Blackbird

Chapter 9: The Grand Vizier

A day after that curious incident,Henry was flipping through old books and newspaper trying to figure out the meaning of that peculiar phrase he found in the painting.The missing policemen were found unconscious and tied up inside a hidden room and the curator merely survived his injuries.But why did he point at that painting?What was so important in an old painting and how did it related to this case?What was with the flying men stories and that shady figure who spoke in German?...All these questions cluttered in his head and he could hardly find any answers after all he wasn't any detective.

After a nap of an hour and some light lunch he decided to call upon his old friend - Charlie- an retired american professor of archaeology,who stayed a few streets ahead of his house."If anyone can find meaning in these mysterious writings and shed some light upon this case,it is Prof.Charles Houston.",thought Henry ...

"From one source",said Charlie looking at Henry's notebook."It is a Norwegian phrase...But the painting that you found this phrase written upon has nothing to do with the phrase!". "And what does this masked clan has to do with it?"asked Henry. "Ah!Yes, the man...that hooded figure you saw that said those words to you was obviously a German and if I am right then this must be the work of that notorious masked thieve gang that had created a lot of nuisance all over Europe last summer..." said Charlie. "I do remember reading something about them in the papers...So this gang has been stealing all over europe and now they have stolen a Van Gogh from London..That's bad news.."said Henry as he lit a cigar. "It's a good thing you understand German...Here is the butler with the tea...Put it down on that table Jose ...Thank you..", said Charlie. Henry sat down thinking - "a gang of thieves,a stolen painting,a torn piece of paper..Yes but where is it? ...I thought I had brought it with me ...maybe it had fallen on the way here..."

It was almost getting dark,Alexei and his eight hiker friends were struggling through the thick snow trying to find a suitable place to rest for the night. They wanted to reach the summit of the Oterton mountain but the hostile weather with the thick snow and strong winds had made it almost impossible for them. They have been travelling for three days with all their snow equipments,skis and sledges, walking only during the day. "Let's set up camp here tonight",said Alexie taking off his backpack."Good idea",said Yuri,one of the team members, "those bushes will provide us shelter from this dreadful weather...Zinaida... come help me with the tents".

The crew hurriedly set up a modest camp as the blizzard grew stronger and the winds began to howl. After everybody got in , Rustom started to heat up the stove,"I don't think that's a good idea...we might suffocate if you burn it inside", said Alexei ."Well I'm not going to die from this cold...and a few minutes won't kill us .",said Rustom annoyingly. The others agreed and began to drink to ease their shivering bodies. Zinaida asked,

"Alexei,are you sure we aren't lost?...The map shows a curved road to the Oterton hills but the road we have travelled so far had no curves... meaning we are moving towards the Dead mountains".Alexei was getting tired and the whiskey was making him sleepy,he asked her not to worry and that he had it all under control...

The winds grew stronger,shaking the tent and the stove kept burning slowly while the nine hikers slept inside their sleeping bags drunk from the whiskey and dead tired from the exhaustion. A few hours passed,the storm had died down,Alexei suddenly woke up to find the tent half open,the stove still lit but his friends were all gone. He rushed outside calling out their names,but he could see nobody in the dark. Suddenly he stumbled upon a shoe on the ground,it was one of Yuri's,but his friend was nowhere to be found. He took his torch out and began searching frantically,falling, stumbling in the thick snow,but all he could find were socks and shoes scattered all around the tent...

"From One Source all things depend; but the Source is from the One and Only"

Henry stood at the door staring at the empty hall. "Gerard?" he called out, "Hello, is anyone there?", Henry shouted as he walked towards the outer hall. Suddenly a voice came from behind, "Hüte dich vor dem maskierten Clan!" Henry turned around and saw a hooded figure standing at the back entrance. "What?... Wait!.. Who are you?" But before he could say another word the man disappeared behind the door. Henry was really puzzled at this bizarre incident. He had lots of questions in his mind but before he could seaech for answers he decided to look for the missing policemen and the curator...

He went outside... Nothing but a big lawn leading upto the streets... He went back inside towards the broken glass casing and found it marked and shattered as before except for a notebook on the floor. As he went to pick it up he heard a whimper, someone was moaning behind the podium of the glass case. Henry followed the voice and saw the curator lying down on the floor with a small cut on his head...

"Are you all right Sir, What happened..", asked Henry helping the man to sit up. The man was whispering something faintly- "en..en.. kil..."

"What?... how did this happen? where are the others?", said Henry. The curator whispered again,pointing towards a painting on the wall - "the...source.. " and fell unconscious on the floor again. Henry tried to wake him up but in vain. He walked up towards the painting on the wall,it was an abstract art depicting angels from heaven, dated 1760 and on the lower left side he noticed something written-"Fra en kilde"...

"Niemand weiß, wo ich bin... wo ich lebe"

It had just stopped raining and the street was slowly getting busy again. Henry looked at the wall clock, it was half past twelve in the afternoon and he was tired.

He has spent the entire morning scouring through old newspapers papers, reading obscure letters and trying to find clues that could shed some light on this peculiar case. The papers reported of a painting by the great post impressionist painter, that was stolen from the auction house in London last night. But it was how the crime was committed in particular that drew a lot of attention from the public. Apparently "flying men" all wrapped in black came crashing down from the rooftop, knocked out the guards and took the painting away. "Their eyes glowed red! Like the devil.. ", said one of the guards when Henry interviewed him in the hope of getting some fresh perspective on this peculiar crime."Not an exciting piece of evidence...", thought Henry and decided to check out the crime scene for himself after all inspector Gerard of the scotland yard was a close friend...

The hall was filled with scattered glass pieces, broken sticks and chairs while the constables were carefully noting down everything in their diaries. Henry greeted the inspector who allowed him to take a look around...

The painting was held in a square glass case, which now lay half shattered, and was supposedly to be put out for auction this morning."Which room is that?", Henry asked pointing towards a dimly lit room. "That's the storage room Sir...", said the curator. "I hope you don't mind if I take a look inside",said Henry and walked towards the room. Strange and ancient artifacts were arranged and labelled inside that candle lit room... old weapons, termite ridden old books, carefully covered valuable paintings, etc. "But what's this?", he noticed a small piece of paper on the floor. He picked it up and held it up against the candle light. It was possibly torn off from a page and written in german. It read-"nobody knows where I am or where I live.." Henry was puzzled and started to carefully observe the paper...

Suddenly there was a lot of commotion coming from the outer hall, the policemen shouted and whistled. Henry put the piece of paper in his diary and hurried towards the hall, but by the time he reached it, the entire hall was empty, not a soul was to be seen, as if everyone disappeared into thin air!