“Did he die? The Allied soldier?” Agatha asked.
There was a long silence.
“His flesh did, I suppose. But the consciousness is energy and cannot be destroyed,” the librarian explained, and with more distinct emphasis on its words, it added slowly, “Only when its energy is displaced or its properties altered, could it be undone from its current state.”
Purdue took note of its deliberate message. And with a flick of the switch, the eccentric inventor pushed his sister out of the way and placed the pod on the floor. The electromagnetic pulse rendered the librarian and all electrical currents powerless and the Library of Forbidden Books was unguarded for Purdue’s scavenging.
Less than twenty kilometers away, on the haunted island of Poveglia, as the locals called it, ARK was completed. And by exclusive radio frequency modules, all the members of the Order of the Black Sun were notified. The activation of Final Solution 2 was imminent and they all had approximately three days to make their way to ARK before the Longinus would be released on the planet’s population. Any human lacking the Aryan chromosome or its genetic markers inhaling XT8 would instantly be depleted of the iron in their hemoglobin and would suffocate within a matter of seconds. Dr. Alfred Meiner was just waiting for Renatus to bring him the final part of the formula before splicing together the deadly strain.
Arriving on Aeroporto Marco Polo Di Venezia, Nina and her companions sought the best way to get to Venice. It had been three days since they escaped the wretched submarine and its monstrous attacker. Sam had arranged the flight and travel details with a contact he refused to disclose, to Nina’s annoyance. Naturally she assumed it was a woman he had sheltered as informant or fuck-buddy, but Sam paid no mind. He knew she would simmer down once they were engaged in a feat to stop the Library of Forbidden books from being discovered by the Black Sun’s consorts.
“We have to get to Hotel Rivamare so that we can work out how to find the library,” Sam said. “I booked us there already.”
“Great! Let’s go,” Nina sighed. She could not believe that she was once more involved in a Black Sun plot, but she figured she should get it over with, so she could return to her freakish house in Oban and seal up the well. There was no way she was going to give up the house she just sank every penny into just because it harbored some portal to other worlds. It was her house and no damned creature was going to intimidate Dr. Nina Gould.
When the four of them arrived at the hotel they had a good lunch, discussing their next move. Philips ate like he had never seen food before, and Sam challenged him every step of the way.
“So, how are we going to find the library before the order tries to finish the code?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know. But what worries me is that the order doesn’t need a lot of information to complete it. What we have might just be a guideline, you know?” Nina speculated. She had just washed down an extra helping of good old-fashioned fried chips with a large Coke and brandy. Her stomach was aching, but it beat being as ravenous as she had been in Aberdeen just before they took Sam to the hospital to bring him back from the brink of death. She could not remember ever being that hungry and she joined the others in a feast of steak and kidney pie with mash offered by the nursing sister who put them up for two nights in Kirkhill.
“No worries,” Richard told them through a mouthful of calamari, “I have enough here to get us right into the library without moving a finger.”
They all looked at the skinny man who ate on eagerly, but for some reason they knew he was onto something. There was no way anything could surprise them anymore.
Chapter 39
Jaap Roodt received his transmission on his car radio, on his preset frequency. He was on his way to his cabin in Schijf, where his wife would be brought soon. It was going to culminate in a rapid housecleaning for Jaap Roodt. Now that he was rid of Don Korsten and soon to be rid of Katrina Roodt, he had little time to flee the Netherlands in his private plane, the one he kept safely where the cabin was situated. He was not dumb enough to use one of his jets at the airstrip, now that MI6 was onto him.
He still could not believe that all his doings had been carefully recorded and leaked by a man he had trusted his life with. But, on second thought, he had to admit that it was not that unusual, considering his own endeavors and the nefarious ways he had conducted business before. Even his secretary did not know how many other women he was involved with since he had married Katrina, and she had no idea how much money he had skimmed from the Black Sun and other reserves he was entrusted with. In all fairness, he would have to admit that what Donovan did was something he, Jaap Roodt, would have done in a blink if it benefitted him. Still, the betrayal was a slap in his face.
And speaking of slap in the face, he could not wait to deal his cheating bitch wife some of that cake. It would almost have been better to keep her alive just to watch him leave for the safety of ARK, while she was locked out from his life, his favor, and his privilege. But alas, she was too much of a risk, and she had thrown his trust in the fire by fucking other men. That was the clincher that convinced him to do away with her once and for all.
“And looky here!” he exclaimed as he arrived in the small clearing that led to their cabin. Immediately his quarrels and worry about the Secret Service were forgotten under the cloak of the sweet murder he was about to witness. Katrina had already lost her luster in his eyes and Jaap would lose no sleep over her demise.
She stood next to Mark, the man Jaap employed to bring her to the cabin. Jaap parked his car behind hers to make sure she had no escape, should she somehow manage to get away from Markus Hoffman, his right-hand man when it came to disposing of garbage. Mark was a forty-year-old athletic man with unfortunate looks, but his cold and reclusive personality made him an asset to criminal bosses. At the same time, Mark sent women like Katrina into a frenzy with such an air of misread enigma.
“Hello, love!” she cried with a big smile for her husband. It was evident that she was drunk again, and she leaned affectionately against her husband’s personal hit man.
“Hello, my darling,” Jaap jested as he unlocked the cabin. “How was your trip?”
“It was fine, thanks,” she slurred. “Markus is a wonderful… uhhh… conversationalist.”
Markus’ face did not twitch from her insinuation, which told Jaap that he had chosen the right man for the job. Unlike his other men, Mark was not as pussy-whipped and easily seduced by an obviously deprived skank like Katrina.
They entered the cozy house. “Mark, start a fire, please,” Jaap ordered. He proceeded to his spare wardrobe in the main bedroom upstairs where he kept replicas of all his outfits, just in case his home was ever compromised. Mark was stacking wood for the fire when Katrina stumbled into the living room, dropping onto the couch with her fresh glass of rum.
“Mark, when are you going to run away with me?” she giggled. Her long, slender legs folded easily under her, stretching her skirt so that Mark could see she was not wearing any panties. Underwear was an aversion she had always harbored. Even her buttoned shirt strained over perky breasts and hard nipples that protruded without the restraint of a bra.
“Mark, did you know that he wants to break my jaw again?” she said suddenly, playing with her glass between her two hands in a whimsical way that evoked a tiny shard of sympathy from the killer.