Preston Child - The Babylonian Mask

Werner had been calculating it all in his head. “Let me recap,” he said. “If you wear the mask as just a mask, it is harmless and useless.”

“Yes,” replied Marduk, sinking his chin and blinking slowly.

“And if you peel some skin off some dead target and put it on the inside of the mask and then put it on your face…God, I gag just saying that…your face becomes that person’s face, right?”

“Another Brownie for Team Werner.” Sam smiled, and pointed when Marduk nodded.

“But then you have to burn it off with fire or wear it and go blind before going crazy eventually,” Werner frowned, concentrating to get his ducks in a row.

“Correct,” Marduk affirmed.

Dr. Fritz had one more query. “Has anyone ever figured out how to escape any of these fates, Mr. Marduk? Has anyone ever liberated the mask without blindness or a fiery demise?”

“Like Löwenhagen did? He actually put it back on again to take Dr. Hilt’s face and leave the hospital! How did he do that?” asked Sam.

“The fire dislodged it the first time, Sam. He was only fortunate enough to survive. The skin is the only way to evade the fate of the Babylonian Mask,” Marduk said, sounding utterly indifferent. It had become so much a part of his existence that he had grown tired of reciting the same old facts.

“The…the skin ?” Sam cringed.

“That is exactly what it is. It is essentially the skin of the Babylonian Mask. It must be applied to the face of the Masker in time, to dissemble the fusion of the Masker’s face and the mask. But our poor, disillusioned quarry has no idea of this. He will soon realize his mistake, if he has not already,” Marduk answered. “The blindness usually takes no more than three or four days, so wherever he is, I hope he isn’t driving.”

“Would serve him right. Fucker!” Kohl grimaced.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Dr. Fritz said. “But gentlemen, I really do have to implore you to leave before the administrative staff catches wind of our overdrawn pleasantries here.”

To Dr. Fritz’s relief they all agreed this time. They retrieved their coats and slowly prepared to leave the office. With nods of acknowledgement and final words of parting the Air Force pilots left, keeping Marduk in their custody for show. They elected to meet up with Sam a bit later. With this new turn of events and the much needed sorting out of confusing facts, they wanted to rethink their roles in the big scheme of things.

Sam and Margaret met up in her hotel restaurant while Marduk and the two pilots were on their way to the Air Base to report to Schmidt. Now Werner knew that Marduk was familiar with his commander as per their earlier interview, yet he did not yet know why Schmidt would keep knowledge of the sinister mask to himself. Granted, it was a priceless artifact, but with his position in a pivotal body such as the German Luftwaffe, Werner figured there must be a more politically motivated reason behind Schmidt’s hunt for the Babylonian Mask.

“What will you tell your commander about me?” Marduk asked the two young men he accompanied as they walked toward Werner’s Jeep.

“I’m not sure we should tell him about you at all. From what I’m deducing here, it would be better if you help us find Löwenhagen and keep your presence a secret, Mr. Marduk. The less Captain Schmidt knows about you and your involvement, the better,” Werner said.

“I’ll see you at the base!” Kohl hollered from four cars away, unlocking his own car.

Werner nodded. “Remember, Marduk doesn’t exist and we could not yet find Löwenhagen, right?”

“Got it!” Kohl approved the plan with a small salute and a boyish grin. He got in his car and drove off as the late afternoon light set the skyline of the town ablaze ahead of him. It was almost sundown and they had reached the second day of their search, still ending the day without success.

“I suppose we’re going to have to start looking for blind airmen?” Werner asked quite sincerely, regardless of how ridiculous his request sounded. “It’s the third day since Löwenhagen used the mask to escape the hospital, so he should be having trouble with his eyes by now.”

“That is correct,” Marduk replied. “If his system is strong, which it is not thanks to the fire bath I gave him, he could take longer to lose his sight. This is why the West did not understand the old ways of Mesopotamia and Babylonia and deemed us all heretics and murderous brutes. When ancient kings and chieftains burned the blind in witch-like executions, it was not out of cruelty of false accusation. Most of those instances were the direct cause of employing the Babylonian Mask for their own subterfuge.”

“ Most of those instances?” Werner asked with a raised eyebrow as he turned the Jeep’s ignition, looking suspicious of the aforementioned methods.

Marduk shrugged, “Well, everyone makes mistakes, son. Better safe than sorry.”

Exhausted and filling with a steadily growing sense of regret, Olaf Löwenhagen sat down in a pub near Darmstadt. It had been two days since he’d deserted Nina at Frau Bauer’s house, but he could not afford to lug a partner along on such a covert assignment; especially one that had to be led around like a mule. He was hoping to use Dr. Hilt’s money to buy a meal. He also contemplated getting rid of his cell phone, just in case it was being traced. By now the authorities had to have realized that he was the one responsible for the murders at the hospital, which is why he did not commandeer Hilt’s vehicle to make his way to Captain Schmidt, who was at Schleswig Air Base at the time.

He decided to risk using Hilt’s cell phone to make one call. This would probably land him in hot water with Schmidt as cell phone calls could be traced, but he had no other choice. With his safety compromised and his mission gone dreadfully wrong, he had to resort to more hazardous avenues of communication to establish a connection with the man who had sent him on the mission in the first place.

“Another Pilsner, sir?” the waiter asked suddenly, jolting Löwenhagen’s heart into overdrive. He looked up at the dim-witted waiter with a voice of deep boredom.

“Yes, thank you.” He changed his mind quickly. “Wait, no. I’ll have schnapps please. And something to eat.”

“You have to take something from the menu, sir. Anything you like there?” the waiter asked indifferently.

“Just bring me a seafood dish,” Löwenhagen sighed, vexed.

The waiter scoffed and smirked, “Sir, as you can see we don’t offer seafood. Please order a dish we actually offer.”

Had Löwenhagen not been waiting for an important meeting or had he not been weak from hunger, he may well have used the privilege of wearing Hilt’s face to bash in the skull of the sarcastic cretin. “Just bring me a steak, then. Geeeezusss! Just, I don’t know, surprise me!” the airman yelled furiously.

“Yes, sir,” the stunned waiter replied, gathering up the menu and beer glass rapidly.

“And don’t forget the schnapps first!” he shouted after the apron-donning idiot, who scampered towards the kitchen through the tables of staring patrons. Löwenhagen sneered at them and emitted what sounded like a low growl that crawled out from deep in his gullet. Disturbed by the dangerous looking man, some people left the establishment while the others carried on with nervous conversations.

An attractive young waitress dared to bring him his drink as a favor to her terrified colleague. (The waiter was collecting himself in the kitchen, preparing to face the irate customer once his food was ready.) She smiled apprehensively as she set down the glass and announced, “Schnapps for you, sir.”