“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 that 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.”