The Babylonian Mask

Chapter 27 — Susa or War

Nina’s eyes were frozen on Sam’s as she heard the last of the recording. He was afraid at one point that she had ceased her breathing as she listened, frowned, concentrated, gasped and cocked her head throughout the entire soundtrack. When it had finished, she just kept staring at him. In the background, Nina’s TV was on the news channel, but mute.

“Fucking hell!” she exclaimed suddenly. Her hands were riddled with needles and tubes from the day’s treatment, otherwise she would have buried them in her hair in astonishment. “You mean to tell me, the guy I thought was Jack the Ripper is actually Gandalf the Grey and my pal who slept in the same room as me and traveled miles with me was a coldblooded killer?”

“Aye.”

“Why didn’t he kill me as well, then?” Nina wondered out loud.

“Your blindness saved your life,” Sam told her. “The fact that you were the only person who couldn’t see that his face belonged to someone else must have been your saving grace. You were no threat to him.”

“I never thought I’d be happy to be blind. Jesus! Can you imagine what could have happened to me? So where are they all now?”

Sam cleared his throat, a trait Nina had by now learned meant that he was uncomfortable with something he was struggling to formulate, something that would otherwise sound insane.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she exclaimed again.

“Look, this is all a long shot. Purdue is busy rounding up a group of hackers in every major city to interfere with satellite broadcasts and radio signals. He wants to prevent the news of Sloane’s death from spreading too fast,” Sam explained, not having much hope in Purdue’s plan of stalling the global media. He was hoping, however, that it would considerably impeded, at least, by the vast network of cyber spies and technicians Purdue had at his fingertips. “Margaret, the woman’s voice you heard, is still in Germany right now. Werner was supposed to notify Marduk when he managed to get the mask back from Schmidt without Schmidt’s knowledge, but they had not heard from him by the deadline.”

“So then he’s dead,” Nina shrugged.

“Not necessarily. It just means he hasn’t been successful in getting the mask,” Sam said. “I don’t know if Kohl can help him get it, but he looks like a bit of a flake to me. But because Marduk had not heard from Werner, he went with Margaret to the Büchel base to see what is happening.”

“Tell Purdue to speed up his work with the broadcast systems,” Nina told Sam.

“I’m sure they are moving as fast as they can.”

“Not fast enough,” she contested, nudging her head at the television. Sam turned to find that the first major broadcaster had obtained the report Purdue’s people had been trying to stop.

“Oh my God!” Sam exclaimed.

“This is not going to work, Sam,” Nina admitted. “No news agent will care if they unleash another world war by spreading the news of Professor Sloane’s death. You know how they are! Careless, greedy humans. Typical. They would rather scramble to get the credit for tattling than to consider the consequences.”

“I wish I could get some of the big newspapers and social media posters to cry hoax,” said Sam, frustrated. “It would be a ‘he said- she said’ for long enough to hold off actual calls to war.

The image on the television disappeared suddenly and some 80s music videos came on. Sam and Nina wondered if it was the work of the hackers, taking what they could get in the meantime to procrastinate more reports.

“Sam,” she said at once in a gentler, sincere tone. “What Marduk told you all about the skin thing that can remove the mask — does he have it?”

He had no answer. He had not thought to ask Marduk more about it at the time.

“I have no idea,” Sam answered. “But I cannot risk calling him on Margaret’s phone at the moment. Who knows where they are behind enemy lines, you know? It would be a daft move that could cost everything.”

“I know. I was just wondering,” she said.

“Why?” he had to ask.

“Well, you said that Margaret had this idea about someone using the mask to take on the guise of Professor Sloane, even just to sign the peace treaty, right?” Nina recounted.

“Aye, she did,” he affirmed.

Nina sighed hard, contemplating what she was about to bring to the table. Ultimately it would serve a greater good than just her welfare.

“Can Margaret get us in touch with Sloane’s office?” Nina asked, as if she was ordering a pizza.

“Purdue can. Why?”

“Let’s set up a meeting. The day after tomorrow is Halloween, Sam. One of the biggest days in recent history and we cannot let it be run into the ground. If Mr. Marduk can get the mask to us,” she explained, but Sam started shaking his head profusely.

“Absolutely not! There is no way I am letting you do that, Nina,” he protested vehemently.

“Let me finish!” she cried as loud as her sore body could handle. “I’ll do it, Sam! It is my decision and my body — my fate!”

“Really?” he shouted. “And what about the people you will leave behind if we don’t manage to get the mask off before it takes you from us?”

“What if I don’t, Sam? The entire globe descends into the fucking World War III? One person’s life…or the whole planet’s children under air raids again? Fathers and brothers on the front lines again and God knows what else they will use technology for this time!” Nina’s lungs were working overtime to get the words out.

Sam just shook his bowed head. He didn’t want to admit that it was the best thing to do. If it were any other woman, but not Nina.

“Come on, Cleave, you know it’s the only way,” she said, as the nurse came rushing in.

“Dr. Gould, you cannot exert yourself like that. Please leave, Mr. Cleave,” she demanded. Nina did not want to be rude to the medical staff, but there was no way she was leaving this matter unresolved.

“Hannah, please let us finish this discussion,” Nina implored.

“You can hardly breathe, Dr. Gould. You are not allowed to excite your nerves and send your heart rate through the roof like this,” Hannah reprimanded.

“I understand,” Nina replied quickly, keeping her tone cordial. “but please just allow Sam and I a few more minutes.”

“What is wrong with the television?” Hannah asked, perplexed by the constant broadcast interruptions and ghosting of the images. “I’ll get maintenance to have a look at our antenna.” With that she left the room, giving one last look back at Nina to impress what she’d said. Nina nodded in return.

“Good luck fixing that aerial,” Sam smiled.

“Where is Purdue?” Nina asked.

“I told you. He is busy linking up satellites under his umbrella companies’ operations to the remote access of his clandestine accomplices.”

“I mean, where is he? Is he in Edinburgh? Is he in Germany?”

“Why?” asked Sam.

“Answer me!” she demanded, scowling.

“You did not want him anywhere near you, so now he is staying away.” Now it was out. He had said it, unbelievably defending Purdue to Nina. “He is seriously contrite about what happened in Chernobyl and you treated him like shit in Mannheim. What do you expect?”

“Wait, what?” she snapped at Sam. “He tried to kill me! Do you understand the level of distrust that cultivates?”

“Aye, I do! I do. And keep your voice down before Nurse Betty comes in again. I know what it is like to be plummeted into despair, my life threatened by those I trusted. You cannot possibly believe that he would ever deliberately want to harm you, Nina. For Christ’s sake, he loves you!”

He stopped, but it was too late. Nina was disarmed, for what it was worth, but Sam already regretted his uttering. The last thing he needed to remind her of was Purdue’s unrelenting pursuit of her affection. Already Sam was in many ways inferior to Purdue, in his own opinion. Purdue was a genius with charm to match, independently wealthy with a legacy of holdings, estates and technologically advanced patents. His reputation was stellar as explorer, benefactor and inventor.

All Sam had was a Pulitzer and several other awards and commendations. Apart from three books and a bit of money from his share in Purdue’s treasure hunts, Sam had a penthouse apartment and a cat.

“Answer my question,” she said plainly, observing the sting in Sam’s eyes at possibly losing her. “I promise to play nice if Purdue gets me in contact with the W.U.O. head office.”

“We don’t even know if Marduk has the mask yet,” Sam was grabbing at straws to mar Nina’s advance.

“That’s fine. Until we know for sure we may as well arrange my representation of the W.U.O. at the signing, so that Prof. Sloane’s people can arrange logistics and security accordingly. “After all,” she sighed, “with a petite brunette showing up with or without Sloane’s face, it would be easier to cry hoax at the reports, right?”

“Purdue is at Wrichtishousis as we speak,” Sam surrendered. “I’ll get hold of him and tell him about your proposal.”

“Thank you,” she replied gently, while the television screen blinked between channels by itself, settling briefly on test signals. Suddenly it stopped on a global news station that had not been rendered powerless yet. Nina’s eyes were glued to the screen. She was ignoring Sam’s morose silence for the moment.

“Sam, look!” she exclaimed and lifted her hand with difficulty to point to the television. Sam turned around. The reporter appeared with her microphone with the C.I.T.E. offices in the Hague behind her.

“Turn it up!” Sam cried, grabbing at the remote control and pressing a myriad of incorrect buttons before getting the volume increased in escalating green bars upon the high definition screen. By the time they could hear what she was saying she was three sentences into her speech.

“…here at the Hague, following reports of Professor Marta Sloane’s alleged assassination yesterday at her holiday residence in Cardiff. The media has been unsuccessful in confirming these reports, as the Professor’s spokesperson has been unavailable for comment.”

“Good, at least they are still unsure about the facts,” Nina remarked. The report continued from the studio where the newscaster added more information on another development.

However, in light of the approaching summit for the signing of the peace treaty between the Meso-Arabian states and the W.U.O. the office of Meso-Arabia’s leader, Sultan Yunus ibn Meccan had announced a change of plan.

“Aye, here it comes now. Fucking war,” Sam growled as he sat listening in anticipation.

“The Meso-Arabian House of Representatives has altered the agreement to have the treaty signed in the city of Susa, Meso-Arabia, following threats against the life of the Sultan by association.”

Nina drew a deep breath. “So now it’s Susa or war. Now do you still think my wearing of the Babylonian Mask is not pivotal to the future of world as a whole?”