King Solomon's Diamonds

32 Flight from Aksum

Around the base of Mount Yeha several locals had gathered, horrified by the sight of the dead Egyptian guide they all knew from the dig sites. Another astonishing shock to them was the colossal rock fall that had closed up the bowels of the mountain. Unsure of what to do, the group of diggers, archaeological assistants, and vengeful locals examined the unexpected event, muttering amongst them to try and figure out what exactly had happened.

“There are deep tire tracks here, so there was a heavy truck here,” one laborer surmised, pointing to the impressions in the ground. “There were two, maybe three vehicles here.”

“Could just be the Land Rover that Dr. Hessian uses every few days,” another guessed.

“No, there it is, over there, just where he left it before he went to get more tools in Mek’ele yesterday,” the first laborer argued, pointing to the guest archaeologist’s Land Rover parked under a canvas tent roof a few meters away.

“Then how do we know if the box was returned? This is Adjo Kira. Dead. Purdue killed him and took the box!” one man shouted. “That is why they destroyed the chamber!”

His aggressive deduction effectively started a furor among the local residents in the neighboring villages and the tents near the dig site. Some of the men tried to reason, but the majority wanted nothing more than pure vengeance.

“Do you hear that?” Purdue asked Patrick, where they emerged from under the east face of the mountain. “They want to skin us alive, old boy. Can you run on that leg?”

“Fuck no,” Patrick winced. “My ankle is broken. Look.”

The cave-in brought on by Adjo had not killed the two men because Purdue had remembered an important feature of all of Adjo’s constructions — the postbox exit concealed under a false wall face. Thankfully, the Egyptian had taught Purdue about the old ways used to create traps in Egypt, notably inside old tombs and pyramids. It was how Purdue, Adjo, and Adjo’s brother, Donkor, had escaped with the Holy Box in the first place.

Covered in scratches, gouges, and dust, Purdue and Patrick crawled out behind some of the larger boulders at the foot of the mountain, Careful not to be detected. Patrick cringed as the stabbing pain in his right ankle shot through him with every dragging motion forward.

“Can… c-can we just take a quick breather?” he asked Purdue. The white-haired explorer looked back at him.

“Look, mate, I know that hurts like hell, but if we don’t hurry, they’re going to find us. I don’t have to tell you what weapons these people are brandishing, do I? Shovels, spikes, hammers…,” Purdue reminded his companion.

“I know. That Landy is way too far away for me. They’ll catch up to me before my second step,” he admitted. “My leg is rubbish. Go on ahead, draw their attention, or get out and get help.”

“Bullshit,” Purdue replied. “We’re getting to that Landy together and we’re getting the hell out of here.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Patrick gasped.

Purdue pointed to the digging tools nearby and smiled. Patrick followed the direction with his gaze. He would have laughed with Purdue if his life did not depend on the outcome.

“No goddamn way, David. No! Are you daft?” he whispered loudly, slapping Purdue on the arm.

“Can you think of a better wheelchair here in the gravel?” Purdue grinned. “Be ready. When I get back we make for the Landy.”

“And I suppose you will have time to hotwire it, then?” Patrick asked.

Purdue pulled out his reliable little tablet that served as multiple gadgets in one.

“Oh ye of little faith,” he smiled at Patrick.

Usually Purdue used its infrared and radar functions, or utilized it as a communication device. However, he was always improving the device, adding new inventions and upgrading its technology. He showed Patrick a small button on the side of the device. “Electrical surge pulse. We have ESP, Paddy.”

“What does it do?” Patrick frowned, his eyes flashing past Purdue every now and then to stay alert.

“It starts cars,” Purdue said. Before Patrick could process the answer, Purdue jumped up and hurtled toward the tool shed. He moved stealthily, bending his lanky frame forward to stay low.

“So far so good, you crazy bastard,” Patrick whispered as he watched Purdue retrieve the wheelbarrow. “But you know that thing is going to make a racket, don’t you?”

Bracing himself for the upcoming chase, Purdue took a deep breath and measured how far the mob was from him and Patrick. “Here we go,” he said, and pressed the button for the Land Rover to start up. Its lights did not go on, apart from those on the dashboard, but some of the people at the mountain entrance could hear the idling engine. Purdue reckoned that he should use their momentary befuddlement to his advantage, and he bolted out toward Patrick with the squealing wheelbarrow.

“Jump! Quick!” he yelled at Patrick as he was about to reach him. The MI6 agent flung himself onto the wheelbarrow, almost toppling it with his velocity, but Purdue’s adrenaline kept it steady.

“There they are! Kill those bastards!” a man roared out, pointing at the two men racing towards the Land Rover with the wheelbarrow.

“God I hope it has a full tank!” Patrick shouted as he rode the shaky iron bucket straight at the passenger door of the 4x4 vehicle. “My spine! My ass bones, Purdue. Christ, you’re killing me here!” was all the mob could hear as they stormed toward the fleeing men.

When they reached the passenger door, Purdue smashed the window with a rock and opened the door. Patrick struggled to get out of the wheelbarrow, but the approaching madmen urged him to tap into reserve strength and he hurled his body into the car. They pulled away with wheels spinning, flinging rocks at any in the mob who got too close. Then Purdue finally floored the pedal and made some distance between them and the pack of murderous locals.

“How much time do we have to get to Dansha?” Purdue asked Patrick.

“About three hours before Sam and Nina are supposed to meet us there,” Patrick informed him. He cast a look at the petrol gauge. “Oh my God! this will not take us further than 200 k.m.”

“That’s alright as long as we get away from the bee hive of Satan on our trail,” Purdue said, still checking his rear view mirror. “We’ll have to contact Sam and see where they are. Maybe they can bring the Hercules closer to pick us up. God, I hope they’re still alive.”

Patrick groaned every time the Land Rover hopped a hole or jerked on a gear change. His ankle was killing him, but he was alive, which was all that mattered.

“You knew all along about Carter. Why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick demanded.

“I told you, we didn’t want you to be an accessory. With you not knowing, you couldn’t be implicated.”

“And that business with his family? Did you send someone to take care of them too?” Patrick asked.

“My God, Patrick! I’m not a terrorist. I was bluffing,” Purdue assured him. “I needed to rattle his cage, and thanks to Sam’s research and a mole in Karsten'… Carter’s… office, we got the intel that his wife and daughters are en route to his home in Austria.”

“Unbe-fucking-lievable,” Patrick replied. “You and Sam should enroll as agents for Her Majesty, you know? You are insane, reckless, and clandestine to a point of hysterics, you two. And Dr. Gould is not far behind.”

“Why, thanks, Patrick,” Purdue smiled. “But we like our freedom, you know, doing the dirty work under the radar.”

“No shit,” Patrick sighed. “Who’s the mole Sam used?”

“I don’t know,” Purdue replied.

“David, who is the fucking mole? The guy will get no flack from me, believe me,” Patrick snapped.

“No, I really don’t know,” Purdue insisted. “He approached Sam once he’d detected Sam’s clumsy hacking into Karsten’s personnel files. Instead of outing him, he offered to get us the information we needed, on the condition that Sam expose Karsten for who he was.”

Patrick mulled the information around in his head. It made sense, but after this assignment, he was not sure any more who to trust. “The mole gave you Karsten’s personal details, including the location of his properties and such?”

“Right down to his blood type,” Purdue said, smiling.

“How is Sam planning to expose Karsten, though? He could legally own the properties and I’m sure the head of Military Intelligence knows how to cover his red tape tracks,” Patrick surmised.

“Oh, he does,” Purdue agreed. “But he picked the wrong snakes to toy with in Sam, Nina, and I. Sam and his mole hacked into the communications systems of the servers Karsten uses for his personal uses. As we speak, the alchemist responsible for the diamond killings and global disasters is on his way to Karsten’s mansion in Salzkammergut.”

“What for?” Patrick asked.

“Karsten advertised that he has a diamond for sale,” Purdue shrugged. “A very rare prime stone called the Sudan Eye. Like the prime stones Celeste and Pharaoh, the Sudan Eye can react with any of the smaller diamonds King Solomon bound after his Temple was completed. The primes are needed to release each plague bound by the seventy-two of King Solomon.”

“Fascinating. And now we’re forced by what we experience here, to rethink our cynicism,” Patrick remarked. “Without the primes the Magician cannot perform his diabolical alchemy?”

Purdue nodded. “Our Egyptian friends of the Dragon Watchers informed us that, according to their scrolls, King Solomon’s magicians bound each stone to a particular heavenly body,” he relayed. “Of course, text predating the familiar scripture texts claim that the fallen angels numbered two hundred, and that seventy-two of those were summoned by Solomon. This is where the star maps come into play with each diamond.”

“And Karsten has the Sudan Eye?” Patrick asked.

“No, I do. It is one of two diamonds my brokers have managed to purchase from, respectively, a Hungarian baroness on the brink of bankruptcy and a widower in Italy who wants to make a fresh start away from his Mafia in-laws, would you believe? I have two primes of the three. The other is the Celeste, in the possession of the Magician.”

“And Karsten offered it for sale?” Patrick scowled, trying to make sense of it all.

“Sam did, using Karsten’s personal e-mail,” Purdue clarified. “Karsten has no idea that the Magician, Mr. Raya, is coming to procure his next prime diamond from him.”

“Oh, that is good!” Patrick smiled, clapping his hands together. “As long as we can get the remaining diamonds to Master Penekal and Ofar, Raya cannot release any other surprises. I hope to God Nina and Sam managed to get them.”

“How do we get hold of Sam and Nina? My devices got lost in the circus back there,” Patrick asked.

“Here,” Purdue said. “Just scroll down to Sam’s name and see if the satellites can connect us.”

Patrick did as Purdue asked. The small speaker clicked erratically. Suddenly Sam’s voice crackled faintly on the speaker, “Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to connect for hours!”

“Sam,” Patrick said, “we’re on our way from Aksum, running on empty. When you get there, could you pick us up if we send you the coordinates?”

“Look, we’re in deep shit here,” Sam said. “I,” he sighed, “I sort of… capped a pilot and hijacked a military rescue helicopter. Long story.”

“Geeezuss!” Patrick shrieked, throwing his arms up in the air.

“They just landed here at the airstrip at Dansha as I forced them to, but we’re about to be arrested. There are soldiers everywhere, so I don’t think we can help you,” Sam lamented.

In the background, Purdue could hear the rotor clap of the helicopter and people shouting. To him it sounded like a war zone. “Sam, did you get the diamonds?”

“Nina got them, but they will probably be confiscated now,” Sam reported, sounding absolutely miserable and enraged. “Patch through your coordinates anyway.”

Purdue’s face contorted in focus, as it always did when he had to make a plan out of a predicament. Patrick took a very deep breath. “Out of the frying pan.”