The Babylonian Mask

Chapter 35 — Subterfuge

When Nina laid her moist hand on the decree, it occurred her just what an impact her scribble on this piece of modest paper was about to make. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at the Sultan one last time before putting her autograph on the line. In a split second of meeting his black eyed gaze she felt his genuine amity and honest kindness.

“Go on, Professor,” he encouraged her with a slow blink of reassurance.

Nina had to pretend that she was just busy practicing the signature again, otherwise she would be too nervous to do it correctly. As the ballpoint slid under her guidance, Nina felt her heart race. Just for her, they waited. The whole world held their breath just for her to finish signing. There would never be a greater honor in the world for her, even if this moment was begotten in deceit.

The moment she gracefully placed the point of the pen on the final dot in the autograph, the world applauded. Those in attendance cheered and rose to their feet. At the same time, millions of people watching via the direct feed prayed that nothing bad would happen. Nina looked up at the sixty-three-year-old Sultan. He shook her hand gently while staring deep into her eyes.

“Whoever you are,” he said, “thank you for doing this.”

“How do you mean? You know who I am,” Nina asked with a refined smile, while actually being quite terrified of discovery. “I’m Professor Sloane.”

“No, you are not. Professor Sloane had very dark blue eyes. But you have beautiful Arabian eyes, like the onyx in my royal ring. It’s as if someone caught a pair of tiger eyes and put them in your face.” Wrinkles formed around his eyes and his beard could not smother his smile.

“Please, Your Grace…” she implored, keeping her pose for the sake of the onlookers.

“Whoever you are,” he spoke over her, “the mask you wear to me does not matter. It is not our masks that define us, but what we do with them. To me, it is what you did here that matters, you see?”

Nina swallowed hard. She wanted to cry, but it would tarnish Sloane’s image. The Sultan led her to the podium with him and whispered in her ear, “Remember, my dear, what matters most is what we represent, not what we resemble.”

During the standing ovation that lasted well over ten minutes Nina fought to keep upright, holding firmly onto the grip of the Sultan. She stepped up to the microphone where she had earlier declined to give a speech and everything died down gradually to a sporadic cheer or clapping. Until she started speaking. Nina kept her voice hoarse enough to remain mysterious, but she had to make the announcement. It had occurred to her that she only had mere hours to wear someone else’s face and do something useful with it. There was little to say, but she smiled and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests and all of our friends throughout the world. My illness is impeding my voice and speech, so I shall make this quick. Due to my dwindling health issues, I would like to publicly step down…”

A grand bustle ensued throughout the makeshift auditorium in the Susa Palace from astonished spectators, but they all respected the leader’s decision. She’d led her organization and most of the modern world into an era of better technology, efficiency, and discipline, without the robbing of individuality or judgment. For that she was revered, no matter what she elected to do with her career.

“…but, I am sure all my efforts will be flawlessly advanced by my successor and new commissioner of the W.U.O., Dr. Lisa Gordon. It has been a pleasure to serve the people…” Nina continued to end the announcement while Marduk waited in the change room for her.

“My goodness, Dr. Gould, you are quite the diplomat yourself,” he remarked as he watched her. Sam and Purdue had left in a hurry after receiving a frantic phone call from Werner.

Werner had sent Sam a text with details on the incoming threat. With Purdue in tail, they’d rushed to the Royal Guard and showed their clearance identification to have a word with the Meso-Arabian wing commander, Lieutenant Jenzebel Abdi.

“Madam, we have urgent intel from a friend of yours, Lieutenant Dieter Werner,” Sam told the striking woman in her late thirties.

“Oh Ditti,” she nodded lazily, not looking too impressed with the two mad Scots.

“He asked to give you this code. An unauthorized deployment of German fighter jets are based about twenty klicks outside the city of Susa and fifty klicks outside Baghdad!” Sam spilled it like an eager schoolboy with an urgent message for the principal. “They are on a suicide mission to destroy the C.I.T.E. headquarters and this palace under the command of Captain Gerhard Schmidt.”

Lieutenant Abdi immediately shouted orders to her men and commanded her wingmen to join her in the covert desert compound to get ready for an air attack. She checked the code Werner sent and nodded in acknowledgment of his warning. “Schmidt, huh?” she sneered. “I hate that fucking Kraut. I hope Werner rips his balls off.” She shook Purdue and Sam’s hands, “I have to get suited. Thank you for warning us.”

“Wait,” Purdue frowned, “are you also engaging in air combat yourself?”

The lieutenant smiled and winked. “Of course! If you see old Dieter again, ask him why they called me ‘Jihad Jenny’ in the flight academy.”

“Ha!” Sam chuckled as she jogged off with her team to arm up and intercept any approaching threat with extreme prejudice. The code Werner supplied had directed them to the two respective nests from where the Leo 2 squadrons were to take off.

“We missed Nina’s signing,” Sam lamented.

“That’s alright. It will be on every bloody news channel you can imagine over the next while,” Purdue soothed, patting Sam on the back. “Now, not to sound paranoid, but I have to get Nina and Marduk to Wrichtishousis within,” he checked his watch and quickly calculated the hours, travel time and elapsed time, “the next six hours.”

“Alright, let’s go before that old bastard disappears again,” Sam grunted. “By the way, what did you text Werner while I was talking to Jihad Jenny?”