Sylvia’s inadvertent scream faded in the cacophony of crumpling metal and shattering glass. Both Lance and Sylvia felt the sickening gyration of their out-of-control vehicle, knowing there was nothing they could do to avert tragedy. But they were wrong. They came to a standstill somewhere off the side of the road, among the strip of wild trees and brush between the A82 and the black, cold water of Loch Lomond.
“Are you alright, darling?” Lance asked frantically.
“I’m alive, but my neck is killing me,” she replied through the bubbling of her broken nose.
For a moment they sat still in the twisted wreck, listening to the hard patter of the rainstorm on the metal. They were both caught behind the forceful protection of their airbags, trying to ascertain which parts of their bodies still functioned. Dr. Lance Beach and his wife, Sylvia, never expected the car from behind them to charge through the darkness, heading straight for them.
Lance tried to take Sylvia’s hand when the diabolical headlights blinded them one last time and struck them at full speed. The velocity snapped Lance’s arm off and severed both their spinal chords, sending their car into the depths of the loch, where it would become their coffin.
15
Casting the Players
At Wrichtishousis, spirits were high for the first time in over a year. Purdue had come home, gracefully saying goodbye to the men and women who had been occupying his home while it was in the grips of MI6 and its callous executive, the two-faced Joe Carter. Much as Purdue used to love throwing lavish parties for academic professors, businessmen, curators, and international benefactors of his grants, this occasion called for something more low key.
Since those days of grand feasts under the roof of the historic mansion, Purdue had learned that prudence was imperative. Back then, he had not clashed yet with the likes of the Order of the Black Sun or its affiliates, although, in hindsight, he had been closely acquainted with many of its members without realizing it. However, one wrong move cost him that perfect obscurity he had moved in all those years when he was just a playboy with a penchant for historic items of value.
His attempt at appeasing the dangerous Nazi organization, mostly to stroke his ego, came to a tragic conclusion on Deep Sea One, his offshore oilrig in the North Sea. It was there, when he stole the Spear of Destiny and aided in the breeding of a super human strain that he first stepped on their toes. From there, matters only worsened until Purdue went from an ally to an annoyance, until he finally progressed to be the biggest thorn in the side of the Black Sun.
Now there was no turning back. No recovery. No way back. Now, all Purdue could do was systematically eradicate all the members of the sinister organization until he could safely appear in public again without fearing assassination or attacks on his friends and staff. And that gradual eradication had to be discreet, subtle, and methodical. By no means did he intend to kill them off or anything, but Purdue was wealthy and smart enough to clip them one by one by using deadly weapons of the age — technology, media, legislation, and of course, the mighty Mammon.
“Welcome back, Doctor,” Purdue jested as Sam and Nina got out of the car. Drips and drabs of the recent siege were still evident as some agents and Purdue’s staff stood around waiting for MI6 to clear out their posts and remove their temporary reconnaissance devices and vehicles. Purdue’s address of Sam confused Nina a bit, but she could see by their exchange of laughter that it was probably another thing best left between the two men.
“Come now, lads,” she said, “I’m famished.”
“Oh, but of course, my dear Nina,” Purdue said kindly, reaching out to embrace her. Nina said nothing, but his emaciated form bothered her. Although he had healed much since the incident in Fallin, she could not believe that the tall, white-haired genius could still look so thin and weary. In the breezy morning, Purdue and Nina stayed locked in their embrace for a while, just savoring each other’s existence for a moment.
“I am so glad you’re alright, Dave,” she whispered. Purdue’s heart skipped a beat. Nina rarely, if ever, called him by his first name. It meant that she wished to address him on a very personal level, which was like a stroke of heaven to him.
“Thanks, love,” he replied softly into her hair, giving her a kiss on the top of her head before letting her go. “Now,” he cheered, clapping his hands together and wringing them, “shall we have a bit of a celebration before I tell you what comes next?”
“Aye,” Nina smiled, “but I’m not sure I can wait to hear what’s next. After all these years in your company, I’ve quite come to loathe surprises.”
“I do understand,” he conceded as he waited for her to enter the manor’s front doors first. “But I assure you, it is safe, under the scrutiny of the Ethiopian government and the ACU, and perfectly legal.”
“For once,” Sam teased.
“How dare you, sir?” Purdue joked with Sam, dragging the journalist into the lobby by his collar.
“Hello Charles.” Nina smiled at the ever-loyal butler who was already setting the table in the drawing room for them to have their private assembly.
“Madam,” Charles nodded courteously. “Mr. Cleave.”
“Greetings, my good man,” Sam greeted cordially. “Has Special Agent Smith left yet?”
“No, sir. In fact, he’s just gone to the restroom and will join you presently,” Charles said before leaving the room hurriedly.
“He’s a bit tired, poor lad,” Purdue explained, “having had to cater to this crowd of intruders for so long. I gave him tomorrow and Tuesday off. After all, in my absence there would be very little to do for him apart from the dailies, you know?”
“Aye,” Sam agreed. “But I hope Lillian is on duty until we come back. I’ve already charmed her into keeping an apricot strudel pudding ready for me when we return.”
“From where?” Nina asked, feeling terribly left out, once more.
“Well, that is the other reason why I asked you two to come over, Nina. Have a seat please, and I’ll pour you a bourbon,” Purdue said. Sam was pleased to see him so cheerful again, almost as suave and confident as he used to be. Then again, Sam supposed, reprieve from the prospect of prison would make a man celebratory of the smallest matters. Nina sat down, slipping a hand under the brandy glass Purdue poured the Southern Comfort in for her.
The fact that it was morning in no way altered the dark room’s ambience. Tall windows bore lavish green drapes that grazed the thick brown carpet, the tones giving the palatial room an earthy feel. From the narrow slits of lace between the open curtains the morning light tried to illuminate the furniture, but failed in painting anything more than the immediate carpet with light. Outside the clouds were typically heavy and dark, stealing the power of any sun that could have delivered a proper semblance of day.
“What is that playing?” Sam asked nobody in particular as a familiar tune floated inside the house, coming from somewhere near the kitchen.
“Lillian, on duty, as is your preference,” Purdue chuckled. “I allow her to play her music while she cooks, but I have no idea what it is, exactly. As long as it’s not too intrusive on the rest of the staff I don’t mind a bit of atmosphere about the front of the house.”
“Nice. I like it,” Nina remarked as she softly placed the brim of the crystal to her bottom lip, careful not to stain it with lipstick. “So, when am I going to hear about our new mission?”
Purdue smiled, surrendering to Nina’s curiosity and that which Sam did also not yet know. He put down his glass and rubbed his palms together. “It is quite simple, and it will absolve me from all my sins in the eyes of the governments involved while ridding me of the relic that caused me all this trouble.”