“Oh, Charles, have you seen the boss?” she whined, looking very worried. “There is an urgent phone call for him on the landline, and the woman refuses to let me take a message. She insists on speaking to Mr. Purdue about a book.”
The word punched Charles in the gut. “Book?” he asked.
“Yes, she says it is extremely urgent,” Lily panted, her hand on her stomach.
“Hold on, I think I know where he is,” Charles replied. “I will tell him.”
“Thank you, love,” she sighed in relief. With the matter in the butler’s hands, she could continue with the kitchen work.
Charles found Purdue in Storage 4, scrutinizing the letter Nina had translated.
“Sir?”
“Yes, old boy?” Purdue muttered without looking up.
“There is a lady on the landline for you, about… a book?” he told Purdue, who instantly raised his head in full attention.
“Did she say what about the book?” he asked quickly, hastily standing up to join the butler. They skipped up the stairs to the nearest telephone, fixed inside a small security vault built into the wall.
“No, sir, Lillian took the call, and the lady is holding to speak to you,” Charles informed him.
“Thanks,” Purdue replied and connected the call with the device mounted inside the wall. Opening the vault with a code, he activated the device with his voice to activate the isolated conversation. “Mrs. Williams?” he said quickly. On the other side of the phone call, he could hear her sniffing before she slowly started to speak.
“Mr. Purdue, I have no idea how to convey my utter fury at you and your bedeviled pursuits. I have no words to relay my feelings without shouting the foulest profanities at you right now,” her voice shivered. Her words came out calm, but her voice was fraught with seething rage.
“Mrs. Williams, please do tell me what is the matter,” he urged with gentle concern.
“My husband was killed for that bloody book, you know? Nobody will ever admit it, but I know it. With all my heart I believe that he was killed for it, for the contents of it,” she continued, trying to compose herself in between gasps of weeping. “But now you have brought this book into the light again, you and your incessant need to scratch at the dead wounds of old things that need to be left buried!”
A long pause ensued, but Purdue had no words to press her with. In fact, by the sound of her, by the annunciation of her sentences, he could tell that something terrible had happened. There was nothing he could think of to say in response, but felt inappropriately grateful when she added more details to her admonishment.
“Now, the book has caused my granddaughter to come to great harm, Mr. Purdue,” she rambled quickly, before her crying could interrupt her. He could hear the old woman crying, but she soon recovered and took a deep breath. “She agreed to run my errand, Mr. Purdue, to bring this accursed book to you on her own expense, only to be refused entry to your property. And now? Now she is lying in Western General’s ICU, fighting for her life!”
“Oh my God, Mrs. Williams,” Purdue finally replied. “Listen, I did not turn her away. I did not even know that she was here! How bad is her prognosis?”
“She spoke a few words when I came in to see her, but they had to sedate her before her head injuries would cause her to have brain damage. All she told me was that she could not deliver the book because they would not let her in,” Mrs. Williams half whispered. “Also, since the book had mysteriously disappeared from her car after her heinous attack, I assume that it was the motive behind the assault. Again, one of my dearest family members is paying for that godforsaken thing! I don’t want it back.”
“Mrs. Williams, I will investigate this immediately. I swear to you,” Purdue attempted to lighten the blow in vain. He knew such a terrible incident could not be excused or pampered away, but he was going to take action to correct what he could. “Now, listen, I will take responsibility for all medical costs incurred during your granddaughter’s treatment. I will have my people authorize a transfer to a private institution of your choice, and arrange specialists to treat her as a priority.”
“I don’t want your pity, Purdue,” she hissed.
“It is not pity, Mrs. Williams,” he replied sternly. “I am offering what I can to make some sort of amends for the error made by my security people, since I am not in a position to heal your poor granddaughter. Now, please, accept my help and my deepest apologies, and I will do as much as I can to help her regain her health.”
Mrs. Williams was silent, but Purdue felt so sick to his stomach about it all, that he would wait until Doomsday for her to reply. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “I will accept your help. God knows my poor grandchild needs it. And as I said, if you find that damned book, I never want to see it again.”
Purdue sighed, relieved, but feeling the brunt of recent toils beginning to weigh in, but he made a promise to fix it with a simple word.
“Done.”
12 The Mountain that Eats Men
Cecil Harding held his breath.
That same sick churning in his gut emerged again. When he followed the sound of ornaments crashing and furniture being turned over, he came to a conclusion he had not thought of before. His father had previously tried to sell their old farm, because of some gambling debts and bad financial decisions. It was quite likely that the people in the house could be sharks, collectors, or maybe bookies coming to collect or get even.
If that were the case, he figured, he was in real danger here in plain sight. These men were not the types one could negotiate with, as his father often affirmed when he came home with black eyes or knife wounds. He called them ‘final warnings’. For a short while, it was dead quiet inside the house, so Cecil held his breath.
‘That is why Dad’s not here,’ he thought to himself. ‘He saw them coming, left the gate locked and pissed off. If he was hiding somewhere here, he would have signaled me when I called out.’ A shocking reminder came back to him. ‘Holy shit! They must have heard me shouting and screaming! They know I am here. Oh God, maybe it is me they are searching for in there! They don’t know that I came in from the gate. They must think I was here all along!’
It was time to act. Cecil realized that his father and brother were not his priority right now, but to survive was. He waited until the next din, so that his flight would go undetected. He endeavored to rush back to the Cockran farm to get help. They had a home phone from where he could alert the authorities.
When he heard the next commotion in the depths of the farmhouse, Cecil bolted into the thick brush that hugged the exterior walls of the house. His heart was jumping, but he could not falter now. If they came after him, he would have no chance. The chubby veterinarian sucked in ample air, waited, and then he went full force down the driveway that turned into the gravel road. Once he reached the long snaky road leading to the gate, he dove straight for the thick bush that lined the black gravel.
Once in the shelter of the trees, he was relieved to realize that the trip to the gate was downhill. He could move faster with less effort. Cecil’s lungs wheezed as he crashed through the canopy of tree branches and thorny leaves, ignoring the bristles and barbs that licked painfully at his skin. Past the mysterious markers he charged, with little discretion or subtle movement. In record time, Cecil reached the menacing gates and scaled them remarkably well, considering how he first got over them. Clumsily he stumbled from the second last steel rod above the ground, and landed like a dead horse on the other side of the gate.