Order of the Black Sun Box Set 4

by Preston William Child

  When he had had enough, he stumbled ahead to where they had entered. This time, he made sure that he did not get caught on the sharp teeth of the junk metal and die of tetanus. In fact, he pictured his large body being caught up in the tangles of steel and rust, being left there to starve to death with nobody coming to find him. Don wondered what it would feel like to have infected scratches, bleeding out while the starvation and thirst tormented him day after day until he went mad with despair.

  “Christ, aren’t you a bloody ray of sunshine, Donny-boy?” he reprimanded himself as he climbed through the other side and realized that he would not be spending his last days as dried Scottish jerky. On the other side of the fence, there was nothing, but a heinous thought suddenly surfaced in his head to prompt Don to dash toward the tree line.

  ‘What if that ugly snake-headed thing was around here?’

  The very thought of the repulsive girl he saw in the weak headlights of the van kept Don unaware of his fatigue or the sting in his side as he ran for shelter under the dark trees. He had to stick to the road, though, to make sure he did not get lost. And with his luck, he would probably end up at some shack to ask for directions and get captured by the serpent monster and become dinner.

  It was too dark to see anything and his cell phone screen was of no help. The rain prevented any listening for movement, but he could have sworn that he could hear the sound of an engine idling somewhere nearby. Thinking that it was just his hopeful ear being mean to him, he took rest briefly against a tree. From where he leaned with his back against the trunk and his legs folded under him in a crouched position, he surveyed his surroundings.

  With no light whatsoever, Don was practically blind as he stretched his eyes to see into the blackness. As his sight adapted to the dark, he saw something in the distance. Narrowing his eyes to see better, he discerned two tiny red specs floating stationary in the dark. Again the occasionally calming rainfall allowed for him to hear the engine again.

  At once it hit Don like a hammer. “Holy shit! It’s the van! Oh please don’t be dead. Don’t be dead, guys!” he gasped, forcing his weary body to scamper for the red lights. He barely made it past a ditch he did not see, falling like a fallen tree as his ankle twisted under him.

  “David!” he cried, unworried about being heard by enemies or snake-haired women. “David! Over here!”

  From the darkness nearby a rustle of leaves announced the approach of footsteps. Too tired to care, Don just held his ankle and waited. From the wet night, a sharp beam of white light darted all over the place, lighting up tree bark, leaves, branches, weeds and falling droplets as it grew brighter. It fell on Don’s face, and he gladly stared into the painful sting of the glary light. His heart throbbed with elation as he recognized the sweet voice of Dr. Nina Gould in the cold black ahead of him.

  “Nina!” he called.

  “Aye! We’re coming, Don. I can see you,” she answered, sounding better than the crisp hiss of a popped beer bottle cap.

  “Thank God!” he panted. “I thought you had left already.”

  They picked him up, flinging his arms over their shoulders. “We were leaving, but Nina asked me to stay a while longer, just in case,” Purdue smiled. “And here you are.”

  Nina did not ask for Costa, the true reason she had asked Purdue to wait for a while. As they approached the minivan and she glanced back into the emptiness, a feeling of depression gripped her as she realized that Costa had been lost to her.

  24

  With the news from Don that he had not been able to find Costa or Heidmann in the wake of the close call, Purdue decided to return to the lodge to regroup and ascertain the damage.

  Nina kept her discovery in the hand of the petrified soldier secret for now, just until she had time to peruse the scribbling on it. It was not a small note as she first through when she saw it in the statue's fist. In her hand, it felt like a few pages about the size of a writing pad, folded neatly, hopefully holding valuable information.

  They left the other two members of the group behind in hopes of hearing from them soon. Purdue reluctantly drove away from the warehouse, genuinely hoping that the two men would be unharmed.

  Overhead, above the slanted roof of the warehouse, the thick clouds wept onto the Czech soil where the scent of fresh mud filled the air. Inside the structure, Heidmann was searching Costa’s jacket pockets, turning up nothing but useless cashier slips and chewing gum wrappers. The failed artist turned collector steadily grew more impatient as he rummaged yet was left unrewarded for his trouble.

  He had no idea if Costa had what he wanted on his person, but it was worth searching him for it nonetheless. Finally, he just patted down the unconscious Costa, wishing he had rather killed him, a feat he intended to accomplish once he had obtained the information from Costa himself. When Heidmann ran his hands along Costa’s side, he felt nothing. His left hand wandered across the cataleptic professor’s chest and felt a lump under his shirt. Heidmann caught his breath in excited anticipation, tugging carelessly at the seam of the black turtleneck to lift it up over the object between Costa’s pecs.

  Heidmann looked around at the mutilated remains of the guards as if wary of their resurrection. It made him chuckle. His own panic was amusing, perhaps because he was so close to claiming the very thing he had been chasing for so many years. Costa’s sturdy hand fell on his just as his fingers found the elusive marble relic that had been secured as a pendant around Costa’s neck.

  “That does not belong to you, you greedy bastard!” Costa seethed.

  Heidmann was horrified, trying to quickly rip the heavy donut-shaped stone from his adversary’s neck, but it was too late. Costa’s back eyes blazed with hatred as he latched his powerful hand onto Heidmann’s. Scuttling furiously like a trapped rat, Heidmann retreated with all his strength and inched them both closer to the edge of the platform. The scaffolding was but one story high, but in his predicament, Heidmann just needed to separate himself from the keeper of the stone.

  Kicking and tugging with all his might, Heidmann could not free his hand from Costa’s. With one last valiant effort he used his entire weight to pull free, but Costa, having anticipated the move, suddenly released Heidmann’s hand. The momentum flung the collector from the platform, and he fell hard on his side onto the dirty, blood-stained floor. It knocked his lights out for a second, but he came to just as the Greek professor leapt from the scaffolding.

  Heidmann did not waste time crawling to the nearest body to seize a firearm from the corpse’s hand. While he checked the chamber, he heard the light foot Costa land. Heidmann turned and got back on his feet, aiming dead center at Costa’s forehead.

  “You know I won’t hesitate,” Heidmann sneered gleefully at the stand-off. He was grateful for the gun he never thought he would be able to get in time.

  “Mrs. Fidikos told me about the men you sent to kidnap her and Professor Barry. All the while I had the stone, not Soula,” Costa smiled.

  Heidmann looked confused, but he had little time to conclude his business with Costa and so proceeded with his own claim. “Give me the Stheno stone! If you give me Stheno, I might leave you alive.”

  Costa rolled his eyes. “In what sick little world would I give you the Stheno, James?”

  “I can just shoot you right here and take it from you,” Heidmann retorted, bouncing the barrel of the gun up and down in his grasp to remind Costa of his bullets. “And then you may as well tell me where the Medusa is.”

  “You did not do your homework, James,” Costa said plainly. “You cannot shoot me while I have Stheno. Unlike Medusa, her sisters were immortal, and while I hold her, so am I.”

  Heidmann’s heart raced as Costa started moving opposite him, reaching for the round stone under his shirt. “Besides, nobody knows where the Medusa stone is. Not even me. It was just a strange coincidence that I ended up on the search for the Medusa with the very man who has possession of her sister stone,” Costa revealed. “Why are you not using yours
, Heidmann?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Heidmann shrugged impatiently.

  “We all know you have been blackmailing Soula, threatening to expose her roots to the world if she did not give you Stheno. We also know that you have Euryale, Stheno’s sister stone, in your claws. You are trying to assemble all three Gorgons, James. We all know that,” Costa cleared the confusion for Heidmann, eradicating any false pretenses of the collector.

  “Why else do you think you ended up on this excursion, idiot?” Heidmann growled. “I was the one who suggested you to Helen Barry for Purdue’s party! Me! I knew if we were together on this trip in the godforsaken lands of Eastern Europe, I might get a moment alone with you so that I can take what belongs to me. I deserve this more than anyone! And by the way, I never orchestrated any abduction. What the hell would I want with Helen Barry or Soula Fidikos? Maybe you should check your own backyard for that snake you think I am.”

  In his frantic, self-righteous speech, he did not notice Costa lifting the virgin marble relic to his left eye. Looking through it, the power of the Gorgon started to surge through him. When Heidmann realized, he did what any frightened and hopeless man would do. Five shots rang out from his barrel, but he was too late. The slugs penetrated Costa’s clothing, but his body had the resistance of solid stone, impervious to the onslaught of the lead. Behind Costa’s dark brown eyes an ancient fire grew, not one of flame and color but a fire as old as lightning.

  “No! I’ll make you a deal, Megalos! I’ll make you a deal! You can share the riches with me. When I am done with Soula and her husband, I will be a billionaire, and I’ll cut you in on it. We can find the Medusa stone together!” Heidmann pleaded and suggested anything he could think of to appease Costa, but in vain.

  A sharp light of purest white formed in Costa’s eyes as the power of the stone directed itself through him. Heidmann realized that he had but moments to evade attack, as the energy in Costa’s stare grew to immeasurable temperatures within seconds. He raced for the exit, but felt his feet, ankles and calves grown ice cold. Heidmann could not move anymore.

  Shocked he looked down. Under his knees his legs grew grey and solid in his shoes and socks. He even took a moment to wonder why the deadly heat felt like ice, but soon realized it was the solace of burned nerve endings mercifully sparing him the sensation of the real temperatures.

  “Where is Euryale, James?” he heard Costa ask behind him, as he felt his knees refuse movement.

  “Oh, Jesus!” he cried as he felt the blood clot and his heart started to palpitate irregularly from the lack of circulation. “Oh, Jesus!”

  Aware that looking in Costa’s eyes would turn his head and brain to stone, James kept his eyes on the professor’s torso. “This is not the Bible, Dr. Heidmann,” Costa growled in a deep rattle that lacked all humanity. “Here you cannot call on the Nazarene for mercy. Here is only a selfish king called Zeus and believe me he is no god. The only god present is me.”

  “I’ll never tell you where Euryale is, you son of a bitch!” Heidmann spat furiously at Costa, making the inadvertently mistake of addressing him face to face.

  He never even had time to realize his error. Soon to be the late Dr. James Heidmann, he screeched in pain as his tissue was instantly calcinated by intense heat. His flesh dehydrated so rapidly that his skin became papery before growing hard and cold.

  With the swell of Stheno’s energy, Costa’s eyes shone like lightning streaks, filling his body with such immense magnetic power that his long dark tresses lifted around his head like a halo of snakes.

  Moments after his opponent was effectively reduced to six feet of screaming rock, Costa pulled the Stheno stone away from his eye. Gradually, the light faded, and the magnetic force relented, returning him to his usual appearance.

  “Ah! Finally you got the Stheno stone, James,” Costa coughed as he fixed himself up and replaced the pendant. “Just not in the way you expected, eh?”

  The Stheno stone, named after one of the three mythological monsters, Gorgons from Greek mythology, was a sought after relic in the underworld of secret organizations. Soula had gifted it to her lover 11 years before when she acquired several artifacts from a dig where James Heidmann was leading the excavation. However, he never met the millionaires he worked for while supervising the excavation in the sub-cavernous site at Mount Olympus. Upon learning that he would not receive credit for her discovery, apart from a hefty sum of money, Heidmann had been left deeply outraged.

  He had stolen one of the items, the Euryale stone and when he had accidentally killed a workman by looking through the hole at him, Heidmann had realized what it was. Ever since then, he had indirectly accosted Soula and blackmailed her family, threatening to expose the effects of the stones to the world. After stealing the two pieces for his exhibition from Soula’s Ukrainian associate, Oleg Bantra, Heidmann had hoped to sell the pieces for a small fortune,

  But he never imagined that the effects of the stones would reveal themselves through a so-called act of God, of all things.

  25

  Claire woke up in a well-furnished bedroom. Dazed, she sat up on the bed where she woke. Looking around, she could see barren walls which were only broken in their monotony by bright dark green drapes, lined with a golden meander motif along the edges. A large potted palm decorated the corner in a gilded pot and on her bedside table stood a jug of water with a tall upturned glass.

  “Anyone here?” Claire called into the corridor past her open doorway. “Hello? Where am I?” There was no answer and the place was deathly quiet save for the buzz of a refrigerator in the kitchen a few feet from her door. But Claire was reluctant to explore. After all, she was well aware that she was being held somewhere by the men who had seized her and Professor Barry.

  “Oh shit,” she said to herself. “Professor Barry.”

  Claire had absolutely no idea what to do. The circumstances were just too strange to derive a conclusion from. How was it that as a captive, her door was left open? Why was she not gagged or restrained? From her clothing and lack of injury, she found that she had not been harmed or handled with any sort of disrespect at all. Her shoes had been removed and her purse were missing, though. Those were the only tell-tale signs that she was held captive at all.

  On her tip-toes, she snuck along the lavish house’s corridor to the next room and found Helen Barry lying on the bed of the equally fancy bedroom.

  “My God, Helen!” Claire cried and lunged forward onto the bed in her pants suit, her unkempt hair flopping about her slender face. The professor appeared to be sleeping off the effects of the Rohypnol, taking considerably longer than Claire to metabolize the sedative drug. “Professor? Professor Barry? Helen?” Claire persisted, lightly nudging her boss not to cause alarm in the poor disorientated woman.

  Helen’s eyes fluttered a little at first, but she fell back into her slumber.

  “Helen! You’re going to be late! Get up!” Claire exclaimed next to her, opting for the panic induced wakening technique she so frequently used on drunk roommates in college. It seemed to work. The professor started mumbling incoherently and tried to pry her eyes open.

  “There we go!” Claire egged her on. “That’s a good girl! Come on!”

  Helen’s eyes opened and she scowled heavily, trying to make sense of what she saw. “Claire?”

  “Yes! Yes, Professor,” she smiled.

  “What the hell are you doing in my room?” Helen asked with a groan. She did not realize, at first, that she was not home. But as she woke slowly the events at the British Museum came back to her. At the recollection of the abduction and the locker room, the large black car and the jet, her eyes widened suddenly.

  “Oh, God! Where are we?” she shouted.

  “Shh! We are safe. Just don’t make too much noise until we know what is going on,” her assistant implored.

  “Alright. Alright, what is all this? Where are we, Claire?” Helen asked, still very confused. She was incessantly
running her hands through her dark blond hair, looking obsessive, until Claire took her hand from her hair and held it between hers.

  “Listen, I just woke up now too. But look, our doors are open, we are not bound or hurt,” she informed her boss.

  “That is weird,” Helen remarked.

  “Yes, but it is good, isn’t it? It’s not like they threw us in a stinking dungeon with rats, tied us to a rack and raped us, Professor,” Claire smiled. “I think we are not being held by a monster.”

  Helen looked around, took a moment to listen and her eyes trailed the ceiling and windows. Slowly she nodded. “You know what? Usually they treat women well before selling them to the highest bidder. Remember that,” she said. “When they treat you well it is because you will be serving another, usually more sinister, purpose later.”

  “Great,” Claire sighed. “You just made this much scarier than it should be, Professor.”

  “Trust me, Claire,” Helen said.

  “Look, they did not even lock our rooms,” she smiled at Helen, pointing to the open door. “We are not imprisoned.”

  “Not in our rooms, sweetie pie,” Helen said indifferently. “I bet it would be a different matter if we tried to walk out the bloody front door. You see, we are not being kept captive in our rooms. We are held in this house. The house is our prison.”

  Claire did not like the sound of that at all. Professor Barry only twisted the knitting needle she was shoving into Claire’s positivity. “Besides, they are giving us the illusion of freedom only because they have utmost control over our every move already. Look for surveillance cameras. Worry about what they put in your food. There are many ways to keep someone from leaving. I bet you this house is far away from civilization. They don’t need to gag you where no-one can hear you screaming, love.”