“Um, sir?” the constable addressed her superior, stopping in her tracks. She was looking up at the mountain, and pointing to an upper window of the house. “What is that?”
The men carried on walking a few more steps, but also halted when they saw what Ballin had noticed. Up, by the blackened mouth of the mine, an old rusty Agritec tractor was slowly being dragged inside.
“Holy shit,” Cecil gasped. “What could be that strong? Look at that!”
Coolly, the sergeant replied, “I see it.”
From where they stood in the road, the old tractor moved sideways, appearing to slide deeper into the dark chasm. Its wheels had been slashed for years and its engine and gears so eroded, that there was no way for it to roll into the entrance. The thing that terrified the three onlookers most was that they could not see what it was that moved the heavy steel vehicle.
“It is sliding,” the constable speculated. She looked at the men, asking, “A mudslide, perhaps?”
Both shook their heads. “There has not been any rain for weeks up here. I know, because Nigel Cockran told me. That cannot be a mudslide, Const. Ballin. No way. Besides, that tractor has been standing there since I first got here, dead still, in its place. Why would it start sliding now?”
“I agree,” the sergeant concurred. “But I am just as worried about that, though. Heather, pull your sidearm. This is all sorts of wrong, behind that window.”
The two officers pulled their guns from their holsters and, with the weapons pointing downward, they started up the last part of the road.
“Stay here,” Sgt. Anaru told Cecil, who was happy to oblige. “Come on, Constable.”
Cecil peered up at the window where there was movement inside. The drapes impaired his ability to see what was within, but by the looks of the motion, someone was dragging the curtain with him as he moved slowly from right to left.
The police officers mounted the deck of the veranda and quietly took positions on either side of the front door. Behind the house, the tractor creaked loudly, disappearing from sight. With faces twisted in concentration, the sergeant and constable nodded at the same time, counting down their next action. Sgt. Anaru mouthed, ‘One, two, three!’
With a mighty crash they kicked in the door, splitting the lock side plank from the rest of the door under the force of their kicks. The door glass shattered on impact, dousing their identification cries from where Cecil was standing. He saw the curtain upstairs whip wildly, and then it fell back limply into its original position.
“They are coming down, officer!” Cecil screamed, keeping his eye on the mouth of the mine for good measure. If they were the accomplices of whoever hid in the mine, the terrific pandemonium of the charging officers would prompt them to confront them downstairs. “Sergeant! Hurry back out!” he warned hysterically, but it was too late. The house erupted in a mad noise of crashing glass and thumps that compelled the veterinarian to run to their aid, even though he was unarmed.
“Sergeant! Constable!” he shouted as he ran with all he could muster to get to the house, looking around hastily for anything that could pass as a weapon. On his way past the garage where Gary’s car gathered dust, he grabbed a small container containing paint thinners. Cecil picked took a broken broomstick he found in the dirt between the cans of spilled paint. Like a valiant hero, he ripped off his shirt to wrap the fabric around the stick.
Gunshots clapped inside the house among orders shouted by Sgt. Anaru. Shaking profusely in this moment of intensity, Cecil poured the thinners on the material and lit it with a match from the box he had in his trousers.
A hot lapping flame grew from the charred shirt and Cecil faced the disorderly commotion he was about to join in.
14 Fortress Breached
Deciphering the letter to Heike was not an urgent matter, but Purdue had set his passion on it. Like a Pitbull locking its jaws on its target, he could not let go of something he was curious about until its mystery was solved satisfactorily. This was such an instance. It was a find he had almost died for, that Sam had literally almost died for, and that alone gave it debt. Had he simply dug it up, the letter would not merit his attention in excess of a quick examination and a bit of research. However, with all the hell Purdue and his friends had endured since these Nazi remains were found, and now a young woman he did not even know personally lying in Intensive Care, he had to gut this thing right to the core.
Sam called sometime during the night, making sure that Purdue was aware of the assignment he had been hired for.
“You know I only took this gig to make sure that all information about you would be controlled, at least on my part,” he told Purdue.
“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate the shield. Incidentally, what do they want you to tell the world about me?” he asked, watching Bruichladdich sleep under the drawing room coffee table.
“I think they want a full-blown expose to implicate you, or Scorpio Majorus as a whole, in a culling scandal that is currently being perpetrated on a large scale in Australia. So far, I have only conducted an interview with Eddie Olden from the Wildlife this-and-that, but I will screen their opinions when I edit and compile the report,” Sam informed Purdue. “First have to do the second part for them in a day or two, with that Palumbo chick.”
“So, pretty much what they discussed with me,” Purdue stated. “They think one of our pharmaceutical components are used as poison to kill animals.”
“Aye. Is it true?” Sam asked.
“No,” Purdue exclaimed, swirling the whisky in his glass. “Well, it is not supposed to be used on its own, Sam. I have never before authorized anything harmful in any of my businesses to be used for such nefarious ends. Especially animals. My God, I might not have any pets, but I would never endorse such an atrocity against animals.”
“Well, you have a pet for the foreseeable future,” Sam jested.
“Oh!” Purdue chuckled. “Yes, Bruich. I am just looking at him, napping. Lily actually took a great liking to the old thing, so he is being more than pampered, believe you me.”
“Thanks for babysitting him, Purdue,” Sam said.
“No worries,” Purdue replied. “After all, my constant expeditions are mostly the reason you leave him a temporary orphan, usually. It is the least I could do. Have you heard from Nina?”
Sam sounded exhausted. After a long yawn he answered, “She sent me a text this morning about something she found in one of those books she got with the house, remember? When she moved in, she found that small library of Third Reich occult stuff…?”
“I do remember!” Purdue agreed. “And the diaries of SS officers. What did she find?”
“She told me that she was waiting for you to get that cipher book for her and then she intended to cross reference it with some of the other diaries. Apparently, a lot of those personal accounts in that library were writing in appalling grammar.”
Purdue was suddenly reminded of the terrible thing that happened around his request for that book. “About that,” he sighed. “I seem to be lawsuit chum these days. Just closely averted another.”
He briefly told Sam about the young Williams girl and her dreadful experience. “So we have lost that book to someone who knew that I wanted it. Christ, Sam! Sometimes I think the whole world is out to get me. With the laboratories leaking poison to some imbeciles to destroy my business reputation and people getting bludgeoned and left for dead to obtain my resources, it leaves me quite uncertain, you know?”
“Look, I don’t blame you,” Sam replied. “But if I were you, I would see what the common denominator is in these problems. How could someone know about the book? I hope you did not e-mail the widow. When it comes to technology — and you of all people know this — everyone is watching from somewhere.”