Order of the Black Sun Box Set 5

by Preston William Child

  “The Black Sun is predominantly German,” Purdue continued to whisper while checking the hallway. “They have people everywhere. And who do they want to wipe off the planet most of all? Me, you and Sam. What better way to get us all together to chase an elusive treasure than to insert a double agent, a Black Sun operative, to play the victim? A victim with all the answers is more like… a villain.”

  “Have you managed to decode the information, Nina?” Detlef asked as he came in from outside, dusting off his shirt.

  Purdue gave her an intense look as he stroked her hair one last time before going into the kitchen to get a drink. Nina had to keep her cool and play along until she could somehow figure out if Detlef was playing for the wrong team. “Almost done,” she told him, hiding any doubt she was harboring. “I just hope we get enough information to find anything useful. What if this message is not about the location of the Amber Room?”

  “Don't worry. If that is the case, we will attack the Order head-on. To hell with the Amber Room,” he said. He made a point of staying away from Purdue, at least avoiding being alone with him. The two did not get along anymore. Sam was distant and spent most of the time alone in his room, leaving Nina feeling utterly alone.

  “We will have to leave soon,” Nina suggested loudly for everyone to hear. “I am going to decipher this broadcast and then we have to be on our way before somebody finds us. We will call the local authorities regarding Kiril's body as soon as we are far enough from here.”

  “I agree,” Purdue tossed in his vote from the door where he was watching the sun die. “The sooner we get to the Amber Room the better.”

  “Provided we get the right information,” Nina added as she wrote down the next line.

  “Where is Sam?” Purdue asked.

  “He went to his room after we cleaned up Kiril’s mess,” Detlef answered.

  Purdue wanted to talk to Sam about his suspicions. As long as Nina could keep Detlef occupied, he could warn Sam as well. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Purdue knocked louder to wake Sam in case he was sleeping. “Master Cleave! This is no time to snooze. We have to pack up soon!”

  “Got it,” Nina exclaimed. Detlef came to join her at the table, eager to know what Milla had to say.

  “What does she say?” he asked, falling into the chair next to Nina.

  “This looks like coordinates, maybe? See?” she suggested, shifting the paper to him. While he looked at it, Nina wondered what he would if he noticed that she had written down a fake message just to see if he already knew every move. She had fabricated the message, waiting for him to doubt her work. Then she would know if he was steering the group with his number sequences.

  “Sam is gone!” Purdue shouted.

  “Can’t be!” Nina shouted back, waiting for Detlef’s response.

  “No, he is really gone,” Purdue wheezed after searching the entire house. “I have looked everywhere. I even checked outside. Sam is gone.”

  Detlef’s cell phone rang.

  “Put it on speaker, champ,” Purdue insisted. With a vindictive leer, Detlef obliged.

  “Holtzer,” he answered.

  They could hear the phone being passed on to someone while men were talking in the background. Nina was disappointed that she could not finish her little test for the German.

  The true message from Milla she had deciphered did not yield just numbers or coordinates. It was far more disturbing. While she was listening to the phone call, she was hiding the paper with the original message in her slender fingers. It read, ‘Teufel ist gekommen’ first, followed by ‘shelter object’ and ‘contact compulsory’. The last part simply said ‘Pripyat, 1955’.

  Through the speaker of the phone they heard a familiar voice, confirming their worst fears.

  “Nina, ignore what they say! I can survive this!”

  “Sam!” she shrieked.

  They heard scuffling, as his captors physically disciplined Sam for his audacity. In the background, a man told Sam to say what he had been told.

  “The Amber Room is in the Sarcophagus,” Sam stammered, spitting out the blood of the blow he had just received. “You have 48 hours to retrieve it or they kill the German Chancellor. And…and,” he panted “take control of the EU.”

  “Who? Sam, who?” Detlef asked quickly.

  “It is no mystery who, my friend,” Nina told him outright.

  “Who do we deliver it to?” Purdue jumped in. “Where and when?”

  “You will receive instructions at a later time,” a man said. “The German knows where to listen for it.”

  The call ended abruptly. “Oh my God,” Nina moaned through her hands as she buried her face in her palms. “You were right, Purdue. Milla is behind it all.”

  They looked at Detlef.

  “You think I am responsible for this?” he defended. “Are you out of your minds?”

  “You are the one who has given us all the directions so far, Mr. Holtzer - from Milla’s broadcasts no less. The Black Sun is going to send our instructions through the same channel. Do the fucking math!” Nina shouted, restrained by Purdue not to attack the large German.

  “I knew nothing about this! I swear! I was looking for Purdue to get an explanation how my wife died, for Christ's sake! My mission was just to find my wife's killer, not this! And he is standing right there, Liebchen, right there with you. You are covering for him, still, after all this time, and all along you knew he killed Gabi,” Detlef shouted furiously. His face had turned red, and his lips quivered in rage as he drew his Glock on them, opening fire.

  Purdue grabbed Nina and pulled her to the floor with him. “To the bathroom, Nina! Go! Go!”

  “If you say I told you so I swear I'll kill you!” she yelled at him as he pushed her forward, barely dodging the well-placed slugs.

  “I won’t, I promise. Just move! He is right on us!” Purdue pleaded as they slithered over the threshold of the bathroom. Detlef shadow, massive against the corridor wall, swiftly moved closer to them. They slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it just as another shot rang out, chiming against the steel door frame.

  “Jesus, he is going to kill us,” Nina wheezed as she checked the medicine cabinet for anything sharp she could use when Detlef would inevitably crash through the door. She found a pair of steel scissors and slipped them into her back pocket.

  “Try the window,” Purdue suggested, wiping his brow.

  “What is wrong?” she asked. Purdue looked sick again, sweating profusely and clutching at the handle of the bath tub. “Oh God, not again.”

  “That voice, Nina. The man on the phone. I think I recognized him. His name is Kemper. When they said the name on your recording, I felt the same way I do now. And when I heard that man's voice on Sam's call, this horrible nausea hit me again,” he confessed through ragged breaths.

  “You think these spells are caused by someone's voice?” she asked hurriedly as she pressed her cheek flat on the floor to see under the door.

  “I’m not sure, but I think so,” Purdue answered, fighting the overwhelming embrace of oblivion.

  “There is someone in front of the door,” she whispered. “Purdue, you have to stay awake. He is at the door. We have to go through the window. Do you think you can manage?”

  He shook his head. “I'm too exhausted,” he huffed. “You have to g-get…uh, out…”

  Purdue spoke incoherently as he stumbled toward the toilet with outstretched hands.

  “I am not leaving you here!” she protested. Purdue vomited until he was too weak to sit up. It was suspiciously quiet in front of the door. Nina guessed that the psychotic German would be patiently waiting for them to exit so he could shoot them. He was still in front of the door, so she opened the taps in the bath to mask their movements. She opened the faucets all the way and then carefully opened the window. Patiently Nina unscrewed the burglar bars with the blade of the scissors, one by one, until she could remove the contraption. It was heavy. Nina groaned as she twis
ted her torso to put it down, but found Purdue's hands raised to help her. He put the bars down, looking like his old self again. She was absolutely taken aback by these strange spells that made him terribly sick only to release him shortly after.

  “Feeling better?” she asked. He nodded with relief, but Nina could see that the constant attacks of fever and vomiting were rapidly dehydrating him. His eyes looked weary, and his face was pallid, but he acted and spoke as he always did. Purdue helped Nina through the window, and she jumped onto the grass outside. His tall body arched awkwardly through the rather narrow opening before he leaped down beside her.

  Suddenly, Detlef's shadow fell over them.

  When Nina looked up at the giant threat, her heart nearly stopped. Without a thought, she jumped up and stabbed him in the groin with the scissors. Purdue knocked the Glock from his hand and claimed it, but the slide was locked back, indicating an empty magazine. The big man had Nina in his grip, laughing at Purdue's failed attempt to shoot him. Nina pulled the scissors out and stabbed him again. Detlef’s eye burst as she shoved the closed blades into his eye socket.

  “Come Nina!” Purdue shouted, discarding the useless weapon. “Before he gets up. He is still moving!”

  “Yeah?” she sneered. “I can change that!”

  But Purdue pulled her away, and they fled in the direction of town, leaving behind their belongings.

  25

  Sam stumbled behind the tyrant with the scrawny frame. From a laceration right below his right eyebrow, blood was trickling down his face and stained his shirt. The thugs were holding him by his arms, dragging him along to the large boat that was bobbing on the Gdynia bay water.

  “Mr. Cleave, I expect you to comply with our every command or else your friends will be blamed for the death of the German Chancellor,” his captor informed him.

  “You’ve got nothing to pin on them!” Sam contested. “Besides, if they play into your hand we are all going to end up dead anyway. We know how sick the Order's objectives are.”

  “And here I thought you knew the extent of the Order's genius and capabilities. How silly of me. Please, don't force me to make an example of your associates to show you how serious we are,” Klaus snapped snidely. He turned to his men. “Get him on board. We have to go.”

  Sam decided to bide his time before trying to summon his new skills. He wanted to get some rest first to make sure it would not fail him again. They roughly dragged him over the jetty and pushed him onto the unsteady vessel.

  “Bring him!” one of the men ordered.

  “I shall see you when we reach the destination, Mr. Cleave,” Klaus said genially.

  ‘Oh God, here I am on a fucking Nazi ship again!’ Sam bemoaned his fate, but his mood was hardly docile. ‘This time, I am going to rip their brains apart and make them kill each other.' Oddly he felt stronger in his ability when his emotions were negative. The darker his thoughts became the more powerful the tingling in his brain felt. ‘It is still there,’ he smiled.

  He had grown used to the sensation of the parasite. Knowing that it was nothing but an insect from the youthful days of earth made no difference to Sam. It gave him an immense power of mind, probably hotwiring some abilities long forgotten or yet to be developed in a distant future. Perhaps, he thought, it was an organism specifically conditioned to kill, much like the instincts of a predator. Maybe it diverted energy from certain lobes of the modern brain, rerouting it to primal psychic instincts; and since those instincts served survival, they were not out to torment but to subdue and kill.

  Before shoving the battered journalist into the cabin, they had reserved for their captive, the two men who handled Sam stripped him naked. Unlike Dave Purdue, Sam did not struggle. Instead, he spent the time inside his mind, locking out everything they did. The two German gorillas stripping him was odd, and from what little German he understood, they were taking bets on how long it would take the Scottish runt to break.

  “The silence is usually the denial portion of the descent,” the bald one smiled as he pulled Sam's briefs down to his ankles.

  “My girlfriend does that just before she throws a fit,” the scrawny one remarked. “100 euros that he'll cry like a bitch by tomorrow.”

  The bald thug gave Sam a stare of intense scrutiny, standing uncomfortably close to him. “You're on. I say he tries to escape before we make it to Latvia.”

  The two men chuckled as they left their prisoner naked, tattered, and seething behind the mask of his straight face. When they closed the door, Sam remained motionless for a while longer. He did not know why. He simply did not feel like moving, although his mindset was not at all in chaos. Inside he felt strong, capable and powerful, but he stood still right there to just take in the situation. The first movement was that of his eyes alone, studying the room where they had left him.

  Around him, the cabin was far from accommodating, as he would have expected from cold and calculating masters. Cream colored steel walls met in four bolted corners with the floor cold and bare under his feet. There was no bed, no toilet facilities, and no window. Only the door, bolted around its edges in a similar fashion as the walls. There was but one lonely bulb weakly illuminating the miserable room, leaving him with little sensory stimulus.

  Sam did not mind the deliberate lack of distraction, because what was intended to be a torture method courtesy of Kemper was a welcome blankness for his hostage to engage into fully focusing on his mental abilities. The steel was frigid, lending Sam the choice of standing all night of getting his buttocks frozen. He sat down without much consideration for his quandary, hardly impressed by the sudden coldness.

  “Fuck it,” he said to himself. “I'm Scottish, you imbeciles. What do you think we endure under our kilts on an average day?” The chill under his genitals was certainly not pleasant but it was bearable, and that was what was needed here. Sam wished there was a switch to turn off the light above him. The light was disturbing his meditation. As the boat rocked under him, he closed his eyes, trying to lock out the throbbing headache and the burn of his knuckles where the skin had ruptured during his fight against his kidnappers.

  Gradually, one by one, Sam locked out small inconveniences such as pain and cold, slowly sinking into more hefty cycles of thought until he could feel the current in his skull escalate like a restless worm waking in the core of his skull. The familiar surge coursed through his brain, and some of it oozed into his spinal cord like trickles of adrenaline. He felt his eyeballs heat up as the mysterious lightning filled his head. Sam smiled.

  The tether formed in his mind's eye as he tried to lock on to Klaus Kemper. He did not have to locate him on the ship as long as he spoke his name. After what seemed like an hour he still had not been able to latch his control onto the tyrant in his vicinity, leaving Sam weak and sweating profusely. Frustration threatened his control as well as his hope at the attempt, but he kept trying. Finally, he had exerted his mind so much that he lost consciousness.

  When Sam came to it was dark in the room, leaving him uncertain of his state of being. No matter how he stretched his eyes, he could not see anything in the pitch dark. Eventually, Sam started to question his psyche.

  ‘Am I dreaming?’ he wondered as he reached out in front of him, his fingertips left unsatisfied. ‘Am I under the influence of that monstrous thing right now?’ But he could not be. After all, when the other took control, Sam usually witnessed what was happening through what felt like a thin veil. Resuming his previous endeavor, he extended his mind like a seeking tentacle into the darkness to find Klaus. Manipulation was an elusive pursuit, it appeared. Nothing came of it, apart from distant voices in a heated discussion and others in clamorous laughter.

  Suddenly, like a lightning strike, his perception of his surroundings disappeared, making way for a vivid memory he had not been aware of before now. Sam frowned as he recalled lying on a table under dirty lamps shedding pitiful light in a workshop. He remembered the extreme heat he was subjected to in the small workplace f
illed with tools and containers. Before he could see more, his memory yielded another sensation his mind had chosen to forget.

  Excruciating pain filled his inner ear while he was lying in the dusky hot place. Above him, a dripping mess of tree sap spilled from a barrel, barely missing his face. Under the barrel, a large fire crackled in the wavering visions of his reminiscence. It was the source of the intense heat. Deep in his ear, a sharp sting provoked him to scream out in agony as the yellow syrup dribbled onto the table next to his head.

  Sam caught his breath as the realization hammered itself into his mind. ‘The amber! The organism was caught in the amber that old bastard was melting! Of course! When it melted, the bloody thing was free to escape. It should be dead after all that time, though. I mean, ancient tree sap is hardly cryogenics!' Sam bickered with his logic. It had happened while he had been half conscious under the blanket in the work room – the possession of Kalihasa – while he had still been waking from his ordeal on the cursed vessel DKM Geheimnis after it had spewed him out.

  From there, with all the confusion and pain, things grew murky. But Sam did remember the old man rushing in to stop the spilling yellow goo. He also recalled the old man asking him is he had been expelled from hell and who he belonged to. Sam had instantly answered ‘Purdue’ at the old man’s inquiry, more of a subconscious reflex than actual coherence, and two days later found himself en route to some distant, covert facility.

  It was there that Sam had made his gradual and difficult recovery under the supervision and medical science of Purdue’s handpicked team of physicians until he was ready to join Purdue at Wrichtishousis. To his delight, it was also there that he was reunited with Nina, his inamorata and object of his ongoing joust with Purdue over the years.

  The whole vision lasted only twenty seconds, yet it felt as if Sam had relived every detail in real time - if the concept of time even still existed in this distorted sense of existence. From the fading recollection, Sam's reasoning returned to an almost normal range. Between the two worlds of psychic wandering and physical reality his senses switched like levers adjusting to alternating currents.