Every Friday I will be publishing a portion of my fan fiction sequel to The Adventurer: Curse of the Midas Box. This is by no means endorsed by either the author of the novels nor the creators of the films. This is just a requested sequel as I picture it. Enjoy.
Gormenburg was becoming impatient.
It was not usual that someone defied him, especially once he’d ordered their capture.
And yet there he was, sending agents back worse for the wear and empty-handed. Will Charity was starting to become a nuisance.
He looked out from the balcony he stood on, watching the moonlit streets of a sleeping city as a rare few scurried back and forth. Some were delivering messages, others were merely out for profit, while others were tourists eager to return to the relative safety of their hotel. Whatever the case, Gormenburg’s attention was caught most of all by the stranger who stood rather attentively in the shadows. One needn’t have looked much closer to see that he wore the uniform of a German secret service officer.
He almost sneered.
Proof that the men he now worked for did not trust him much more than those from his original government. It was a pity they were fools. In truth, they had no reason to trust him at all, but it wasn’t as if their caution would make it any harder for him to do to them what he had always done and cleverly stay ahead of the game.
There came a knock on the door.
He took a seat in a chair by the balcony window, watching as one of his hirees approached the door to open it. Normally, he would not have taken on even one servant, but Gormenburg trusted the foreigners here more than he did those in civilized countries. There he might have to deal with a man’s principles and intellegence to inferfere with his work. Here, the men would take his money and be all the more glad for it.
It was the German secret agent.
His pursed mouth and sharp nose were made all the more severe by the moonlight that fell over the curves of his face as he stepped across the Persian rug to approach Gormenburg.
His tone made it clear that this intruder was not welcome nor wanted.
The second man, to his credit, did not flush nor even blink.
“Herr Professor, this was delivered to me to give to you.”
He held what appeared to be a telegram out, though Gormenburg savored the pleasure of his power by making the German wait several minutes. In between that time the only sound to be heard was a low whimper that was distinctly female.
“What was that?” The German asked, stiffening.
Gormenburg took the telegram without an answer. He scanned the page without truly reading; he was too busy waiting to see what the German might do.
The whimper grew louder and escalated to something like a howl or a moan, accompanied by a noisy thumping. Luckily, the source of the noise could not be placed – he had seen to that.
The German’s eyes were wide as he looked at the man before him.
“Do you not hear that?” He asked. His hand inched towards the gun on his belt.
A scream pierced the air and with that he flew away. Skittish, these Germans. The door was left swinging open, but one look at a manservant had it closed again.
Standing, he approached the wardrobe in the corner, pushing it aside to reveal a rather large hole in the plaster, in which a figure trapped in rope and tightly bound cloth was still tied up. Her mouth may have been covered well, but his wife could certainly make noise if she wanted to.
“There, there, my love. You frightened our guest away,” he chided.
Gormenburg reached a hand out to touch her chin, but she jerked away. His hand was more rough as he turned her head, forcing her to look at him.
“You know, I regret that you could never have known, never could have shared all of this with me. It might have made things so much easier between us if I could have.”
The dark look she gave him back was one that made what little heart he had left squeeze.
“Now, now. I did what I thought was best. It was you that did something foolish, sending them away with those pieces.”
Her eyes sparkled with tears as he continued to speak, laying out the next steps of his plan. Not that she’d be able to appreciate his marvelous plan, insolent woman that she was. It was just a shame that he’d loved her.
“…And don’t worry about our favorite gentlemen. They’ll be joining us shortly.”
Her brows knit with confusion, then panic as she realized his intentions. She shook her head vehemently and rocked from side to side on the balls of her feet, but Gormenburg had been careful to put her in a position where he knew she couldn’t bring any harm to him. He was not so foolish as to underestimate her abilities; she was still a former agent of the Bureau of Antiquities.
“Perhaps you can get Will to rescue you before then,” he said. His voice was tinged deeply with bitterness. “He always was fond of you.”
Before sliding the wardrobe back in front of her, he looked at her with perhaps the most candid emotion ever displayed to her in twelve years.
“I regret it.”