His image fascinated her. The British spinster had always had an affinity for the unusual and unique. He was not nearly as monstrous as the staff of Heidelberg Hospital had described him. Yes, he was clearly deformed by normal standards, but his face only added to his intriguing personality.
“That is a relief to know, Madam,” he sighed.
“Please, call me Margaret,” she said quickly.Aye, some geriatric flirting going on here, Sam decided.
“So, to the business at hand,” interrupted Sam, starting into the more serious conversation. “How are we going to start looking for this Löwenhagen character?”
“I think we should discount him from the game. According to Lieutenant Werner, the man behind the procurement of the Babylonian Mask is Captain Schmidt of the German Luftwaffe. I’ve instructed Lieutenant Werner to go under the pretense of reporting and steal the mask from Schmidt by noon tomorrow. If I have not heard from Werner by then, we’ll have to assume the worst. In that case, I myself will have to get inside the base and have a word with Schmidt. He is at the root of this whole deranged operation, and he will want to be in possession of the relic by the time the signing of the great peace treaty takes place.”
“So you think he is going to impersonate the Meso-Arabian Commissioner for the signing?” asked Margaret, aptly using the new term for the Middle East since the merging of the flanking, smaller lands under one government.
“There are a million possibilities, Mada…Margaret,” Marduk clarified. “He could choose to do that, but he does not speak any Arabic, so the Commissioner’s people will know he is a charlatan. Of all the times not to be able to control the minds of the masses. Imagine how easily I could have averted all of this if I still had that psychic nonsense, Sam lamented to himself.
Marduk’s laid-back tone continued. “He could take on the face of an unknown man and assassinate the Commissioner. He could even send another suicide pilot into the building. That seems to be the fashion these days.”
“Wasn’t there a Nazi squadron who did that in the Second World War?” asked Margaret, with her hand on Sam’s forearm.
“Uh, I don’t know. Why?”
“If we knew how they got those pilots to volunteer for that mission, we might be able to figure out how Schmidt was planning to arrange something similar. I might be way off, but shouldn’t we at least investigate the possibility? Dr. Gould might even be able to help us.”
“She is confined to a hospital in Mannheim at the moment,” Sam said.
“How is she doing?” Marduk asked, still feeling guilty that he had hit her.
“I have not seen her since I had her admitted. That was why I came to see Dr. Fritz in the first place,” Sam replied. “But you’re right. I may as well see if she can help us — if she is conscious. God, I hope they can help her. She was in a bad way when I last saw her.”
“Then I would say a visit is in order, for more than one reason. And Lieutenant Werner and his friend Kohl?” Marduk inquired, taking a sip of his coffee.
Margaret’s phone rang. “It’s my assistant.” She smiled proudly.
“You have an assistant?” Sam teased. “Since when?”She answered Sam in a whisper just before she took the call. “I have a covert operative with a penchant for police radios and locked lines, my boy.” With a wink she answered the call, walking away over the immaculate lawn lit by garden lamps.
“So, a hacker,” Sam mumbled with a chuckle.
“Once Schmidt has the mask, one of us will have to intercept him, Mr. Cleave,” Marduk said. “I vote you storm the wall while I wait in ambush. You flush him out. After all, with this face I will never be able to get into the base.”
Sam drank his single malt and thought it over. “If we only knew what he was planning to do with it. Obviously, he should know the dangers of wearing it himself. I suppose he will get some lackey to sabotage the signing of the treaty.”
“I agree,” Marduk began, but Margaret came racing out of the romantic garden with an expression of absolute horror on her face.
“Oh my God!” she shrieked as softly as she could. “My God, Sam! You won’t believe this!” Margaret’s ankles twisted under her haste as she traversed the grass patch to the table.
“What? What is it?” Sam frowned, jumping up from his chair to grab her before she could fall on the stone patio.
Wide with disbelief, Margaret stared at her two male companions. She could hardly catch her breath. When she evened out her breathing she exclaimed, “Professor Marta Sloane was just assassinated!”
“Jesus Christ!” Sam cried, dropping his head into his palms. “Now we’re fucked. You do realize that this is World War III!”
“I know! What can we do now? This treaty means nothing now,” Margaret affirmed.
“Where did you get your information from, Margaret? Has anyone claimed responsibility yet?” demanded Marduk, as tactfully as he could.
“My source is a friend of the family. All her information is usually dead-on. She lurks on the private security bandwidths and spends every waking moment of her day checking…”
“…hacking,” Sam corrected.
She glared at him. “She checks security sites and covert organizations. That’s how I usually get the news before the police are even summoned to the crime scenes or incidents,” she admitted. “Minutes ago, over Dunbar Private Security’s red line she picked up the report. They have not even called the local police or the coroner yet, but she’ll keep us posted on how Sloane was killed.”
“So, it’s not out on the wire yet?” Sam exclaimed urgently.
“No, but it is about to be, no doubt. The security company and the police will be filing reports before we even finish our drinks.” Her eyes were tearing up as she spoke. “There goes our chance at a new world. Oh my God, they had to fuck this up, didn’t they?”
“Of course, my dear Margaret,” Marduk said as calmly as ever. “It’s what mankind does best. Destroying anything uncontrollable and constructive. But we have no time for philosophy now. I have an idea, albeit a very far-fetched idea.”
“Well, we have nothing,” Margaret complained. “So be our guest, Peter.”
“What if we could blind the world?” Marduk asked.
“Like that mask of yours?” asked Sam.
“Listen!” commanded Marduk, showing his first sign of emotion and sending Sam’s loose tongue back behind pursed lips. “What if we can do what the media does every single day, only in reverse? Is there a way we can stop the reports from coming out and keep the world in the dark? That way, we’ll have time to work out a solution and make sure the meeting in The Hague happens. With luck, we’ll be able to avert the catastrophe we are no doubt facing now.”
“I don’t know, Marduk,” said Sam, feeling dejected. “Every ambitious journalist in the world would want to be the one reporting on this for their station of their country. It’s big news. There’s no way our brethren of vultures will pass on a morsel like this out of respect for peace or for some moral standard.”
Margaret shook her head too, affirming Sam’s damning revelation. “If we could only slap that mask on someone who looks like Sloane…just to get the treaty signed.”
“Well, if we cannot stop the fleet of ships from coming into shore, we’ll have to remove the ocean on which they sail,” Marduk presented.
Sam smiled, enjoying the old man’s unorthodox thinking. He understood, while Margaret was lost and her face confirmed her confusion. “You mean, if the reports are coming out anyway, we must disable the media they use to do it?”