A posh looking man entered the cabin, dressed in cargo pants and a button-down shirt. He was no taller than Sam, but his eyes were as cold as Purdue’s. Slicked back hair made his brow more prominent, and although he had dimples in his cheeks, he by no means looked sweet. When he spoke, he revealed abnormally large teeth that gave him a ghoulish flavor.
“Mr. Purdue. Mr. Cleave,” he said affably, “how nice it is to get to kill you myself.”
The two Scots gave each other a look of surprise, mocking the abilities of the stranger with smirks. He ignored their derision, playing with his golden rings as he sat down across the table where Vincent used to sit. “I have been following your skullduggery for a few years now,” he told them, “even read your books, Mr. Cleave. But I must confess that I harbor no admiration for either of you. I always thought you would meet your fate at the hands of someone you fucked with one too many a time.” He chuckled. “But never in my wildest dreams would I have thought you would encroach upon my turf in your little expeditions!” He grinned, sending chills down their spines with his distorted countenance.
26
Sunset in Portugal
Madalina and Raul sat in the back of the speeding car, traveling towards the border. She held the boy’s hand, staring into the rear view mirror at her physically regressing brother. The diner was the perfect shelter for Dr. Sabian to relay his plans to the Mantara siblings in the security of a public place.
Javier’s attempts at antagonizing the psychologist were futile, even though his sister was convinced that her brother’s condition was the result of some form of witchery. She was not a superstitious fool. Madalina was an atheist, yet she could fathom the implications of a skilled psychologist manipulating the brain to believe that the body was malnourished in a heartbeat. What would be seen in the old world as witchcraft could be explained as proficient mental control over the body. But with all her knowledge, and her concurrence on her brother’s unfortunate blight, there was as yet nothing to make her doubt Dr. Sabian. Nothing he did or said made evident an evil ploy to harm any of them. He simply explained that he wished to help her escape the country and that was why he had to use Javier to get to her.
Raul, on the other hand, knew what the psychologist was aiming at, at least in the short term. Something about the frumpy old man with the cheap suit told him that he had no good intentions for them, but he was not in a position to help.
Every time they stopped at a town to refill the tank or get something to eat, Madalina watched her brother wolf down liters of water with his burgers and fries, yet he never pissed. Nothing came of his feasts, especially not what it was meant for. Javier gradually became exhausted, yet Dr. Sabian insisted he drive.
“I can’t,” he told Sabian at the fuel pump while Madalina and the boy chatted in the back seat. “My eyes are sore from the light, and they are so dry I can hardly blink anymore!”
“Keep your voice down, son,” Dr. Sabian warned.
“You drive, for Christ’s sake!” Javier rasped with his faltering vocal chords.
“So that you and your sister can attack me while I’m driving? I don’t think so,” Dr. Sabian countered.
“I can’t see! Do you understand that?” Javier seethed.
“You can still see the road edges and you can see the directions. You’ll do fine. Javier,” he whispered, stepping closer to the waning young man. “If you don’t do what I say, I will shoot your sister in the face as soon as we leave city limits. Do not test me.”
Javier wished he could throw a punch, but his muscles and ligaments were taut and weak. He wished he could weep in frustration and rage, but his eyelids were like papyrus, impairing his vision even more than the milky cataracts that plagued his vision.
The extreme heat, topping the usual 31 degrees Celsius by about five points, exacerbated its toll on the suffering Javier. In the past few days his hair had been falling out, but not significantly. Today, however, the ailing young man found that his hair came out in clumps, leaving the base of his skull bald on the right-hand side.
Eventually they headed to Badajoz, from where they would cross the border into Portugal. Once in Lisbon, Dr. Sabian and his associates in the Order of the Black Sun had chartered a private jet to South America. His companions, however, had no idea this was the plan. From what they were told, they were simply fleeing Spain to elude the authorities. Dr. Sabian kept the Taser device ready during the entire trip.
Madalina and Raul played games in the back of the car, occasionally sleeping, since the heat in the car could knock out the devil that afternoon. Javier was not afforded the luxury of sleep, and to his dismay, his captor had more abilities than just manipulating the psyche. Dr. Sabian seemed to have the ability to stay awake for unnatural stretches of time, without the aid of drugs. Javier reckoned that it was yet another trick of mind-over-matter exhibited by the wicked shaman.
“What’s going to happen once we are in Portugal?” Javier asked. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know I’m expendable. There is no way you’re going to organize a new life for my sister in Portugal with or without this child. Even less will you leave me alive to stay with her, because of all the people in the world, I know your sick fucking secret.”
Dr. Sabian glanced back to the backseat passengers to make sure that they were fast asleep before he answered. “You know, it’s a pity you are going to die, Javier. You really are an asset to the world with your sharp intellect and your strong will. We could have used you well in our service, but you are correct. There is no way that you will see Lisbon and there is nothing you can do about it, because your own mind is working against you, you poor sod.”
“I’m going to kill you the moment you fall asleep, Sabian,” Javier promised. In order not to wake the two in the back, Sabian held back his would-be cackle, reducing it to contorting his face in amusement.
“Good luck, my friend,” he told Javier. “I have been trained like the super soldiers of the SS. We don’t sleep unless we get our brains removed, know what I mean?” He dared to snicker a little, driving Javier into a fury he could not let out.
When they arrived at the border just past Badajoz, Madalina was frantic. Surely by now her picture had been sent across the countries that bordered hers. Raul held her hand as if he knew what she feared, and perhaps he did. He knew so many things beyond that which children learned, she would not have been surprised if he knew exactly what was happening. After all, he knew that she had killed Mara and that she had felt the urge to take him.
“You should maybe put on some sunglasses, Javier,” Dr. Sabian advised as they neared the border post. Ahead of them, two soldiers halted the vehicle and slowly sauntered over to their car, rifles in hand.
“Oh Jesus,” Madalina muttered, perspiring profusely. “They’re going to arrest me.”
“Just be quiet, my dear,” Dr. Sabian soothed. “They will not even see you back there.”
“What do you mean? I am in plain sight!” she moaned, but he gestured for her to be quiet with his index finger on his lips. Javier was wearing Madalina’s shades against the glaring daylight hounding his weak eyes. “Oh my God, I am done for. I am done for!” she whispered, looking down at her lap to avoid eye contact with the guards.
“Passaporte, por favor,” the soldier demanded when he came to Javier’s window. The other guard walked over to where Dr. Sabian had his passenger side window open. Dr. Sabian, for his part, was remarking on the excessive heat this year, throwing in some incomprehensible dribble within earshot of both guards. Madalina knew a bit of Portuguese, being so close to her native tongue, but what she heard Sabian say after the weather remark made no sense.