The Lost Crown of the Knights Templar

20 The Mephistopheles Phenomenon

Purdue woke up feeling well rested, although he did not remember coming to bed. His head felt heavy, but he blamed it on too much champagne consumed after the contract with Countess Baldwin had been concluded.

“Headache?” he heard the delectable woman say, and Purdue immediately remembered her skin and her scent. He opened his eyes. “You’re frowning and groaning,” she smiled. She was sitting at the window, sipping her tea. The morning brightness blurred the borders of her silhouette, illuminating her beauty with a halo and blinding him to the rest of her. “Hangover?”

“Actually,” he smiled back at her, “I have no headache. Just feels like I have a rock weighing on my head.”

Her husky chuckle was like opium to Purdue. When she looked out from the tenth story window, her flawless complexion glowed in the mild sun’s rays. Turning in her position, Purdue now noticed that she was naked, her ample breasts forcing the curtains of her white satin robe to fall from her shoulders, along her arms and draping to her ankles. All of her was in glorious view. It seemed that her robe was just an obligation.

Bits and pieces of the time with her briefly kissed his recollection before dwindling once more, and Purdue tried to relive what had to have been the best night of his life.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Thank you, yes. No sugar, please,” he requested.

“Honey, then?” she persisted.

Purdue never particularly liked honey. He had always had an aversion for its aftertaste and syrupy consistency, yet he nodded. “That would be great, thank you.”

He watched the Countess walk, so softly that she made no sound. Barefoot, with her dark hair coiling wildly, she appeared to momentarily resemble Nina. The vision of the historian was so vivid that Purdue had to shake his head to correct his perception.

“I know it is rude to discuss business so soon after morning reacquaintance, David, but I just want to make sure what is next,” she said, as she prepared his tea with her back to him. “How soon will we embark on the quest for my crown?”

Purdue remembered vaguely that she’d propositioned him at the party after the last meeting he’d attended, and that she wished for him to help her seek a lost crown in Jerusalem. Other than that, he only recalled signing a contract pertaining to the expedition, but not the details.

“Where… uh… where did I put my copy of the contract?” he asked.

She pointed indifferently to a leather-bound dossier on the sofa in the living area, stirring the honey into Purdue’s tea. He rose from the satin sheets, slipping on his trousers before collecting the document to peruse it.

“If you wish, we can travel together to the vault for your first payment,” she offered amicably. “You can have your people take it to Wrichtishousis while we embark further on our journey. In Jerusalem you will join me on the Temple Mount and use your Subgeo-location device to examine the soil for my treasure, right?”

Countess Baldwin formulated the request in such a way that Purdue would understand that she was commanding the developments in such an order. Her manner was feminine and docile, even friendly and forthcoming, but right under it all the queen spoke her orders and her will would not be challenged.

“You know about the Subgeo?” he asked, surprised and flattered. “And my home, Wrichtishousis?”

“Yes,” she smiled, looking amused at his question. “You told me all about it last night? By the stars, David, how much did you have to drink?”

“Too much, it appears,” he answered, looking over the document. At the top of it, a fascinating insignia made the document official. From the fine print under it, the deal was recognized by all financial institutions in Europe, the United States and Asia, all courts observed it as ironclad and Purdue found his signature at the bottom, sealing his accord.

“So when do we go?” she pressed a little less patiently.

“Um,” Purdue muttered, peeling his eyes from the paper before reading the terms, “we will leave in the next week, I assure you. I must just assemble some people to assist us…”

“We go alone!” she hissed, her dark eyes suddenly ablaze.

Purdue frowned at her reaction. “Alone? Contessa, you do realize that a lot of planning goes into an excursion like this. I have to obtain a permit to scout the grounds of the Temple from the Mayoral office, for one. And if we find anything, we have to have the legal documents to excavate your treasure, my dear, a feat that is almost impossible to imagine. My God, this is Jerusalem!”

Pouting like an angry child, she shoved the cup in his hand. “I will not be restrained by a bunch of foolish men holding office,” she said plainly. “Any man, or body, can be bought with enough gold. You, of all people, should know that by now, David.”

“We will have no way of digging it up, Contessa, even if we can locate it illegally and clandestinely. You forget that this city is being guarded by the cultural departments of most historical societies across the world,” he tried to reason with her.

The upset beauty began to get restless, pacing in circles in front of Purdue. Her eyes combed the carpet as she worked herself into emotional turmoil. With her movements soundless, Purdue heard her grinding her teeth in frustration, a most hideous sound of bone on ivory to a point of crushing violence. Her elegant hands were fisted like claws next to her hips.

“You have to understand that it is not a quick process, my dear,” he advised calmly, hoping that his mild-mannered tone would rub off on her. She sighed, and looked at him. Her fingers unclenched and her wild eyes softened.

“Just make it as quick as you can,” she said, looking downright miserable.

“What is the haste?” he asked. He held up his hand in surrender. “It’s just a question.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t look sad. After taking a deep breath she replied, “I am running out of time.”

“How?” he asked immediately, finding himself very concerned for this lady he’d only known for a few hours.

“That doesn’t matter, David.” She smiled through her tears. “Just… do me this favor, will you? Hasten the project, at least before the 24^th of the month.”

Purdue winced at the close deadline. “But, that is only two weeks away.”

“Better start your planning, then,” she replied as she walked to the window where she was bathed in white light again. “I am giving you substantial rewards for this. The least you can do is own up to your reputation,” she said in a low voice, fraught with superiority, “and attain what you seek against all odds.”

It was a tall order, but Purdue had to concede that he was one of the few people in the world who could find a way past the bars of authority and law to get what he desired. The fact that Countess Baldwin saw him in such a light was enough to spur him towards success in this endeavor to find her crown. Watching her perfect curvature through the frail fabric of her robe, he knew he would move mountains to savor her again.

Purdue sat down with his tea, amply flavored with vile honey, while he looked over the contract. The lettering was blurred and mixed up, so he retrieved his glasses to better peruse the terms. However, even with the aid of his spectacles Purdue could not read the words printed in proper black ink at a reasonable font size. On the page words like ‘and,’ ‘within,’ and ‘dated’ came out to him, but most of the clearly English words made no sense. They were not in any context until he read several sentences as a collective to test his vision. Only then would they deliver a sentence or two he understood, but as soon as he read it straight, the words would appear vague in meaning, vague in view, and generally jumbled up.

“David?” Countess Baldwin called from the bright window, sounding genuinely concerned. “David, you don’t look well. Is everything alright?”

He looked up at her, at the rest of the room, and removed his spectacles to try once more, but he still had trouble reading the contract. Her hips swayed as she approached him, closing her robe and tying the belt. Looking up at her, she was in perfect focus from where he sat, as was the room and its contents.

“I am calling the doctor,” she decided, heading for the room phone. “You don’t look well at all, and I cannot lose you now. What did you drink last night? Poison?”

Purdue shrugged. “I feel fine, my dear. Nothing ails me, I promise. I have no headaches, no stomach aches, my sight is clear, and I feel perfectly coherent,” he reported as he gently pulled her hand away from the phone and placed it back on the hook. “My eyes are just letting me down. I am sure it is a temporary malady. Maybe my blood sugar is too high,” he smiled at her as she sat down next to him on the bed.

Purdue ran his fingers through her velvet hair, hoping his eyes would not let him down for the next thirty minutes with her. He wanted to see her in detail, even the tiny moles and skin spots her body bore when she’d removed her clothes the last time. There was no imperfection to the Countess, regardless of her little flaws. His grasp abandoned the dossier as his will abandoned any reason. Every time she touched him, he rejoiced in the abandon of her presence, a sensation he had never felt before with anyone, not even with Nina.

On the floor, the papers of the concise contract lay sprawled in the gentle urging of the wind that came through the light drapes where the Countess enjoyed staring from the window. The seal upon the document was not that of the Bilderberg Assembly or any of the governments represented by the annual secret gathering. It was inscribed in gold ink that shimmered in the blinding light that lent Purdue the necessary light to observe every detail, every aspect of his new lover. What he remained blind to, though, was the mark on her left hand, identical to the emblem on the contract — the double border circle that held within it the inverted pentacle. And entwined within it, the horizontal eight-shape symbol of infinity.