The Library of Forbidden Books

Chapter 21

It was raining profusely in Venice, such that the tourists feared a flood of the city’s canals. The locals knew better, but they kept silent and only smiled when they heard visitors frantically scatter to find out if there was “higher ground” somewhere. Purdue had come to the Hotel Cassatia’s bar for a drink or two before embarking on his imperative architectural treasure hunt to locate the sinister library that had always been nothing more than legend. Usually in the ranks of the Black Sun organization, things of legend and myth were addressed as if they were perfectly mundane objects and places, so it was not a huge surprise for Purdue to learn that the Library of Forbidden Books actually existed.

Not only that, but he also knew how to look for it, courtesy of a smitten university tenure from Tokyo who was only too zealous to assist the wealthy bachelor with abstruse information. She had special clearance where she had interned and now held some position of authority — the Institute of Paranormal Studies in a remote part of the city’s outskirts.

He ordered another single malt, but the waiter insisted on a crisp glass of Soave white wine, as opposed to the home brew of alcohol Purdue tended to keep to out of habit. After some persuasion and Purdue’s anticipation of the meeting to come, he elected to have his whisky and a glass of the famous wine the waiter suggested. It was not as if he intended to stay sober for much longer. In the low light of the merriment he smelled the ocean air and the fresh spray of rain that emanated throughout the vast eatery’s half-ajar windows, dressed only by quaint chiffon drapes that breathed gently.

In his mind, thoughts of Nina blended with Sam’s betrayal, the misadventures in search of Atlantis, the offer Jaap Roodt had made him if he facilitated Final Solution 2 and his Renatus status. How did it all happen? How did he go from a carefree, skirt-hounding, exuberant spender and explorer to the king of some dark Nazi afterbirth? He chugged back the whisky, leering at the impotent glass of wine that would hardly do anything to dampen his misery. Purdue lifted his hand at the waiter, ordering another tumbler and then looked at his watch.

I can still tell the time. I’m not even close to intoxicated enough for this, he pondered, planning to remedy the situation duly. By his fifth whisky and half a serving of Soave, he was ravenous, but food would only exacerbate his physical condition, therefore rendering him unable to decide on cuisine. Mostly seafood made its way around the Venetian pub and Purdue knew that oysters and whisky released hell in his digestive tract. Even in his rapidly approaching drunkenness Dave Purdue was of meager conscientious mind. He opted for garlic bread instead and quickly wolfed it down before a cup of espresso washed down the lot.

Just before midnight, she entered the wide portal of double rosewood doors. Purdue gasped, his heart slamming in his chest. With some difficulty, he stood to draw her attention and no sooner did her eyes find him than he fell hard back onto his seat. His body felt the weight of an anvil and his head was spinning while the music and voices of the ambient evening echoed madly in an orgy of noise under the bone of his skull.

She strode casually toward his table, the waiter in tail to pull out her chair and take her drink order. But she whispered something to him and he abandoned the station entirely to take his place behind the bar until she would summon him. Purdue watched her tall, slender body sway gracefully as she took her place opposite him. For a long while they just stared at each other. She cocked her head to the side and her face exhibited true pity. Across the table her smooth hand slid to find his and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I heard about Nina. I’m so sorry, David.”

He nodded appreciatively, but he was caught between his sorrow for the subject at hand and his shock at the one due. The waiter peeked over the draught taps every now and then, annoying her quite a bit, but she ignored him. It was good to see Dave Purdue again, but he looked dreadful. Ashen and gaunt, the once beaming and mischievous philanthropist and playboy had exchanged his freedom for power. Not that being Renatus was much of a throne, while the council watched every step taken on the chronological chessboard for the advent of the New World Order.

“I believe you asked for me,” she finally said in a smooth tone. She hailed the eager waiter and ordered a seafood dish with some sherry. Purdue looked on in amazement. His eyebrow stirred over his right eye as his glance jumped from her food to her face, as if he was ascertaining whether she was a charlatan in a false guise.

“You loathe seafood,” he remarked, ordering another Famous Grouse and more garlic bread. Behind him the cold gust almost sobered him, licking at the base of his skull to soothe the heated onslaught of the alcohol in his veins.

“People change,” she said nonchalantly as she slipped the oyster from the shell into her gaping jaws with absolute flair, as if she was a debutante of sorts who could not put a foot wrong.

“Not like this. I’d sooner expect you to brandish a pair of testicles than to take to seafood!” he hiccupped and burped as quietly as he could to preserve the general manner of the table.

“After what happened to me, I made resolutions not to restrict my experiences to reservation and vigilance anymore. Time is short, David. And I intend to make proper use of its linear debility,” she explained plainly, her voice as serene as an undisturbed pond. “So,” she lifted another shell, “I deign to eat slimy sea creatures now.”

“How Lovecraftian,” Purdue scoffed, among a series of repetitive hiccups. His face was contorted in mockery, but he was secretly elated for her presence and her company. She just smiled, perhaps a little too wickedly, at his unorthodox remark.

“Tell me about the Library of Forbidden Books. It sounds positively riveting, David,” she said sincerely, as she ran the napkin across her lips, careful to maintain her lipstick. Purdue was well off his face, but his mind was clear on his objective, nonetheless. He leaned forward on the table with his lanky torso, dealing her a stark look through dancing eyes that toiled to find their target and hold it. With a rich exhale of garlic and whisky he folded his hands on the table under his chest and whispered with meticulously formed words that made her realize that he had summoned her for more than the divulged reason.

“Where is the Longinus, Agatha?”