Deep Sea One (23 page)

Purdue animated, reached into the chest to claim its prize. Sam stepped back slightly, wary of the consequences, yet he kept filming.

"This is the chest recovered from the floor of the North Sea recently, discovered by myself, Dave Purdue, with the assistance of Dr. Nina Gould and esteemed investigative journalist Sam Cleave," Purdue announced to the camera, as he held the object in his hands. "We are now about to uncover the contents of the chest."

He unwrapped the leather covering, its texture smooth and flaccid in his hands. Uncovered, they found the item to be a dagger of sorts, missing the narrowing frontal blade. Half of it was enveloped in pale yellow metal and the other part made of steel and silver, bound together in a powerful hilt. Purdue's face froze in astonishment as he looked at Nina. In turn she was speechless and Sam knew that they had stumbled on the very thing that the pursuit of had almost cost them their lives.

"It can't be," she finally managed.

"Why not? How do you know this is not the genuine article?" Purdue started to smile, at first at a loss for words, but now thoroughly elated at his find. Between them they could feel the relic's power radiate through them, but it was not an altogether positive feeling. Something about it challenged their morality and loyalty, something irrepressible that toyed with their sensibilities.

"Well, is it or is it not the Holy Lance?" Sam pressed, intent on getting it all on film.

Purdue's eyes combed the length of the artifact, checking for all the trademarks just to make sure. Of course, Nina would have to study it to confirm its authenticity, but as far as notable features went, this was the genuine article he held in his hands. Purdue felt his heart racing, every beat an explosive throb of welling power. He imagined what he could attain now. Was there any truth in the legend that whoever owned the Spear of Destiny wielded untold, immeasurable power? He could not deny that the overwhelming thrall of the object played with his soul in ways he feared few men could resist.

"Dr. Gould, would you do us the honor of examining the artifact?" Purdue asked, as he gently wrapped it again.

"I would be honored," Nina replied, while inside her she screamed with glee at the find.

Purdue placed the knife back in the ominous chest and Sam stopped filming. As he closed the viewfinder of his camera, the well-behaved and professional Purdue uttered a victorious cry.

In the control room the light dimmed.

From the immediate heavens above Deep Sea One the clouds grew in size, darkening as the wind began to stir up the surface of the ocean.

"It's happening," Darwin whispered to himself. Alarmed, he raised his voice, "Liam! It's happening!"

Liam came in to see the storm birthed right in front of them. It was not as discernible to the other staff on the oil rig, but because they had previously discussed the very phenomenon, the two men observed such things more keenly.

"My God, it's uncanny," Liam marveled while a little ball of fear developed in his core. He did not know why, but the whole business had an unnatural feel to it and being out here on a godforsaken oil drill that could be swallowed up in a moment, was not reassuring at all. The gales turned angry and swerved over the workmen who moved quickly to secure everything before the storm escalated. As soon as they completed their tasks they made for the cover of the buildings.

Nina sat and rested her elbows on the table, perching her chin on her hands. Sam could not read her expression. Her eyes were blank over her pouty mouth and she just sat there while Purdue went on about the possibilities should the item be authentic.

"Thoughts?" Sam asked.

"I'm just listening to the thunder," she said dreamily. "Did you notice?"

"No, actually, until you mentioned it just now," Sam answered, surprised that he did not realize that they were caught in a devastating storm raging around the meager structure in the middle of the tempestuous waters.

He looked out the window and saw the crew cowering in all directions to secure their stations. Below them the grey water rose and plummeted in massive clashes of white foam and sea spray while the wind jerked the loose signage and the tarps under the corrugated roofs. It howled violently around the buildings and accompanied the rumble of the skies, fraught with dangerous charge.

"Wow, it's really battering us out there," Sam noted. Nina nodded. With careful hands she shut the chest and clipped the lock to hold the lid. Sam reviewed the footage of the unveiling while Nina and Purdue had a cup of tea. Rather rapidly the storm subsided. Within mere minutes it had retracted its fury and grew quiet to abandon the onslaught. Astonished, the crew came out on the platform to scrutinize the heavens. It was a strange occurrence, but there had been many unexplained incidents reported over the years, making this just another freak storm.

"Mr. Purdue, I would like to start studying the relic right away," Nina announced, "and I will be ready to head to the mainland by tomorrow."

"The mainland?" Purdue frowned.

"Yes, I have to research and examine the item in the proper environment, of course," she replied.

"I'd rather you didn't, Dr. Gould," he said. "You should conduct your research here. The Spear of Destiny is not something you should examine in plain and public sight. It should be done clandestinely before sharing the results with the outside world, don't you think?"

Nina was dumbstruck.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with it here, Dave?" she snapped in a high-pitched voice that he knew to be her aggression surfacing. With her hands firmly on her hips she continued, "You can't keep something like this cozily hidden on a fucking oil rig, for Christ's sake! What are we going to find out about it when it rots on this reclusive piece of junk? At the university I have everything I need—"

"Including Matlock's undeniable defeat at the sight of the Spear, right?" Sam insinuated as to her motives.

"Shut up, Cleave!" she barked with her finger pointed in a gesture of warning. He knew just how to get on her nerves and he enjoyed employing the skill every now and then.

"Nina," Purdue interrupted, wrapping his hands around her upper arms to hold her steady, "you have no need of the university, my dearest," he smiled.

"What do you mean? Of course I need a decent lab to do my work," she moaned in disbelief of Purdue's ignorance.

"Indeed you do. And I have everything you need right here," he said calmly.

"Where? You mean to tell me you have a lab on this platform somewhere I can't see? Because I have been around this place a bit and I have not seen any signs of a laboratory. So where is it supposed to be hiding, then?" she shot her sarcasm. Purdue let go of her arms.

"Below."

☼

Chapter 29

DCI Patrick Smith had an appointment with one Mrs. Lancashire in Glasgow. He waited outside the gardens of his hotel for her car to collect him. He felt strangely numb about it all, although he had every reason to be unsure of his choices and he realized that he was clutching at his coat more than usual as he stood on the curve of the driveway in the late afternoon sun, which did not give much in the way of strength for him.

At a few minutes before five o'clock an inconspicuous vehicle stopped. A man in a suit got out.

"Detective Chief Inspector Patrick Smith?" the man asked plainly.

"Yes," Patrick replied quickly and the man opened the back door for him. Before he rounded the car, Patrick watched him briefly speak into his Bluetooth earpiece before he climbed in behind the steering wheel.

The police officer started at the loud click of the central locking system and acted as if he was used to the protocol of secret meetings with government bodies. Acting calm he peered out at the passing traffic, wondering what he was letting himself in for. But whenever doubt crossed his mind he would think of his good friend, Sam Cleave, and his encouraging words when he last saw him in the pub.

He knew that Sam was supposed to be back home soon from some wild-chase expedition and he wanted to at least have some news when they hit the pool tables again. It had been years since Patrick really took a chance in life, apart from the one skydiving instance where he almost died of fright, but he was due for a change. Besides, the course he wanted to take in his career, he believed, would serve a greater purpose than interrogating drug distributors and arresting pimps with better clothes than he had. He was elite and he had finally come to embrace it.

When they turned into the tree-lined lane in the West End he noticed that his fingers were wet with perspiration. Of course he was nervous. In this line of work, should he be accepted, there were more serious consequences and a lot more to look over his shoulder for. But the money was better, the perks were better and most certainly he could do with a less hands-on approach to the vermin in the gutters. For so many years he envied the suave and rugged men of this unit, thinking of reasons why he did not measure up, until one night after a few drinks he decided that he was every bit as capable as they were and made up his mind.

Passing Byers Road and its festive cafes and restaurants he started wondering what the woman looked like who was to interview him. He had heard of her once from one of the braggarts at the state office, but other than that he could find no information on her anywhere. And Patrick Smith could garner information from the mute mouths of corpses, if he so wished. He had an impeccable nose for deduction, intelligence and reconnaissance, making him an asset to any organization he would serve.

Down Ashton Lane the vehicle slowed and turned into the obscured driveway behind a disused little cinema. The trees sheltered the slow-moving car as the small tar path led to a parking bay of an old Victorian building with ferns growing from its foundations and rather malicious-looking cherub statues. Patrick looked up to the third story of the building where a shape stood in the window, watching him. It moved aside when the car stopped.

The driver opened his door, "Sir."

"Thank you," Patrick replied, and straightened his blazer before entering the door opened by a distinguished old lady.

"DCI Smith, welcome to Ashton House," she smiled. "Please, do come in."

After the obligatory pleasantries and a cup of tea, Mrs. Lancashire came to the point.

"Your credentials are very impressive, Detective Chief Inspector, but, as you know, this organization is not about who scored the highest marks or who arrested the most people. We need someone of reckless ambition with a knack for blending into the most mundane roles to obtain what we need," she stated with great ceremony.

"I understand, madam," he replied with as firm a tone as he could muster.

"Personally I think you look too clean for the job, but then again, I have been wrong before in judging prospective operatives and was left with my foot firmly in my mouth," she sighed with a little smile.

"I have been in contact with your one-up, and he has agreed to allow you to assist us with a small matter, after which your performance will be assessed, determining your future, if any, in this organization. Your brief military training is also vital here, which is good. Good," she said, perusing Patrick's file in front of her.

He swallowed hard. This was the moment of truth. Now he was allowed one chance to prove his worth and in his mind DCI Smith repeatedly reminded himself to listen closely to what Mrs. Lancashire said. Nothing was as catastrophic as a miscommunication in MI6, the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS).

"I shall inform Vauxhall Cross of your inclusion in this operation and you are not to contact your current supervisor or discuss any of the details," she said, her formerly kind smile now substituted by a stern commanding expression.

"I understand, madam. When does my involvement commence?" he asked.

"As soon as you have been briefed, DCI Smith. You will be notified of the arrangements, but what I can tell you now is that the Portuguese government is working with the SIS to apprehend a rogue operative working for a German organization profiting from the sale of biological weapons. You will be dispatched to Germany for the duration of the operation to infiltrate and report on the status of the organization of one Walter Eickhart, a Nazi war criminal now active in the acquisition of bio-weaponry and rare artifacts," she told Patrick. It sounded like the very thing he had always wanted to be involved in, although deep inside he harbored some uncertainty as to his ability to pass the language barrier with his level of bad German.

"Oh, and don't be concerned about your command of the language," she added as if she could read his expression, "You will be working for a British company suspected of dealing with Eickhart."

She chuckled at the relief in his demeanor and with that she thanked him for coming so soon and showed him out, as she had attended to the front door.

"We'll contact you soon, DCI Smith. I look forward to seeing what you can do," she nodded as she shook his hand.

Patrick beamed with victory as the car drove him back to his hotel, two blocks from the pub where he was aiming to celebrate his appointment, even if it was probationary. He wished that he could call Sam and boast, but he simply had to wait for him to return from his stint in some foreign country with lovely Nina Gould.

☼

Chapter 30

Purdue waited until after dinner for all the crewmen to retire and then met up with Sam and Nina in his office to have a word. He trusted the two of them implicitly with what amount of information he was willing to relinquish.

"Please come in and sit down," he told them.

"I have a feeling you are about to drop a bomb on us, Mr. Purdue, one of many you have so much pleasure in dumping?" Sam smiled, as he entered. Purdue closed the door behind them and drew the blinds to the well-lit platform outside. Nina leaned forward with a look of anticipation that he felt intimidated by. He wanted her involved, not just because she was the best in her field, but because he adored her in rich ways she would never allow and he wanted her around him. Of course, he would never tell her that for fear of chasing her off.