Order of the Black Sun Box Set 8

by Preston William Child

  “We get Excalibur, and you get to not die and take the credit for the relic’s retrieval. Call it a mutually beneficial contribution to a historical discovery,” Willard relayed flamboyantly.

  Sam had no qualms with the plan, although both he and Purdue knew that Willard was not the sole authority when it came to Nina’s safety. Ava was a loose cannon, just like her brother. Purdue had a gut instinct that she and Bernard would turn on their associates without hesitation, so he remained wary of their position throughout.

  “I need to see the map to know whereto,” Purdue told Willard. “I cannot make travel arrangements and procure pertinent devices, food rations and gear without being familiar with the terrain we have to work with.”

  Willard and Ava glared at one another. Finally, he shrugged. “Give the man the map you pulled from Bernard’s pictures. He is right, Ava.”

  Reluctantly she took out a folder from her purse and tossed it on the table. Purdue and Sam sat down, while James Willard casually sauntered to the kitchen.

  “Tea, anyone?” he offered as if they were there for Bible study.

  “Aye, thanks,” Sam said, as Purdue took out the various angled photographs of the scabbard. He noticed the silvery thread Nina referred to. “Actually, James, do you have coffee?”

  “I do,” Willard answered.

  “Listen, Mr. Willard, they are not here to order you around like a maid,” Ava hissed under her breath. “They are our hostages.”

  “Miss Somerset, I appreciate your disgruntlement, but they are not our enemies. They are people just like us, unfortunately on the other side of our playpen and you will respect them,” he cautioned gently in an equally hushed tone.

  “You are way too forthcoming. Why can’t we just go out there and get the sword and get paid?” she bitched. “They are making fools of us. These men are stonewalling us and I will not have it. All the while my brother has to babysit their little bitch as if she is special.”

  The silver haired beauty planted herself on the stool next to the counter and pouted like a child. She was becoming exceedingly desperate to move things along in order to get paid and disappear.

  “You are lacking in patience, my dear,” Willard reacted to her juvenile threats. He gave her a serious look. “Please, do make sure that you do not wear mine out.”

  29

  Morning Glory

  When Pam woke from her exhaustion, she could hardly lift her leaden arms. Her eyes sought for her son. She found the boy sleeping soundly in the bend of her pulled up legs. On the bunk, she saw Sue’s waning heat drive her to shiver uncontrollably. Headaches and weakness tormented them all, but it was Pam who had the hardest time of it. Her migraines triggered nosebleeds that had to be treated as serious injuries, given the fact that her body was already suffering dehydration. The least bit of blood loss could sweep her consciousness from her, something she could not afford, as protector of her son and his frail grandmother.

  Pam sat up. At least they each had some old army blankets to sleep under while incarcerated, but she just saw the blankets as would-be shrouds for Bernard to drag their carcasses in when they die. It was early morning, she guessed, because the sun was barely kissing the horizon’s sharp dark lines with orange and yellow. Even if the sun came out, it would soon be usurped by the heavy bank of clouds that rested but a finger’s width above the vista.

  When she turned to expose her eyes to some light at the far end of the large chamber, her eye caught sight of something she found hard to grasp. On the floor, just outside the bars of the cell, was a steel tray with three plates and a pewter pitcher of water. Upon the plates Pam could discern a bread roll each with some sweetcorn on the side. Tucked half under the brim of the plates she saw three large steel spoons.

  “Oh Jesus!” she exclaimed loudly. “Thank you! Oh God, thank you!”

  On her knees, she rushed to rouse her son and Sue. “Beany! Beany, wake up! Sue! We have some water and food! Sue!”

  The boy’s eyes sprang open, disbelieving the godsend before them. His mother passed on the plates of bread and corn while Brian poured his weak grandmother a cup of water.

  “Ta, Beany,” Sue smiled dimly. Her illness had only been exacerbated by the abduction, since she had no medicine with her. Taking the steel cup from her grandson was an arduous task in itself, but the boy was patient and waited until she could grasp it properly.

  “I cannot believe this,” Pam whispered, virtually choking on her food.

  “Slowly, Pam,” Sue advised. “Your body will reject your food if you eat too fast.”

  “I don’t care,” Pam replied with a mouthful of everything. “M’ fucking hungry.”

  Brian giggled. It was the sweetest sound that ever echoed through this wretched ruin.

  “I wonder if Miss Nina has food,” Brian said. “She has been very quiet up there.”

  “Hope she is alright,” Pam said. “Shall we give her a call?”

  “How, Mum? Do you have a phone?” Brian asked.

  “No,” Pam replied. “Like this.”

  She whistled like a cattle wrangler, the sharp screech cutting through the birdsong and wind like a knife. “Nina! You well?” Pam shouted in long, drawn out words. She looked at her son and winked. “See? We called her.”

  Brian laughed, but after that, they heard nothing from Nina. Smiles faded, as did morale. Nina’s presence as their advocate has been soothing, so her silence was a great concern.

  “What if she is dead?” Pam asked Sue. Sue tried to silently protest against saying this in front of Brian, but it was too late. He had heard his mother’s supposition, and it upset him.

  “She will be fine, I am sure,” Sue tried to plaster over Pam’s statement. “After all, she has not even been here as long as we have, right? Maybe she is just sleeping.”

  In the chamber where Bernard had made himself comfortable, the phone rang. He was outside on the balcony just under the crown of the square wing, looking over the sheer peaceful beauty of Guernsey. Far away, past the trees, he could see a local small town. For a moment, he wished he could be there, unassuming, with no responsibilities. His cell phone ring tone beckoned, and he raced inside to receive news of the rapid excursion from his sister.

  “Hey Ava,” he panted as he barely made it to the phone on time.

  “Hey,” she said. “We are leaving later today. Major Rian called us and gave the order.”

  “Order? Of what?” he asked.

  “To kill Nina Gould,” Ava said casually. “And the Callany’s too. Do not call him directly. Remember that. Send the pictures of their dead bodies to me and I will get it to Willard and Rian as confirmation.”

  Bernard was confused. “Um, Ava, I thought we were bluffing about the killing business.”

  “Are you daft?” she shrieked. “How do you think we will get away from all this while they know who we are and what we look like? We will take care of Purdue and Sam on this side.”

  Bernard’s face drained of all color. He was not a killer. “Do it, Bernard. For Excalibur. If you want to be a millionaire, you have to make sacrifices.”

  Before he could protest, she had hung up. Suddenly the beauty of the surrounding landscape lost all appeal to him. What was dawn had become dusk to him, as the circumstances of his purpose fell dark. He went out on the balcony again for fresh air. Nausea crept up on him and his hands broke out in a sweat. Nina’s words reverberated in his reminiscence.

  You are better than the goddamn Nazi’s whose tracks you are walking!

  Bernard took a deep breath. It was time to choose sides once and for all. He had been working for Willard and Rian and the Euphrates Society for so long now that he had forgotten that he was in this line of work for the beautiful artifacts. He was not some war criminal, smuggler, kidnapper, killer of children and women.

  “Think,” he muttered. “Think, think!”

  In the morning breeze he paced, trying to find a solution to the situation. How would he confirm the kills without incri
minating himself? How could he fool Rian and the others that he actually killed Nina and the Callany’s? The latter could only be achieved if he asked the help of his hostages, and that would just undermine his authority completely. On the other hand, it would save lives and absolve him of any more responsibility.

  But Bernard Somerset had no more time to waste, pondering about his loyalties. Beneath the hillock where the ruin lurched over the old town hall buildings, he could see something moving along the narrow meandering road. The clouds finally eclipsed the waning sunlight above him. It began to drip, but Bernard braved the cold wetness to follow the object below. It was black, and it approached the fork in the road that split the ways between the old town hall and the modern town below.

  When the black car came to the fork, Bernard held his breath. Something about the car made him very uncomfortable, although he did not know why. It stood stationary, the engine idling as if it was deciding where to go. As it pulled away, it was still difficult to see where it would head, but to Bernard’s dread, the car abruptly turned left into the fork of the road. It was the only way up to the abandoned town hall of the old town and the church ruins next to it.

  “Oh Christ!” he exclaimed at once. “Major Rian!”

  If the major had to find out that Bernard already had the scabbard, he would smell the double-cross instantly. Ava’s plan to cover for them and stall delivery to Rian whilst locating Excalibur was backfiring. Bernard had to hide the scabbard to make the wicked military man believe that he had not yet found the sheath. He quickly called his sister, grabbing the scabbard to hide it. Bernard hastened downstairs and outside to the abbey clock tower, where he was hiding his vehicle from sight to maintain obscurity and not to let locals know that there was someone between the old mossy walls of the ruins.

  Behind the seat of the farm truck, he slipped in the giant sheath. Upon hearing the approaching car through the rain, Bernard bolted back into the ruins to meet Major Rian at the arched gate of the fortress-like building. No sooner had he caught his breath when the sleek 1928 Hudson Victoria pulled in under the archway and switched off its lights. Bernard tried to look calm, although he had a bad feeling about the unannounced arrival. The main reason for this bad feeling was the fact that only Ava knew where he had taken the hostages.

  30

  Pendragon’s Fury

  The chauffeur got out and opened the back passenger door for the gaunt man in the tailored suit. He put his bowler hat on and straightened his blazer before gripping his walking stick firmly in his hand. A war injury was the cause of damage to his scalp and right leg, which was ample reason for his array of hats and walking sticks.

  “Good morning, Bernard,” he greeted in a tone of calm boredom.

  “Sir! What a surprise,” Bernard replied and went to shake the Major’s hand. “You should have called ahead. I could have prepared a meal and some cognac.”

  “Oh, that would not be necessary, my boy,” the military veteran rasped in his heavy accent. “I have just come to collect the scabbard from you.”

  Bernard froze. Should he pretend that he did not find it and perpetuate this subterfuge? Fortunately, his visitor kept talking for now, giving him time to feel out the situation. Looking up at the ancient stone masonry, wet and covered in moss, Major Rian remarked, “This place would make a great restoration project, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Bernard agreed.

  “I trust you do have some hot tea,” Major Rian requested.

  “Of course. Please, come with me to my temporary chambers,” the antiques dealer invited. His trademark charisma filtered through and soon he felt a bit more relaxed in the Major’s company. Through the main hall of the abbey they walked to the next staircase that would take them all the way down the corridor to the west wing of the ruin.

  “These walls are still strong. It would make a good stronghold for the Euphrates Society to keep our more medieval artifacts,” Major Rian said, admiring the sturdy architecture and solid cement floor. “Like Excalibur, for instance.”

  “Here we go,” Bernard huffed as he led the Major into the former chamber of the Stabsscharführer. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I will get the tea on.”

  “I shall not be staying long, Bernard. All I want is a cup of tea and some Warkadur. Do you have any?” the bald, small-framed man asked sarcastically. Those who conducted business with him knew that his more comical remarks were never intended for humor. Usually, Major Rian resorted to jest when he grew tired to repeating himself.

  “Tea? I have plenty,” Bernard smiled.

  “I know you have my scabbard, Bernard. I know, because your sister informed me of it,” the Major said in slow and clear intonation that stirred fear in his subordinates.

  “Ava told you that I have Warkadur?” Bernard gasped. Suddenly it made sense that the Major would find the abbey so easily. “And it was Ava who told you where I was, too.”

  Major Rian nodded. “She told me that you are working with Willard to find Excalibur, my boy, so stop bullshitting me. She also informed me that Court Callany had expired a few days ago along with Yiannis Aelo. That means that you have been stalling me while Willard obtains Excalibur, using my scabbard to find the way to it.”

  “That is utter nonsense!” Bernard shrieked.

  “Mind your tone!” Major Rian reprimanded him, but Bernard turned to face the Major. If his own sister could betray him, he had nothing left to lose. If he was going to be punished or killed, he would take the risk, because it was a relief to know that the shit had struck the fan and all bets were off.

  “Let me tell you the truth, Major Rian. Regardless of whether you believe me or my sister in this regard, I will do you the honor of telling you the truth. What you do with it is your prerogative,” Bernard said.

  “If you are going to waste my time, give me my tea, at least,” Major Rian sneered. “By the time my tea is finished, you had better have my scabbard ready or we end our association right here.”

  “Fair enough,” Bernard said. He had the kettle on in the corner of the chamber where the makeshift cooking area was. In the wall by the kettle, the chamber had a small cupboard built in. Hessler used it for a medicine cabinet when he was in charge of the occupation of Guernsey. Small tins of instant food and bread rolls were stacked for about a week’s worth. Among those, a coffee tin and sacks of sugar. “As you see, I have no fridge. Will you accept black tea?” he asked the Major.

  “Yes, yes, with three sugars,” Major Rian snapped. “Stop procrastinating.”

  Bernard took the small tin from the old medicine cabinet. It has a faded ‘W’ printed on it, and was dented from years of military travel with Hessler. Bernard opened the tin and scooped up three heaps, adding the tea bag to steep for a minute. Then he added sugar and stirred it.

  “Here you go. Now please, let me enlighten you,” Bernard implored, “because I have just received shocking news.”

  “What is that?” Major Rian asked, taking a sip of his tea. The scalding water prevented him from tasting anything as it burned his tongue.

  “That my sister, who was supposed to be in league with me, has apparently turned on me to take Excalibur for herself,” Bernard said plainly. His eyes filled with tears at the betrayal, but he was not about to go quietly. “She is, in fact, with Mr. Willard right now. They have elicited the help of David Purdue in finding Excalibur…”

  “What?” the emaciated tyrant roared. “What did you say? David Purdue?”

  “Aye, Major. But there is more. I was told that you gave the order to kill Purdue’s associate, a historian I am currently holding hostage in this very abbey,” Bernard laid it on.

  The old man was livid. “By whom? Who told you I gave kill orders before Excalibur is successfully recovered?”

  “My sister, Major.” He tossed his cell phone at the Major. “Have a look. She called me with your orders mere minutes before you arrived, so, if she is out to fuck me, I can return the favor by rolling on her.�
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  “This is completely outrageous!” Major Rian shouted as he saw the time on the phone notification. His rage quickened his heartbeat dangerously, but he was not done here. “There is no place for betrayal in my ranks. Between the insects, yes, but if it reaches me…if it is used on me, it has to be dealt with!”

  Bernard smiled. Ava had a surprise coming and she had no idea. The Major finished his tea before Bernard could tell the rest of the story, but he was content. He watched the old man take out his communication device and link in to his affiliates. “This is Pendragon, Alpha code 58689. Get me Beaumains,” he barked. While he waited, his chest rose and fell intensely. He looked up at Bernard. “Where are they?”

  “I do not know that. They will have deciphered the scabbard’s etchings to find a starting point, but I do not have that information,” Bernard explained. The old man sighed, waiting for his call to go through. His eyes snapped to the ground as the call was connected. “Yes, Beaumains. Willard breached. 224 Londale Street. Glasgow. Now! Report back in one hour. And Beaumains?” he paused. “No survivors.”

  31

  Bendera’s Way

  Bernard was satisfied. What had started as a nightmare, elevated by his blood relative throwing him to the wolves, had now turned in his favor. Major Rian looked furious as his eyes darted around the room. He was thinking, regrouping his plans at the unexpected gambit. He pressed a button on his watch to raise his chauffeur. “Rudy, kommt sofort bitte.”

  Bernard finally calmed down, although Ava’s unforgivable deed had struck him deeply. It was good to know that she would get her punishment, but he still could not believe that she would turn on him like this. Not Ava.

  A sudden whipping sound filled Bernard’s ears and the Major suddenly stood right in front of him. Without dallying, the old man simply stuck the sharp end of his walking stick into Bernard’s stomach. At first it seemed like a dream, because there was no pain, but looking down on ribbons of scarlet birthed on his jacket, he knew it was real. Thin trickles of blood ran down onto his trousers, while the long thin shaft settled in his flesh. As the Major retracted the cutlass blade inside the casing of his walking stick, Bernard felt the rush of heat blossom over his skin under his clothes. He made no sound, apart from a groan, and he felt to his knees.