Preston Child - The Babylonian Mask

A sympathetic expression came over Nina’s face, exacerbating her already weary look. It was easy to tell that she was far from well, but they tried to keep their concern to themselves.

“I’ve called her hotel. She has not returned or checked out,” Sam seethed. “If anything happened to her, Marduk, I swear to Christ I will personally…”

“We have to get this done. Now!” Nina snapped them out of it with the stern announcement, “Before I lose my gall.”

“She has to be transformed before Dr. Gordon and the rest of Prof. Sloane’s people arrive, so how do we do this?” Sam asked the old man. Marduk responded by simply handing Nina the mask. Looking anxious to touch it, she took it from him. All she kept in mind was that she had to do this to save the peace treaty. She was dying anyway, so if the removal did not work, her deadline would just move up by a few months.

Looking at the inside of the mask, Nina winced through the tears lining her eyes.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“We know, love,” Sam said reassuringly, “but we will not let you die like this.” …like this…

Nina had realized already that they did not know about the cancer, but Sam’s choice of words was unintentionally haunting. With a straight, determined face Nina took the container that came with the pictures of Sloane and used tweezers to remove the grotesque contents from within. They all forced the task at hand to overshadow the sickening act, as they watched the patch of skin tissue from the body of Marta Sloane fall into the inside of the mask.

Curious to a fault, Sam and Purdue pushed together to see what would happen. Marduk simply watched the clock on the wall. Inside the mask, the tissue sample instantly disintegrated and across the normally bone-colored surface, the mask bled into a dark red hue that seemed to come alive. Minute ripples ran through the surface.

“Don’t waste any time or it will expire,” Marduk warned.

Nina caught her breath. “Happy Halloween,” she said, and with a painful grimace she buried her face inside the mask.

Purdue and Sam waited anxiously to see the hellish contorting of facial muscles and the furious bulging of glands and folding skin, but they were disappointed in their expectations. Nina squealed a bit when her hands released the mask and it stayed behind on her face. Nothing profound happened at all, apart from her reaction.

“Oh my God, this is creepy! This is freaking me out!” she panicked, but Marduk came to sit next to her for some emotional support.

“Relax. What you are feeling is the fusion of cells, Nina. I believe it will burn a little from the nerve endings being stimulated, but you have to let it take form,” he coaxed.

As Sam and Purdue looked on, the slim mask just reshuffled its composition to blend with Nina’s face until it sank gracefully beneath her skin. Only slightly visible, Nina’s features morphed into Marta’s until the woman before them was the spitting image of the one in the picture.

“Un-fucking-real,” Sam marveled as he watched. Purdue’s mind was in overdrive on the molecular fabric of the entire transformation on a chemical and biological level.

“This is better than science fiction,” Purdue muttered, as he leaned in to scrutinize Nina’s face. “This is fascinating.”

“And gross and macabre. Don’t forget that,” Nina said carefully, unsure of her ability to speak while wearing another woman’s face.

“It is Halloween after all, love,” Sam smiled. “Just pretend you are really, really good at dressing up as Marta Sloane.” Purdue nodded with a tiny smirk, but he was too preoccupied with the scientific miracle he was witnessing to do much else.

“Where is the Skin?” she asked with Marta’s lips. “Please tell me you have it here.”

Purdue had to answer her, whether they were in social radio silence or not.

“I have the Skin, Nina. No worries about that. As soon as the treaty is signed…” he trailed off, letting her fill in the blanks.

Shortly after, Prof. Sloane’s people arrived. Dr. Lisa Gordon was a nervous wreck, but hid it well under her professional demeanor. She had informed Sloane’s immediate family that she was ill and had shared the same update with her staff. Due to the condition affecting her lungs and throat, she would be unable to make her speech but would still be present to seal the accord with Meso-Arabia.

Leading the small group of press agents, lawyers, and bodyguards, she headed straight for the section marked ‘Private — Visiting Dignitaries’ with a knot in her stomach. It was mere minutes before the start of the historical symposium and she had to make sure everything went as planned. Entering the room where Nina was waiting with her companions, Lisa kept her game face on.

“Oh Marta, I’m so nervous!” she exclaimed as she laid eyes on the woman who had an uncanny resemblance to Sloane. Nina just smiled. As Lisa had requested, she was not allowed to speak; she needed conform to the charade in front of Sloane’s people.

“Give us some privacy for a minute, alright?” Lisa told her team. Once they closed the door, her entire disposition changed. Her jaw dropped at the face of the woman she would have sworn was her friend and colleague. “Holy shit, Mr. Purdue, you wern’t kidding!”

Purdue smiled cordially. “Always good to see you, Dr. Gordon.”

Lisa caught Nina up on the basics of what was needed, how to accept the announcements and so on. Then came the part Lisa had been most concerned about.

“Dr. Gould, I take it you have practiced forging her signature?” Lisa asked very quietly.

“I have. I believe I’ve got it down, but with the illness my hands are a bit less steady than usual,” Nina responded.

“That’s fine. We’ve made sure everyone knows that Marta is very sick and that she is suffering mild tremors while receiving treatment,” Lisa replied. “That would help to account for any deviation in the signature, so God willing, we might pull this off without incident.”

The press offices of all the major broadcasters had representatives at the venue’s media room in Susa, especially since all satellite systems and stations had been restored miraculously since 2:15 am that morning.

When Prof. Sloane came out of the hallway to enter the meeting room with the Sultan, cameras turned in unison towards her. Flashes from long lens, high definition cameras created strobes of bright lights against the faces and clothing of the escorted leaders. Tense with focus, the three men responsible for Nina’s welfare stood watching the whole affair on a monitor in the change room.

“She’ll be fine,” Sam said. “She even practiced Sloane’s accent, just in case she had to answer any questions.” He looked at Marduk. “And as soon as this is over, you and I will be looking for Margaret Crosby. I don’t care what you need to do or where you have to go.”

“Mind your tone, son,” Marduk replied. “Keep in mind that without me, dear Nina will not be able to restore her image or maintain her life for long.”

Purdue nudged Sam to reiterate the call for amicability. Sam’s phone rang, disturbing the atmosphere in the room.

“It’s Margaret,” Sam declared, glaring at Marduk.

“See? She’s fine,” Marduk answered indifferently.

When Sam answered, it wasn’t Margaret’s voice on the line.

“Sam Cleave, I presume?” Schmidt hissed in a lowered voice. Immediately, Sam put the call on speaker for the others to hear.

“Aye, where is Margaret?” Sam asked, not wasting any time with the obvious nature of the call.

“That is none of your concern right now. Your concern is where she will be if you do not comply,” Schmidt said. “Tell that bitch impostor with the Sultan to abandon her errand or else you can pick up the other bitch impostor with a shovel tomorrow.”