After the world had seen the television report of Sultan Yunus ibn Meccan’s decision to change locations for the signing of the peace treaty, the general consensus was that a world war was looming. While the alleged assassination of Prof. Marta Sloane was still unclear, it was still cause for concern by all citizens and militaries globally. Peace was about to be established by two ever-warring factions for the first time, and the event in itself was apprehensive at best for most of the world’s spectators.
Such restlessness and paranoia was the order of the day everywhere, therefore having a blackout at the very air base where an undisclosed airman had crashed a fighter jet mere days before, was cause for panic. Marduk had always enjoyed the chaos of stampeding people. The confusion always lent a certain lawlessness and disregard for protocol to the situation, and this served him well in his need to move undetected.
He slipped up the stairwell to the exit that led onto the quad where the barracks and administrative buildings met. Flashlights and generator powered troopers lit up the vicinity in a yellow spray light that penetrated every reachable corner of the air base. Only the mess hall sections were dark, yielding a perfect path for Marduk to take on his way through the secondary gate.
Regressing to a convincingly slow limp, Marduk finally made his way through the rushing military staff, where Schmidt shouted orders for pilots to be on stand-by and security personnel to lock down the base. Marduk soon reached the gate guard that had first announced him and Margaret when they had arrived. Looking decidedly pathetic the old man asked the frantic guard, “What is happening? I’ve lost my way! Can you help? My colleague strayed from me and…”
“Yes, yes, yes, I remember you. Please just wait at your vehicle, sir,” the guard said.
Marduk nodded cooperatively. He looked back one more time. “Have you seen her pass by here, then?”
“No, sir! Please, just wait in your vehicle!” the guard shouted, as he listened for orders in the wail of alarms and searchlights.
“Okay. See you then,” Marduk answered as he made his way to Margaret’s car, hoping to find her there. The mask pressed against his protruding rib cage as he quickened his gait toward the car. Marduk felt accomplished and even at peace as he got into Margaret’s rental car with the keys he’d lifted off her.
As he drove off with the pandemonium in his rear view mirror, Marduk felt a weight lift from his mind, an utter relief that he could now return to his homeland with the mask retrieved. What the world did with its perpetually crumbling control and power plays was of little concern to him anymore. As far as he was concerned, if the human race had become so arrogant and filled with a lust for power that even the prospect of harmony erupted into callousness, perhaps extinction was long overdue.
Chapter 29 — Purdue’s Running Tab
Purdue was reluctant to speak to Nina in person, so he stayed at his mansion, Wrichtishousis. From there he continued to orchestrate the media blackout Sam had asked for. But the explorer was by no means becoming a reclusive pity party on legs just because his former lover and friend, Nina, had shunned him. In fact, Purdue had some plans of his own concerning the imminent trouble that was beginning to rear its head over the Halloween Day horizon.
Once he had his network of hackers, broadcast experts, and semi-criminal activists cued onto the media block, he was free to initiate his own plans. His work had been marred by his personal issues, but he had learned not to allow matters of emotion to influence the more tangible tasks. In his second story study, surrounded by checklists and travel documents, he received a Skype alert. It was Sam.
“And how are things over in Casa Purdue this morning?” Sam asked. His voice carried cheer, but his face was dead serious. Had this been a mere telephone call, Purdue would have thought Sam was the epitome of joviality.
“Great Scott, Sam,” Purdue had to exclaim when he saw the bloodshot eyes and baggage on the journalist. “I thought I was the one who doesn’t sleep anymore. You look worse for wear in a very alarming way. Is it Nina?”
“Oh, it is always Nina, my friend,” Sam replied, sighing, “but not just in the way she usually drives me nuts. She’s cranked it up a level this time.”
“Oh my God,” Purdue muttered, preparing for the news by sucking in a mouthful of black coffee that had gone horribly awry since its heat had withered. He winced from the sandy taste, but was more worried about Sam’s call.
“I know you don’t want to have to deal with anything concerning her right now, but I have to implore that you at least help me brainstorm around her proposal,” Sam said.
“Are you in Kirkwall now?” asked Purdue.
“Aye, but not for long. Did you listen to the recording I sent you?” Sam asked wearily.
“I did. It is absolutely fascinating. Are you going to pursue it for the Edinburgh Post? I believe Margaret Crosby solicited you after I left Germany.” Purdue chuckled, inadvertently tormenting himself with another gulp of rancid caffeine. “Blegh!”
“I thought about it,” answered Sam. “If it were merely about the murders at the Heidelberg Hospital or corruption at the Luftwaffe’s high command, aye. It would have been a good step toward maintaining my reputation. But that is of secondary weight now. The reason I ask if you learned the secrets of the mask is because Nina wants to put it on.”
Purdue’s eyes shimmered in the brightness of the screen, turning a moist grey as he glared at Sam’s image. “Excuse me?” he said without flinching.
“I know. She asked that you contact the W.U.O. and get Sloane’s people to adapt an…arrangement of sorts,” Sam explained in a drained tone. “Now, I know you are pissed at her and all…”
“I am not pissed at her, Sam. I just need to distance myself from her for both our sakes — hers and mine. But I do not engage in juvenile silent treatment just because I’m taking a break from someone. I still consider Nina my friend. And you, for that matter. So whatever the two of you might need me for, the least I can do is listen,” Purdue told his friend. “I can always decline if I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Thank you, Purdue,” Sam exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank God you have more reason than she does.”
“So she wants me to use my affiliation with Prof. Sloane’s financial administration to pull some strings, right?” the billionaire asked.
“Right,” Sam nodded.
“And then? Does she know that the Sultan has requested a change of location?” Purdue asked, picking up his cup but realizing in time that he did not want what was in it.
“She knows. But she is adamant on taking Sloane’s face to get the treaty signed, even smack in the middle of ancient Babylonia. The problem is obtaining the Skin to get it off afterwards,” Sam said.
“Just ask that Marduk fellow from the recording, Sam. I was under the impression you were in touch?”
Sam looked upset. “He’s gone, Purdue. He was going to infiltrate the Büchel Air Base with Margaret Crosby to get the mask back from Captain Schmidt. Lieutenant Werner was supposed to as well, but he failed…” Sam took a long pause, as if he had to force out his next words. “So we have no idea how to find Marduk to borrow the mask for the signing of the treaty.”
“Oh my God,” Purdue exclaimed. After a short quiet spell he asked, “How did Marduk leave the base?”
“He took Margaret’s rental car. Lieutenant Werner was supposed to flee the base with Marduk and Margaret after they’d obtained the mask, but he just left them there and took her c…ah!” Sam realized at once. “You genius! I’ll text you her details for a trace on the car too.”
“Always a thread through technology, old cock,” Purdue bragged. “Technology is the nervous system of God.”