The two men burst out laughing with Nina as the three of them made it into the main examination room, heading towards the office.
“Almost time to knock off again,” Barry revealed as they passed the clock on the wall.
“Yes, and I have a date with Sarel and a cue stick tonight,” Glen said. Upon questioning glances, he elucidated. “A Dutchman down at the pub, bragging he could beat me at snooker. Ha! Like he even knows how to hold the bloody stick the right way round in the first place.”
“I’ll have to occupy your office a bit longer, though, doctor,” Nina asked-told Glen. “To get through the records and get the information I need.”
“Of course. No problem,” he replied. “Barry, will you be staying too?”
“Um,” Barry stammered, his hands nervously fumbling in his pockets. “My wife will kill me if I’m late one more time. Besides, she got us Dr. Gould, so I don’t want to piss the old bird off so soon after a favor.”
“That’s true, mate,” Glen agreed as he rid himself of his white coat. “Was rather a quiet day, thank God. Dr. Gould, I’ll tell security that you’re here to help me with paperwork, so they’ll know you’re here. Alright?”
“Great, thanks,” Nina smiled, sitting down. “Listen, before shift change, could you ask Anya for more of those magic pills? I fear my sobriety walks hand-in-hand with pain tonight.”
“Of course,” Glen laughed. Ten minutes later Nina found herself alone in the administration office of the medical examiners with plenty of coffee and a hauntingly quiet zombie house she did not enjoy being hosted in.
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.