“Thank you, Ms. Noble,” Sam replied. “I will be there within the next day. We will get to the bottom of this.”
As soon as Sam hanged up, he got a call from Nina. For the first time in a few days he was happy to hear from someone. “Hello, Gorgeous!” he cheered.
“Sam, are you still drunk?” was her first response.
“Um, no,” he answered with dampened enthusiasm. “Just happy to hear from you. That is all.”
“Oh, okay,” she said. “Listen, I have to talk to you. Can you maybe meet me somewhere?”
“In Oban? I am actually on my way out of the country,” Sam explained.
“No, I left Oban last night. That is what I want to talk to you about, actually. I am at the Radisson Blu on the Royal Mile,” she said, sounding a little frazzled. By Nina Gould’s standards, frazzled meant something huge went down. She was not easy to rattle.
“Alright, check out. I am coming to pick you up and then we can talk at my place while I pack. How does that sound?” he suggested.
“ETA?” she asked. Sam knew something had to have hounded Nina, when she did not even bother to interrogate him on the finer details. If she came right out and asked for his estimated time of arrival, she had already made up her mind to accept his offer.
“I will be there in thirty minutes, give or take, for traffic,” he confirmed, checking the digital clock on the dashboard.
“Thanks Sam,” she said in a waning tone that alarmed him. Then, she was gone. All the way to her hotel, Sam felt as if a colossal yoke was put on him. Poor Aidan’s horrible fate, along with his theories about McFadden, Purdue’s moody altering and George Masters’ disturbing way of apprehending Sam only added to the worry he now had for Nina as well. He was so preoccupied with her well-being that he hardly noticed that he had traversed the busy roadways of Edinburgh. A few minutes later, he arrived at Nina’s hotel.
He recognized her immediately. Her boots and jeans made her look more like a rock star than a historian, but her tapered suede blazer and pashmina scarf tamed the look somewhat – enough to make her look as sophisticated as she was. Stylish as she was dressed, it did not redeem her fatigued face. Usually beautiful even by natural standards, the historian’s big dark eyes had lost their luster.
She had a lot to tell Sam and very little time to do it in. She wasted no time in getting into the truck, and cut right to the chase. “Hey Sam. Can I crash at your house while you are God knows where?”
“Sure,” he replied. “Good to see you too.”
It was uncanny how, in one day, Sam had been reunited with both his best friends and they both greeted him with indifference and world-weary misery.
18
Beacon in the Fearsome Night
Uncharacteristic of her, Nina said next to nothing on the way to Sam’s apartment. She just sat staring out the car window at nothing in particular. For atmosphere, Sam had turned on the local radio station to combat the awkward silence. He was aching to ask Nina why she had fled Oban, even for a few days, because he knew she had a lecture contract with the local college there for at least six more months. However, by the way she acted he knew best not to pry – yet.
When they arrived at Sam’s apartment, Nina trudged in and sank down on her favorite couch of Sam’s, usually occupied by Bruich. He was not rushing, as such, but Sam started collecting everything he would need for intelligence gathering so long. In hopes of Nina explaining her plight, he did not press her. He knew she was aware that he would soon leave on assignment and thus, if she had something to say, she would have to come out with it.
“I am off to the shower,” he mentioned as he walked by her. “If you need to talk, just come in.”
He had barely dropped his trousers to get under the warm water when he noticed Nina’s shadow glide past his mirror. She sat down on the toilet lid, leaving him to go about his washing business without a single word in jest or mockery, as was her habit.
“They killed old Mr. Hemming, Sam,” she just stated. He could see her slouching on the toilet, her folded hands between her knees, her head hung in despair. Sam assumed this Hemming character was someone from Nina’s childhood.
“Friend of yours?” he asked in an elevated tone to challenged the rushing shower.
“Aye, so to speak. Prominent citizen of Oban since 400BC, you know?” she answered plainly.
“I’m sorry, love,” Sam said. “You must have loved him very much for you to take it this hard.” Then it hit Sam that she mentioned someone killing the old man.
“Nope, he was just an acquaintance, but we spoke a few times,” she explained.
“Wait, who killed him? And how do you know that he was murdered?” Sam asked eagerly. It sounded ominously like Aidan’s fate. Coincidence?
“McFadden’s fucking Rottweiler killed him, Sam. He killed an infirm senior citizen right in front of me,” she stammered. Sam felt his chest take an invisible blow. Shock jolted through him.
“In front of you? Does that mean...?” he started, when Nina stepped into the shower with him. It was a wonderful surprise and a devastating clout altogether, when he saw her naked body. It had been a long time since he saw her like this, but this time it was not sexy at all. In fact, it was heart wrenching for Sam to see the bruises on her thighs and ribs. Then he noticed the welts on her breasts and back and the roughly stitched knife wounds on the inside of her left clavicle and under her left arm, done by a retired nurse who promised not to tell.
“Jesus Christ!” he shrieked. His heart pounded wildly and all he could think of was to grab her and hold her tightly. She did not cry, and that terrified him. “Was this the work of his Rottweiler?” he asked into her wet hair where he kept kissing her head.
“His name, aptly, is Wolf, as in Wolfgang,” she muttered through the streams of warm water that meandered over his muscular chest. “They just walked in and assaulted Mr. Hemming, but I heard the commotion from upstairs where I was getting him another blanket. By the time I got downstairs,” she choked, “they had pulled him out of the chair and threw him head first into the fire in the hearth. Christ! He had no chance!”
“Then they attacked you?” he asked.
“Aye, they tried to make it look like an accident. Wolf threw me down the stairs, but when I got up, he just used my towel pipe on me while I tried to run,” she recounted in gasps. “Eventually he just stabbed me and left me to bleed out.”
Sam had no words that could make any of it better. He had a million questions about the police, the old man’s body, how she got to Edinburgh, but all that had to wait. For now, he had to calm her down and remind her that she was safe, and he intended to keep her that way.
‘McFadden, you just fucked with the wrong people,’ he thought. Now he had proof that McFadden was indeed behind Aidan’s murder. This also affirmed that McFadden was a member of the Order of the Black Sun after all. Time was running out for his trip to Belgium. He wiped her tears and said, “Dry off, but don’t get dressed yet. I am going to take photographs of your injuries and then you are coming with me to Belgium. I will not lose sight of you for a minute until I have skinned that treacherous motherfucker myself.”
For once, Nina issued no protest. She allowed Sam to take control of things. Not a single doubt crossed her mind that he was her avenger. In her mind, as Sam’s Canon flashed on her secrets, she could still hear Mr. Hemming warn her that she had been marked. Still, she would have saved him all over again, even knowing what swine she was dealing with.
After he had enough evidence, and they were both dressed, he made her a cup of Horlicks to keep her warm before their departure.
“Do you have your passport?” he asked her.
“Aye,” she said, “do you have any painkillers?”
“I am a friend of Dave Purdue,” he answered suavely, “of course I have painkillers.”
Nina could not help but giggle and it was a blessing to Sam’s ears to hear her spirits lift.
On their flight to Brussels, they
exchanged vital information, gathered separately during the past week. Sam had to illuminate the facts under which he felt compelled to take up Aidan Glaston’s assignment, so that Nina would understand what needed to be done. He shared with her his own ordeal with George Masters and the doubts he had about Purdue’s possession of the Dire Serpent.
“My God, no wonder you look like death warmed up,” she eventually said. “No offense. I am sure I look like shit too. I certainly feel like shit.”
He ruffled up her thick dark locks and kissed her temple. “No offense taken, love. But yes, you do look like shit.”
She elbowed him carefully, as she always did when he said something cruel in jest, but she could not deal him the full force, of course. Sam chuckled and took her hand. “We have just under two hours to go before we hit Belgium. Relax and take a breather, alright? Those pills I gave you are amazing, you’ll see.”
“You would know what best to drug a girl with,” she teased as her head lolled against the head rest of her seat.
“I do not need drugs. Birds love the long curls and the rugged beard too much,” he bragged, running his fingers slowly down his cheek and jawline. “You are lucky I have a soft spot for you. That is the only reason I still stay single, waiting for you to come to your senses.”
Sam heard no catty comebacks. When he looked at Nina, she was fast asleep, exhausted from the hell she had been through. It was good to see her take some rest, he thought.
“My best lines always fall on deaf ears,” he said, and laid back to catch a few winks.
19
Pandora Unlocks
At Wrichtishousis, things had changed, but not necessarily for the better. Although Purdue was less moody and kinder to his staff, another scourge had craned its neck. The presence of a nuisance in a pair of flats.
“Where is David?” Nurse Hurst asked abruptly when Charles opened the door.
Purdue’s butler was the epitome of composure, and even he had to bite his lip.
“He is in the laboratory, madam, but he is not expecting you,” he answered.
“He will be thrilled to see me,” she said coldly. “If he has reservations about me, let him tell me himself.”
Charles, nonetheless, followed the arrogant nurse down to Purdue’s computer room. The door of the room was ajar, which meant that Purdue was busy, but not off-limits. From wall to wall, black and chrome servers towered, flashing lights blinking like little heartbeats in their polished chests of Perspex and plastic.
“Sir, Nurse Hurst has showed up unannounced. She insists that you wish to see her?” Charles delivered his subdued hostility at an elevated volume.
“Thank you, Charles,” his employer cried over the loud hum of the machines. Purdue was sitting in the far corner of the room, wearing earphones to distract from the noise of the room. He was seated behind a vast desk. Upon it sat four laptops, linked up and wired into another large box. Purdue’s white crown of thick wavy hair perked up from behind the lids of the computers. It was Saturday, and Jane was not there. Much like Lillian and Charles, even Jane had become a little annoyed by the nurse’s constant presence.
The three staff members were of the mind that she was more than Purdue’s caregiver, although they did not know about her interest in science. It looked much more like an interest in a wealthy husband to take her out of widowhood, so that she did not have to clean up people’s waste and deal with death all day. Of course, being the professionals they were, they never accused her in front of Purdue.
“How are you doing, David?” Nurse Hurst asked.
“Quite well, Lilith, thank you,” he smiled. “Come and see.”
She skipped over to his side of the desk and found what he had been using his time for lately. On each screen, the nurse noticed a plethora of number sequences she recognized.
“An equation? But why does it keep changing? What is it for?” she inquired, leaning deliberately close to the billionaire to allow him her scent. Purdue was preoccupied with his programming, but he never neglected a woman’s beguiling.
“I am not quite sure yet, not until this program tells me,” he boasted.
“That is a quite obscure explanation. Do you at least know what it involves?” she pried, trying to make sense of the morphing sequences on the screens.
“This is reputed to have been written by Albert Einstein, somewhere during the First World War, when he was living in Germany, you see,” Purdue elucidated happily. “It was thought to have been destroyed, and well,” he sighed, “since, had become somewhat of a myth in scientific circles.”
“Oh, and you uncovered it,” she nodded, looking very interested. “And what is this?” She pointed to another computer, a more bulky old machine that Purdue had been working on. It was linked to the laptops and the lone server, but the only device he was actively typing on.
“This is where I am busy writing the program to decipher it,” he explained. “It has to constantly re-written according to the data coming from the input source. The algorithm of this device will ultimately help me ascertain the nature of the equation, but, thus far, it looks like another theory of quantum mechanics.”
Frowning heavily, Lilith Hurst studied the third screen for a short while. She looked at Purdue. “That calculation there seems to represent atomic energy. Did you notice?”
“My God, you are precious,” Purdue smiled, his eyes gleaming at her knowledge. “You are quite correct. It keeps yielding information that takes me back to some sort of collision that will generate pure atomic power.”
“Sounds dangerous,” she remarked. “It reminds me of the CERN super-collider and what they are trying to achieve with particle acceleration.”
“I think that was pretty much what Einstein discovered, but, like with the 1905 paper, he thought such knowledge too destructive for fools in military uniforms and suits. That is why he deemed it too perilous for publication,” Purdue related.
She laid her hand on his shoulder. “But you do not wear a uniform or a suit, now, do you, David?” she winked.
“I certainly do not,” he replied, sinking back into his chair with a satisfied groan.
The phone rang in the lobby. The landline of the mansion was usually answered by Jane or Charles, but she was off duty and he was outside with the grocery delivery man. Throughout the manor, there were several telephones mounted for the collective number to be answered anywhere in the house. Jane’s extension was wailing too, but her office was too far off.
“I will get it,” Lilith offered.
“You are a guest, you know,” Purdue reminded her cordially.
“Still? Geez, David, I have been here so much lately I am surprised you have not offered me a room yet,” she hinted as she walked briskly through the doorway and rushed up the stairs to the ground floor. Purdue could hear nothing over the deafening hum.
“Hello?” she answered, making sure not to identify herself.
A man’s voice replied, sounding foreign. His Dutch accent was thick, but she could understand him. “May I speak to David Purdue, please? It is rather urgent.”
“He is unavailable right now. In a meeting, as a mater of fact. May I take a message for him to return your call when he is done, perhaps?” she asked, grabbing the pen in the desk drawer to write on the small message pad.
“This is Dr. Kasper Jacobs,” the man identified himself. “Please have Mr. Purdue call me very urgently.”
He gave her his number and reiterated the emergency.
“Just tell him, it concerns the Dire Serpent. I know it makes no sense, but he will know what I am referring to,” Jacobs persisted.
“Belgium? The prefix of your number,” she asked.
“That is correct,” he affirmed. “Thank you kindly.”
“No problem,” she said. “Goodbye.”
She stripped off the top sheet and went back down to Purdue.
“Who was it?” he asked.
“Wrong number,” she shrugged. “I had to explain three times
that this was not ‘Tracy’s Yoga Studio’ and that we are not open,” she laughed, tucking the paper into her pocket.
“That is a first,” Purdue chuckled. “We are not even listed. I like to keep a very low profile.”
“That is good. I always say that people who do not know my name when I answer my landline, should not even try to fool me,” she sneered. “Now, you get back to your programming and I will get us something to drink.”
After Dr. Kasper Jacobs failed to get David Purdue on the phone to warn him about the equation, he had to conceded that even attempting already made him feel better. Sadly, the slight lift of demeanor was not to last.
“Who was that you were talking to? You do know that there are no phones allowed in this area, right, Jacobs?” the detestable Zelda Bessler dictated from behind Kasper. He turned to face her with a smug retort. “That is Dr. Jacobs to you, Bessler. This time, I am in charge of this project.”
She could not deny it. Clifton Tuft had specifically set out the contract for the revised project, wherein Dr. Kasper Jacobs would be in charge of constructing the vessel needed for the experiment. Only he understood the theories involved in what the Order tried to accomplish based on the Einstein principal, so he was entrusted with the engineering side as well. Within a small time frame the vessel had to be completed. Far heavier and faster, the new object would need to be exceedingly larger than the one before, which caused the mutilation of a scientist and caused Jacobs to distance himself from the project.
“How are things progressing down here in the plant, Dr. Jacobs?” came the squeaky drawl of Clifton Tuft that Kasper so loathed. “I hope we are on schedule.”
Zelda Bessler had her hands in the pockets of her white lab coat, and swung ever so slightly form left to right and back again. She looked like a stupid little schoolgirl trying to impress the heartthrob and it made Jacobs sick. She smiled at Tuft. “If he did not spend so much time on the phone, he would probably get a lot more done.”
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