had special clearance where she had interned and now held some position of authority—the Institute of Paranormal Studies in a remote part of the city’s outskirts.
He ordered another single malt, but the waiter insisted on a crisp glass of Soave white wine, as opposed to the home brew of alcohol Purdue tended to keep to out of habit. After some persuasion and Purdue’s anticipation of the meeting to come, he elected to have his whisky and a glass of the famous wine the waiter suggested. It was not as if he intended to stay sober for much longer. In the low light of the merriment he smelled the ocean air and the fresh spray of rain that emanated throughout the vast eatery’s half-ajar windows, dressed only by quaint chiffon drapes that breathed gently.
In his mind, thoughts of Nina blended with Sam’s betrayal, the misadventures in search of Atlantis, the offer Jaap Roodt had made him if he facilitated Final Solution 2 and his Renatus status. How did it all happen? How did he go from a carefree, skirt-hounding, exuberant spender and explorer to the king of some dark Nazi afterbirth? He chugged back the whisky, leering at the impotent glass of wine that would hardly do anything to dampen his misery. Purdue lifted his hand at the waiter, ordering another tumbler and then looked at his watch.
I can still tell the time. I’m not even close to intoxicated enough for this, he pondered, planning to remedy the situation duly. By his fifth whisky and half a serving of Soave, he was ravenous, but food would only exacerbate his physical condition, therefore rendering him unable to decide on cuisine. Mostly seafood made its way around the Venetian pub and Purdue knew that oysters and whisky released hell in his digestive tract. Even in his rapidly approaching drunkenness Dave Purdue was of meager conscientious mind. He opted for garlic bread instead and quickly wolfed it down before a cup of espresso washed down the lot.
Just before midnight, she entered the wide portal of double rosewood doors. Purdue gasped, his heart slamming in his chest. With some difficulty, he stood to draw her attention and no sooner did her eyes find him than he fell hard back onto his seat. His body felt the weight of an anvil and his head was spinning while the music and voices of the ambient evening echoed madly in an orgy of noise under the bone of his skull.
She strode casually toward his table, the waiter in tail to pull out her chair and take her drink order. But she whispered something to him and he abandoned the station entirely to take his place behind the bar until she would summon him. Purdue watched her tall, slender body sway gracefully as she took her place opposite him. For a long while they just stared at each other. She cocked her head to the side and her face exhibited true pity. Across the table her smooth hand slid to find his and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“I heard about Nina. I’m so sorry, David.”
He nodded appreciatively, but he was caught between his sorrow for the subject at hand and his shock at the one due. The waiter peeked over the draught taps every now and then, annoying her quite a bit, but she ignored him. It was good to see Dave Purdue again, but he looked dreadful. Ashen and gaunt, the once beaming and mischievous philanthropist and playboy had exchanged his freedom for power. Not that being Renatus was much of a throne, while the council watched every step taken on the chronological chessboard for the advent of the New World Order.
“I believe you asked for me,” she finally said in a smooth tone. She hailed the eager waiter and ordered a seafood dish with some sherry. Purdue looked on in amazement. His eyebrow stirred over his right eye as his glance jumped from her food to her face, as if he was ascertaining whether she was a charlatan in a false guise.
“You loathe seafood,” he rema
rked, ordering another Famous Grouse and more garlic bread. Behind him the cold gust almost sobered him, licking at the base of his skull to soothe the heated onslaught of the alcohol in his veins.
“People change,” she said nonchalantly as she slipped the oyster from the shell into her gaping jaws with absolute flair, as if she was a debutante of sorts who could not put a foot wrong.
“Not like this. I’d sooner expect you to brandish a pair of testicles than to take to seafood!” he hiccupped and burped as quietly as he could to preserve the general manner of the table.
“After what happened to me, I made resolutions not to restrict my experiences to reservation and vigilance anymore. Time is short, David. And I intend to make proper use of its linear debility,” she explained plainly, her voice as serene as an undisturbed pond. “So,” she lifted another shell, “I deign to eat slimy sea creatures now.”
“How Lovecraftian,” Purdue scoffed, among a series of repetitive hiccups. His face was contorted in mockery, but he was secretly elated for her presence and her company. She just smiled, perhaps a little too wickedly, at his unorthodox remark.
“Tell me about the Library of Forbidden Books. It sounds positively riveting, David,” she said sincerely, as she ran the napkin across her lips, careful to maintain her lipstick. Purdue was well off his face, but his mind was clear on his objective, nonetheless. He leaned forward on the table with his lanky torso, dealing her a stark look through dancing eyes that toiled to find their target and hold it. With a rich exhale of garlic and whisky he folded his hands on the table under his chest and whispered with meticulously formed words that made her realize that he had summoned her for more than the divulged reason.
“Where is the Longinus, Agatha?”
22
An overwhelming stench, much like sulfur, possessed every corner of the old house in Oban. Outside a crowd had gathered while the emergency services sped all over the vicinity to assist in the assessment of several collisions and injuries, while the police raced to Nina’s house. By now the blinding light that had exploded through the windows had died to no more than ambient illumination and all was still inside. Even where the neighbors had congregated in shock and curiosity there was not a word to be heard. Mute and astonished droves of people stood, dumbstruck by the stupefying event, before only speculated by historians, physics academics, and occultists.
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