King Solomon's Diamonds

7 Absent is the Traitor in the Pit of Revelation

Purdue had been feeling something he was not accustomed to knowing before — utter hatred for another individual. Although he had been slowly recovering physically and mentally from the ordeal in the small town of Fallin, Scotland, he found that the only thing marring the return of his jovial devil-may-care attitude was the fact that Joe Carter, or Joseph Karsten, was still drawing breath. It left him with an unusual bad taste in his mouth every time he discussed the upcoming tribunal with his lawyers under the supervision of Special Agent Patrick Smith.

“Just got this memo, David,” Harry Webster, Purdue’s main legal representative, announced. “Don’t know if this is good or bad news to you.”

Two of Webster’s associates and Patrick had joined Purdue and his attorney at the dining table in the high ceiling dining room of Wrichtishousis. They had been offered scones and tea, which the delegation gladly accepted before setting out for what they had hoped to be a swift and mild hearing.

“What is it?” Purdue asked, feeling his heart jump. He had never before had to fear anything. His wealth, resources and representatives could always solve any of his problems. However, in the past few months he’d learned that the only true wealth in life was freedom and he was about to lose his. A dreadful insight indeed.

Harry frowned as he checked the fine print of the e-mail received from the Secret Intelligence Service Headquarters Legal Department. “Oh, it is probably not a huge thing for us either way, but the head of MI6 will not be there. This e-mail is to notify and apologize to all parties involved for his absence, but he has had a personal emergency that he had to attend to.”

“Where?” Purdue exclaimed eagerly.

Surprising the panel with his reaction, he quickly played it down with a shrug and a smile, “Just curious why the man who ordered the siege of my estate would not bother to be there when they bury me.”

“Nobody is going to bury you, David,” Harry Webster comforted in his lawyer’s voice. “But it does not mention where, just that he had to go to his ancestral home. I suppose it must be in some corner of remote England.”

No, it must be somewhere in Germany or Switzerland or one of those cozy Nazi nests, Purdue sneered in his thoughts, wishing he could just disclose aloud what the truth of the sanctimonious leader was. He was secretly very relieved to know that he would not have to look into the repulsive mug of his enemy while being treated like a criminal in public, watching the bastard revel in his predicament.

Sam Cleave had called the night before to let Purdue know that Channel 8 and World Broadcast Today, perhaps CNN too, would be available to air whatever the investigative journalist slapped together to expose any MI6 misdeeds to the world stage and the British government. Until they had enough to implicate Karsten with, though, Sam and Purdue had to keep all knowledge secret. The problem was that Karsten knew. He knew that Purdue knew, and that posed a direct threat, something that Purdue had to anticipate. What concerned him was how Karsten would choose to do away with him, since Purdue would eternally be a loose end even if he was to be incarcerated.

“May I use my cell phone, Patrick?” he asked angelically, as if he could not make contact with Sam if he wished.

“Um, yes, certainly. But I have to know who you intend to call,” Patrick said as he opened the safe container where he kept all the items Purdue was not allowed to have access to without permission.

“Sam Cleave,” Purdue said nonchalantly, immediately getting Patrick’s approval, but getting an odd peer from Webster.

“Why?” he asked Purdue. “The hearing is in less than three hours, David. I suggest we use the time wisely.”

“That is what I am doing. Thank you for your opinion, Harry, but this very much pertains to Sam, if you do not mind,” Purdue replied in a tone that reminded Harry Webster that he was not in charge. With that, he punched in a number and the words, ‘Karsten absent. Guessing Austrian nest.’

Promptly the short cryptic message was sent via a hopping satellite line that could not be traced, thanks to one of Purdue’s innovative technological contraptions that he’d installed on the phones of his friends and his butler, the only people he felt merited this kind of privilege and importance. Once the message was conveyed, Purdue gave the phone back to Patrick. “Ta.”

“That was bloody quick,” Patrick remarked, impressed.

“Technology, my friend. Soon I fear words will dissolve into codes and we’ll be back to hieroglyphs,” Purdue smiled proudly. “But I’ll be sure to invent an application that forces the user to quote Edgar Allan Poe or Shakespeare before being able to log in.”

Patrick had to smile. It was the first time he’d actually spent time with the billionaire, explorer, scientist, philanthropist David Purdue. Before recently, all he’d chalked the man up to be was some arrogant rich boy flaunting his privilege to acquire anything he damned well pleased. Not only did Patrick see Purdue as the conqueror or ancient relics that did not belong to him, he saw him as a common thief — of friends.

Previously, Purdue’s name only instilled in him the disdain synonymous with the corruption of Sam Cleave and the hazards of being involved with the white-haired relic hunter. But now Patrick began to fathom the attraction to the carefree and charismatic man who was, in truth, someone of humility and integrity. Inadvertently he had become quite fond of Purdue’s company and wit.

“Let’s get this over with, lads,” Harry Webster suggested, and the men sat down to conclude the respective addresses they would present.