Preston Child - The Babylonian Mask

“Authorities are yet to apprehend the elusive murderer responsible for the deaths of two security officers three nights ago and another death last night. The identities of the deceased will be made available once the investigation by the Wiesloch branch of the criminal investigation unit under the Heidelberg Direktion is complete.” Margaret suddenly discerned Sam amidst the onlookers behind the cordon signs and barriers. “My goodness, lad, how you have changed into…,” she put on her glasses and leaned in to get a better look. Approvingly, she remarked, “Quite the good looking ruggard now that you are a man, eh?” What a metamorphosis he had undergone! Now his dark hair was grown out just short of his shoulders, the ends flicking upward in a wild unkempt way that gave him an air of wayward sophistication.

He was dressed in a black leather coat and boots. Around his collar a roughly wrapped green Cashmere scarf adorned his dark features and equally shadowed clothing. In the misty grey of the German morning he was moving through the crowd to get a better look. Margaret noticed him speaking to a police officer who shook his head in response to whatever Sam was suggesting.

“Probably trying to get in, aren’t you sweetie?” Margaret made a tiny smirk. “Well, you have not changed that much, have you?”

Behind him she recognized another man she’d often seen in press conferences and flashy university party footage sent over to the editing booth for news clips by the entertainment editor. The tall, white-haired man craned forward to scrutinize the scene next to Sam Cleave. He, too, was dressed impeccably. He had his glasses tucked inside his front coat pocket. His hands stayed hidden inside his pants pockets as he paced. She noticed his brown, Italian-cut, fleece wool blazer covering what she imagined had to be a concealed sidearm.

“David Purdue,” she announced softly as the scene played out in two minimized versions in the glass of her spectacles. Her eyes moved away from the screen for a moment to shoot across the open plan office to see if Gradwell was stationary. He was quiet for once, perusing an article just brought in to him. Margaret scoffed and returned her gaze to the flat screen with a scoff. “Clearly you did not see that Cleave is still thick as thieves with Dave Purdue, did ya?” she chuckled.

“Two patients have been reported missing since this morning and police spokesperson…”

“What?” Margaret frowned. She’d heard that one. This was where she decided to perk her ears and pay attention to the report.

“…police have no idea how the two patients could have gotten out of the building with only one exit, an exit guarded by officers twenty-four hours a day. It led the authorities and hospital administration to believe that the two patients, Nina Gould and a burn victim only known as ‘Sam,’ could possibly still be at large inside the building. The reason for their absconding, though, remains a mystery.”

“But Sam is outside the building, you idiots,” Margaret scowled, thoroughly confused by the report. She was familiar with Sam Cleave’s affiliation with Nina Gould, whom she’d once met briefly after a lecture on pre-World War II strategies visible in modern day politics ,“Poor Nina. What happened to land them in the burn unit? My God. But Sam is…”

Margaret shook her head and moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue as she always did when she tried to solve a puzzle. Nothing made sense here; not the disappearance of patients through police barriers, not the mysterious deaths of three staff members without anyone as much as witnessing a suspect, and the strangest of all — the confusion of Nina’s fellow patient being ‘Sam’ while Sam was standing outside among the onlookers…in plain sight.

The sharp deductive reasoning of Sam’s old colleague kicked in and she sank back in her chair as she watched Sam disappear off-screen along with the rest of the crowd. She steepled her fingers and stared blankly ahead of her, oblivious to the changing news reports.

“In plain sight,” she said over and over as she articulated her formulas into different possibilities. “In plain sight…”

Margaret jumped up, knocking over her thankfully empty teacup and one of her Press Awards that had been lying on the edge of her desk. She gasped from her sudden epiphany, spurred on even further to speak to Sam. She wanted to get the long and short of the whole matter. By the bewilderment she felt, she knew there had to be several pieces of the puzzle she didn’t have, pieces that only Sam Cleave could donate to her new pursuit of truth. And why wouldn’t he? He would be only too happy to have someone with her logical intelligence to help him solve the mystery of Nina’s disappearance.

It would be a pity if the beautiful little historian were still caught in the building with some kidnapper or madman. Such a thing almost guaranteed bad news, and she didn’t want it to come to that at all, not if she could help it.

“Mr. Gradwell, I’m putting in a week for a story in Germany. Please arrange my away time allocation,” she huffed as she swung open Gradwell’s door, still busy putting on her coat in haste.

“What in the name of all things holy are you talking about, Margaret?” Gradwell exclaimed. He swung around in his chair.

“Sam Cleave is in Germany, Mr. Gradwell,” she announcedexcitedly.

“Good! Then you can fill him in on the story that he’s already there for,” he shrieked.

“No, you don’t understand. There is more, Mr. Gradwell, so much more! It would seem that Dr. Nina Gould is there too,” she informed him through flushing as she rushed to do her belt. “And she is now reported missing by the authorities.”

Margaret took a moment to catch her breath and see what her boss thought. He stared at her in disbelief for a second. Then he roared, “What the hell are you still doing here? Go and get Cleave. Let’s expose the Krauts before someone else hops in a bloody suicide machine!”

“What do they say, Sam?” Purdue asked quietly as Sam joined him.

“They say two patients are missing since the early hours of this morning,” Sam replied just as discreetly as the two walked away from the crowd to discuss their plans.

“We have to break Nina out before she becomes another target for this animal,” Purdue insisted, his thumbnail placed askew between his front teeth as he mulled it over.

“Too late, Purdue,” Sam announced with a sullen expression. He stopped walking and examined the skies above as if he were seeking help from some superior power. Purdue’s light blue eyes stabbed at him in question, but Sam felt as if a stone had lodged itself in his stomach. Finally he gave a deep sigh and said, “Nina is missing.”

Purdue did not process this immediately, maybe because it was the last thing he wanted to hear…next to tidings of her death, of course. Snapping at once out of his moment of thought, Purdue stared at Sam with a look of utmost intent. “Use your mind control to get us some information. Come on, you used it to get me out of Sinclair.” he urged Sam,But his friend only shook his head. “Sam? This is for the lady we both,” he was reluctant to use the word he had in mind and tactfully replaced it with, “adore.”

“I can’t,” Sam lamented. He looked distraught at this admittance, but there was no point in him perpetuating a fallacy. It would not benefit his ego or help anyone around him. “I l-lost…the…ability,” he struggled.

For the first time since the Scottish festivities Sam said it out loud and it sucked. “I lost it, Purdue. When I fell over my own bloody feet running away from Giant Greta, or whatever her name was, my head struck a rock and, well,” he shrugged and cast Purdue a look of terrible guilt. “I’m sorry, man. But I lost that thing I could do. Christ, when I had it I thought it was a spiteful curse — something to make my life miserable. Now that I don’t have it…now that I truly need it, I wish it had not gone away.”