His black irises swam in enlarged white, giving him an ominous appearance, reminiscent of the news he had just received. Eddie Olden stood dead still for a moment, but when he snapped out of it, he was distraught.
“How can it be happening in New Zealand?” he muttered. “They don’t have dingoes.”
“Harding. Did you say Harding?” Sam asked Eddie.
“That’s right,” Eddie affirmed, looking positively disturbed with the new problem this news presented. “This Harding bloke is a vet. He made an urgent report to the New Zealand authorities and wildlife organization in Greymouth on the west coast that the livestock and some family pets have been poisoned by the same poison we are tracking in our dingoes.”
“Where?” Louisa asked. “Were the animals poisoned in the conservation areas or randomly? Where exactly does he claim this is happening?”
“He said so far it was happening on his father’s farm, a place a few miles into the hills of Arnold Valley, near Lake Brunner,” Eddie reported from his notes. “Apparently his father has been missing for a week and along with his father’s disappearance, the animals started turning up dead, mangled, with Phospholipases A2 present in their blood and tissue samples.”
“Has his father reported anything like that before, maybe?” Louisa inquired, gathering up her blankets.
“Gail says the Harding’s only moved in a few weeks before. His father, the bloke that is missing now, inherited the bloody place! Ha! That would be my luck,” Eddie chuckled dryly. “We have to get there to see what is going on.”
Louisa sighed, and gave her colleague a weary look.
“So the lawsuit is dropped, I take it,” Sam presumed, waiting for confirmation from the Australians. “You know this is not the doing of a global scale scientific business, my friends, so stop wasting time – yours and ours.”
“Well, with this new problem surfacing,” Eddie admitted, “we cannot pursue this accusation anymore. Let’s not bullshit ourselves, Louisa.”
“I agree,” she assured him. “I fully agree, but to apply for the trip to New Zealand, we will have to put in an expense request to Management in Adelaide and that will take a week or more. Plus, we will have to present them with concrete substantiation that this new case is relevant to our culling problem.”
“That sounds like a lot of trouble to go through,” Sam remarked in his wise guy way, “especially for chasing a minor report from a vet in another country. That is a bit daft. I don’t think you have the resources that could help you nip this problem in the bud.”
Eddie was not stupid, but he was reserved in these things. It was Louisa that voiced what they both thought. “Okay, Mr. Cleave, what do you suggest and what do you want in return?”
“Easy on the caking, Lou,” Eddie warned her, thinking her flirting a bit too harsh.
“I’m not caking him, for Christ’s sake, Eddie!” she barked at him and turned back to regard Sam. “With the research you did on our claim against Mr. Purdue and his company, surely you will have found out that we do not have the necessary authority to pursue this new case. What are you driving at? And what is in it for you?”
Sam was ready to make them an offer they could not turn down. “Get warm. We are going to see a man about a dingo.”
26
Heike’s Heart
Sam arrived at Wrichtishousis with his two guests. Having explained most of the meeting, including the recently rescinded lawsuit, to Purdue on the car phone, Sam was ready to call a meeting that would be mutually beneficial to all.
“You were right, Purdue,” Sam cooed happily as they walked up the stairs to meet the master of Wrichtishousis, his two guests gawking shamelessly at the breathtaking architecture of the ancient castle house they were about to enter.
“About?” the tall genius asked, his white hair forming a flapping halo around his face in the gusts of the afternoon threat of rain.
“Things do have a way of falling into place when you use the relative codes,” Sam answered.
“Mr. Purdue. Good to see you again,” Eddie Olden said, reaching out to shake Purdue’s hand. Purdue obliged, but looked at Sam in astonishment, wondering how he had managed to undo the looming legal battle so easily. The attractive, rugged journalist only winked and ushered the two Australians into the lobby.
“My God,” Purdue murmured as he closed the front door. “He slept with her. That has to be it. He slept with her.”
Nina came down the stairs, the wet ends of her hair forming crystal tears that bled onto her shirt. Purdue introduced everyone, while Sam wondered why Nina took a shower in the middle of the afternoon. A small ball of anxiety whirled in the pit of his stomach. It was the same sour pain that used to eat him from the inside, long ago, when Nina dated Purdue and he had to witness those small hints that crushed his heart.
“Hey, Sam,” Nina smiled as she walked past him to pour some tea.
“H-hey,” he stammered. “You are going to catch your death in this cold with wet hair.”
“Aw, don’t worry,” she said. “It is warm enough in here. So, how did you do it? Did you take the dashing Miss Palumbo for a quickie in the car?”
Sam could not believe what Nina insinuated, and all while she was probably guilty of the act herself. “Funny that you would take it in that direction, love,” he told her softly. “Looks like you beat me to it.”
“What the fuck are you saying?” she gasped, scowling like an attack dog. Sam shrugged and walked away, leaving her hurt and angry. It reminded her of the times they were involved before, always so passionate that both were terrified of losing the other to small indiscretions. Nina sneered at Sam as he sat down with the others to discuss the deal he had in mind.
“Look, our Australian friends here need a shortcut to stifle the current spate of livestock poisoning that had suddenly reared its head in New Zealand. This very blight categorically absolved Purdue’s company of involvement, though the toxin found in New Zealand’s animals is the same composition as your company’s PLA2, Purdue,” Sam informed Purdue.
“And this is why you will contact your attorney to retract the claim?” Purdue asked.
“Yes,” Eddie Olden affirmed. “As Mr. Cleave pointed out to us, the New Zealand killings shows in all probability, that someone else is responsible for the so-called poison culling’s. Still, it is beyond baffling, so we need to personally investigate.”
“Alright, so what does that have to do with me?” Purdue asked Sam.
The journalist explained. “Our new friends here need to find a way to get to New Zealand to follow their leads and I was thinking you might want to fund their trip.”
“I beg your pardon?” Purdue yelped. “You want me to cover their travel costs after they effectively ruined what little integrity I had left in the business world?”
“Wait, Purdue, listen,” Sam eased him. “There is more to it. If you agree to do this, I would like to impose on our friends here, to allow us to join them in their venture.”
This time it was Eddie and Louisa that gasped. “What?” Eddie asked. “Why?”
“First of all, Mr. Olden, we have to keep an eye on the expenses you incur,” Sam elucidated. “Secondly,” he continued, looking at Purdue, “the poisoned livestock and farm dogs was reported by the son of the owner of the farm, one Dr. Harding.”
Purdue looked blankly at his friend. Sam tried again. “The farm belongs to a farmer, Mr. Harding, who went missing soon after taking possession of the farm he inherited.”
“Holy shit!” Nina exclaimed suddenly, starting Purdue back against his seat. “Dr. Williams’ nephew or whatever? That farm?”
Sam winked at her. “I love a sharp girl.”
“Oh my God, Sam! Oh my God! Can it be?” Purdue panted, his eyes stretched in amazement.
“Wait, what is going on now?” Louisa inquired, looking as befuddled as her colleague.
Sam cleared his throat and addressed their guests, ready to feed them a slightly misguided line to justify
their hunt for Feldwebel Dieter Manns’ precious ‘lost city’. “I would like your permission to use this excursion as an opportunity to do a story on the mysterious attacks on the animals while we are there. Full coverage and in return, we will help you get the exposure you need,” he glanced briskly at Purdue, “as long as you do not interfere with our own investigation.”
Purdue understood. A smirk on Nina’s lips confirmed that she did too.
“What say you, my friends? I will provide the necessary transport and in turn, you write off the threats until both our parties unearth the true culprit here,” Purdue beseeched them. Not that he had to. It was a solid deal Palumbo and Olden knew they would get nowhere else.
Miss Palumbo could not deny that she thought it a stellar idea. Her passion for protecting the wildlife was not a cheap endeavor and as it was, she could hardly afford running an extended investigation on the meager funds of the Department of Nature Conservation. Sam Cleave’s contact was a godsend, and Purdue’s offer was airtight to anyone with an iota of common sense.
“I’m in,” she confirmed. “When can we go, then?”
“Give me two days to prepare,” Purdue answered. “I’ll tell my assistant, Jane, to arrange one of my jets to fly us straight to New Zealand and handle any necessary documentation we might need.”
“Alright,” Sam said, “I’ll check on Bruich and then head to my apartment to pick up some gear and pack a bag. How long do you reckon we’ll be there?” he asked Purdue.
“I’d venture a guess to about a week,” the billionaire replied. “Give or take.”
“I’ll go with you to see Bruich, Sam,” Nina said. “If you don’t mind. Then we can head to your place and then drive through to Oban to stash my books and pick up some fresh clothes. What do you say?”
“Aye,” Sam agreed. “Good idea.”
Purdue assumed that Eddie Olden was game, as he said nothing, yet nodded contentedly. He looked grateful, but lacked the humility to say it. Sam offered the Australians a lift back to their shady hostel, after which he and Nina would go to the Rainfern Veterinary Hospital to check on the big old ginger feline they considered part of the family.
After they left, Purdue took on one last task, one that had been haunting his mind since Nina’s transcription mentioned it. With his guests gone, he could start work on something that had been hounding his curiosity since its discovery. He instructed his resident gardener and maintenance man to assist, moving the life-sized golden statue of an enchanting woman to his welding workroom. However, his high-end welding equipment would not do for the task at hand. “We need to remove the brass seal over the furnace, lads.”
With effort, they opened up the boarding of the old furnace under Wrichtishousis that used to be used as a forge, before later serving as kiln. It was even a crematorium at one stage.
“Blimey, Boss, this is some piece of work you have down here!” Errol, the main gardener raved. “Very impressive brazen etch work. Who made it?”
Purdue responded indifferently. “Some wealthy laird of this mansion in the 1500’s had it made as ornate dressing for this wall when he wanted to cover the oven.” Much as he was proud of the vast array of art and mineral ornaments all over Wrichtishousis, he had something quite different in mind now. All he could think of was to excavate the old furnace for a much more significant purpose than turning cadavers to ash or fixing permanent form to clay pots.
“It is very impressive, sir,” the other handyman concurred. “Let me get the large tool cart. I know this is your plate of brass, sir, but such a motif should really not be destroyed.”
“I agree,” Purdue nodded. “It is a unique, handmade etching of a horseman hunting and it was here hundreds of years before we were even born. You are right to want to preserve it, Bailey, but just please hurry. I have less than eight hours to get this furnace open and in working order. The work I need to do with it takes some time to complete and I leave in two days.”
“Aye, Mr. Purdue,” the men replied, and with that, Purdue left them to get their work done. When he was gone, the two men stood admiring the artwork, a relief and etch piece in brass and tin that depicted something more than a horseman hunting. In fact, it resembled nothing of the sort.
“Looks like the rider is part of the horse,” Bailey remarked, his fat cheeks shivering as he spoke. “You see that, Errol?” His colleague nodded his head, standing with folded arms to regard the fixtures and trying to examine possible ways to safely dislodge the sinister work of art. Errol glanced at the golden statue and back at the shuttered oven.
“Oh Christ, he is going to melt her down, mate,” he told his colleague. “Such a beautiful woman, hey? Imagine she was someone from real life?”
“Aye,” Bailey concurred. “She is too pretty to be from someone’s mind, I say. On the other hand, the boss don’t need more money. He don’t need to be melting gold, so I reckon he has a better reason to melt the girl.”
“Better reason than you think, lads,” Purdue suddenly answered, startling the two men. “Regrettably, I am not at liberty to share with anyone what my motives are in my aim. Sorry.”
The two men vehemently apologized and cited that their speculation was out of line, but Purdue only smiled. “I just need to go and get some fuel and a crucible big enough to hold Heike. Will be back in a few hours, lads. Please have it open by then.”
“Heike?” Bailey shrugged. “Now it is going to be even harder to imagine him melting her.”
“Why?” Errol asked.
Bailey shrugged, looking quite down about it. “Now she has a name and all, you know? It will be hard to know she is reduced to a pile now, right?”
Errol chuckled. “Just get the tools, you daft prick.”
Four hours later, Purdue arrived back at the manor with a small truck from Milton’s Hardware and Safety in tow, all the way from Richmond Park in Glasgow. Unloading the large crucible of clay, the fans and thermal fuels was smooth going, considering the weight of it and having to be carried down three floors to an underground place.
By the next day, everything was ready and Purdue used a device similar to that of ground penetration equipment to find Heike’s heart, as directed by Nina’s notes.
“There you are,” he smiled, whispering in the solitude of his welding room. Under clear white lights the tall genius stood in a thick protective apron, wearing large gloves and goggles, ready to steal Heike’s heart. From the reading on his scanner, it consisted of pure platinum, and therefore would survive the lady’s demise in the fire.
To his regret, Purdue wheeled the golden beauty into the furnace to facilitate a great necessity. From the other side of the door of the blazing forge, he could hear the hellish bellow of the flames consume her and Purdue stood in mourning for the statue Heike, like the devil weeping for his victim.
27
Meeting in the Barn
Cecil Harding and his brother, Gary, stood in silence under the dusty, high roof of Nigel Cockran’s barn. Before Gary could assist in the search for his father at Nekenhalle, the police came to tell them that the search had been momentarily paused because of the perilous weather. The officers mentioned nothing of the ominous utterings of the older native men who were part of the search party, but they kept it close to heart.
“We did find the missing dog you referred to, Dr. Harding,” Const. Ballin informed Cecil. “I am so sorry, but she is dead.”
The brothers looked confused. Gary shook his head. “No, Constable, Sparky is a male.”
“Oh,” she replied. “Well, it was hard to tell with the condition it was in. It was all shriveled up like a mummy.”
“What?” Cecil gasped. “The sheep and dogs here have exhibited the same deterioration after three days of death. My God, it must be something in the poison that causes an accelerated state of dehydration, like causing rapid putrefaction to an impossible level.”
“That sounds like science fiction,” Gary mumbled.
“It does sound absurd, but tha
t is what we found to be concrete, right here,” Cecil argued. “You see these carcasses, no older than three days, looking like they are a thousand years old.”
“Too right,” Sgt. Anaru agreed, looking at the sunken head of Nigel Cockran. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cockran. We are doing our best to get to the bottom of your livestock dying…and your poor dogs. Jesus, it is evil.”
“Not to worry,” Cecil told the sergeant. “I have elicited some help from the Australian Wildlife people. They will be here by tomorrow, they say.”
“What are they going to do?” old Cockran moaned. “Just more people up here to tell me the same bloody shit you all have. You don’t know what it is, but you are sorry. Well, fuck that, mate.”
“What else can we do, Mr. Cockran?” Sgt. Anaru snapped. He did not mean to be unprofessional, but with the stress of what they experienced in the Nekenhalle farmhouse, as well as the failed search attempt, he was as frustrated as the farmer. “And these blokes here? Hey? Their father is missing, presumed dead. How do you think they feel about this investigation yielding nothing?”
“Calm it, Mick,” Const. Ballin cautioned softly next to him. “We are all under great stress here.”
“None of this would have happened if your father did not go snooping around that bloody hill behind the house,” old Cockran whined, speaking to the two Harding brothers.
“What?” Gary snapped at the old man. Cecil knew the old man to be a grump, but even he was surprised at the clear hostility in the old man’s voice.
“You heard me, mate,” the old man retorted. “I told your father when you two first arrived here, to go back to his old farm, but no! I told your brother here the same thing, but he would rather get reasons from me than to just listen!”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 7 Page 54