The Vault of Hercules

Chapter 20

Sam was exhausted, even after getting a proper night's sleep.

After he’d shared his information with MI6 and the local police, he’d had a talk with Paddy. That’s when he’d decided to resurface and return Nina's calls. He hadn’t known that what he thought he was pursuing was only the tip of the iceberg. Paddy was not obliged, or inclined, to share anything with him, but since Sam had risked his life to try and find Paddy's daughter, the agent thought it only fair to give Sam a bit of the detail on the case of the missing girls.

It was running deeper than just a psychopath capturing young girls for his fetishes. More so, it ran deeper even than a human trafficking ring stealing women for prostitution and profit. There was a more sinister, ancient operation at play, and Valdi was just the foot soldier. Although Paddy and his people did not dabble in that side, as he called it, he did think it was quite important for the case to have that side investigated. The special agent figured that it was probably the missing piece of a deadly puzzle that the government agencies refused to entertain and therefore lacked the resources to proactively break the case.

He implored Sam to hold off on the renegade action and asked him instead to mind his own business. David Purdue was currently under scrutiny by several agencies that could not arrest him before having proof of his illegal procurement of ancient artifacts.

Paddy blamed Purdue for getting him involved, which had ultimately caused the personal vendetta for which he now paid with his daughter's life. Emotional and tired, he hardly managed to talk about it with Sam, but one thing was certain: Sam's best friend had become someone else. The rigid and formal manner in which his best friend addressed him tore though his heart. His childhood mate, his companion and support through years of good and bad, was now no more than a shell of a man he used to know. And it was all the fault of David Purdue and his relentless pursuits.

Sam grew more furious with Purdue with every sentence his friend spoke, and especially as he watched Paddy's distress bleed out in tears when he spoke about the madman who’d taken his daughter. After the threat he’d received from Igor Heller a few years ago, his worst nightmare had come true. He was paying the price for being involved in Heller's arrest, something that would never have occurred had Purdue's excursion in Romania not called on Paddy to help them.

Special Agent Patrick Smith was not a vindictive man, but it was clear to Sam that he categorically blamed his daughter's abduction on both Sam and Purdue. There was nothing Sam could do to restore his friendship with Paddy, and Paddy conveyed this in a dreadfully professional tone that hurt Sam irreparably. There was only a cordial tether now, one only utilized should Sam agree to assist MI6 with any clues he could unearth from Purdue.

“What he knows about the stolen Ark of the Covenant is pivotal to this investigation,” Paddy told Sam. “We have reason to believe that Valdi was sent by the Cosa Nostra to collect these girls, based solely on whatever is contained in that relic, Sam. That ties Purdue directly to it. Purdue's latest find holds the answer to why our daughters are being harvested and only you can get inside his circle to find out what it is.”

“He has been trying to contact me. It could be related to the relic, who knows? Also, Nina has left me voice messages stating that she is with Purdue. Either they’ve decided to rekindle their old romance or something is afoot in the relic world again, you know?” Sam informed Patrick, with two of his colleagues present in their Glasgow base of operations.

“Then you know what to do,” Patrick said abruptly, and rose from his chair to leave the room. He did not even shake Sam's hand or say goodbye.

Sam maintained his own professional decorum in turn, but only to save face in front of Paddy's colleagues. He could not show his disappointment or hurt in front of them, and so he became the investigative journalist most people knew by reputation. Sam Cleave thanked the agents in attendance for their help and dismissed himself with a promise of staying in touch to keep them posted on Purdue's endeavors.

What he was not sure of, however, was whether he meant that. Slightly pissed off at being treated like this even after what he’d attempted for Paddy's sake, Sam had second thoughts about adhering to everything he was expected to do for MI6. On the other hand, this chain of events truly was the legacy of what Dave Purdue had begun, therefore making him as guilty of Sam's loss as anything else.

As Sam exited the makeshift base office in East Kilbride, he felt free, truly free, for the first time in ages. A wild card, he now held in his hands the progress of both Purdue and Paddy, a friend of neither anymore. Both men had caused him great distress and reignited his rogue status of old. Loyalty had profited him nothing, he realized, apart from his friendship with Nina. She was the only one who did not have a direct hand in his latest quandary, but as long as she was in cahoots with Purdue, Sam was forced to keep her in the dark too.

He got into his car and took a deep breath. Sam felt good, regardless of the blows to his emotional state. It was the freedom of not caring anymore that gripped him and reminded him that they needed him more than he needed them. Now he had to get back to Nina and see what she was proposing, something she’d elected not to mention on the voice messages. Her secrecy alone proved to Sam that she was also involved with whatever Purdue was onto.

“Hello, Nina?” Sam said when she answered her phone. “Why do you sound like somebody died?”

“Where the hell have you been?” Nina asked, but her voice was strange. He expected her to say the words, but he expected to hear them in a different tone of voice. Something told Sam that Nina was not herself, something that alarmed him just a little.

“Busy,” he said. “Not been feeling myself lately, as you know. But I think I’m ready to deal with stuff again, Nina. What did you need me for?” He played dumb, which was important to being objectively involved.

“Purdue is launching an expedition and he asked that you join us,” she informed him. “We’ll need your input on a few things, though. There are some holes in our theory that you might be able to help us with if you could find some more detail on the subject.”

“And that subject would be?” he asked as he started his car. His journalistic intuition got the better of him and he had to ask. “Nina? What is wrong over there?”

“We’ll fill you in once you are here,” she said, sounding strangely stiff. That affirmed his suspicions.

“Be there soon,” Sam promised and hung up the phone. He drove out onto the expressway, feeling rejected and empty from all sides. But at least he’d get to spend some time in the company of his favorite brunette, Nina Gould. The day was nearing late afternoon as he headed for Edinburgh, to the mansion of the man who’d caused him only misery in his personal relationships. Sam still hadn’t made up his mind about spying on Purdue for Paddy, because to his mind neither man deserved his help anymore.

When he got to Edinburgh, he braced himself for the new waves of information that would no doubt be poured over him by Nina and Purdue. He had no idea what kind of relic it was this time, but he knew that it would explain the kidnappings, and that was enough incentive for Sam to get involved. At the gates of Wrichtishousis, Sam knew definitively that something was wrong.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the security man said when Sam stopped at the gates.

“Afternoon, is the man in?” Sam asked, using his journalistic eye to absorb all the details that did not gel too well with the usual rituals he knew at Purdue's gates.

“Yes he is, sir,” the suited man affirmed. “Your name, please?”

Right, there's proof that there is a world of shit here about to strike the fan, Sam thought. Just when I thought I was out of trouble.

“Is this a joke?” Sam laughed. Guido's thugs scowled at the pompous asshole giving them a difficult time. He knew if he persisted with an obnoxious manner they would have to summon Purdue. “Come on, are you the strippers he got me for my birthday? Hurry up, then! I have a party to get to!”

“Is this mook out of his mind?” the one muttered to the other just inside the small gate office. While they contemplated the annoying idiot's fate, the screen of the intercom flashed and Purdue's face appeared on the little LED screen.

“That is Sam Cleave. Let him in,” the owner of the property commanded. Medley inched into the camera angle with him and ordered her husband's men firmly, “He is one of us. Open the gates.”

“Go right in, sir,” the confused henchman told Sam, trying to smile.

“Ta very much, my lad,” Sam cheered and screeched away up to the circular driveway in front of the main entrance. His reckless driving and absurd joviality always confused detractors long enough for him to figure things out. As long as people thought he was drunk they would not react too harshly toward him.

“That freak works with the boss and Prof. Medley?” the one gate man asked his colleague as he watched the beat up old BMW scoot and swerve. The other shrugged, “Hey, you've seen the types the boss had at the New Years' thing. Christ, sometimes I think there is meth in money, 'cause all these rich bastards are rabid as fuck!”