Sasha continued. “So I've been bringing together help from outside of the order, from people who might be able to put up a fight against Julian Corvus. Some even have personal reasons for wanting him to be taken down.”
“Gee, if only we had David Purdue right about now,” Sam said vindictively, his words laced with hatred toward the ones that took his friend away. “If only he hadn't been burned alive in his own home.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Sasha said after ignoring Sam's spiteful tone. She opened her car door to get in but remained standing outside. “Which is why Purdue is going to be the biggest asset we will have at our disposal during all of this.”
Sam was starting to get angry. It didn't matter how she claimed Purdue was going to be an asset. He wasn't going to be anything helpful as a pile of ash. Addressing Purdue like he was still around was insulting, especially when it was coming from someone who had a hand in his death. She was speaking about him like all of that fiery death hadn't happened, and there wasn't even a hint of guilt in her voice. She didn't seem at all phased that she was part of the reason he was gone.
He hated that Sasha was apparently the last person to see Purdue alive, and probably the last face Purdue saw before his world was burned around him. Purdue deserved a better final view than that. He deserved a longer life and a less painful death.
Sam let his simmering rage out of himself. “So you’re going to what...? Going to use David Purdue's memory to further your cause? Make him a martyr? A symbol of how bad the Order of the Black Sun has become so you can take over as leader of the goddamn hive of monsters? Purdue would never have wanted his name used like that. If he was alive, he wouldn't have wanted any part of it. He, Nina, and I would have had nothing to do with Black Sun infighting that would decide which winner was going to screw us over next. He would have had none of it!”
“On the contrary, Purdue is more than willing to help remove Julian by whatever means necessary. He wants retribution on Julian for taking everything from him. That's the only thing that's keeping him going ... besides, of course, that the Black Sun has Dr. Nina Gould and Purdue's butler as prisoners. He wants to rescue them while resolving the grudge that nearly got him killed. In fact, from what I've seen, Purdue is taking steps to do just that this very moment.”
“Why are you talking about him like he's still here?? He's not! Purdue is dead! He's gone! The Order of the Black Sun, Julian Corvus, even you ... all of you bastards saw to that! You all killed him!”
Sasha shook her head. “You're wrong. You want to know what I saw to? What I am responsible for? I made sure Purdue didn't get incinerated. I saw to seeing him safe. I even dragged him out of that burning house.”
An image of that scenario, of her description of her supposed action, flashed in Sam's head and it gave him a headache just to try and imagine it. That was one of the most ridiculous things Sam could try to imagine. It was ludicrous. There was no reason why Sasha would save Purdue ... although, he would have thought the same thing about himself, but here Sasha was, having murdered her own team to make sure Sam survived. If she could do something like that ... was it possible that she helped Purdue as well after all? It just didn't seem real. It didn't seem possible in any sort of universe, under any circumstances.
“What...?” Sam still tried to picture it. He stared at her hard, trying to find some sign that she was playing him, some evidence that she was lying to his face. There was nothing. She looked so serious. If she was lying, she was unbelievably good at it. If her expression didn't give away the truth, he would have to see if she could lie verbally as well as she could look convincing. “What are you ... what are you saying exactly? What the hell are you...?”
He couldn't even finish his last question. He was breathing so heavily that the air was practically muting his own voice. The possibility of his friend's survival was sapping all of his energy. He was completely overwhelmed by the spark of hope growing in him, mixed with the high chance that all of this was nothing more than a lie she concocted.
Sasha just stared at him in silence, letting him try and catch his own breath. She was probably enjoying the conflict he was having with himself, probably relishing every second he was suffering from not knowing if her claims were real.
He'd had enough of her tormenting him. He just needed the relief of knowing the truth.
“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!?”
“I'm telling you that David Purdue was not killed that night,” Sasha said. “He didn't die in that fire. He didn't even catch on fire. And as far as I know, he's still alive this very moment.”
Sam's mind was racing. He wanted more answers and details. It was like he was back in the backseat listening to his captors recap Purdue's final moments, but this time, he wasn't listening to a sad story about the specifics of his friend's death. Now he was hearing a similar story but with a far different ending ... an ending that could change everything.
“I don't ... are you serious?”
“I am,” Sasha said. The way she looked at him was different than she ever had before. There wasn't anything malicious behind her face. It seemed sincere—no—it was sincere. He knew it now. He knew Sasha was telling him the truth. “Happy? So hurry up and get in the car. We have work to do.”
Sasha got into the driver's seat and Sam unsteadily went around the hood and got in the passenger seat beside her. They took off, getting back onto the road. Again, he was in a car with a member of the Black Sun, driving to some unknown destination. This time, though, he wasn't trying to figure out his own survival, he was trying to figure out his friend's survival.
Sam had so many questions but those could wait. He needed a moment to exhale, and release all of the stress he had been feeling since he'd been on the run, since Purdue called him and warned him to flee from the Black Sun. For the first time since that phone call, Sam actually felt some comfort and happiness.
Wherever he was, David Purdue was alive.
7
THE IMPORTANCE OF THE LETTER X
Purdue looked over the items they had stolen from the museum; all of Admiral Ogden's belongings that had been swallowed by the sea. He laid everything out on the table in his quarters. The barnacle encrusted cutlass. The flintlock pistol that had been smoothed out into driftwood. To think, at one point that sword and that pistol were used to kill and plunder. Who knew how many people's blood had the stained the now brittle blade of the cutlass? Or how many shots had been fried from that flintlock and found their mark? All of these items were the remnants of a man's violent history.
He laid out the map beside it all. It was strange. There was a time, centuries ago, that the famed pirate had probably sat in his own private quarters and had his sword and pistol by his side, charting the map that would lead to his prizes. Now, long after he was gone, those same items were together again, in the hands of an explorer. If Admiral Ogden ever imagined who might find his treasure someday, Purdue hoped that he was worthy of whatever person the pirate had concocted in his imagination.
Purdue rolled the map open to look at all of those Xs strewn about the old parchment again, just like he did every day. He then looked over the old misshapen piece of wood that was once a functioning pistol. Somehow, that old waterlogged pistol was supposed to help figure out the map. He had no idea how, but there was only one way to find out. The map lay before him with its dozens of X's and he looked them over with the same fervor he always did. Each time he'd given the map an inspection, he hoped he would see something that would give him some sort of hint. Now that he had the other items, maybe he would finally see something new.
He could have asked some of the crew for assistance, and maybe he would still consider it if he kept getting stumped. But he would prefer finding the secret of the map on his own. It would be safer if he was the only one who knew how to decipher it. Otherwise, he might not be needed by them anymore and be tossed in the ocean by the twins, just like that policeman had been.
So he kept his door locked while he lo
oked at the belongings. He appreciated the peace and quiet. Spending so much time cramped on a boat with a bunch of strangers was exhausting.
On the flintlock, there were a number of Xs carved into the smoothed out wood. Most of the markings were faded from the damage done by its time on the ocean floor, but they were still there if you looked close enough.
Most who examined the pistol probably thought the Xs represented a kill, a tally of everyone Admiral Ogden had gunned down over his years of plundering. Those people would be wrong to think that. They didn't have the map like he did. With it, he could see the bigger picture. He could see that the Xs on the charts corresponded with the same markings on the gun. The placements of each X were identical, spaced perfectly according to the map.
As he looked back and forth, taking note of each matching mark, he found one striking difference—an X on the flintlock was missing.
There was an extra one on the map right on top of a little island off the coast of Venezuela. He didn't recognize the land mass but it looked miniscule in comparison to even the smaller islands around it. It was barely even visible over the X that was drawn over it.
He double checked the flintlock carefully. That X could have been covered by the wood being smoothed out but he doubted it. One had never been carved. Everything else matched so perfectly. It couldn't have been a mistake. It couldn't have.
That little island on the map was important, maybe even where Admiral Ogden's treasure was. If you were just looking at the map alone, you would be overwhelmed by all of the Xs. There would be no way of knowing which one—or if any at all—was pointing out the real location. With the flintlock's help, you could see through all of the decoys and distractions. It was ingenious. Admiral Ogden probably never went anywhere without his pistol. Hell he probably died with it in his hand or tucked into his belt. A perfect key to have for the truth of his spoils.
The missing X was the important one. In this case, it wasn't X that marked the spot; it was its absence.
That island across the Caribbean Sea was their next destination. He had no doubt about that.
Now he just needed to decide how he was going to present the information to the crew. How much could he disclose without risking becoming expendable to them? Sure, they seemed to be working well but he didn't even remotely trust them. At best they were a group of scoundrels loyal to whoever paid them. At worst, they were all as bad as the twins and just waiting for a chance to turn on him. He would need to tread very carefully with how he was going to proceed with the crew.
Even after he figured out the riddle of the flintlock, he waited for some time in the fragile security of his private quarters. When he finally emerged back out onto the deck, many of the crew were beaming with enthusiasm and excited to see him.
“How did it go? Alton asked with a big, friendly smile. It was like their last discussion hadn't been a contentious one at all; even though Alton had tried to embarrass Purdue's leadership in front of the whole crew. Now they were suddenly supposed to be best friends. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Aye, I hope so,” Purdue said. “Though it's hardly a guarantee. At least we have a heading. We'll see what we see when we get there.”
He looked out at the water stretching out into the horizon. Hopefully they were on their way to the treasure and toward reclaiming his life from the ones who took it from him. They had their coordinates but he wouldn't share anything beyond that; like how he found the location. There was a still a good chance that he was mistaken and the missing X on the map wasn't important at all. They could very well be heading to a dead end.
Something kept telling him not to worry though. All he had was a feeling in his gut that the little island on the map was the right place. That was all he had to go on, and it would have to be enough.
There was an excitement permeating the ship. The crew's attitude was growing more positive now that they had an actual destination the ship was going toward. There was a sentiment that their efforts were finally going to be rewarded, and that the prize they were seeking wasn't hypothetical or part of some fable anymore.
They all were starting to believe that they were going to get the treasure. They were going to be rich. They were all going to have a chance to please their dangerous boss who they all feared so much. Their status would be heightened after this voyage.
“You look worried,” Alton snickered as Purdue looked out at the waves.
“Not worried,” Purdue said. “Just hoping for the best. Wouldn't want this to be a pointless detour, now would we?”
“No,” Alton admitted. “The Wharf Man wants this to go as ... as smoothly as possible.”
Every time Alton spoke, the lingering shadow of the Wharf Man loomed close behind him. His loyalty was very apparent and he always made sure to remind people of the monstrous crime lord that was supporting him and his actions.
Purdue turned to face Alton. “Satiate my curiosity for a moment. What's the story with you and your boss? The Wharf Man obviously thinks highly of you. He trusts you. You're his eyes. You're his ears.”
“His will,” Alton added proudly.
“Exactly,” Purdue said. “Not to pry, but how the hell did that come about? Must take a lot to be respected so much by a man like that.”
Alton looked out at the water and his usual confidence slipped off his face. Whatever memories were passing through his head, they weren't pleasant. Maybe he hadn't thought back so far in a long time. It all washed over him quickly and then fell away, and his bright smile returned to his face.
“You want to know why I am so loved, hmm? Simple. I did as I was told. I followed the rules. I earned everything that he has given me. Hard work, you know? Hard work. I won the Wharf Man's trust.”
“And your brother too?”
“Of course,” Alton laughed. “That is why we are here.”
“But the Wharf Man ripped out his tongue—”
“Oniel did that to himself. The Wharf Man may have been the one to pull it from his mouth, but it was my brother's mistake.” Alton acted like the mutilation was the most justifiable thing in the world. Like he was defending someone whose actions were saving the entire world.
They both glanced across the deck where Oniel lingered, silently observing the rest of the crew like he always did.
Alton continued, “My brother always had a sharp tongue. It got him into trouble many times. He is better off without it ... and he has learned his lesson to never speak out of line again.”
“He doesn't have much of a choice now,” Purdue muttered under his breath.
“My brother and I could only settle for scraps before. The Wharf Man helped us. Got us off of the streets, and gave us a purpose. We all need purpose, do we not?”
Purdue couldn't argue with him there.
“Like you,” Alton said. “Your purpose is to get your money back, no? And so you have come to us for help. It was a good choice. The Wharf Man is a good friend to have on your side, especially when you need him most. You play well together, and he might even help you take back what is yours from those thieves who took it from you.”
Purdue brightened a little at the prospect. A powerful crime syndicate backing him would be undeniably helpful against the Order of the Black Sun. Even when he got Admiral Ogden's treasure and replenished some of his fortune, he would still just be one man against an expansive secret society. He wouldn't be able to do much good on his own. With the Wharf Man supporting him, he could maybe stand up to the Black Sun. They could be the deciding factor in all of this.
Then again, getting in bed with a crime kingpin was a risky choice, but he'd long since run out of good possible choices to make. Maybe he could use the extra muscle.
“Maybe,” Purdue said honestly. “We'll see how this all turns out, aye?”
“Of course,” Alton said with a grin. “Between you and me, my friend, we could do with a good fight. Especially if it means fighting for a friend.”
Purdue didn't qu
ite consider a murderous man like Alton a friend, but he took the meaning. And maybe a friend like Alton, his brother, and their superior would be the exact kind of allies Purdue needed at this point in time. They were already helping him with this, what harm was there in working together a short time longer once they were finished finding the treasure?
Besides, he didn't exactly have a lot of friends anymore.
Admiral Ogden stood on the port side railing of the docked Scarlet Wing, looking out to the sea. His crew was hard at work behind him on the deck, carrying supplies on board that would last them through their next few months at sea, for all of their countless raids they were going to be launching on other vessels. He was hopeful for those days ahead and would often daydream about the potential amount of valuables they could add to his enormous stockpile. While any of those victories would be good, he wanted to win a large prize; something that would exponentially increase his already impressive amount of riches.
And thankfully, that kind of venture came running right up to him on the deck. One of the deckhands, Gregory sprinted up the gangplank and practically threw himself onto his commanding officer. He was out of breath and filled to the brim with excitement.
“I come with news, Admiral,” he said through gasps. “Very good news.”
“Spit it out then.”
Whatever it was, Gregory seemed happy about it, and even happier that he was the one to be giving the good news.
“Captain Brown and Captain Fallon have sent word of a massive Spanish galleon coming across the Atlantic.”
“And how is it that they acquired this information?”
“They were part of a raid near Spain and brought down a warship. And that's the best part, Admiral. They managed to get the transport's schedule. We know exactly where that gold is going to be and when.”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 29