Her dissertation had to be put on hold, so she did the proper thing and sent a message to the academy to extend her due date. They would understand, given the circumstances. Without waiting for a response Nina left for the airport. Of all the options, she had to pick the quickest, even if she had to relinquish some comforts. Glasgow would be the best choice, and then to Madrid via Dublin. It would take her about a day, maybe more, to reach the airport of Málaga-Costa del Sol. From there she would have to navigate the coastline by charter to engage in her search.
As she left the house her phone rang, but Nina ignored it. There was no time to waste and she was adamant not to be distracted by anything less important than Sam and Purdue. Once she hit the highway, driving south towards Glasgow, Nina started weeping uncontrollably. It wasn’t that her romantic relationships with both men had tenderized her feelings like a pregnant widow, but the fact that their deaths made her keenly aware of her solitary existence. For all the love she received from the townspeople who finally accepted her, for all the praise and accolades she had garnered from the academic establishment as a renowned historian and lecturer, in the end she was still alone.
Purdue and Sam were her only close friends, the only people who have ever saved her life and checked up on her when she was silent for too long. Without them she would survive just fine, but without these two men Nina’s throne room would become nothing but a vast mausoleum to wander through. They were always there, even when the three of them had no contact for months on end — the fabric of true amity. Nina’s eyes rained tears just as the skies outside sent down a shower of water, the force of which challenged her windshield wipers while clattering like pelted rocks. All traffic had to move extra carefully along the A82 for the next few miles at least, perhaps for the entire two-hour drive.
She could not help but wonder what had happened in Spain, why Purdue had needed Sam to come to him while at sea. It was a puzzle she was sure could be solved by some kind of wild chase for some relic somewhere, but it did not soothe her notions of the terrible death they must have suffered.
The only hope Nina held fast to as she trudged through the frustration of having to drive slowly, was the fact that they had not been found yet. In a sense, them being lost at sea, or missing for God knows what reason, was better than the definite knowledge that they had indeed perished. But just to be sure, Nina had her car radio on to keep up on any new developments concerning her friends. Most stations only covered local news, but both Purdue and Sam were celebrities in their fields, which would merit coverage, she thought.
For over an hour Nina traversed the long, winding main road with tears still lingering in her eyes, hoping not to hear the newscast she dreaded. In her head her demons tormented her in the perfectly eloquent voices of reporters. ‘The bodies of two missing Edinburgh men had been found after a two-day rescue effort on the Alboran Sea just off the coast of Spain.’
“No,” she frowned, protesting aloud.
‘David Purdue, noted explorer and billionaire businessman, and his associate, award-winning investigative journalist Sam Cleave, have been missing since Tuesday…’
“No!” she repeated, trying to drown her thoughts.
‘… when the helicopter occupied by Cleave collided with Purdue’s yacht in a failed emergency landing. Divers recovered the remains of Cleave minutes after Purdue’s body had been discovered floating in the water near the wreckage.’
“Nooo! NO! Jesus, no!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, dampening the clanking of the hard rain on her car. “Shut up! Shut up!”
Motorists behind her saw her tantrum, as did those passing. Most laughed, but some just shook their heads. Violently, Nina reached down between the seats and fumbled madly in her purse. From the zipped up compartment she pulled her flash drive and shoved it hard into the input of her radio. There was no preference for a specific artist. It just had to be loud. Nina turned up the volume and unleashed some good old Fear Factory through her car speakers, the only aggression she had, loud enough to beat the devil.
14
Above and Beyond
Police captain Pedro Sanchez carried out his daily duties without entering his new-found interest into any of the dossiers, not only because it would be laughable, but also to keep his personal investigation under wraps.
“Another day without the air conditioners?” he asked the sergeant behind the charge office desk.
“They said they’ll come out as soon as they are finished at IES Jaume I, sir,” the sergeant responded, trying to console the captain and two other officers who had already had to loosen their collars, all before 10 a.m. “It’s going to be a scorcher today, and they don’t want the high school kids to lose concentration in the classes.”
“Oh!” Sanchez exclaimed sarcastically. “Here we have to concentrate on arresting drug dealers, pimps, and killers to protect the people of Sagunto, but hey, as long as those wayward teenage fuckwits can add two and two, who are we to complain, eh?”
The officers agreed in a chorus of moaning and flopped down on their chairs, while others were leaving on a call. “Anything I should know of?” Captain Sanchez asked.
“No, Captain, just a domestic violence complaint. We’ll sort this one out,” an officer answered as he exited the police precinct. Sanchez shrugged with a sigh, “Of course. Must be the heat driving everyone crazy.” He plodded into the long corridor to his office, at the end of which the polished floor ran into the badly painted wall. When he turned the corner, someone was sitting in his office. “Dios mío!”
Dr. Sabian turned slowly, not at all bothered by the captain’s utterance. Calmly he replied, “Morning Capt. Sanchez. I am so sorry if I startled you.” He rose from his chair to shake the captain’s hand. “Also, sorry to barge into your office uninvited, but I just wanted to catch up with you regarding my patient, Madalina Mantara.”
“Why?” Capt. Sanchez asked without thinking.
“Oh, because I am very concerned about her, naturally,” the doctor explained with overdone benevolence. The police captain likened Dr. Sabian to a rotten clergyman being sanctimonious, and if what Javier had told him was true, it only made the psychologist’s tone more repulsive. However, Sanchez had no reason to assume readily that Dr. Sabian was the snake Javier had accused him of being, so he had to keep his reservations objective.
“I told you I would contact you if we heard from her, doctor,” the captain said plainly. “You don’t have to worry. If we track her down, we will afford you a session with her.”
Sabian’s face lightened up, “You will? That would be splendid.”
“Provided her lawyer and myself are present during the session, of course,” Sanchez added nonchalantly, deliberately, to rattle Sabian’s cage. He just needed to prod a little, to ascertain the level of commitment the psychologist had to Madalina’s mental health and anything else he was conditioning her for.
“Why?” Dr. Sabian snapped angrily. “Our sessions are confidential!”
Captain Sanchez turned on his heel and glared at the upset shrink with a look of concern until the man calmed down and realized that he was acting out of sorts. “You do know, Dr. Sabian, that this condition is granted as a privilege to you, should we locate Miss Mantara before she does something… out of character.”
Dr. Sabian was no fool. The manner in which the police captain delivered his ultimatum, the way in which he laid out his subliminal accusation, was too dramatic to have been purely a statement. Immediately he knew what the captain was insinuating and he did not like it one bit. His nose wrinkled as his face distorted in malice. “Have you been listening to Javier’s ramblings for too long, Captain Sanchez? You appear to have been buttered by his delusions.”