Preston Child - The Babylonian Mask

Werner had no idea what the old man was up to, but he’d learned by now to keep his questions to himself and to watch things unfold. “This way.”

Ten minutes later the two men stood in front of the digital keypad of the chamber where Schmidt kept his twisted Nazi dreams and relics. Marduk sized up the door and the keypad. On closer inspection, he realized that it would be harder to break in than he’d initially imagined.

“He has a back-up circuit that alerts him if anyone tampers with the electronics,” Marduk told the Lieutenant. “You will have to go and distract him.”

“What? I can’t do that!” Werner whispered and shouted at the same time.

Marduk foiled him with that incessant tranquility. “And why not?”

Werner said nothing. He could very easily distract Schmidt, especially in the presence of the lady. Schmidt would hardly raise a stink with her in their company. Werner had to concede that it was the only way to get the mask.

“How will you know which mask it is?” he finally asked Marduk.

The old man did not even bother with an answer. It was so obvious that, as keeper of the mask, he would recognize it anywhere. All he had to do was turn his head and look at the young lieutenant. “Tsk tsk tsk.”

“Okay, alright,” Werner admitted it was a stupid question. “Can I use your phone? I have to get Sam Cleave to run a trace on my number.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, son. I do not have one of those. When you get upstairs, use Margaret’s phone to contact Sam. Then cause a genuine emergency. Say, fire.”

“Of course. Fire. Your thing,” Werner remarked.

Ignoring the younger man’s dig, Marduk explained the rest of the plan. “As soon as I hear the alarm I will unlock the keypad. Your captain will have no choice but to evacuate the building. He won’t have time to come down here. I’ll meet you and Margaret outside the base, so make sure you stick with her at all times.”

“Got it,” Werner said. “Margaret has Sam’s number?”

“They are, as they say, ‘trauchle twins’ or something of that sort,” Marduk frowned, “but in any event, yes, she has his number. Now go and do your thing. I shall wait for the signal of chaos.” There was a hint of a jest in his tone, but Werner’s face was filled with utmost focus for what he was about to endeavor.

Although Marduk and Werner had secured an alibi at the infirmary for taking so long, the discovery of the back-up circuit called for a new plan. Werner used it, however, to aid him in a believable story for when he should arrive at the office and find that Schmidt had already alerted security.

In the opposite direction from the corner where the Base Infirmary entrance was marked, Werner slipped into an administration archive room. Successful sabotage was imperative, not only for Marlene’s rescue, but for practically saving the world from another war.

In the small corridor just outside the bunker, Marduk waited for the alarm to go off. Agitated, he was tempted to attempt fiddling with the keypad, but he refrained from it to avoid getting Werner caught prematurely. Marduk had never thought the theft of the Babylonian Mask would cause this much open hostility. Usually he could manage to eradicate thieves of the mask quickly and surreptitiously, returning to Mosul with the relic without much interference.

Now, with the political stage being so fragile and the motive behind the most recent theft being world domination, Marduk believed it was inevitable for things to get out of hand. Never before had he had to resort to breaking into places, deceiving people, or even showing his face! Now he felt like a government operative — with a team, no less. He had to admit that it felt good to be accepted as part of a team for the first time in his life, but he was just not the type — or the age — for such things.The signal he had been waiting for without warning. Red lights above the bunker started flashing as a visual silent alarm. Marduk used his technological knowledge to override the patch he’d recognized, but he knew that it would send an alert to Schmidt without the alternative password. The door opened, revealing to him the bunker filled with old Nazi artifacts and communication devises. But Marduk was not there for anything other than the mask, the most destructive relic of all.

Just as Werner had told him, he found the wall lined with thirteen masks, each of which resembled the Babylonian Mask with uncanny accuracy. Marduk ignored the subsequent intercom calls for evacuation as he checked each relic. One by one he examined them with his impressive sight, prone to scrutinize details with the intensity of a raptor. Each mask looked like the next, a slender skull-shaped covering with a dark red interior that teemed with the composite engineered by wizards of science from a cold and cruel era that could never be allowed to repeat itself.

Marduk identified the cursed mark of those scientists, adorning the wall behind the electronic technology and communication satellite controls.

He scoffed derisively, “Order of the Black Sun. It is time for you to set beyond our horizons.”

Marduk took the genuine mask and slipped it under his coat, zipping up the large, interior pocket. He had to hurry to join up with Margaret and hopefully Werner, if the boy had not been shot yet. Before he exited into the reddened illumination of grey cement in the subterranean corridor, Marduk halted to survey the hideous chamber one more time.

“Well, I’m here now,” he sighed laboriously, while gripping between his two palms a steel pipe from the cabinet. In just six blows, Peter Marduk destroyed the power grids of the bunker, along with the computers Schmidt was using to mark the territories bound for attack. The power outage, however, was not restricted to the bunker, but was actually tied-in to the administrative building of the air base. A complete blackout ensued all over Büchel Air Base, sending the staff into a frenzy.

After the world had seen the television report of Sultan Yunus ibn Meccan’s decision to change locations for the signing of the peace treaty, the general consensus was that a world war was looming. While the alleged assassination of Prof. Marta Sloane was still unclear, it was still cause for concern by all citizens and militaries globally. Peace was about to be established by two ever-warring factions for the first time, and the event in itself was apprehensive at best for most of the world’s spectators.

Such restlessness and paranoia was the order of the day everywhere, therefore having a blackout at the very air base where an undisclosed airman had crashed a fighter jet mere days before, was cause for panic. Marduk had always enjoyed the chaos of stampeding people. The confusion always lent a certain lawlessness and disregard for protocol to the situation, and this served him well in his need to move undetected.

He slipped up the stairwell to the exit that led onto the quad where the barracks and administrative buildings met. Flashlights and generator powered troopers lit up the vicinity in a yellow spray light that penetrated every reachable corner of the air base. Only the mess hall sections were dark, yielding a perfect path for Marduk to take on his way through the secondary gate.

Regressing to a convincingly slow limp, Marduk finally made his way through the rushing military staff, where Schmidt shouted orders for pilots to be on stand-by and security personnel to lock down the base. Marduk soon reached the gate guard that had first announced him and Margaret when they had arrived. Looking decidedly pathetic the old man asked the frantic guard, “What is happening? I’ve lost my way! Can you help? My colleague strayed from me and…”

“Yes, yes, yes, I remember you. Please just wait at your vehicle, sir,” the guard said.