The Medusa Stone

Chapter 9

“Dr. Heidmann, why don’t you just tell us where this oddity came from? I am not the sort of man who flourishes on the misfortune of opportunists,” Purdue explained soberly. “In fact, I admire the unorthodox greatly.”

Don shifted his body to better listen to what Heidmann was going to say, leaning forward with undivided attention. Heidmann’s bloodshot eyes had jumped between Don and Purdue before his shoulders sank limply in surrender. A deep exhale prepared him to divulge the details of how he came to be in possession of a man turned to solid rock.

“I was involved in a dig near the Czech-Polish border about a year ago. I came to know a fellow archeologist. You might say we had a bit of a fling while working together. She was also an antique collector, naturally, a lover of art and such, so she asked me to come with her for a very covert private sale she wished to conclude,” Heidmann recounted, staring at the surface of the table as the vague Led Zeppelin riff seemed to serenade him, a background score to his story.

“W a black market deal?” Don asked.

Dr. Heidmann nodded in affirmation before he continued. “Yes. It was very hush-hush.”

“That did not arouse concern in you?” Purdue wanted to know.

“Of course, it did, Mr. Purdue,” Heidmann defended.

“Dave.”

“Dave,” Heidmann repeated after Purdue. “But I had to escort her to make sure she would not be harmed, you know. I had to go with her to make sure she did not get done in with this purchase she was so adamant about.”

“So where was this deal done then? Ostrava?” Purdue asked.

“Correct. When we got there, she engaged in a heated debate as to the authenticity of a relic the Polish seller presented. I advised her to abandon the purchase, but the seller would not have that. We were in a deserted warehouse where I suppose he kept all his devilish items,” Heidmann sighed, looking more and more agitated as his tale progressed. “The stores had several full-body sculptures in stone and marble in various stages of renovation. I thought nothing of it, you know? I asked for the provenance of the piece the Pole was selling, but…”

“But what?” Don urged zealously, deeply immersed in the story.

Heidmann went on. “Long story short — and I hope you are men of an open mind for what I am about to tell you — while I was arguing with the seller in the office I heard a strange crumbling sound, like rock piling up, sort of,” he frowned in bewilderment. “The bloke pulled a gun and tried to kill me, but I managed to disarm him and scuttled through the warehouse to find Tessa, but…”

“They killed her?” Purdue asked sympathetically. But he could see that Heidmann’s friend met with a fate worse than a bullet. Dr. Heidmann shook his head as if he still could not process the nightmarish memory. When he looked up, his eyes were wide with disbelief.

“She had been turned to stone, Dave,” he whispered harshly. “I swear to God this is the truth! I know what I saw. Tessa was standing in the middle of the floor, halfway to the office where I was threatening the seller, but she was… a statue, a woman carved in rock! Her clothing remained fabric. Only her biology had been altered.”

“I’m sorry. My mind is reeling here,” Don groaned, falling back against the backrest of the booth, mulling it around.

“Donovan, I saw this stone man with my own eyes. This is very real, as mad as it seems,” Purdue assured his friend. He turned to Heidmann. “So how did you get the three statues?”

“I stole them,” Heidmann admitted nonchalantly. By now he had shed all pretenses. “I got a group of my laborers together, and we returned that night. I had to get evidence. Tessa was absent, though. We took the three I have.”

“And how did you come to name them… what you named them?” Purdue asked with great interest.

“Oh, well, the two I called Klónos², for obvious reasons. Given my affinity for ancient Greek Art and culture, I named them the Greek word for ‘clone’. Since they seemed to be twins, clones of one another, it was apt. However, the number two meaning ‘squared’ instead of just ‘two’ has a purpose too. With that I implied that there were many like them, you know, those in the warehouse,” Heidmann clarified to the two men who did not notice just how long ago they last ordered a drink.

“My God, James, I must commend you on your ingenuity,” Purdue praised him. “Seriously, that moniker holds practically all the secrets behind the piece.”

“And the one that broke?” Don asked. “What did you name him again?”

“He called it ‘Son of Zyklon-B’, a most intricate name indeed,” Purdue noted to his friend.

“Oh no, I had nothing to do with the naming of that one,” Dr. Heidmann asserted. “It was labeled that way when I found it among the small army of sculptures in the store room that night. I have no idea what it means.”

“So some were already named?” Don asked after eagerly accepting another drink from the waiter.

“I suppose. I did not take the time to investigate because we had to get hasty before those monsters discovered us there. God, if they caught us they would have turned us into bloody garden gnomes,” Heidmann admitted humorously. “May I have an espresso, please,” he asked the waiter.

“Helen — Prof. Barry — actually brought to my attention that Soula Fidikos had examined that very sculpture of yours, James,” Purdue informed Heidmann. “She was of the mind that the clones were significantly older than the singular statue, according to the type of marble and limestone used to encapsulate it. The finish on the clone piece was apparently thousands of years old by her assessment as an expert on antiquities.”

“Is that a fact?” Heidmann gasped in fascination. “I always wondered why it has a slightly whitish sediment to it as if the marble was more weatherworn. On close inspection, it looks almost porous. Now it makes sense why it looks different from the single statue.”

Purdue was beyond curious.

“Oh shit, I know that look,” Don hummed into his glass before sipping. He was aware of Dave Purdue’s insatiable need to explore all things arcane, steeped in mystery even in the smallest way.

“What look?” Heidmann inquired.

Don gestured toward Purdue, raised an eyebrow and coughed facetiously. “You have opened a huge can of worms, Dr. Heidmann. Madman explorer Dave Purdue finds insane claims like yours nothing short of exhilarating.”

“You cannot argue that this is something unprecedented, Don,” Purdue retorted lightly. He pointed out an item on the menu to the waiter. “Would anyone like to order some food? I’m famished.”

“Are you buying?” Don asked.

“I am,” Purdue replied.

“Then I’m in,” Don announced, taking up a menu to peruse it briskly. “Come on, James, get some grub. It’s free,” he told Heidmann.

Purdue chuckled and passed Heidmann a menu. After they had ordered their meals, Purdue decided to present his idea to his two colleagues. He was positively awestruck with the new developments. Such seemingly impossible things had to be investigated, he believed. It was not about glory or money. Of that, Purdue had more than enough.

“I am still wondering what that name means,” Purdue mentioned, checking his palm-sized tablet for the words. “Excuse my ill manners, gentlemen, but it is eating me up, and I have to know.”

“No worries, Dave. I have been wondering about it myself. In fact, come to think of it, I am quite surprised that I had no bothered to look it up before,” Heidmann conceded.

“Find anything?” Don asked.

Purdue’s grey eyes darted across his screen from behind his glasses as he scrutinized the various results on his search. He neglected to answer Don at first, amazed at what he learned from the information. A slight smile played on his lips as he read. The other two engaged in small talk while they waited for him to conclude his quick study.

Finally, the food arrived. Eagerly the archeologist and the anthropologist scarfed down their meals while Purdue relinquished his hunger for lunch to his thirst for knowledge. Suddenly he lifted his eyes, looking categorically impressed with himself.

“Zyklon is a German word, first of all,” he started.

“But wait. There is more,” Don teased.

“Aye, there is,” Purdue smiled. “Zyklon-B, or ‘Cyclone B’ is hydrocyanic acid. This should provide an accurate estimation of the age of the singular piece, James. Zyklon-B was the poison used by the Nazi’s to exterminate death camp prisoners in the gas chambers! I venture to guess that your broken human was one of Hitler’s victims, but not necessarily by gassing. I think he was the subject of an experiment that was based on a very old mythological monster, my friend.”

Heidmann and Donovan were both spellbound by the shocking revelation.

“Do tell,” Don frowned, trying to match the incredible with the historical.

“My friends, our unfortunate statue was not just a victim of the Nazi’s,” Purdue smiled excitedly. “I believe he came face to face with Medusa.”