by P. W. Child
“I understand,” Nina replied quickly, keeping her tone cordial. “but please just allow Sam and I a few more minutes.”
“What is wrong with the television?” Hannah asked, perplexed by the constant broadcast interruptions and ghosting of the images. “I’ll get maintenance to have a look at our antenna.” With that she left the room, giving one last look back at Nina to impress what she’d said. Nina nodded in return.
“Good luck fixing that aerial,” Sam smiled.
“Where is Purdue?” Nina asked.
“I told you. He is busy linking up satellites under his umbrella companies’ operations to the remote access of his clandestine accomplices.”
“I mean, where is he? Is he in Edinburgh? Is he in Germany?”
“Why?” asked Sam.
“Answer me!” she demanded, scowling.
“You did not want him anywhere near you, so now he is staying away.” Now it was out. He had said it, unbelievably defending Purdue to Nina. “He is seriously contrite about what happened in Chernobyl and you treated him like shit in Mannheim. What do you expect?”
“Wait, what?” she snapped at Sam. “He tried to kill me! Do you understand the level of distrust that cultivates?”
“Aye, I do! I do. And keep your voice down before Nurse Betty comes in again. I know what it is like to be plummeted into despair, my life threatened by those I trusted. You cannot possibly believe that he would ever deliberately want to harm you, Nina. For Christ’s sake, he loves you!”
He stopped, but it was too late. Nina was disarmed, for what it was worth, but Sam already regretted his uttering. The last thing he needed to remind her of was Purdue’s unrelenting pursuit of her affection. Already Sam was in many ways inferior to Purdue, in his own opinion. Purdue was a genius with charm to match, independently wealthy with a legacy of holdings, estates and technologically advanced patents. His reputation was stellar as explorer, benefactor and inventor.
All Sam had was a Pulitzer and several other awards and commendations. Apart from three books and a bit of money from his share in Purdue’s treasure hunts, Sam had a penthouse apartment and a cat.
“Answer my question,” she said plainly, observing the sting in Sam’s eyes at possibly losing her. “I promise to play nice if Purdue gets me in contact with the W.U.O. head office.”
“We don’t even know if Marduk has the mask yet,.” Sam was grabbing at straws to mar Nina’s advance.
“That’s fine. Until we know for sure we may as well arrange my representation of the W.U.O. at the signing, so that Prof. Sloane’s people can arrange logistics and security accordingly. “After all,” she sighed, “with a petite brunette showing up with or without Sloane’s face, it would be easier to cry hoax at the reports, right?”
“Purdue is at Wrichtishousis as we speak,” Sam surrendered. “I’ll get hold of him and tell him about your proposal.”
“Thank you,” she replied gently, while the television screen blinked between channels by itself, settling briefly on test signals. Suddenly it stopped on a global news station that had not been rendered powerless yet. Nina’s eyes were glued to the screen. She was ignoring Sam’s morose silence for the moment.
“Sam, look!” she exclaimed and lifted her hand with difficulty to point to the television. Sam turned around. The reporter appeared with her microphone with the C.I.T.E. offices in the Hague behind her.
“Turn it up!” Sam cried, grabbing at the remote control and pressing a myriad of incorrect buttons before getting the volume increased in escalating green bars upon the high definition screen. By the time they could hear what she was saying she was three sentences into her speech.
“…here at the Hague, following reports of Professor Marta Sloane’s alleged assassination yesterday at her holiday residence in Cardiff. The media has been unsuccessful in confirming these reports, as the Professor’s spokesperson has been unavailable for comment.”
“Good, at least they are still unsure about the facts,” Nina remarked. The report continued from the studio where the newscaster added more information on another development.
However, in light of the approaching summit for the signing of the peace treaty between the Meso-Arabian states and the W.U.O. the office of Meso-Arabia’s leader, Sultan Yunus ibn Meccan had announced a change of plan.
“Aye, here it comes now. Fucking war,” Sam growled as he sat listening in anticipation.
“The Meso-Arabian House of Representatives has altered the agreement to have the treaty signed in the city of Susa, Meso-Arabia, following threats against the life of the Sultan by association.”
Nina drew a deep breath. “So now it’s Susa or war. Now do you still think my wearing of the Babylonian Mask is not pivotal to the future of world as a whole?”
Chapter 28 – Marduk’s Betrayal
Werner knew he was not allowed to leave the office while Schmidt was talking to the visitors, but he had to find out where Marlene was being kept. If he could get hold of Sam, the journalist could use his contacts to trace the call she’d made to Werner’s cell phone. He was especially impressed by the legal jargon flowing expertly from the mouth of the British journalist while she beguiled Schmidt with her impression of a lawyer from the W.U.O. head office.
Suddenly Marduk interrupted the conversation. “My apologies, Captain Schmidt, but may I please use your gents’ room? We were in such haste to come to your base with all these fast developing matters that I admit I neglected my bladder.”
Schmidt was only too helpful. He did not want to put forward a bad image to the W.U.O., as they were currently in control of his base and his superiors. Until he’d fulfilled his flaming coup of their authority he had to comply and kiss ass as far as necessary to keep up appearances.
“Of course! Of course,” Schmidt replied. “Lieutenant Werner, would you please escort our guest to the men’s room? And remember to ask…Marlene…for clearance to the B-block, alright?”
“Yes, sir,” Werner replied. “Please come with me, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. You know, when you reach my age, constant toilet visits are compulsory and drawn out. Cherish your youth.”
Schmidt and Margaret chuckled at Marduk’s remark as Werner followed in Marduk’s tracks. He took note of Schmidt’s subtle, encoded warning that Marlene’s life was at stake if Werner tried anything out of his sight. They left the office at a slow pace to emphasize the ruse to win them more time. As soon as they were out of earshot, Werner pulled Marduk aside.
“Mr. Marduk, please, you have to help me,” he whispered.
“That is why I’m here. Your failure to contact me and that less than effectively hidden warning from your superior gave it away,” Marduk replied. Werner stared at the old man in admiration. It was unbelievable how perceptive Marduk was, especially for someone his age.
“My God, I love sharp people,” Werner finally said.
“So do I, son. So do I. And on that note, did you at least find out where he keeps the Babylonian Mask?” he asked. Werner nodded.
“But first we have to secure our absence,” Marduk said. “Where is your infirmary?”
Werner had no idea what the old man was up to, but he’d learned by now to keep his questions to himself and to watch things unfold. “This way.”
Ten minutes later the two men stood in front of the digital keypad of the chamber where Schmidt kept his twisted Nazi dreams and relics. Marduk sized up the door and the keypad. On closer inspection, he realized that it would be harder to break in than he’d initially imagined.
“He has a back-up circuit that alerts him if anyone tampers with the electronics,” Marduk told the Lieutenant. “You will have to go and distract him.”
“What? I can’t do that!” Werner whispered and shouted at the same time.
Marduk foiled him with that incessant tranquility. “And why not?”
Werner said nothing. He could very easily distract Schmidt, especially in the presence of the lady. Schmidt would hardly ra
ise a stink with her in their company. Werner had to concede that it was the only way to get the mask.
“How will you know which mask it is?” he finally asked Marduk.
The old man did not even bother with an answer. It was so obvious that, as keeper of the mask, he would recognize it anywhere. All he had to do was turn his head and look at the young lieutenant. “Tsk tsk tsk.”
“Okay, alright,” Werner admitted it was a stupid question. “Can I use your phone? I have to get Sam Cleave to run a trace on my number.”
“Oh! I’m sorry, son. I do not have one of those. When you get upstairs, use Margaret’s phone to contact Sam. Then cause a genuine emergency. Say, fire.”
“Of course. Fire. Your thing,” Werner remarked.
Ignoring the younger man’s dig, Marduk explained the rest of the plan. “As soon as I hear the alarm I will unlock the keypad. Your captain will have no choice but to evacuate the building. He won’t have time to come down here. I’ll meet you and Margaret outside the base, so make sure you stick with her at all times.”
“Got it,” Werner said. “Margaret has Sam’s number?”
“They are, as they say, ‘trauchle twins’ or something of that sort,” Marduk frowned, “but in any event, yes, she has his number. Now go and do your thing. I shall wait for the signal of chaos.” There was a hint of a jest in his tone, but Werner’s face was filled with utmost focus for what he was about to endeavor.
Although Marduk and Werner had secured an alibi at the infirmary for taking so long, the discovery of the back-up circuit called for a new plan. Werner used it, however, to aid him in a believable story for when he should arrive at the office and find that Schmidt had already alerted security.
In the opposite direction from the corner where the Base Infirmary entrance was marked, Werner slipped into an administration archive room. Successful sabotage was imperative, not only for Marlene’s rescue, but for practically saving the world from another war.
In the small corridor just outside the bunker, Marduk waited for the alarm to go off. Agitated, he was tempted to attempt fiddling with the keypad, but he refrained from it to avoid getting Werner caught prematurely. Marduk had never thought the theft of the Babylonian Mask would cause this much open hostility. Usually he could manage to eradicate thieves of the mask quickly and surreptitiously, returning to Mosul with the relic without much interference.
Now, with the political stage being so fragile and the motive behind the most recent theft being world domination, Marduk believed it was inevitable for things to get out of hand. Never before had he had to resort to breaking into places, deceiving people, or even showing his face! Now he felt like a government operative – with a team, no less. He had to admit that it felt good to be accepted as part of a team for the first time in his life, but he was just not the type – or the age – for such things.The signal he had been waiting for without warning. Red lights above the bunker started flashing as a visual silent alarm. Marduk used his technological knowledge to override the patch he’d recognized, but he knew that it would send an alert to Schmidt without the alternative password. The door opened, revealing to him the bunker filled with old Nazi artifacts and communication devises. But Marduk was not there for anything other than the mask, the most destructive relic of all.
Just as Werner had told him, he found the wall lined with thirteen masks, each of which resembled the Babylonian Mask with uncanny accuracy. Marduk ignored the subsequent intercom calls for evacuation as he checked each relic. One by one he examined them with his impressive sight, prone to scrutinize details with the intensity of a raptor. Each mask looked like the next, a slender skull-shaped covering with a dark red interior that teemed with the composite engineered by wizards of science from a cold and cruel era that could never be allowed to repeat itself.
Marduk identified the cursed mark of those scientists, adorning the wall behind the electronic technology and communication satellite controls.
He scoffed derisively, “Order of the Black Sun. It is time for you to set beyond our horizons.”
Marduk took the genuine mask and slipped it under his coat, zipping up the large, interior pocket. He had to hurry to join up with Margaret and hopefully Werner, if the boy had not been shot yet. Before he exited into the reddened illumination of grey cement in the subterranean corridor, Marduk halted to survey the hideous chamber one more time.
“Well, I’m here now,” he sighed laboriously, while gripping between his two palms a steel pipe from the cabinet. In just six blows, Peter Marduk destroyed the power grids of the bunker, along with the computers Schmidt was using to mark the territories bound for attack. The power outage, however, was not restricted to the bunker, but was actually tied-in to the administrative building of the air base. A complete blackout ensued all over Büchel Air Base, sending the staff into a frenzy.
After the world had seen the television report of Sultan Yunus ibn Meccan’s decision to change locations for the signing of the peace treaty, the general consensus was that a world war was looming. While the alleged assassination of Prof. Marta Sloane was still unclear, it was still cause for concern by all citizens and militaries globally. Peace was about to be established by two ever-warring factions for the first time, and the event in itself was apprehensive at best for most of the world’s spectators.
Such restlessness and paranoia was the order of the day everywhere, therefore having a blackout at the very air base where an undisclosed airman had crashed a fighter jet mere days before, was cause for panic. Marduk had always enjoyed the chaos of stampeding people. The confusion always lent a certain lawlessness and disregard for protocol to the situation, and this served him well in his need to move undetected.
He slipped up the stairwell to the exit that led onto the quad where the barracks and administrative buildings met. Flashlights and generator powered troopers lit up the vicinity in a yellow spray light that penetrated every reachable corner of the air base. Only the mess hall sections were dark, yielding a perfect path for Marduk to take on his way through the secondary gate.
Regressing to a convincingly slow limp, Marduk finally made his way through the rushing military staff, where Schmidt shouted orders for pilots to be on stand-by and security personnel to lock down the base. Marduk soon reached the gate guard that had first announced him and Margaret when they had arrived. Looking decidedly pathetic the old man asked the frantic guard, “What is happening? I’ve lost my way! Can you help? My colleague strayed from me and…”
“Yes, yes, yes, I remember you. Please just wait at your vehicle, sir,” the guard said.
Marduk nodded cooperatively. He looked back one more time. “Have you seen her pass by here, then?”
“No, sir! Please, just wait in your vehicle!” the guard shouted, as he listened for orders in the wail of alarms and searchlights.
“Okay. See you then,” Marduk answered as he made his way to Margaret’s car, hoping to find her there. The mask pressed against his protruding rib cage as he quickened his gait toward the car. Marduk felt accomplished and even at peace as he got into Margaret’s rental car with the keys he’d lifted off her.
As he drove off with the pandemonium in his rear view mirror, Marduk felt a weight lift from his mind, an utter relief that he could now return to his homeland with the mask retrieved. What the world did with its perpetually crumbling control and power plays was of little concern to him anymore. As far as he was concerned, if the human race had become so arrogant and filled with a lust for power that even the prospect of harmony erupted into callousness, perhaps extinction was long overdue.
Chapter 2 9 – Purdue’s Running Tab
Purdue was reluctant to speak to Nina in person, so he stayed at his mansion, Wrichtishousis. From there he continued to orchestrate the media blackout Sam had asked for. But the explorer was by no means becoming a reclusive pity party on legs just because his former lover and friend, Nina, had shunned him. In fact, Purdue had some plans of his own concerning the im
minent trouble that was beginning to rear its head over the Halloween Day horizon.
Once he had his network of hackers, broadcast experts, and semi-criminal activists cued onto the media block, he was free to initiate his own plans. His work had been marred by his personal issues, but he had learned not to allow matters of emotion to influence the more tangible tasks. In his second story study, surrounded by checklists and travel documents, he received a Skype alert. It was Sam.
“And how are things over in Casa Purdue this morning?” Sam asked. His voice carried cheer, but his face was dead serious. Had this been a mere telephone call, Purdue would have thought Sam was the epitome of joviality.
“Great Scott, Sam,” Purdue had to exclaim when he saw the bloodshot eyes and baggage on the journalist. “I thought I was the one who doesn’t sleep anymore. You look worse for wear in a very alarming way. Is it Nina?”
“Oh, it is always Nina, my friend,” Sam replied, sighing, “but not just in the way she usually drives me nuts. She’s cranked it up a level this time.”
“Oh my God,” Purdue muttered, preparing for the news by sucking in a mouthful of black coffee that had gone horribly awry since its heat had withered. He winced from the sandy taste, but was more worried about Sam’s call.
“I know you don’t want to have to deal with anything concerning her right now, but I have to implore that you at least help me brainstorm around her proposal,” Sam said.
“Are you in Kirkwall now?” asked Purdue.
“Aye, but not for long. Did you listen to the recording I sent you?” Sam asked wearily.
“I did. It is absolutely fascinating. Are you going to pursue it for the Edinburgh Post? I believe Margaret Crosby solicited you after I left Germany.” Purdue chuckled, inadvertently tormenting himself with another gulp of rancid caffeine. “Blegh!”
“I thought about it,” answered Sam. “If it were merely about the murders at the Heidelberg Hospital or corruption at the Luftwaffe’s high command, aye. It would have been a good step toward maintaining my reputation. But that is of secondary weight now. The reason I ask if you learned the secrets of the mask is because Nina wants to put it on.”