“Oh, well, the two I called Klónos², for obvious reasons. Given my affinity for ancient Greek Art and culture, I named them the Greek word for ‘clone’. Since they seemed to be twins, clones of one another, it was apt. However, the number two meaning ‘squared’ instead of just ‘two’ has a purpose too. With that I implied that there were many like them, you know, those in the warehouse,” Heidmann clarified to the two men who did not notice just how long ago they last ordered a drink.
“My God, James, I must commend you on your ingenuity,” Purdue praised him. “Seriously, that moniker holds practically all the secrets behind the piece.”
“And the one that broke?” Don asked. “What did you name him again?”
“He called it ‘Son of Zyklon-B’, a most intricate name indeed,” Purdue noted to his friend.
“Oh no, I had nothing to do with the naming of that one,” Dr. Heidmann asserted. “It was labeled that way when I found it among the small army of sculptures in the store room that night. I have no idea what it means.”
“So some were already named?” Don asked after eagerly accepting another drink from the waiter.
“I suppose. I did not take the time to investigate because we had to get hasty before those monsters discovered us there. God, if they caught us they would have turned us into bloody garden gnomes,” Heidmann admitted humorously. “May I have an espresso, please,” he asked the waiter.
“Helen — Prof. Barry — actually brought to my attention that Soula Fidikos had examined that very sculpture of yours, James,” Purdue informed Heidmann. “She was of the mind that the clones were significantly older than the singular statue, according to the type of marble and limestone used to encapsulate it. The finish on the clone piece was apparently thousands of years old by her assessment as an expert on antiquities.”
“Is that a fact?” Heidmann gasped in fascination. “I always wondered why it has a slightly whitish sediment to it as if the marble was more weatherworn. On close inspection, it looks almost porous. Now it makes sense why it looks different from the single statue.”
Purdue was beyond curious.
“Oh shit, I know that look,” Don hummed into his glass before sipping. He was aware of Dave Purdue’s insatiable need to explore all things arcane, steeped in mystery even in the smallest way.
“What look?” Heidmann inquired.
Don gestured toward Purdue, raised an eyebrow and coughed facetiously. “You have opened a huge can of worms, Dr. Heidmann. Madman explorer Dave Purdue finds insane claims like yours nothing short of exhilarating.”
“You cannot argue that this is something unprecedented, Don,” Purdue retorted lightly. He pointed out an item on the menu to the waiter. “Would anyone like to order some food? I’m famished.”
“Are you buying?” Don asked.
“I am,” Purdue replied.
“Then I’m in,” Don announced, taking up a menu to peruse it briskly. “Come on, James, get some grub. It’s free,” he told Heidmann.
Purdue chuckled and passed Heidmann a menu. After they had ordered their meals, Purdue decided to present his idea to his two colleagues. He was positively awestruck with the new developments. Such seemingly impossible things had to be investigated, he believed. It was not about glory or money. Of that, Purdue had more than enough.
“I am still wondering what that name means,” Purdue mentioned, checking his palm-sized tablet for the words. “Excuse my ill manners, gentlemen, but it is eating me up, and I have to know.”
“No worries, Dave. I have been wondering about it myself. In fact, come to think of it, I am quite surprised that I had no bothered to look it up before,” Heidmann conceded.
“Find anything?” Don asked.
Purdue’s grey eyes darted across his screen from behind his glasses as he scrutinized the various results on his search. He neglected to answer Don at first, amazed at what he learned from the information. A slight smile played on his lips as he read. The other two engaged in small talk while they waited for him to conclude his quick study.
Finally, the food arrived. Eagerly the archeologist and the anthropologist scarfed down their meals while Purdue relinquished his hunger for lunch to his thirst for knowledge. Suddenly he lifted his eyes, looking categorically impressed with himself.
“Zyklon is a German word, first of all,” he started.
“But wait. There is more,” Don teased.
“Aye, there is,” Purdue smiled. “Zyklon-B, or ‘Cyclone B’ is hydrocyanic acid. This should provide an accurate estimation of the age of the singular piece, James. Zyklon-B was the poison used by the Nazi’s to exterminate death camp prisoners in the gas chambers! I venture to guess that your broken human was one of Hitler’s victims, but not necessarily by gassing. I think he was the subject of an experiment that was based on a very old mythological monster, my friend.”
Heidmann and Donovan were both spellbound by the shocking revelation.
“Do tell,” Don frowned, trying to match the incredible with the historical.
“My friends, our unfortunate statue was not just a victim of the Nazi’s,” Purdue smiled excitedly. “I believe he came face to face with Medusa.”
Chapter 10
The caller ID on her phone was one that instilled a mixture of feelings. There was immense resentment, fond memories and a general indecision as to the limitations of contact she desired with him. Torn, her big brown eyes read his name again and again.
‘Purdue’
“Not today,” she said softly as she pressed the red button and cut off the call. Dr. Nina Gould was in no mood for company these days. After her last excursion with Purdue on the high seas of the Indian Ocean during which they lost their mutual friend to the wicked tricks of physics, Nina was left emotionally emaciated.
It had been several months since Sam Cleave disappeared along with the ominous Nazi death ship on which he was while Nina and Purdue fought against their captors on the salvage vessel towing it. She blamed Purdue for the loss of her close friend and sporadic love interest since it was his pow-wow. As always, Purdue’s adamant pursuit of strange relics and abominations of Nazi origin had put them all in peril. But this time, they lost Sam.
Sam’s abrupt disappearance had traumatized Nina into becoming reclusive. For the first few days after the coast guard rescued them, she was on auto-pilot. In the aftermath of the ordeal on the tugboat and the madness that had ensued Nina and Purdue had to use subterfuge for the official police reports and insurance claims. If they had to recount the true story of what had happened on the ocean that week, they would undoubtedly have been committed to the present day cousin of Hanwell Insane Asylum or any of Edinburgh’s finest madhouses.
Thus, they were left with their secret; one of many surfaced that week off the eastern coast of Africa. As soon as they were released and had returned to Scotland, Purdue and Nina parted ways to deal with the loss of their longtime associate and friend, Sam Cleave. Nina had sworn Purdue off as a selfish and reckless asshole who kept dragging her and Sam into his dangerous expeditions. Losing Sam was a great shock to Nina.
“Why Sam?” she muttered. “Why not anyone else?”
Nina felt a sudden melancholy as she listlessly made her tea. She had been doing so well, recovering from missing Sam, until now. Now Purdue had to remind her that he existed. Now, when she was finally getting through the day without sobbing over Sam. At first, when she returned home to Oban, she thought about Sam every day.
His voice echoed in her restless power naps. When she closed her eyes, she kept seeing his dark eyes staring into hers like he used to just before he kissed her. Nina could still smell the odor of his sweater when he wrapped her up in his arms and just held her; that familiar smell of tobacco and Castle Forbes shaving cream. All these phantom senses kept him haunting her until a few weeks ago when she started making peace with the fact that Sam was gone in body, but that her times with him would remain with her for the rest of her life.