“Sir, we’ve arrived,” the driver told Col. Yimenu. “It looks like the Purdue group has already arrived and taken the Holy Box inside.”
“Is there nobody?” Col. Yimenu shrieked.
“Yes, sir. I see Special Agent Smith waiting for us by the truck,” the driver affirmed.
“Oh, good,” Col. Yimenu sighed. “That man is on top of things. I must congratulate you on Special Agent Smith, Mr. Carter. He is always one step ahead, making sure all orders are executed.”
Karsten winced at Yimenu’s exaltation of Smith, playing it off as a smile. “Oh, yes. That is precisely why I insisted Special Agent Smith accompany Mr. Purdue on this trip. I knew he would be the only man for the job.”
They exited the vehicle and met with Patrick, who informed them that the Purdue party’s early arrival was due to a turn of the weather which had forced them to take an alternative route.
“I thought it was odd that your Hercules was not at the airport in Aksum,” Karsten remarked, hiding how furious he had been that his appointed assassin was left without a target at the designated airport. “Where did you land?”
Patrick did not like his superior’s tone, but having not been let in on the true identity of his boss, he had no idea why the esteemed Joe Carter was so insistent on trivial logistics. “Well sir, the pilot dropped us in Dansha and proceeded to another flight strip to see to repairs for damage incurred during the landing.”
Karsten had no retort to that. It sounded perfectly logical, especially provided that most of the roads in Ethiopia were not sound, let alone being of proper condition in the rainless floods lately plaguing the countries of the continents around the Mediterranean Sea. He accepted Patrick’s quick-witted lie without reservation in front of Col. Yimenu and suggested they go into the mountain to make sure Purdue was not up to any skullduggery.
Col. Yimenu then received a satellite phone call and excused himself, gesturing for the MI6 delegates to continue on into the site in the meantime. Once inside, Patrick and Karsten, along with two of Patrick’s assigned men, followed the sound of Purdue’s voice to find their way.
“This way, sir. They’ve managed to secure the surroundings, courtesy of Mr. Adjo Kira, to make sure the Holy Box is returned to its old place without concern for cave-ins,” Patrick informed his superior.
“Mr. Kira knows how to prevent cave-ins?” Karsten asked. With great condescension he added, “I thought he was just a guide.”
“He is, sir,” Patrick elucidated. “But he is also a qualified structural engineer.”
A winding, narrow corridor led them down toward the chamber where Purdue first found himself confronted by the locals, just before he stole the Holy Box, mistaken for the Ark of the Covenant.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Karsten greeted, his voice falling on Purdue’s ears like the song of dread, splitting his soul with hatred and terror. He kept reminding himself that he was not captive anymore, that he was in the safe company of Patrick Smith and his men.
“Oh, hello,” Purdue greeted jovially as he pinned Karsten’s glare with his icy blue eyes. Mockingly, he accentuated the charlatan’s name. “So nice to see you… Mr. Carter, is it?”
Patrick frowned. He thought Purdue knew the name of his superior, but being a very sharp chap, Patrick quickly caught on that something more was going on between Purdue and Carter.
“I see you started without us,” Karsten noted.
“I explained to Mr. Carter why we arrived earlier,” Patrick told Purdue. “But now, all we have to worry about is getting this relic back in place so we can all go home, hey?”
Much as Patrick maintained an amicable tone, he could feel the tension tighten around them like a noose around his neck. According to him, it was just an uncalled for emotional jump because of the bad taste the whole relic theft left in everyone’s mouth. Karsten noticed that the Holy Box had been replaced correctly and when he turned to look behind him, he realized that Col. Yimenu conveniently had not returned yet.
“Special Agent Smith, would you please join Mr. Purdue by the Holy Box, please?” he instructed Patrick.
“Why?” Patrick frowned.
At once, Patrick learned the truth behind his superior’s intent. “Because I goddamn told you so, Smith!” he roared furiously, drawing his sidearm. “Yield your weapon, Smith!”
Purdue froze in his tracks, holding up his hands in surrender. Patrick was dumbstruck, but he obeyed his superior nonetheless. His two subordinates scuffled about in uncertainty, but soon composed their reaction, electing to keep their weapons holstered and their feet still.
“Finally showing your true colors, Karsten?” Purdue mocked. Patrick scowled in his confusion. “You see, Paddy, this man you know as Joe Carter is in fact Joseph Karsten, head of the Austrian arm of the Order of the Black Sun.”
“Christ,” Patrick mumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We did not want you to be implicated in anything, Patrick, so we kept you in the dark,” Purdue explained.
“Well done, David,” Patrick groaned. “I could have avoided this.”
“No, you could not have!” Karsten shouted, his fat red face quivering in derision. “There is a reason I lead Britain’s military intelligence, and you don’t, lad. I plan ahead and do my homework.”
“Lad?” Purdue scoffed. “Stop pretending that you are worthy of the Scots, Karsten.”
“Karsten?” Patrick asked, frowning at Purdue.
“Joseph Karsten, Patrick. Order of the Black Sun, First Level and traitor the likes of which Iscariot himself could not match.”
Karsten pointed his service firearm straight at Purdue, his hand shaking profusely. “I should have ended you in Mother’s house, you over-privileged termite!” he hissed through his fat, maroon cheeks.
“But you were too busy running away to save Mother, weren’t you, you despicable coward,” Purdue stated calmly.
“Shut your mouth, traitor! You were Renatus, leader of the Black Sun…!” he shrieked.
“By default, not choice,” Purdue corrected for Patrick’s sake.
“…and you chose to abandon all that power to instead make it your life’s work to kill us off. Us! The great Aryan bloodline cultivated by gods, chosen to rule the world! You are the traitor!” Karsten roared.
“So what do you aim to do, Karsten?” Purdue asked as Patrick was pushed to his side by the Austrian madman. “Are you going to shoot me in front of your own agents?”
“No, of course not,” Karsten sneered. He promptly turned and planted two bullets in each of Patrick’s MI6 support staff. “There will be no witnesses left. This rancor stops right here, for good.”
Patrick felt sick. Watching his men lying dead on the floor of a cavern in a foreign country infuriated him. He was responsible for everyone! He was supposed to know who the enemy was. But Patrick would soon realize that men in his position could never know for certain how matters would come out. One thing he knew for sure was that he was as good as dead now.
“Yimenu will be back soon,” Karsten announced. “And I will be back in the United Kingdom to claim your estates. After all, you will not be presumed dead this time.”
“Just remember one thing, Karsten,” Purdue retorted, “you have something to lose. I don’t. You have estates too.”
Karsten pulled back the hammer of his weapon. “What are you playing at?”
Purdue shrugged. For once he had shed all fear of consequence for what he was about to say, because he accepted whatever fate he would be dealt. “You,” Purdue smiled, “have a wife and daughters. Aren’t they arriving home in Salzkammergut in, oh,” Purdue sang, checking his watch, “about four hours?”