For a brief moment, Sam even thought of sending Masters, but, having denied the man’s sincerity by giving Purdue the equation anyway, he doubted Masters would want to help him. Crouching in the box Ms. Noble’s contact had organized for him, Sam contemplated the entire mission. He almost found it more urgent to stop Purdue from completing the Einstein Equation, than to follow a blooming catastrophe orchestrated by the Black Sun and its high-end disciples.
Sam was torn between his duties, spread too thin and caving under the yoke. He had to protect Nina. He had to stop a possible world tragedy. He had to stop Purdue from finishing his math. The journalist did not often come to desperate blankness, but this time he was out of options. He would have to ask Masters. The mutilated man was his only hope at stopping Purdue.
He wondered if Dr. Jacobs had made all his own arrangements to defect to Belarus, but that was a matter Sam could still catch up with when he met up with Jacobs for dinner. Right now, he had to get the details of the flight to Moscow, from where the summit representatives would board the train. According to the discussions after the formal meeting, Sam gathered that the next two days would be to visit various reactor stations in Russia, still generating atomic power.
“So, the NPT countries and the International Atomic Energy Agency are going on a field trip to grade the power stations?” Sam muttered to his recorder. “I still do not see where the threat is going to unfold into the tragedy. If I get Masters to stop Purdue, it does not matter where the Black Sun hide their weapon. Without the Einstein Equation, it will all have been in vain anyway.”
He quietly slipped out, walking along the row of seats up where the lights were off. Nobody even saw him from the brightly lit section below where it was bustling. Sam had to get Nina, call Masters, meet with Jacobs and then make sure that he was on that train. From his intelligence, Sam took note of a secret elite airfield called the Koschei Strip, a few miles outside Moscow, where the delegation were set to land the next afternoon. From there, they would be chauffeured to the Valkyrie, a trans-Siberian super train for a luxury trip to Novosibirsk.
Sam had a million things on his mind, but first and foremost, he had to get back to Nina to see if she was alright. He knew better than to underestimate the reach of men like Wolf and McFadden, especially once they discovered that the woman they had left for dead, was very much alive and could implicate them.
After Sam had slipped out via Stage Door 3, through the props store room in the back, he was met with a cold night, full of uncertainty and menace in the air. He pulled his hoodie tight in the front, buttoning it over his scarf. With his identity concealed, he swiftly traversed the back parking lot where wardrobe trucks and deliveries usually came. Under the moonlit night, Sam looked like a shadow, but he felt like a wraith. He was tired, but not allowed to rest. There was so much to be done to make sure that he boarded that train tomorrow afternoon that he would never have the time or the sanity to sleep.
In his recollection, he saw Nina’s battered body, the scene looping repeatedly. His blood boiled for the injustice of it, and he direly hoped that Wolf would be on that train.
22
Jericho Falls
Like a maniac, Purdue was constantly redesigning the algorithm of his program to suit the data input. Thus far, it had been successful to an extent, but there were some variables it could not solve, leaving him to stand guard at his old machine. Practically sleeping in front of the old computer, he had grown more and more reclusive. Only Lilith Hurst was allowed to ‘bother’ Purdue. Since she could converse about the results, he enjoyed her visits, whereas his staff obviously lacked the understanding of the field necessary to present cogent solutions as she did.
“I will be starting dinner soon, sir,” Lillian reminded him. Usually, when she fed him this line, her white haired, cheerful boss would suggest a plethora of dishes for her to choose from. Now, it seemed, all he wanted to consider was the next entry into his computer.
“Thanks, Lily,” Purdue said absently.
Hesitantly, she asked for clarification. “And what should I prepare, sir?”
Purdue ignored her for a few seconds, scrutinizing the screen. She watched the dancing numbers reflect on his glasses, waiting for an answer. Finally, he sighed and looked up at her.
“Um, a hot pot would be lovely, Lily. Perhaps Lancashire hot pot, as long as it has some mutton in the mix. Lilith loves mutton. She told me,” he smiled, but kept his eyes on the screen.
“You want me to make her favorite dish for your dinner, sir?” Lillian asked, feeling that she would not like the response. She was not wrong. Purdue looked up at her again, glaring over his glasses.
“Yes, Lily. She will be joining me for dinner tonight and I would like you to prepare a Lancashire hot pot. Thank you,” he reiterated irately.
“Of course, sir,” Lillian recoiled respectfully. Normally the housekeeper was entitled to her opinion, but ever since the nurse had wedged her way into Wrichtishousis, Purdue would have nobody’s advice, but hers. “Dinner at seven, then?”
“Yes, thanks Lily. Now, can you please let me get back to work?” he implored. Lillian did not respond. She simply nodded and made her way out of the server room, trying not to go off on a tangent. Lillian, like Nina, was a typically Scottish lass fro the old school of women. These ladies were not accustomed to being treated like second-rate citizens, and, with Lillian being the matriarch of the Wrichtishousis staff, she was deeply upset about Purdue’s recent behavior. The doorbell of the main doors chimed. Passing Charles as he crossed the lobby to answer the door, she snapped quietly, “It is the bitch.”
Surprisingly, the android-like butler responded casually, “I know.”
For once, he refrained from chastising Lillian for speaking freely about the guests. This was a sure sign of trouble. If the rigid, overly polite butler agreed on the bitch-hood of Lilith Hurst, there was reason to panic. He opened the door, and Lillian listened to the usual condescension of the approved intruder and wished that she could lace the Lancashire hot pot with poison. Still, she loved her employer too much to venture such a risk.
While Lillian started dinner in the kitchen, Lilith strolled down to Purdue’s server room as if she owned the place. Down the stairs, she stepped gracefully, dressed in a provocative cocktail dress and shawl. She wore make-up and had her hair tied up to show off the sublime costume earrings that swung under her earlobes as she walked.
Purdue beamed when he saw the young nurse enter the room. Tonight she looked different than usual. Instead of jeans and flats, she was in stocking and heels.
“My God, you look ravishing, my dear,” he smiled.
“Thank you,” she winked. “I was invited to some black tie thing for my college. I am afraid I did not have time to change, because I came here straight from that to-do. Hope you do not mind that I am a little overdressed for dinner.”
“Absolutely not!” he cheered, briefly sweeping back his hair to gather his appearance a little. He was in a worn out cardigan and yesterday’s trousers, matched badly with Moccasins for comfort. “I feel I have to apologized for how terribly haggard I look. I am afraid that I lost track of time, as you might understand.”