King Solomon's Diamonds

13 Eclipse

Joseph Karsten’s mansion stood in silence, brooding over the emptiness of the vast gardens where no birds would sing. Its flowers and brushes populated the garden in solitude and quiet presence, only stirring when the wind deemed it so. Nothing thrived higher than mere existence here and that was the nature of control Karsten had over what he owned.

His wife and two daughters preferred to stay in London, choosing to abandon the striking beauty of Karsten’s personal residence. It suited him well, however, so that he could have privacy while conniving and running his chapter of the Order of the Black Sun unperturbed. As long as he acted on his orders from the British government and managed Military Intelligence on an international level, he could maintain his position in MI6 and use its invaluable resources to keep a waking eye over international relations that could aid or mar Black Sun investments and planning.

By no means did the organization lose any of its nefarious power after the Second World War, when it was forced to immerse itself in the underworld of myth and legend, a mere sour memory to the oblivious while a true threat to those who knew otherwise. Those like David Purdue and his associates.

Having excused himself from Purdue’s tribunal, fearing he would be pointed out by the one who got away, Karsten had accumulated some time to finish what he’d started from the sanctuary of his mountainous nest. Outside, the day was miserable but not in the conventional way. The sun was bleak over the normally beauteous wilderness of the Salzkammergut Mountains, painting the immense carpet of treetops in a pallid green, unlike the deep emerald of the woods beneath the canopies. The Karsten ladies lamented having left behind the breathtaking Austrian landscapes, but the natural beauty of the place lost its luster wherever Joseph and his comrades were involved, forcing them to limit their visits to Salzkammergut’s loveliness.

“I would do it myself, if I did not hold a public position,” Karsten said from his garden chair, clutching his table telephone. “But I have to be back in London in two days to report on the Hebrides Launch and its planning, Clive. I will not be back in Austria for quite a while. I need people who can get things done without supervision, you understand?”

He listened to the caller’s response and nodded. “Right. You can check in with us when your people have completed the mission. Thank you, Clive.”

He peered across the table for a long while, scrutinizing the region he was blessed to reside in when he did not have to be in grimy London or densely populated Glasgow.

“I will not lose all this on your account, Purdue. Whether you choose to be silent about my identity or not, this will not spare you. You are a liability and you have to be done away with. You all have to be done away with,” he muttered as his eyes surveyed the majestic, white-capped mountain rock faces that surrounded his home. The rugged stone and the endless darkness of the forest soothed his eyes, while his lips quivered with vengeful words. “Every single one of you who know my name, who know my face, who killed Mother and knows where her secret hiding place was… all who can implicate me by association… you all have to be done away with!”

Karsten pursed his lips, reminiscing about the night he fled like the coward he is, from Mother’s house when the people from Oban showed up to spring David Purdue from his claws. The thought of losing his prized quarry to common citizens vexed him immensely, a bruise to his ego and an unnecessary clout to his affairs. Things were supposed to have been concluded by now. Instead, his troubles had been doubled by these developments.

“Sir, news on David Purdue,” his assistant, Nigel Lime, announced from the doorway of the patio. Karsten had to turn to look at the man to make sure the strangely fitting subject was indeed being presented and was not a figment of his thoughts.

“Odd,” he replied. “I was just wondering about that, Nigel.”

Looking impressed, Nigel came down the steps onto the patio under the netted shading where Karsten was having his tea. “Well, maybe you are psychic, sir,” he smiled, holding a folder under his arm. “The trial committee asks that you be present in Glasgow to sign the plea so that the Ethiopian government and the Archaeological Crimes Unit can proceed to facilitate Mr. Purdue’s penalty.”

Karsten lit up at the notion of punishment for Purdue, even though he would have preferred to be the one enforcing it himself. But his expectations were perhaps too brutal in his old-fashioned hope of vengeance, as he was quickly disappointed at the revelation of the penalty he so wished to learn of.

“What is his sentence, then?” he asked Nigel. “What is it they need to facilitate?”

“May I sit down?” Nigel asked, doing so at the wave of Karsten’s approving hand gesture. He placed the dossier on the table. “David Purdue opted for a plea bargain. In short, in exchange for his freedom…”

“Freedom?” Karsten roared, his heart throbbing fiercely in his newfound rage. “What? He is not being sentenced to prison at all?”

“No, sir, but let me inform you of the details of the findings,” Nigel suggested calmly.

“Let’s hear it. Make it short and make it simple. I just want to know the highlights,” Karsten growled, hands trembling as he lifted his teacup to his mouth.

“Of course, sir,” Nigel replied, hiding his annoyance with his boss behind his tranquil demeanor. “In short,” he said deliberately, “Mr. Purdue agreed to pay the damages to the claim of the Ethiopian people and return their relic to the place he took it from, after which, of course, he will be banned from ever entering Ethiopia again.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Karsten scowled, his face gradually growing more crimson in hue. “They are just going to let him walk?”

Karsten was so blind with disappointment and defeat that he did not notice his assistant’s quizzical expression. “If I may, sir, it seems you are taking this rather personally.”

“You may not!” Karsten yelled, clearing his throat. “This is a wealthy crook, buying his way out of everything, charming high society into remaining blind to his criminal activities. Of course I am absolutely upset when people like that get off with a mere warning and a bill. The man is a billionaire, Lime! He should be taught that his money can’t always save him. Here we had the perfect opportunity to teach him — and the world of grave robbers just like him… that they will be held accountable, punished! And what do they decide?” He fumed. “To let him pay his goddamn way out of his punishment again! Jesus Christ! No wonder law and order means nothing anymore!”

Nigel Lime just waited for the tirade to come to a close. There was no sense in interrupting the raging MI6 leader. When he was sure Karsten, or Mr. Carter, as he was known to his unwary subordinates, had finished his rant, Nigel dared to shove even more unwanted details on his boss. He gently pushed the dossier across the table. “And I need you to sign this immediately, sir. It has to be couriered to the committee today still, with your signature.”

“What is this?” Karsten’s blubbery face quivered as he received another setback in his efforts concerning David Purdue.

“One of the reasons the tribunal had to concede to Purdue’s plea was the illegal seizure of his estate in Edinburgh, sir,” Nigel explained, welcoming the emotional numbness he felt in preparing for another outburst from Karsten.

“That property was seized for a reason! What in God’s name is going on with authorities these days? Illegal? So a person of interest to MI6 concerning international military matters is cited with while no investigations into the contents of his property are lodged?” he shouted, chipping his porcelain cup as he pounded with it on the wrought iron tabletop.

“Sir, the lads at MI6 field offices combed the estate for anything incriminating and they found nothing to implicate military espionage or illegal acquisition of any historical objects, religious or otherwise. Holding Wrichtishousis ransom was therefore unfounded and deemed illegal, since there was no evidence to support our claim,” Nigel clarified plainly, not allowing the fat face of the tyrannical Karsten to shake him while he made things plain. “This is the release order for you to sign to restore Wrichtishousis to its owner and to rescind all orders to the contrary, as per Lord Harrington and his representatives in the seat.”

Karsten was so livid that his replies came in soft words, deceptively calm. “I am being overruled in my authority?”

“Yes, sir,” Nigel affirmed. “I’m afraid so.”

Karsten was beyond angry at the thwarting of his plans, but he elected to pretend that he was professional about it all. Nigel was a sharp lad, and if he got a whiff of Karsten’s personal reaction to this matter, it might shed too much light on his involvement with David Purdue.

“Give me a pen, then,” he said, refusing to show any trace of the tempest ravaging his insides. As he signed the order to restore Wrichtishousis to his nemesis, Karsten felt the debilitating blow to his elaborate plans, thousands of Euros later, pulverize his ego, reducing him to some impotent organization head with no potent authority.

“Thank you, sir,” Nigel said as he took the pen from Karsten’s shaking hand. “I will send this out today so that the dossier can be closed on our side. Our legal staff will keep us posted on the developments in Ethiopia until their relic has been returned to its rightful place.”

Karsten nodded, but he heard little of Nigel’s words. All his thoughts yielded was the prospect of starting over again. Trying to wrack his brain, he attempted to figure out where Purdue kept all the relics he, Karsten, had hoped to uncover on the Edinburgh properties. Unfortunately, he could not implement an order to enforce searches of all Purdue’s holdings, because it would be based on intelligence gathered by the Order of the Black Sun, an organization that was not supposed to exist and especially not to be run by a high officer of the United Kingdom Military Intelligence agency.

He had to keep what he knew to be true to himself. Purdue could not be arrested for his theft of prized Nazi treasures and artifacts, because revealing this would compromise the Black Sun. Karsten’s brain ran into overdrive, trying to get around it all, but still the same answer came on all accounts — Purdue had to die.