by P. W. Child
“Bullshit,” Purdue replied. “We’re getting to that Landy together and we’re getting the hell out of here.”
“How do you propose we do that?” Patrick gasped.
Purdue pointed to the digging tools nearby and smiled. Patrick followed the direction with his gaze. He would have laughed with Purdue if his life did not depend on the outcome.
“No goddamn way, David. No! Are you daft?” he whispered loudly, slapping Purdue on the arm.
“Can you think of a better wheelchair here in the gravel?” Purdue grinned. “Be ready. When I get back we make for the Landy.”
“And I suppose you will have time to hotwire it, then?” Patrick asked.
Purdue pulled out his reliable little tablet that served as multiple gadgets in one.
“Oh ye of little faith,” he smiled at Patrick.
Usually Purdue used its infrared and radar functions, or utilized it as a communication device. However, he was always improving the device, adding new inventions and upgrading its technology. He showed Patrick a small button on the side of the device. “Electrical surge pulse. We have ESP, Paddy.”
“What does it do?” Patrick frowned, his eyes flashing past Purdue every now and then to stay alert.
“It starts cars,” Purdue said. Before Patrick could process the answer, Purdue jumped up and hurtled toward the tool shed. He moved stealthily, bending his lanky frame forward to stay low.
“So far so good, you crazy bastard,” Patrick whispered as he watched Purdue retrieve the wheelbarrow. “But you know that thing is going to make a racket, don’t you?”
Bracing himself for the upcoming chase, Purdue took a deep breath and measured how far the mob was from him and Patrick. “Here we go,” he said, and pressed the button for the Land Rover to start up. Its lights did not go on, apart from those on the dashboard, but some of the people at the mountain entrance could hear the idling engine. Purdue reckoned that he should use their momentary befuddlement to his advantage, and he bolted out toward Patrick with the squealing wheelbarrow.
“Jump! Quick!” he yelled at Patrick as he was about to reach him. The MI6 agent flung himself onto the wheelbarrow, almost toppling it with his velocity, but Purdue’s adrenaline kept it steady.
“There they are! Kill those bastards!” a man roared out, pointing at the two men racing towards the Land Rover with the wheelbarrow.
“God I hope it has a full tank!” Patrick shouted as he rode the shaky iron bucket straight at the passenger door of the 4x4 vehicle. “My spine! My ass bones, Purdue. Christ, you’re killing me here!” was all the mob could hear as they stormed toward the fleeing men.
When they reached the passenger door, Purdue smashed the window with a rock and opened the door. Patrick struggled to get out of the wheelbarrow, but the approaching madmen urged him to tap into reserve strength and he hurled his body into the car. They pulled away with wheels spinning, flinging rocks at any in the mob who got too close. Then Purdue finally floored the pedal and made some distance between them and the pack of murderous locals.
“How much time do we have to get to Dansha?” Purdue asked Patrick.
“About three hours before Sam and Nina are supposed to meet us there,” Patrick informed him. He cast a look at the petrol gauge. “Oh my God! this will not take us further than 200 k.m.”
“That’s alright as long as we get away from the bee hive of Satan on our trail,” Purdue said, still checking his rear view mirror. “We’ll have to contact Sam and see where they are. Maybe they can bring the Hercules closer to pick us up. God, I hope they’re still alive.”
Patrick groaned every time the Land Rover hopped a hole or jerked on a gear change. His ankle was killing him, but he was alive, which was all that mattered.
“You knew all along about Carter. Why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick demanded.
“I told you, we didn’t want you to be an accessory. With you not knowing, you couldn’t be implicated.”
“And that business with his family? Did you send someone to take care of them too?” Patrick asked.
“My God, Patrick! I’m not a terrorist. I was bluffing,” Purdue assured him. “I needed to rattle his cage, and thanks to Sam’s research and a mole in Karsten'…Carter’s…office, we got the intel that his wife and daughters are en route to his home in Austria.”
“Unbe-fucking-lievable,” Patrick replied. “You and Sam should enroll as agents for Her Majesty, you know? You are insane, reckless, and clandestine to a point of hysterics, you two. And Dr. Gould is not far behind.”
“Why, thanks, Patrick,” Purdue smiled. “But we like our freedom, you know, doing the dirty work under the radar.”
“No shit,” Patrick sighed. “Who’s the mole Sam used?”
“I don’t know,” Purdue replied.
“David, who is the fucking mole? The guy will get no flack from me, believe me,” Patrick snapped.
“No, I really don’t know,” Purdue insisted. “He approached Sam once he’d detected Sam’s clumsy hacking into Karsten’s personnel files. Instead of outing him, he offered to get us the information we needed, on the condition that Sam expose Karsten for who he was.”
Patrick mulled the information around in his head. It made sense, but after this assignment, he was not sure any more who to trust. “The mole gave you Karsten’s personal details, including the location of his properties and such?”
“Right down to his blood type,” Purdue said, smiling.
“How is Sam planning to expose Karsten, though? He could legally own the properties and I’m sure the head of Military Intelligence knows how to cover his red tape tracks,” Patrick surmised.
“Oh, he does,” Purdue agreed. “But he picked the wrong snakes to toy with in Sam, Nina, and I. Sam and his mole hacked into the communications systems of the servers Karsten uses for his personal uses. As we speak, the alchemist responsible for the diamond killings and global disasters is on his way to Karsten’s mansion in Salzkammergut.”
“What for?” Patrick asked.
“Karsten advertised that he has a diamond for sale,” Purdue shrugged. “A very rare prime stone called the Sudan Eye. Like the prime stones Celeste and Pharaoh, the Sudan Eye can react with any of the smaller diamonds King Solomon bound after his Temple was completed. The primes are needed to release each plague bound by the seventy-two of King Solomon.”
“Fascinating. And now we’re forced by what we experience here, to rethink our cynicism,” Patrick remarked. “Without the primes the Magician cannot perform his diabolical alchemy?”
Purdue nodded. “Our Egyptian friends of the Dragon Watchers informed us that, according to their scrolls, King Solomon’s magicians bound each stone to a particular heavenly body,” he relayed. “Of course, text predating the familiar scripture texts claim that the fallen angels numbered two hundred, and that seventy-two of those were summoned by Solomon. This is where the star maps come into play with each diamond.”
“And Karsten has the Sudan Eye?” Patrick asked.
“No, I do. It is one of two diamonds my brokers have managed to purchase from, respectively, a Hungarian baroness on the brink of bankruptcy and a widower in Italy who wants to make a fresh start away from his Mafia in-laws, would you believe? I have two primes of the three. The other is the Celeste, in the possession of the Magician.”
“And Karsten offered it for sale?” Patrick scowled, trying to make sense of it all.
“Sam did, using Karsten’s personal e-mail,” Purdue clarified. “Karsten has no idea that the Magician, Mr. Raya, is coming to procure his next prime diamond from him.”
“Oh, that is good!” Patrick smiled, clapping his hands together. “As long as we can get the remaining diamonds to Master Penekal and Ofar, Raya cannot release any other surprises. I hope to God Nina and Sam managed to get them.”
“How do we get hold of Sam and Nina? My devices got lost in the circus back there,” Patrick asked.
“Here,” Purdue said. “Just scroll do
wn to Sam’s name and see if the satellites can connect us.”
Patrick did as Purdue asked. The small speaker clicked erratically. Suddenly Sam’s voice crackled faintly on the speaker, “Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to connect for hours!”
“Sam,” Patrick said, “we’re on our way from Aksum, running on empty. When you get there, could you pick us up if we send you the coordinates?”
“Look, we’re in deep shit here,” Sam said. “I,” he sighed, “I sort of…capped a pilot and hijacked a military rescue helicopter. Long story.”
“Geeezuss!” Patrick shrieked, throwing his arms up in the air.
“They just landed here at the airstrip at Dansha as I forced them to, but we’re about to be arrested. There are soldiers everywhere, so I don’t think we can help you,” Sam lamented.
In the background, Purdue could hear the rotor clap of the helicopter and people shouting. To him it sounded like a war zone. “Sam, did you get the diamonds?”
“Nina got them, but they will probably be confiscated now,” Sam reported, sounding absolutely miserable and enraged. “Patch through your coordinates anyway.”
Purdue’s face contorted in focus, as it always did when he had to make a plan out of a predicament. Patrick took a very deep breath. “Out of the frying pan.”
33
Apocalypse over Salzkammergut
Under the drizzle, Karsten’s vast, green gardens rolled in perfectly kept beauty. In the gray of the rain, the colors of the flowers seemed almost luminescent and the trees towered in majesty in lavish fullness. For some reason, though, all the natural beauty could not deter the heavy sense of being lost, of being doomed, that loomed in the air.
“Christ, what a miserable paradise you live in, Joseph,” Liam Johnson remarked as he parked the car under a shadowy clump of silver birch and lush firs on a hillock above the property. “Just like your father, Satan.”
In his hand he held a pouch containing several cubic zirconias along with one rather large stone Purdue’s had assistant provided, as per her boss’ request. Under Sam’s direction, Liam had visited Wrichtishousis two days before to collect the stones from Purdue’s private collection. The lovely, forty-something lady managing Purdue’s money matters had been kind enough to warn Liam about disappearing with the certified diamonds.
“Steal these, and I will cut off your balls with a blunt nail clipper, alright?” the charming Scottish lady had said to Liam as she handed over the pouch he was to plant in Karsten’s mansion. It was a fond memory, indeed, as she looked the type as well – sort of…Miss Moneypenny meets American Mary.
Once inside the easily accessible country estate, Liam recalled his scrutiny of the house’s blueprints to find his way to the study where Karsten did all of his underhanded business. Outside he could hear the sub-par security men chatting with the housekeeper. Karsten’s wife and daughters had arrived two hours before and all three had retired to their bedrooms for some recuperative sleep.
Liam made his way into the small lobby at the end of the ground floor east wing. He picked the lock of the office with ease and gave his surroundings one more spy before entering.
“Holy shit!” he whispered when he snuck in, almost forgetting to keep track of the cameras. Liam felt his stomach churn as he closed the door behind him. “Nazi Disneyland!” he gasped under his breath. “My God, I knew you were up to something, Carter, but this? This is next level shite!”
The entire office was adorned in Nazi symbolism, paintings of Himmler and Göring, and several busts of other high-ranking SS-High Commanders. Behind his chair, a banner hung on the wall. “No way! The Order of the Black Sun,” Liam affirmed as he crept nearer to the awful sigil embroidered in black silk thread upon red satin cloth. Most disturbing to Liam was the looping video clips of awards ceremonies held by the Nazi Party in 1944, continually playing on the flat screen monitor. Inadvertently he turned into another painting boasting the hideous face of Yvetta Wolff, daughter of Karl Wolff, Obergruppenführer of the Waffen-SS. “This is her,” Liam muttered quietly, “Mother.”
Get your shit together, lad, Liam’s inner voice urged. You don’t want to spend your last moment in this pit, do you?
For a trained Black Ops specialist and technological espionage expert such as Liam Johnson, cracking Karsten’s safe was child’s play. In the safe Liam found another document with the Black Sun symbol on it, an official memorandum to all members that the Order had tracked down the exiled Egyptian Freemason, Abdul Raya. From an asylum in Turkey, Karsten and his associate High Level members had arranged for Raya’s discharge after research introduced them to his work during the Second World War.
His age alone, the fact that he was still alive and well, were all unfathomable traits that evoked the admiration of the Black Sun. In the opposite corner of the room, Liam also fixed a security feed monitor with sound feature, similar to Karsten’s own private cameras. The only difference was that this one sent feeds to the security office of Mr. Joe Carter, where it could easily be intercepted by Interpol and other government agencies.
Liam’s mission was all an elaborate job to incriminate the backstabbing MI6 leader and expose his closely guarded secret via live television stream as soon as Purdue activated it. Along with the information Sam Cleave obtained for his exclusive report, Joe Carter’s reputation was in serious peril.
“Where are they?” Karsten’s shrill voice echoed through the house, startling the sneaking MI6 intruder. Liam quickly put the pouch of diamonds in the safe and closed it as swiftly as he could.
“Who, sir?” a security staff member asked.
“My wife! M-m-my daughters, you goddamn imbecile!” he barked, his voice passing by the study doors and whining all the way up the stairs. Liam could hear the intercom sound next to the looping footage of the monitor in the office.
“Herr Karsten, there is a man here to see you, sir. His name is Abdul Raya?” a voice announced to all the intercoms in the house.
“What?” Karsten’s squeal sounded from upstairs. Liam just had to chuckle at his successful framing job. “I don’t have an appointment with him! He is supposed to be in Bruges, wreaking havoc!”
Liam crept out the doors of the study while listening to Karsten’s objections. That way he could keep track of the traitor’s location. The MI6 agent slipped out from the lavatory window on the second floor to avoid the main areas now frequented by paranoid security staff. Laughing, he jogged away from the evil walls of the horrible paradise that was about to host a ghastly standoff.
“Are you insane, Raya? Since when do I have diamonds to sell?” Karsten barked as he stood in the doorway of his office.
“Mister Karsten, you contacted me, offering to sell the Sudan Eye stone,” Raya replied calmly, his black eyes glimmering.
“The Sudan Eye? What in God’s name are you talking about?” Karsten hissed. “We did not release you for this, Raya! We released you to do our bidding, to bring the world to its knees! Now you come and bother me with this absurd bullshit?”
Raya’s lips curled back, revealing his hideous teeth as he stepped up to the overweight swine talking down to him. “Be very careful who you treat like a dog, Mr. Karsten. I think you and your organization have forgotten who I am!” Raya fumed. “I am the great sage, the magician responsible for the locust plague of North Africa during 1943, a courtesy I extended to the Nazi forces upon the Allied forces stationed in the godforsaken barren earth they shed blood on!”
Karsten fell back in his chair, sweating profusely. “I…I ha-have no diamonds, Mr. Raya, I swear!”
“Prove it!” Raya rasped. “Show me your safes and your coffers. If I find nothing, and you have wasted my precious time, I will turn you inside out while you live.”
“Oh Jesus!” Karsten wailed, staggering to the safe. His eyes caught the painting of Mother, glaring at him. He recalled Purdue’s words about his spineless flight, abandoning the old woman when her home was intruded on to rescue Purdue. After
all, when news of her death reached the Order, questions had already arisen about the circumstances, since Karsten was with her that night. How was it that he got away and she did not? The Black Sun was an evil organization, but their members were all men and women of potent intellect and powerful means.
When Karsten opened his safe with relative security, he was confronted by a terrible vision. From the flung pouch, a few diamonds shimmered in the dark of the wall safe. “It’s impossible,” he said. “That is impossible! That is not mine!”
Raya shoved the quivering fool aside and gathered the diamonds up in his palm. Then he turned to face Karsten with a blood-curdling frown. His emaciated face and black hair gave him a distinct appearance of some harbinger of death, perhaps the Reaper himself. Karsten screamed for his security staff, but nobody answered.
34
The Best Hundred Quid
When the Chinook touched down on the abandoned landing strip outside Dansha, three military Jeeps stood in front of the Hercules airplane Purdue had rented for the Ethiopian excursion.
“We’re fucked,” Nina mumbled, still pressing down on the wounded pilot’s leg with her bloodied hands. He was in no medical danger, as Sam had aimed for the outside of his thigh leaving him with nothing worse than a slight flesh wound. The side door slid open and the citizens were let out before the soldiers came to remove Nina. Sam was already disarmed and thrown in the back of one of the Jeeps.
They confiscated the two satchels Sam and Nina had with them, and they cuffed both.
“You think you can come into my country and steal?” the Captain shouted at them. “You think you can use our air patrol as your personal taxi? Hey?”
“Listen, there is going to be a tragedy if we don’t get to Egypt soon!” Sam tried to explain, but he got a punch in the gut for it.