Lance looked at his wife, gloating about the similarity between Father Harper's and his earlier statement. “See? Even God's people agree with me.”
“Oh shut it, Lance,” she sighed.
“Maria was raised Catholic, which admittedly aided my interrogation. With a little LSD and some SP117 I got her to believe that she was obliged to provide the information I asked or…” the priest shook his head in shame, “…or be cast in purgatory until she’d collected every bullet she’d ever used on a human being.”
“Father!” Sylvia uttered in absolute repugnance. “How could you do that to someone? A man of the cloth should not resort to idle deceit! Ever!”
“My dear Mrs. Beach,” Father Harper said, “would you rather this woman watch your children on the playground from a church tower?”
Sylvia wanted to defend the question in terms of morality, but she quickly swallowed her words once the true horror of the scenario entered her mind. Calmly, Father Harper urged, “Now, when you are positive about your innocence in this matter, Mrs. Beach, I suggest we get to Fallin as soon as possible. There is a man who needs our help.”
With Maria Winslet in their custody, Dr. Beach and Father Harper left Sylvia in charge of church business until Father Harper was scheduled to return. He assured her that they would be but three days at the most and that she only needed to take care of the arrangements pertaining to the Ladies Church Action, soup kitchen, and choir practice.
“Her pupils are still dilated, but she is fine, Father,” Dr. Beach reported. “I’m more concerned for the condition of the man her boyfriend kidnapped.”
“I expect him to be in a bad state, given the clients Mr. Beck delivered him to,” the priest said as they drove along the main road, thirty minutes from their destination. “I took the liberty of looking up Maria's partner and found him to be a rather unsavory character who once worked as an MI5 operative. Nothing states why he left Her Majesty's service, but I can only guess.”
“With the type of women he keeps company, I have all the information I need on this bloke's psychology. Birds of a feather, I suppose,” Lance Beach replied from the backseat he shared with their willing, although heedless guide. Dr. Beach put his pen light back in his pocket and closed his leather medical bag. “How far still?”
“We’re close. I’m not sure what she meant, but she said the house was concealed on the other side of the River Forth. Rather odd,” Father Harper admitted. “As far as I know the area she gave me coordinates to has no bridge.”
“Father, what happens when our escort here finds her bearings?” Dr. Beach asked. “LSD does not take this long to wear off. What did you really give her?”
“A Russian devised psychoanalytic compound that serves as a truth serum,” Father Harper disclosed. “They used it on KGB personnel and it is highly efficient, but I added the hallucinogen for good measure to convince her of the Biblical tyranny that would follow if she did not comply.”
To the priest's surprise, Dr. Beach bellowed with laughter. It made him smile to see that someone out there still appreciated the unorthodox measures needed to thwart evil. “How did you get your hands on SP117, Father?”
Father Harper smiled at his companion in the rear view mirror and shrugged. “I was not always a priest.”
Chapter 30 — Mysterious Ways
Purdue was in excruciating pain, but he dared not cry out or else Mother would switch on the air conditioner again. Inside the oubliette she had an outlet for such a system that blew ice cold air into the dungeon, exacerbating the dreadful aches of his bones and exposed flesh by a hundred fold. He had been running a fever for two days now and it only grew worse with his lack of sleep. By his pants he could feel that he had lost considerable weight and with nobody aware of his plight or his location, there was no hope in sight.
In his delirium of agony Purdue heard Karsten's voice coming from the dining room, but he thought it a dream. Mother had been engaged in a conversation with him for well over an hour.
“Is he still alive?” Karsten asked Mother.
“I believe so. I can only go on the last time he screamed, though, and it has been a while,” she said coolly, evoking laughter from Karsten.
“We will put an end to the devil-may-care philanthropist this time. Besides, he’s supposed to be dead anyway,” the Austrian answered.
“How goes the procurement of his estates?” Mother asked.
Purdue perked up, so to speak, at the woman's strange question. In his state, slipping in and out of consciousness, he was uncertain if he’d heard what he thought he had. The silence after punished him. He could hardly stay awake in his weakness, but he had to stay conscious to hear the answer.
“Slowly. You know we can only claim his estate by law if he remains missing for over seven years. May I ask, Mother, what is your interest in Purdue's property?” he asked.
“Properties,” she corrected him. “Plural.”
“You wish to extend your investments in the United Kingdom?” he asked.
“No, I just want Wrichtishousis.” Karsten was silent for a long time before asking in what sounded like a tone of threat.
“What on earth for?”
“That is my business, Joseph. What would you do with it anyway? You have vast mansions in Europe already,” she retorted.
“Mother, with respect, Purdue's manor is known to possess a wealth of technological and historical resources within its walls. It is even reputed to be the vault of the Heilige Lanze!” he growled under his breath. “With his superior-quality laboratories and equipment, along with his notes and designs — things he had not even patented yet — we could take over the world of technology and science! Purdue's mansion is hardly a quaint museum full of historical trinkets for the ego of the conqueror, Madam.”
Purdue heard her clout the passionate speaker, a smack so loud that even Purdue's fading senses felt it. With his meager energy Purdue could not help but smirk just a little.
How lovely to hear them fight over Wrichtishousis, he thought. If they only knew what it would take for them to breach those resources they so direly desire.
“Mind your tone with me, boy! I know what lies beneath Wrichtishousis and I have an inkling that fool who owns it knows too. The greatest relic I have sought, next to the Olympias Letter, lies under that goddamn mansion and I shall have it, at all costs. And you are the one who will procure that property for me. That was the deal!” she raged, her low rasp like the lust of a feeding lion. “In return, you can claim all the other estates he owns, along with reasonable access to his laboratories, if I deem it necessary.”
What is lying beneath Wrichtishousis? Purdue wondered in the solitude of his prison.
“I know what our deal was, but you are just going to waste all the possibilities we could harness with your nostalgia for treasure getting in the way,” Karsten fought. “You lost Alexander's treasure and I’m sure that in your world that must have been devastating! But this is a different era, Mother! The greatest wealth, the biggest treasure of this century is technology! Gold and silver can only buy you more of the same. But whoever controls technology controls the world!”
“Don't you dare speak of what is precious, you fucking wretch!” she sneered.
“Put the Luger down, Mother. Please. We are on the same side,” Karsten coaxed, but the enraged woman would hear none of it.
“Do you realize who you are talking to, Joseph? I am not some girl who likes glittery things, chasing after pirates' chests and kings' ransoms! I am Yvetta goddamn Wolff, do you understand? My father was Himmler's treasure hunter, his golden boy,” she bellowed, out of breath with fury. “My father was the man whose research uncovered the existence of a hidden hoard from the empire of Alexander the Great! He deserved to have it for himself, after being Hitler's bloodhound for the Spear of Destiny, the Black Tarot, Odin's Tomb, and all the other invaluable relics hunted by the Nazis!”