Die with courage, then, if you have to, her inner voice screamed at her.Do not let them remember you as a blithering, wailing, pathetic creature. If you are meant to survive this, you will. Accept your fate, but nothing wrong with a little hope, aye?
Her emotions opted for indifference, for apathy, as the first pain was introduced — rope burns from the tight ties. When they lifted her, her weight on their shoulders bruised her skin and the cold was chewing at her bare skin. Nina was naked as the day she was born and her hair was tied back harshly so that she would see what was coming.
“You won’t be cold for much longer, Dr. Gould,” one of the hooded men said. His words vanished in the din of the dragon’s breath that thundered throughout the hall a few meters away still. She started to sob in fear. In this nightmare, she could not help it. On her skin she could feel the same gooseflesh, but now the cold had surrendered to the immense heatwaves coming from the hall. Nina pressed her eyes shut, and she hated Sam like she had never hated him before. Under her breath she cursed him to hell, the same hell she was about to enter.
32
A Duet for the Dirge of Deception
Purdue finished his call and tossed his phone onto the bed. Sam was still busy speaking from the landline of the posh hotel room in the Old City. Purdue began packing. The two had decided to go their separate ways. Not only would it save them time, but it would allow them to communicate their plans efficiently across a large radius of countries. Purdue would head to Medina to locate the citadel, while Sam would negotiate with the Militum to free Nina.
“Alright, I’ve informed my friends of my arrival in Cork, and guess what,” Sam told Purdue. “They happen to know about Toshana’s deception too.”
“Grand! When are you leaving?” Purdue asked.
“I have another hour to prepare and then I’m heading to Ireland to get her back, God willing,” Sam sighed.
“I am so sorry, Sam,” Purdue apologized sincerely. “Now that she is gone I actually remember what I am doing and thinking. I swear, because of her thrall over me we have wasted so much time where we could have saved Nina.”
Sam shrugged and gave his friend a slap against the arm. “Look, if you hadn’t been involved with Toshana, we would never have known about the Crown and how to get it, right? I guess things really do happen for a reason.”
Purdue did not look convinced of Sam’s forgiveness, and besides his fresh injuries from Sam’s haymakers in the tunnel, he looked terrible. Nina’s captivity weighed heavily on him, as did Father Harper’s death. Even Jan Harris’ demise saddened him. Like a demoness, Toshana’s words still drifted forcefully through his mind, but he dismissed them. Sam Cleave was proof of true friendship, and so was Father Harper, so her evil recitations had little effect on him now.
“What are you going to do?” Sam asked. Exchanging itineraries were important to them, as much as communication, just in case one of them ran into more trouble than he could handle.
“I have summoned my chopper crew and called ahead to an associate outside Mecca who have a few armed men to spare for the right price,” Purdue winked. “Here is your com-device. Don’t throw it against a wall.” Sam caught the small watch with GPS and reinforced radio receiver capabilities.
“You know, if I had your money, I would leave all this crap behind and buy myself a patch of land in the middle of nowhere, never to be bothered, or hunted, again!” Sam said, shaking his head in amusement at Purdue’s latest bribes.
“Right,” Purdue smiled as he retrieved the damning folder he had signed. “You, my friend, you would be bored shitless, I assure you. You would use your money to travel the world, looking for trouble.”
Sam gave it some thought. “Probably,” he admitted, chuckling. “But right now that isn’t how I feel.”
“Me neither, old boy,” Purdue agreed. “I’m also leaving in an hour, to the roof where my crew will pick me up like a mother hen. We have to meet with Hussain, my contact in Mecca, before afternoon. From there we’re going to look for the citadel, in an ancient and holy city where most buildings look like forts.”
The dark, wild hair of the journalist fell roughly over his brow as he clipped round for round into the magazine of his firearm. “I tell ya, I’ll never be chivalrous again.”
Purdue laughed, “Says the man about to risk his life again to rescue a lady in distress!”
Sam had to laugh with his friend. “Aye, that was a dumb one on my part,” he snorted.
“Oh mate, we do these things because it defined us a long time ago. You can’t help wanting to save people, to throw yourself under the bus and I,” Purdue hesitated, “I can’t help but attract trouble.”
“Aye, I guess you’re right,” Sam nodded. He paused for a long while, finishing his arming and rolling up his shirts to stuff them in his bag. “Poor Harris, though, huh?”
“I know,” Purdue replied. “I did not know her, apart from her off-kilter blame game reports and unprofessional conduct, but the meager time I knew her personally? I could tell she was genuinely trying to help, even if there was something in it for her.”
“Aye,” Sam exhaled. “I’ve called in anonymously to notify the authorities about her body and that of Father Harper’s down there. I suppose now the world will discover the other hallways under the mosque that hid behind the already known passages down there. Nothing is sacred anymore.”
“I doubt they’d blow it wide open for the public, though, Sam,” Purdue reckoned. “They are very protective of their secrets, the Jews and the Muslims, you know? These people preserve thousands of years of tradition with the fervency of old disciples. We should not worry too much.”
“Hopefully you’re right. Let the Templars have their secrets,” Sam preached.
“Ha! Like they don’t already have enough mystery to them!” the billionaire laughed. His smile faded somewhat when he perused the contract he signed with Toshana. “Hey, do we have time for one more drink?”
“We’re Scots,” Sam cheered. “What do you think?”
33
Hell Hath No Fury
Nina’s skin chafed off where the ropes cut into her. The men of the Militum were not foolish enough to use thick rope on such a small woman, so the thinner cord played hell on her joints. She expected the heat to kill her soon, long before anything else would, but she was in for a level of suffering she had not known before (save for the time she was exsanguinated for an immortality elixir in England).
“Ayer, please!” she cried, but she could not hear him anymore, nor could she effectively discern which hooded figure he was. There were only six men present, but Nina felt as if she was at the mercy of an entire army of beasts. They put her down on the floor, their expressionless masks leering down at her, while up above their heads the high ceiling gathered up a cloud of smoke before the four chimneys allowed it passage out.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” she sobbed, making sure to revel in the coolness of the cement under her before being burned to death. One of the men nodded at the others. Suddenly their voices filled the massive hall, as it did that night when they sent off their dead brothers. But this was a different aria, a sacrificial hymn just for Nina. The words in Latin and ancient Greek reverberated in the hollow space around them as the bellow of the goat’s head fire challenged the power of their sound. Had it not been a song for a slow death, Nina would have thought it rather beautiful.