The Babylonian Mask (Order of the Black Sun Book 14)

by P. W. Child

  “Pleasure,” Sam replied, still trying to solve the conundrum of the furniture. Purdue turned to face him, looking healthy and relaxed.

  “Sit down,” he invited the stumped journalist, who seemed to be investigating the room for bugs or hidden explosives, by the look on his face. Sam sat down. “So,” Purdue started, “where are my flowers?”

  Sam gawked at Purdue. “I thought I was the one with the mind control thing?”

  Purdue looked unperturbed by Sam’s declaration, something they both knew but neither supported. “No, I saw you saunter up the drive with it in your hand, no doubt bought just to embarrass me in some way or another.”

  “God, you are getting to know me too well,” Sam sighed. “But how can you see anything past the maximum security bars here? I noticed that the inmates’ cells are left unlocked. What is the point of barring you in if they keep your doors open?”

  Purdue, amused, smiled and shook his head. “Oh, it is not to keep us from escaping, Sam. It is to keep us from jumping.” It was the first time a bitter and snide tone had haunted Purdue’s voice. Sam picked up on his friend’s unease, coming to the fore in the ebb and flow of his self-control. It appeared that Purdue’s apparent tranquility was just a mask over this uncharacteristic discontent.

  “Are you prone to such a thing?” asked Sam.

  Purdue shrugged. “I don’t know, Master Cleave. One moment all is well and the next I am back in that bloody exaggerated fish tank, wishing I could drown faster than that ink fish swallowing my brain.”

  At once Purdue’s expression had gone from a sunny silliness to an alarmingly pallid depression, brimming with guilt and worry. Sam dared to lay his hand on Purdue’s shoulder, having no idea how the billionaire was going to react. But Purdue did nothing as Sam’s hand comforted his turmoil.

  “Is that what you are doing here? Trying to reverse the brainwashing that fuckwit Nazi subjected you to?” Sam asked him blatantly. “But that is good, Purdue. How are you progressing with the treatment? You seem your old self in most ways.”

  “Do I?” Purdue sneered. “Sam, do you know what it is like to not know? It is worse than knowing, I can assure you. But I have found that knowing breeds a different demon than being oblivious to one’s actions.”

  “How do you mean?” Sam frowned. “I take it some actual memories have returned; things you could not recall before?”

  Purdue’s pale blue eyes stared through the clean lenses of his glasses, straight ahead into space as he considered Sam’s opinion before explaining. He looked almost maniacal in the darkening light of the cloudy weather that spilled through the window. His long, slender fingers fiddled with the carvings on the chair’s wooden armrest as he dazed away. Sam thought it well to change the subject for the moment.

  “So what the hell is with there being no bed?” he exclaimed, looking back at the mostly empty room.

  “I never sleep.”

  That was all.

  That was all Purdue had to say on the matter. His lack of elaboration unnerved Sam, because it was the antithesis of the man’s trademark behavior. Usually he would cast aside all propriety or inhibition and spew out a grand tale filled with what and why and who. Now he was content with just the fact, so Sam pried, not only to force Purdue to explain, but because he genuinely wanted to know. “You know that is biologically impossible, unless you want to die in a fit of psychosis.”

  The look Purdue gave him made Sam’s skin crawl. It was halfway between insane and perfectly happy; the look on a feral animal being fed, if Sam had to guess. His gray-soiled blond hair was painfully neat as always, combed back in long strands away from his grey sideburns. Sam imagined Purdue with unkempt hair in the communal showers, those pale blues piercing the guards’ as they discovered him chewing at someone’s ear. What bothered him most was how unremarkable such a scenario suddenly seemed for the state his friend was in. Purdue’s words snapped Sam out of his hideous pondering.

  “And what do you think is sitting right here in front of you, old cock?” Purdue sniggered, looking rather ashamed of his condition under the drooping grin he had tried to keep upbeat with. “This is what psychosis looks like, not that Hollywood overacting bollocks where people tear their hair out and write their names in shit on the walls. It is a silent thing, a silent creeping cancer that make you not care about the things you have to do to stay alive anymore. You are left alone with your thoughts and your deeds without a thought for eating…” He looked back at the bare patch of carpet where the bed was supposed to be, “…sleeping. At first my body caved under the robbery of rest. Sam, you should have seen me. Frantic and exhausted I would pass out on the floor.” He shifted closer to Sam. Alarmingly the journalist could smell medical spirits and old cigarettes on Purdue’s breath.

  “Purdue…”

  “No, no, you asked. Now you l-listen, al-alright?” Purdue insisted in a whisper. “I have not slept in over four days straight now and you know what? I feel great! I mean, look at me. Don’t I look the picture of health?”

  “That is what concerns me, pal,” Sam winced, scratching his head. Purdue laughed. It was not a crazy cackle by any means, but a civilized, gentle chuckle. Purdue swallowed his amusement to whisper, “You know what I think?”

  “That I’m not really here?” Sam guessed. “God knows this bland and boring place would make me question reality in a big way.”

  “No. No. I think when I was brainwashed by the Black Sun they somehow removed my need for sleep. They must have reprogrammed my brain…un-unlocked…that primitive power they used on super soldiers back in World War II to make animals of men. They did not fall when shot, Sam. They kept walking, on and on and on…”

  “Fuck this. I’m getting you out of here,” Sam decided.

  “I have not reached my full term reversal, Sam. Let me stay and let them erase all the atrocious behaviorisms,” Purdue insisted, trying to sound reasonable and mentally sound, when all he wanted to do was to break out of the facility and run back to his home at Wrichtishousis.

  “You say that,” Sam dismissed in a clever tone, “but you don’t mean it.”

  He pulled Purdue out of his chair. The billionaire smiled at his rescuer, looking decidedly elated. “You definitely still have the mind control thing.”

  Cha pter 3 – The Shape with Bad Words

  Nina woke up, feeling poorly yet perceiving her surroundings vividly. It was the first time she had awoken without being roused by the sound of a nurse’s voice or a doctor feeling the urge to administer a dosage at ungodly hours of the morning. It had always fascinated her how nurses always woke patients to give them ‘something to sleep’ at ridiculous hours, often between two and five in the morning. The logic of such practices eluded her completely, and she made no secret of her vexation for such idiocy, regardless of the explanations offered for it. Her body ached under the sadistic thrall of the radiation poisoning, but she tried to bear it for as long as she could.

  To her relief, she’d learned from the on-duty physician that the sporadic burn wounds to her skin would heal in time, and that the exposure she had suffered under ground zero at Chernobyl was remarkably minor for such a hazardous area. Nausea would trouble her daily until the antibiotics had run their course, at least, but her hematopoietic presentation was still of great concern to him.

  Nina understood his concern for the damage to her autoimmune system, but for her there were worse scars – both emotional and physical. She could not focus very well since she’d been liberated from the tunnels. It was unclear if it was caused by prolonged visual inactivity from the hours spent in practically pitch darkness, or if it was also the work of her exposure to high concentrations of old nuclear waves. Regardless, her emotional injury manifested in worse ways than the physical pain and skin blisters.

  Nightmares plagued her about the way Purdue hunted her in the dark. Reliving small shards of recollection, her dreams would remind her of the groans he’d uttered after he laughed wickedly somewhere in the hell
ish blackness of the Ukrainian netherworld they’d been trapped in together. Through the other IV tube, sedatives kept her mind locked in the dreams, unable to fully awake to escape them. It was a subliminal torment she could not communicate to the scientifically-minded people who were only concerned with alleviating her physical ailments. They had no time to waste on her impending insanity.

  Outside her window the pale threat of dawn winked, although the whole world was still sleeping around her. Faintly she could hear the low tones and whispers exchanged between medical staff, interspersed with the odd clink of teacups and coffee furnaces. It reminded Nina of very early mornings during school holidays when she was a wee girl in Oban. Her parents and mum’s dad would whisper just like that as they gathered up the camping gear for the trip to the Hebrides. They would try not to wake little Nina while they packed the cars and only at the very end would her dad steal into her room, gather her up in her blankets like a hotdog roll, and carry her into the freezing morning air to put her into the backseat.

  It was a fond memory she now briefly revisited in much the same way. Two nurses entered her room to check her drip and change the linen on the empty bed opposite hers. Even though they were talking in hushed tones, Nina was able to employ her knowledge of German to eavesdrop, just like those mornings when her family thought she was sound asleep. Keeping still and breathing deeply through her nose, Nina managed to fool the shift sister into believing she was fast asleep.

  “How is she doing?” the nurse asked her superior, as she roughly rolled up the old sheet she’d pulled off the empty mattress.

  “Her vitals are good,” the head sister answered softly.

  “What I was saying was that they should have dressed his skin with more Flamazine before fitting his mask. I think I am correct in suggesting it. There was no reason for Dr. Hilt to bite my head off,” the nurse complained about an incident Nina reckoned the two had been discussing since before they came to check on her.

  “You know I agree with you in that regard, but you have to remember that you cannot question the treatment or dosage prescribed – or applied – by highly qualified doctors, Marlene. Just keep your diagnosis to yourself until you retain a stronger position on the food chain here, alright?” the plump sister advised her subordinate.

  “Will he be occupying this bed once he leaves the ICU, Sister Barken?” she asked curiously. “Here? With Dr. Gould?”

  “Yes. Why not? This is not the Middle Ages or Primary School camp, my dear. We have unisex wards for specific conditions, you know.” Sister Barken half-smiled as she reprimanded the star-struck nurse she knew adored Dr. Nina Gould.Who? Nina wondered. Who the hell are they planning to room with me that deserves so much bloody attention?

  “Look, Dr. Gould is frowning,” Sister Barken remarked, having no idea it was prompted by Nina’s discontent at soon receiving a very unwanted roommate. Silent, waking thoughts were controlling her expression. “It must be the splitting headaches associated with the radiation exposure. Poor thing.”Aye! Nina thought. The headaches are killing me, by the way. Your painkillers are a great party favor, but they do jack shit for a throbbing frontal lobe attack, you know?

  Her strong, cold hand suddenly latched onto Nina’s wrist, sending a shock through the historian’s fever-riddled body that was already sensitive to temperature. Unintentionally, Nina’s big, dark eyes shot open.

  “Jesus Christ, woman! Do you want to peel my skin off the muscle with that ice-cold talon?” she shrieked. Streaks of pain shot through Nina’s nervous system, her thundering response startling both nurses into a stupor.

  “Dr. Gould!” Sister Barken exclaimed in surprise in flawless English. “I am so sorry! You are supposed to be under sedation.” On the other side of the floor the young nurse grinned from ear to ear.

  Realizing that she had just betrayed her charade in the rudest way, Nina elected to play the victim to hide her embarrassment. Immediately she held the side of her head, moaning a little. “Sedation? The pain is coming right through all the painkillers. My apologies for scaring you, but…it – my skin is on fire,” Nina performed. Eagerly the other nurse approached her bedside, still smiling like a groupie with a backstage pass.

  “Nurse Marx, would you be so kind as to get Dr. Gould something for her headache?” Sister Barken asked. “Bitte,” she said a tad louder to jerk young Marlene Marx from her silly fixation.

  “Um, yes, of course, Sister,” she replied, reluctantly accepting her task before practically skipping out of the room.

  “Cute lassie,” Nina said.

  “Excuse her. She, actually her mother – they are huge fans of yours. They know all about your travels, and some of the things you wrote about quite captivated Nurse Marx. So please ignore her staring,” Sister Barken explained amicably.

  Nina cut right to the chase while they were unperturbed by the drooling puppy in scrubs that was soon due back. “Who will be sleeping there, then? Anyone I know?”

  Sister Barken shook her head. “I don’t think he should even know who he is, actually,” she whispered. “Professionally I am not at liberty to share, but since you will be sharing a room with the new patient…”

  “Guten Morgen, Sister,” said a man from the doorway. His words were muffled behind his surgical mask, but Nina could tell that his accent was not authentically German.

  “Excuse me, Dr. Gould,” said Sister Barken as she walked over to speak to the tall figure. Nina listened attentively. In this sleepy hour it was still relatively quiet in the ward, which made it easier to listen, especially when Nina closed her eyes.

  The doctor asked Sister Barken about the young man brought in the night before and why the patient was no longer in what Nina heard as ‘Room 4’. Her stomach twitched into a knot when the sister asked for the doctor’s credentials and he responded with a threat.

  “Sister, if you do not give me the information I need, someone will die before you can call security. Of that I can assure you.”

  Nina caught her breath. What was he going to do? Even with her eyes wide open she had trouble seeing properly, so attempting to memorize his features was next to futile. It was best just to pretend she could not understand German and that she was too sedated to hear anything anyway.

  “No. Do you think it is the first time a charlatan has attempted to intimidate me in my twenty-seven years as a medical professional? Get lost or I will pummel you myself,” Sister Barken threatened. The sister said nothing afterward, but Nina distinguished a mad scuffling after which it was alarmingly silent. She dared to turn her head. In the doorway the wall of a woman stood firm, yet the stranger had absconded.

  “That was too easy,” Nina said under her breath, but played dumb for everyone’s sake. “Is that my doctor?”

  “No, my dear,” Sister Barken replied. “And please, if you see him again, let me or any of the other staff know immediately.” She looked very annoyed, but showed no fear whatsoever as she joined Nina at her bed again. “They should bring in the new patient within the next day. They have stabilized him for now. But don’t worry, he is under heavy sedation. He will not be a disturbance to you.”

  “How long will I still be confined here?” Nina asked. “And don’t say until I’m well.”

  Sister Barken chuckled. “You tell me, Dr. Gould. You have everyone amazed at your ability to fight infection and have exhibited borderline supernatural healing capacity. Are you some sort of vampire?”

  The nursing sister’s humor was most welcome. It cheered Nina to know that there were still individuals with some wonderment. But what she could not relay even to the most open-minded, was that her uncanny ability to heal came from a blood transfusion she had undergone years ago. At the gates of death Nina was saved by the blood of an especially wicked nemesis, an actual remnant of Himmler’s experimentations to create a super-human, a wonder weapon. Her name had been Lita and she was a monster with powerful blood indeed.

  “Maybe the damage was not as profuse as the doctors initially
thought,” Nina replied. “Besides, if I’m healing so well, why am I going blind?”

  Sister Barken caringly laid her hand on Nina’s forehead. “Maybe it is just symptomatic of your electrolyte imbalance or your insulin levels, my dear. I am sure your sight will become clearer soon. Don’t worry. If you keep going as you are now, you will be out of here soon.”

  Nina hoped the lady’s assumption was right, because she needed to find Sam and ask about Purdue. She needed a new phone as well. Until then, she would just check the news for anything on Purdue, as he was arguably famous enough to make the news in Germany. Even though he had tried to kill her, she hoped he was okay – wherever he was.

  “Did the man who brought me in…did he say he would return at all?” Nina inquired about Detlef Holtzer, an acquaintance she had wronged before he rescued her from Purdue and the devil’s veins under the infamous Reactor 4 in Chernobyl.

  “No, we have not heard from him since,” Sister Barken admitted. “Not a boyfriend in any capacity, was he?”

  Nina smiled in reminiscence of the sweet, misunderstood bodyguard who had helped her, Sam and Purdue locate the famed Amber Room before things fell apart in the Ukraine. “Not a boyfriend,” she smiled at the hazy image of the nursing sister. “A widower.”

  Cha pter 4 - Charm

  “How is Nina?” Purdue asked Sam as they vacated the bed-less room with Purdue’s coat and a small valise as baggage.

  “Detlef Holtzer had her admitted to a hospital in Heidelberg. I am planning to drop in on her in a week or so,” Sam whispered as he checked the hallway. “Good thing Detlef is the forgiving type, or else your ass would be haunting Pripyat by now.”

  Looking first left and right, Sam motioned for his friend to follow him to the right where he was heading for the stairs. They heard voices in discussion coming up to the landing. Hesitating for a moment, Sam stopped and pretended to be embroiled in a conversation on his phone.