by P. W. Child
Purdue’s eyes shimmered in the brightness of the screen, turning a moist grey as he glared at Sam’s image. “Excuse me?” he said without flinching.
“I know. She asked that you contact the W.U.O. and get Sloane’s people to adapt an…arrangement of sorts,” Sam explained in a drained tone. “Now, I know you are pissed at her and all…”
“I am not pissed at her, Sam. I just need to distance myself from her for both our sakes – hers and mine. But I do not engage in juvenile silent treatment just because I’m taking a break from someone. I still consider Nina my friend. And you, for that matter. So whatever the two of you might need me for, the least I can do is listen,” Purdue told his friend. “I can always decline if I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Thank you, Purdue,” Sam exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank God you have more reason than she does.”
“So she wants me to use my affiliation with Prof. Sloane’s financial administration to pull some strings, right?” the billionaire asked.
“Right,” Sam nodded.
“And then? Does she know that the Sultan has requested a change of location?” Purdue asked, picking up his cup but realizing in time that he did not want what was in it.
“She knows. But she is adamant on taking Sloane’s face to get the treaty signed, even smack in the middle of ancient Babylonia. The problem is obtaining the Skin to get it off afterwards,” Sam said.
“Just ask that Marduk fellow from the recording, Sam. I was under the impression you were in touch?”
Sam looked upset. “He’s gone, Purdue. He was going to infiltrate the Büchel Air Base with Margaret Crosby to get the mask back from Captain Schmidt. Lieutenant Werner was supposed to as well, but he failed…” Sam took a long pause, as if he had to force out his next words. “So we have no idea how to find Marduk to borrow the mask for the signing of the treaty.”
“Oh my God,” Purdue exclaimed. After a short quiet spell he asked, “How did Marduk leave the base?”
“He took Margaret’s rental car. Lieutenant Werner was supposed to flee the base with Marduk and Margaret after they’d obtained the mask, but he just left them there and took her c…ah!” Sam realized at once. “You genius! I’ll text you her details for a trace on the car too.”
“Always a thread through technology, old cock,” Purdue bragged. “Technology is the nervous system of God.”
“Quite possibly,” Sam agreed. “It is the pages to knowing…and now I know all this because Werner called me less than 20 minutes ago, also asking for your help.” In saying all of this Sam couldn’t shake the guilt he felt for laying so much on Purdue after his efforts were so unceremoniously rebuked by Nina Gould.
Purdue was amused, if anything. “Wait just a second, Sam. Let me get my notes and a pen.”
“Are you running a tab?” Sam asked. “If not, I think you should. I feel bad, man.”
“I know. And you look like you sound too. No offence,” Purdue said.
“Dave, you can call me dog shit right now and I wouldn’t care. Just please say you can help us with this,” Sam begged. His big dark eyes looked droopy and his hair unkempt.
“Now, what must I do for the lieutenant?” Purdue asked.
“When he returned to base he learned that Schmidt had sent Himmelfarb, one of the men in the recording gone turncoat, to capture and hold his lady friend. And we should care about her because she was Nina’s nurse in Heidelberg,” Sam explained.
“Okay, points for the lieutenant’s lady friend, named?” asked Purdue, pen in hand.
“Marlene. Marlene Marx. They had her call Werner after they killed the doctor she’d assisted. The only way we can locate her is through a trace on her call to his cell phone.”
“Got it. Will forward the information to him. Text me his number.”
On the screen, Sam was already shaking his head. “No, Schmidt has his phone. I’m texting you his number for the trace, but you can’t contact him there, Purdue.”
“Oh, shit, of course. I’ll forward it to you, then. When he calls, you can give it to him. Okay, so let me get on these tasks and I’ll contact you soon with the results.”
“Thank you so much, Purdue,” Sam said, looking exhausted, but grateful.
“No problem, Sam. Give the Fury a kiss for me and try not to get your eyes scratched out.” Purdue smiled as Sam chuckled mockingly back at him before disappearing in a blink of blackness. Purdue was still smiling well after the screen had gone blank.
Chapter 30 – Desperate Measures
Even though the media broadcasting satellites were mostly dysfunctional across the board, there were still some radio signals and internet sites that had managed to infect the world with the plague of uncertainty and exaggeration. On the remaining social media profiles that could not yet be locked, people conveyed the panic of the current political climate, along with the reports of assassinations and threats of World War III.
By the corruption of servers in the major centers of the planet, people everywhere naturally came to the worst conclusions. According to some, the internet was under assault by a mighty faction of everything from aliens about to invade earth to the Second Coming. Some of the more dimwitted thought that the FBI was responsible, somehow deeming it more helpful to national intelligence to ‘make the internet crash’. And so every country’s citizens took to all that was left to show their discontent – the streets.
Major cities were inundated with riots, and mayoral offices had to account for the communication embargo, which they could not. At the top of the W.U.O. tower in London, a distraught Lisa looked down on a bustling city full of discord. Lisa Gordon was second in command of the organization that had recently lost its leader.
“My God, just look at that,” she said to her personal assistant as she leaned against the window pane of her 22nd Floor office. “Human beings are worse than wild animals as soon as they have no leaders, no teachers, nor any emissary with authority. Have you noticed?”
She watched the looting from a safe distance, but still wished she could talk sense into them all. “Once the order and leadership of countries falters even slightly, citizens think that destruction is the only alternative. I’ve never been able to understand that. There are just too many different ideologies begotten by fools and tyrants.” She shook her head. “We’re all speaking different languages while at the same time trying to live together. God help us. This is Babel all over.”
“Dr. Gordon, the Meso-Arabian Consulate is on Line 4. They need confirmation for Professor Sloane’s appointment at the Sultan’s palace in Susa tomorrow,” the personal assistant said. “Shall I still use the excuse that she is ill?”
Lisa turned to face her assistant. “Now I know why Marta used to bemoan having to make all the decisions. Tell them she will be there. I’m not shooting this hard-earned endeavor in the foot yet. Even if I have to go there myself and beg for peace, I will not let this pass because of terrorism.”
“Dr. Gordon, there is a gentleman on your main line. He has a very important proposal for us regarding the peace treaty,” the receptionist said, peeking around the door.
“Hayley, you know we do not take calls from the public here,” Lisa reprimanded.
“He says his name is David Purdue,” the receptionist added reluctantly.
Lisa swung around. “Put him through to my desk immediately, please.”
After hearing Purdue’s suggestion that they use an impostor to take the place of Prof. Sloane, Lisa was more than a little taken aback. Of course, he had not included the ludicrous use of a mask to assume the woman’s face. That would have been a tad too macabre. Still, the suggestion of a changeling rattled the sensibilities of Lisa Gordon.
“Mr. Purdue, much as we at the W.U.O. Britain appreciate your ongoing generosity toward our organization, you have to understand that such an act would be fraudulent and unethical. And as I am sure you understand, those are the very methods we oppose. It would make hypocrites of us.”
“I do,
of course,” Purdue replied. “But think about it, Dr. Gordon. How far would you bend the rules to achieve peace? Here we have a sickly woman – and have you not been using illness as a scapegoat to avert confirmation of Marta’s death? And this lady, who has an uncanny resemblance to Marta, is offering to mislead the right people for but a moment in history to establish your organization within its chapters.”
“I – I w-would have to…think about it, Mr. Purdue,” she stammered, still unable to make up her mind.
“You had better hurry, Dr. Gordon,” Purdue reminded her. “The signing is tomorrow, in another country, and time is running out.”
“I shall contact you as soon as I have spoken to our advisers,” she told Purdue. Internally, Lisa knew it was the best solution; no, the only one. The alternative would just be far too costly and she had to forcefully weigh her morals against the greater good of all. It was really no contest. At the same time, if she were to be discovered plotting such deception, Lisa knew she would be held accountable and probably indicted for treason. Forgery was one thing, but to be a knowledgeable accessory to such a political travesty – they would have her tried for nothing short of a public execution.
“Are you still there, Mr. Purdue?” she cried out suddenly, looking at her desk phone system as if it displayed his face.
“I am. Shall I make the arrangements?” he asked cordially.
“Yes,” she affirmed firmly. “And this must never, ever surface, do you understand?”
“My dear Dr. Gordon. I thought you knew me better than that,” Purdue replied. “I will send Dr. Nina Gould and a body guard to Susa on my private jet. My pilots will use W.U.O. clearance under the assumption that the occupant is indeed Prof. Sloane.”
After they ended the call, Lisa found her demeanor somewhere between relieved and terrified. She paced around her office with her shoulders hunched and her arms folded tightly, contemplating what she had just agreed to. Mentally she was checking all her bases, making sure each was covered with a plausible excuse in case the charade came to light. For the first time was happy about the media delays and persisting blackouts, having no idea that she was in cahoots with the people responsible.
Chapter 31 – Who’s Face Would You Wear?
Lieutenant Dieter Werner was relieved, apprehensive, but nonetheless elated. He’d contacted Sam Cleave from a prepaid phone he’d acquired while on the run from the air base, marked as deserter by Schmidt. Sam had given him the coordinates of Marlene’s last call and he was hoping she was still there.
“Berlin? Thank you so much, Sam!” said Werner, standing in the cold Mannheim night, away from the earshot of the people at the gas station where he was filling up his brother’s car. He’d asked his brother to lend him his vehicle, as the military police would be looking for his issue Jeep since he’d escaped Schmidt’s clutches.
“Call me the moment you find her, Dieter,” Sam said. “I hope she is alive and well.”
“I will, I promise. And tell Purdue a million thanks for tracing her,” he told Sam just before he hung up the call.
Still, Werner could not believe Marduk’s deceit. He was upset with himself for even thinking he could trust the very man who had deceived him when he’d interviewed him at the hospital.
But for now he had to drive like hell to get to a factory called Kleinschaft Inc. on the outskirts of Berlin where his Marlene had been held. With every mile he drove, he prayed that she would be unharmed, or at the very least, alive. The holster on his hip held his private firearm, a Makarov he’d received as a gift from his brother on his twenty-fifth birthday. He was ready for Himmelfarb, if the coward still had the gall to stand and fight when he was up against a real soldier.
***
In the meantime Sam helped Nina prepare for the trip to Susa, Iraq. They were due there the next day, and Purdue had already arranged the flight after getting the very furtive green light from the W.U.O. second in command, Dr. Lisa Gordon.
“Are you nervous?” Sam asked as Nina emerged from the room, splendidly clothed and groomed just like the late Prof. Sloane. “My God, you look just like her…if I didn’t know you.”
“I’m very nervous, but I just keep telling myself two things. It’s for the good of the world and it will take all but fifteen minutes before I am done,” she admitted. “I hear they’ve been playing the sick card with her absence. Well, they have that one spot-on.”
“You know you don’t have to do this, love,” he told her one last time.
“Oh Sam,” she sighed. “You are relentless, even when you lose.”
“I see you are not in the least perturbed in your competitive nature, even by common sense,” he remarked as he took her bag. “Come, the car is waiting to take us to the airport. In a few hours you will make history.”
“Do we meet up with her people in London or in Iraq?” she asked.
“Purdue said they will meet us at the C.I.T.E. rendezvous in Susa. There you will spend some time with the actual successor of the W.U.O. reins, Dr. Lisa Gordon. Now remember, Nina, Lisa Gordon is the only one who knows who you are and what we are doing, okay? Don’t slip up,” he said, while they slowly walked out into the white fog that drifted through the cold air.
“Got it. You worry too much,” she sniffed, adjusting her scarf. “By the way, where is the great architect?”
Sam frowned.
“Purdue, Sam, where is Purdue?” she repeated as they started driving.
“Last I spoke to him he was home, but he is Purdue, always up to something.” He smiled and shrugged. “How are you feeling?”
“My eyes are almost completely healed. You know, when I listened to the recording and Mr. Marduk said that the mask wearers go blind, I wondered if that was not something he must have thought that night he visited me by my hospital bed. Maybe he thought I was Sa…Löwenhagen…masquerading as a chick.”
It was not as far-fetched as it sounded, Sam figured. In fact, it could have been just so. Nina did tell him that Marduk asked her if she’d been hiding her roommate, so it may very well have been a real assumption on the part of Peter Marduk. Nina laid her head on Sam’s shoulder and he bent his body uncomfortably to the side to be low enough for her to reach.
“What would you do?” she asked suddenly in the subdued hum of the car. “What would you do if you could wear anyone’s face?”
“I had not even thought of that,” he conceded. “I suppose it depends.”
“On?”
“On how long I get to keep that person’s face on,” Sam teased.
“Only a day, but you don’t have to kill them or die at the end of the week. You just get their face for a day and at the end of twenty-four hours it comes off and you have your own again,” she whispered softly.
“I suppose I’m supposed to say that I would assume the face of some important person and that I would do good,” Sam started, wondering just how honest he should be. “I should be Purdue, I think.”
“Why the hell would you want to be Purdue?” Nina asked, sitting up.Oh great. Now you’ve done it, Sam thought. He thought of the genuine reasons he’d chosen Purdue, but they were all reasons he did not want to reveal to Nina.
“Sam! Why Purdue?” she insisted.
“He has everything,” he replied at first, but she kept quiet and paid attention, so Sam elaborated. “Purdue can do anything. He is too notorious to be famous as a generous saint, but too ambitious to be a nobody. He is smart enough to devise miraculous machines and gadgets that can alter medical science and technology, but he is too modest to patent them and make a profit that way. Between his mind, his reputation, his contacts and his money, he can literally attain anything. I would use his face to progress to higher aims that my simpler mind, meager finances and insignificance could obtain.”
He waited for a scathing review of his twisted priorities and misplaced goals, but instead Nina leaned in and kissed him deeply. Sam’s heart jolted at the unpredictable gesture, but it went positively wild at her words.<
br />
“Keep your own face, Sam. You possess the one thing Purdue desires, the one thing for which all his genius, money and influence will profit him nothing.”
Chapter 32 – The Shadow’s Proposal
Peter Marduk didn’t care about the developments happening all around him. He was used to people acting like maniacs, storming around like derailed locomotives whenever something beyond their control reminded them just how little power they had. With his hands in his coat pockets and his eyes alert from under his fedora, he passed through the panic stricken strangers at the airport. A lot of them were heading to their respective homes in case of a national shutdown of all services and transport.Having lived through many eras, Marduk had seen it all before. He’d survived three wars. Everything had always straightened out and rippled to another part of the world in the end. War would never stop, he knew. It would only move to another neighborhood. In his opinion, peace was a fallacy designed by those weary of fighting for what they had or jousting to win arguments. Harmony was just a myth written by cowards and religious fanatics, hoping that sowing the belief would earn them the monikers of heroes.
“Your flight has been postponed, Mr. Marduk,” the check-in clerk told him. “We expect all flights to be delayed due to the latest situation. There will only be flights available tomorrow morning.”
“No problem. I can wait,” he said, ignoring her scrutiny of his odd facial features, or rather lack thereof. Peter Marduk decided to take rest in a hotel room in the meantime. He was too old and his frame too skeletal for long periods of sitting. There would be enough of that on the flight back home. He checked into the Cologne Bonn Hotel and ordered dinner via room service. Looking forward to a well-deserved night’s sleep without worry over the mask or having to curl up on a basement floor while waiting for a murderous thief was a delightful change of pace for his tired old bones.