“And Sam has this equation?” she asked.
“He does. And I need to start working on it,” Purdue explained. He almost sounded sane now. “I have to know what it is, what it does. I have to know why the Order of the Black Sun hoarded it for so long, why Dr. Ken Williams felt the need to bury it where nobody would get it. Or,” he whispered, “…why they waited.”
“The Order of the what?” she frowned.
Suddenly it dawned on Purdue that he was not speaking to Nina or Sam, or Jane, or anyone familiar with his covert life. “Um, just some organization I have had run-ins with before. No big deal.”
“You know, this stress is not helping with your healing, David,” she advised. “How can I help you get that equation? If you had it, you could stay occupied, instead of terrorizing your staff and me, with all these tantrums. Your blood pressure is elevated and your temper is exacerbating your health and I simply cannot allow that.”
“I know it does, but until I have Sam’s footage, I cannot rest,” Purdue shrugged.
“Dr. Patel expects me to keep up his standards outside of the facility, you understand? If I keep bringing him vitals that teeter on trouble, he is going to fire me, because it looks like I am not doing my job,” she whined deliberately to invoke his pity.
Purdue had not known Lilith Hurst for long, but aside from his inherent guilt for what happened to her husband, he had a science-centered kindred in her. He also felt that she could very well be his only collaborator in his quest to obtain Sam’s footage, largely because she had no inhibitions about it. Her ignorance was his bliss, indeed. What she did not know would enable her to help him for the sole purpose of helping him without any criticism or opinion — just how Purdue liked it.
He played down his frantic drive for the information in order to come across as docile and reasonable. “If you could just perhaps find Sam and ask him for the footage, it would be a huge help.”
“Alright, let me see what I can do,” she consoled him, “but you have to promise me that you will give me a few days. Let’s agree that I should have it next week, when we have our next appointment. How’s that?”
Purdue nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”
“Good, now, no more talk of maths and missing footage. You have to rest for a change. Lily told me that you hardly ever sleep and quite frankly, your vitals are screaming it to be true, David,” she commanded in a wonderfully cordial way that affirmed her talent for diplomacy.
“What is that?” he asked when she loaded the hypodermic with a small vial of watery solution.
“Just some IV Valium to help you sleep a few more hours,” she reported, measuring the amount by the eye. Through the tube of the injection, the light played with the substance inside, giving it a holy glow she found engaging. If only Lillian could see it, she thought, to rest assured that there was still some beautiful light left in Wrichtishousis. The darkness in Purdue’s eyes faded into a peaceful slumber as the drug took effect.
He winced as the hellish sensation of burning acid in his veins tormented him, but it lasted mere seconds before it reached his heart. Content that Nurse Hurst had agreed to get him the formula on Sam’s footage, Purdue allowed the velvet darkness to consume him. Far away, voices echoed before he was completely under. Lillian brought a blanket and pillow, covering him with the fleece blanket. “Just cover him here,” Nurse Hurst advised. “Let him sleep here on the sofa for now. Poor thing. He is knackered.”
“Aye,” Lillian agreed, as she helped Nurse Hurst cover the lord of the manor, as Lillian called him. “And thanks to you, all of us will be able to get a breather too.”
“You are very welcome,” Nurse Hurst chuckled. Her face sank into mild melancholy. “I know what it is like to deal with a difficult man in the house. They might think they are in charge, but when they are ill, or injured, they can be right pains in the ass.”
“Amen,” Lillian replied.
“Lillian,” Charles reprimanded mildly, although he completely agreed with the housekeeper. “Thank you, Nurse Hurst. Will you be staying for lunch?”
“Oh, no, thanks Charles,” the nurse smiled, packing up her medical case and discarding the old bandages. “I have some errands to run before night shift at the clinic tonight.”
14
The Big Decision
Sam could not find conclusive proof that the Dire Serpent was capable of the atrocity and destruction that George Masters tried to convince him of. Wherever he inquired, he was met with disbelief or ignorance, which only reiterated his belief that Masters was some kind of paranoid madman. However, he did seem so sincere that Sam kept a low profile from Purdue until he had sufficient proof, something he could not gather from his usual sources.
Before he took the footage to Purdue, Sam elected to take one last trip to a very reliable source of inspiration and keeper of clandestine wisdom — the one and only Aidan Glaston. Since Sam saw the article Glaston published in the recent newspaper edition, he figured the Irishman would be the best man to ask about the Dire Serpent and its mythos.
Minus a set of wheels, Sam called a taxi. It was better than trying to salvage the wreck he used to call his car, which would have him exposed. What he did not need was the police enquiring into the high-speed chase and the probable subsequent arrest for endangering the lives of citizens and reckless driving. As long as the local authorities thought him missing, he had time to get his facts straight for when he finally resurfaced.
When he arrived at the Edinburgh Post, he was told that Aidan Glaston was on assignment. The new editor did not know Sam personally, but she allowed him a few minutes in her office.
“Janice Noble,” she smiled. “Good to meet such an esteemed member of our vocation. Please, sit down.”
“Thank you, Ms. Noble,” Sam replied, relieved that the offices were practically void of staff today. He was not in the mood to see the old slugs who used to trample him when he was a novice, not even to rub their faces in his celebrity and success. “I will make this quick,” he said. “I just need to know where I can get hold of Aidan. I know it is privileged information, but I need to get in touch with him concerning my own investigation right now.”
She leaned forward on her elbows and locked her hands gently. Rings of thick gold adorned both her wrists and the bangles made a dreadful sound on the polished surface of the desk. “Mr. Cleave, I would love to help you, but as I said before, Aidan is undercover on a politically sensitive assignment and we cannot afford to blow his cover. You understand what it is like. You should not even be asking me this.”
“I am aware,” Sam retorted, “but what I am embroiled in is far more important than some politician’s secret love life or the typical backstabbing the tabloids love to write about.”
The editor looked instantly put off. She took a harsher tone with Sam. “Please, do not think because you have garnered fame and fortune by your less than graceful involvements, that you can wedge your way in here and assume you know what my people are working on.”
“Listen to me, lady. I need information of a very delicate nature, and it involves the annihilation of entire countries,” Sam countered her firmly. “All I need is a phone number.”
She frowned. “Who are you working for on this case?”
“Freelance,” he answered quickly. “It is something I picked up from an acquaintance and I have reason to believe that it has validity. Only Aidan can confirm this for me. Please, Ms. Noble. Please.”