The Lost Crown of the Knights Templar

15 Purdue’s Genie

The Bilderberg Conference had always been like a second home to the old Purdue, yet this time round it seemed a bit hostile. Perhaps it was because he had until recently been ousted, rejected, threatened, and pursued by affiliates of most of the rich and insane who attended the exclusive meeting annually. He felt out of place, but only in status, not in wealth. Most of the invited participants were people well aware of David Purdue’s genius, his strategic prowess in business, and, of late, his resilient defiance toward those who wished him to wear their crowns. They all knew of his hellish coup of the Order of the Black Sun, after he was inadvertently nominated as Renatus (leader) by the organization.

Granted, it was an unprecedented show of domination by David Purdue onto an order that held a most dangerous scepter, even within the court of the Bilderberg Conference. It afforded Purdue one of two reputations amongst the moguls, royalty, and super-wealthy leeches invited to the secret meeting — traitor or messiah.

His capacity to topple almost invincible groups by means of his free will and exceptional genius intimidated most of the elite here, but the remainder deemed him a turncoat, the epitome of a great New World Order monarch who chooses to trample his own crown in insolence.

Look at them, he thought as he watched queens and oil barons consort to seal the fate of the honest working people who served them. Orchestrating the destruction of the people who make you what you are. Look at their demure masks, trying to eradicate the population of the planet to reign in blood and money. Jesus! They’re no better than the SS High Command, and here they are trying for some reason to pass off their global evil as a mere financial meeting.

“Mr. Purdue, why do you sit here all alone?” a woman’s voice broke the din in Purdue’s train of thought.

He turned to see who it was, abandoning the sip of champagne he was about to enjoy. A beautiful, dark-haired woman pleased Purdue’s eyes. Her lips were thick, moist from the strawberry she had just suckled from under its stem. Like an Arabian queen, her glimmering dark eyes bewitched him. Only once before had he had the pleasure of such a sweet thrall, but he could not think of Nina at a moment like this.

“Hello,” he smiled, brimming with his trademark playboy charm. “Please tell me that I know you.”

“You know me,” she winked, smirking just a little as she gracefully removed his glass from his grasp and sipped.

“Oh my God,” he uttered without meaning to.

“Not quite, but I shall relish the compliment, Mr. Purdue,” she replied. Her voice was smooth and smoky, a song he imagined would leak from the edges of the full moon on a restless night. He was speechless.

Her tan-colored skin was without blemish, although her age placed her in the late-thirties/ early-forties bracket. Purdue could not help but savor her voluptuous shape, reminiscent of Italian film stars from the early days of cinema. He’d never seen hair as black as hers, glimmering in blue, then red, tones as she moved her head.

“I have a proposition for you,” she said distantly as he tried desperately to contain himself. “One that I think you would find most lucrative.”

“Will it cost me my soul?” he murmured, enthralled by the cleavage that dominated her figure, the silk and lace fabric straining over the ample bosom inside.

“If you had one,” she giggled in a deep tone that only reinforced her heavy presence. “But lucky for you, Mr. Purdue, you don’t have one, do you?”

Ignoring the slight animosity she exuded, Purdue smiled and eventually managed to drag his eyes up to hers. “I suppose I don’t. It would be worthless anyway.”

“Oh, that is not true,” she teased. “Souls, even the rotten ones, all have some currency. Besides, there are different levels of stature in hell too. Even worthless souls are valuable to the lesser.”

“That does make a lot of sense,” he agreed, taking back his champagne. “About your proposition…”

Purdue hoped that it was a proposal for hotel keys, as he was used to getting from bored billionairesses, and this one would be his crowning achievement. A shimmer of excitement in her eyes drew him in.

Oh God, she smells good!

“I want you to help me find something,” she whispered.

Don’t ask if it is her G-spot! Don’t! he reprimanded his thoughts, but his words were less juvenile. “What could someone like you possibly be missing?”

She laughed. “You are as charming as your reputation lets on, Mr. Purdue,” she said. “You’d be surprised how empty the life of a woman like me could be,” she lamented. “I simply have too much of the thing I don’t need and too little of the thing I need most.”

“That sounds remarkably like myself,” he conceded, referring to something quite different. “But go on, I’m listening.”

She looked around to make sure nobody was imposing on their conversation before she placed her hand on his thigh. Purdue froze to appreciate the thunderstorm that erupted inside him.

“Are you familiar with the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem?” she asked.

Purdue’s senses begged him not to think consciously, but the location she had mentioned forced him to address the matter with his brain. “The Temple of Solomon?” he asked in a quivering voice, trying to escape the power of her sexuality to attain a cogent manner.

“Yes.”

“You do realize that it is not standing anymore,” he said.

She chuckled, “Yes, I’m aware of that, Mr. Purdue. But in its foundation there is something that once belonged to me, that I am desperate to regain. And your reputation as an explorer is one of reckless charge, to abandon all reason to get what you want.”

She continued before Purdue could answer, running her hand up his thigh. “I like that in a man. Only men like you understand my drive for excellence, for usurping thrones and attaining my goals at all costs.”

Her voice mesmerized him completely, rendering him enslaved to her will. It was a strange sensation, because he felt entirely conscious, coherent, and in charge of his thoughts and decisions, regardless of her sexual thrall over him. Purdue considered her proposal soberly, yet everything inside him had already yielded to the prospect of pleasing her.

“What is in it for me?” he asked suavely, piercing her with his light grey eyes and laying on his own brand of persistent charisma. “Your soul?”

The beauty threw her head back in obscene laughter, amusing the white haired genius. “Oh, David, you are a gem! Touché!” Purdue laughed with her, but was anxious for an answer. Her exuberant reaction drew attention from the Queen of the Netherlands and the two men standing with her, the Ambassador of Denmark and American communications tycoon, Henry Goldstein. They looked positively revolted, but kept to themselves nonetheless, with no desire to hush the forceful hussy they seemed to know personally. Then they looked at Purdue with equal disdain, but he noticed a different air about their looks. Seeing him with the stunning Middle Eastern beauty almost made them look sorry for him. For a blink in time, Purdue noticed an imperceptible warning shine in Goldstein’s expression, before he looked away.

Not since he was on trial before the Order of the Black Sun as Renatus, had Purdue felt so alone, so singled out. In fact, had he not been independently wealthy with all the resources his heart desired, he may well have felt an inkling of terror at that moment. Deep inside, he felt isolated and unsafe.

“In all honesty, what is in it for me?” he reiterated his query. The woman ceased her giggling and looked him in the eye.

“Money,” she replied.

“I have money,” he grinned arrogantly. “You will have to do better than that, my dear.”

She smiled, looking momentarily put down by his dismissal, but she was far from being out of chips to play this game. Her tone grew hard, and she delivered her bait with conviction. Purdue knew she’d deserted the charm and exchanged it for straight business talk — it had to be serious to her, whatever this was she wished to gain.

“You’re right, Mr. Purdue. Offering you money is like offering God the Universe, right?” she conceded. “If you help me I will give you three things your heart desires.”

Purdue smiled, but he was both wary and slightly unnerved. “Carry on,” he said. “Which three things would those be?”

“Whatever your heart desires, Mr. Purdue. Pay attention,” she snapped.

“What could I possibly desire that I cannot attain myself?” he chuckled, swigging the last of the bubbly. But something about her rising anger warned him that he was not playing with a spoiled princess or a desperate feminist. He physically felt his heart and stomach tense up at her silent annoyance. He added, “Nobody has anything I cannot achieve by my own means, madam.”

Her dark eyes, like onyx on fire, gazed at him, fueling his panic. There was something to her preposterous offer that felt genuine, but he dared not entertain such a notion. Then again, why did the other guests look at him with borderline pity?

She whispered, “Three things, David. Any three things I can give you if you help me find my treasure.” Drawing closer to him, she was not being suggestive this time, but meant to keep her proposition as quiet and secret as she could. Purdue felt as if her voice came from inside his mind, even though he could feel her breath from the outside his ear. “I can destroy the Order of the Black Sun in a day for you, David. You will never have to run from them again. I can make any woman sway to your whims. And yes, I know there are women who elude you. I can bring you peace, make you the king of the world, if you wish. All these leaders will kneel to you.”

Purdue could feel the hair raise on his skin, but he maintained his cynicism. “If you can destroy the Black Sun, why have you not done so already?”

The beauty looked amused, almost chuckling as she drew away from him to scrutinize his face to find the humor there. “Why on earth would I destroy them? They’re not my bane, but yours. Please, David, I do not busy myself with matters that do not pertain to me.”

“Three things,” he asked again, smiling at the interesting challenge. “What are you, a genie?” Purdue laughed heartily at his insinuation, but the lady was not as entertained as he.

“Do not jest about ancient things you will not comprehend in your tiny mind,” she retorted in vexation, shifting in the sofa seat and leering at the rich and powerful herd in the room. “You might be a genius among humans, Mr. Purdue, but the smartest cockroach on earth is still…just a cockroach. Are you willing to help me find my treasure at the Temple or not?”

Her statement was harsh, but Purdue liked her engaging appeal. There was much in her way that could convince him to join in her endeavor. After all, he had nothing to lose. His name restored, his holdings were consolidated and unreachable by any third party. Such a venture, lucrative or not, would not harm or mar his financial growth. “Tell me what you are looking for and I shall tell you if searching for it is worth my time, my dear lady. And your name would be a nice touch as well.”

The olive-skinned beauty smiled at his response. Looking pleased, she lifted her defenses somewhat. “Countess Baldwin, widow of Freiherr Klaus Geier,” she revealed proudly. “And I am looking for a very old family heirloom, Mr. Purdue, something from my own family’s history. I have reason to believe it is on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, under the masonry of a plaza. You see, only you can search the plaza’s subterranean vicinity without bulldozing the whole thing and drawing attention. Your technological inventions are legendary, and nobody else would have a discreet way of locating the item.”

“And what exactly is this item, Countess Baldwin?” Purdue asked curiously, pouring the dark-eyed beauty a glass of absinthe to match his.

They raised their glasses. Crystal tapping crystal sounded like a delicate bell to accommodate the Countess’ sublime voice. “It is a crown, Mr. Purdue. My crown.”