She laid her hand on his shoulder. “But you do not wear a uniform or a suit, now, do you, David?” she winked.
“I certainly do not,” he replied, sinking back into his chair with a satisfied groan.
The phone rang in the lobby. The landline of the mansion was usually answered by Jane or Charles, but she was off duty and he was outside with the grocery delivery man. Throughout the manor, there were several telephones mounted for the collective number to be answered anywhere in the house. Jane’s extension was wailing too, but her office was too far off.
“I will get it,” Lilith offered.
“You are a guest, you know,” Purdue reminded her cordially.
“Still? Geez, David, I have been here so much lately I am surprised you have not offered me a room yet,” she hinted as she walked briskly through the doorway and rushed up the stairs to the ground floor. Purdue could hear nothing over the deafening hum.
“Hello?” she answered, making sure not to identify herself.
A man’s voice replied, sounding foreign. His Dutch accent was thick, but she could understand him. “May I speak to David Purdue, please? It is rather urgent.”
“He is unavailable right now. In a meeting, as a mater of fact. May I take a message for him to return your call when he is done, perhaps?” she asked, grabbing the pen in the desk drawer to write on the small message pad.
“This is Dr. Kasper Jacobs,” the man identified himself. “Please have Mr. Purdue call me very urgently.”
He gave her his number and reiterated the emergency.
“Just tell him, it concerns the Dire Serpent. I know it makes no sense, but he will know what I am referring to,” Jacobs persisted.
“Belgium? The prefix of your number,” she asked.
“That is correct,” he affirmed. “Thank you kindly.”
“No problem,” she said. “Goodbye.”
She stripped off the top sheet and went back down to Purdue.
“Who was it?” he asked.
“Wrong number,” she shrugged. “I had to explain three times that this was not ‘Tracy’s Yoga Studio’ and that we are not open,” she laughed, tucking the paper into her pocket.
“That is a first,” Purdue chuckled. “We are not even listed. I like to keep a very low profile.”
“That is good. I always say that people who do not know my name when I answer my landline, should not even try to fool me,” she sneered. “Now, you get back to your programming and I will get us something to drink.”
After Dr. Kasper Jacobs failed to get David Purdue on the phone to warn him about the equation, he had to conceded that even attempting already made him feel better. Sadly, the slight lift of demeanor was not to last.
“Who was that you were talking to? You do know that there are no phones allowed in this area, right, Jacobs?” the detestable Zelda Bessler dictated from behind Kasper. He turned to face her with a smug retort. “That is Dr. Jacobs to you, Bessler. This time, I am in charge of this project.”
She could not deny it. Clifton Tuft had specifically set out the contract for the revised project, wherein Dr. Kasper Jacobs would be in charge of constructing the vessel needed for the experiment. Only he understood the theories involved in what the Order tried to accomplish based on the Einstein principal, so he was entrusted with the engineering side as well. Within a small time frame the vessel had to be completed. Far heavier and faster, the new object would need to be exceedingly larger than the one before, which caused the mutilation of a scientist and caused Jacobs to distance himself from the project.
“How are things progressing down here in the plant, Dr. Jacobs?” came the squeaky drawl of Clifton Tuft that Kasper so loathed. “I hope we are on schedule.”
Zelda Bessler had her hands in the pockets of her white lab coat, and swung ever so slightly form left to right and back again. She looked like a stupid little schoolgirl trying to impress the heartthrob and it made Jacobs sick. She smiled at Tuft. “If he did not spend so much time on the phone, he would probably get a lot more done.”
“I have enough knowledge of the components of this experiment to be able to make a call every now and then,” Kasper snapped at her with a cool disposition. “I do have a life outside of this secret cesspool you live in, Bessler.”
“Ouch,” she mocked him. “I choose to keep…” she looked seductively at the American magnate, “company with higher powers.”
Tuft’s big teeth climbed out from between his lips, but he did not respond to her inference. “Seriously, Dr. Jacobs,” he said, taking Kasper by the arm lightly and drawing him away form Zelda Bessler’s earshot, “how are we faring on the construction of the bullet?”
“I hate that you call it that, you know, Cliff,” Kasper confessed.
“But that is what it is. In order for us to magnify the effects of the last experiment, we will need something that travels as fast as a bullet, with an equal dispersion of weight and velocity to accomplish the task,” Tuft reminded him, as the two men strolled further away from a frustrated Bessler. The construction site was located in Meerdaalwoud, a woodland area east of Brussels. Lying unassumingly on a farm owned by Tuft, the plant featured an underground tunnel system that was completed several years ago. Few of the scientists on loan from legitimate government and university academia ever got to see the underground, but it was there.
“I am almost done, Cliff,” Kasper said. “All that is still left to calculate is the total weight, which I need from you. Remember, for the experiment to be successful, you have to furnish me with the exact weight of the vessel, or ‘bullet’, as you say. And Cliff, it has to be accurate to the gram, or else no genius equation will help me make this happen.”
Clifton Tuft chuckled in a bitter way. Much like a man about to break very bad news to a good friend, he cleared his throat through the awkward smirk on his ugly face.
“What? Can you give it to me or what?” Kasper pressed.
“I will give you those details shortly after the summit in Brussels tomorrow,” Tuft said.
“You mean the international summit on the news?” Kasper asked. “I am not interested in politics.”
“You should be, pal,” Tuft grunted like a dirty old man. “Of all people, you are the main player in the facilitation of this experiment. Tomorrow, the International Atomic Energy Agency will convene with the international veto powers of the NPT.”
“The NPT?” Kasper frowned. He was under the impression that his part in the project was purely experimental, but the NPT was a political matter.
“Non-proliferation Treaty, pal. Jesus, you really do not bother to research where your work goes after you publish the findings, do you?” the American laughed, slapping Kasper playfully on the back. “All the active members of this project should represent the Order tomorrow night, but we need you here to oversee the final stages.”
“Do these world leaders even know about the Order?” Kasper asked hypothetically.
“The Order of the Black Sun is everywhere, my friend. It is the most powerful world force since the Roman Empire, but only the elite know this. We have people in each of the NPT countries’ high command seats. Vice-presidents, royals, presidential advisers and decision makers,” Tuft elaborated dreamily. “Even mayors, helping us infiltrate on a municipal level. Attend. As orchestrator of our next power move, you are entitled to enjoy the spoils, Kasper.”
Kasper’s head was spinning at the revelation. His heart thundered under his lab coat, but he kept his pose and nodded in agreement. ‘Look enthusiastic!’ he urged himself. “Wow, I am flattered. Looks like I am finally getting the credit I deserve,” he bragged in his charade, and Tuft bought every word.