Order of the Black Sun Box Set 6

by Preston William Child

  “Oh shut it, Lance,” she sighed.

  “Maria was raised Catholic, which admittedly aided my interrogation. With a little LSD and some SP117 I got her to believe that she was obliged to provide the information I asked or…” the priest shook his head in shame, “…or be cast in purgatory until she’d collected every bullet she’d ever used on a human being.”

  “Father!” Sylvia uttered in absolute repugnance. “How could you do that to someone? A man of the cloth should not resort to idle deceit! Ever!”

  “My dear Mrs. Beach,” Father Harper said, “would you rather this woman watch your children on the playground from a church tower?”

  Sylvia wanted to defend the question in terms of morality, but she quickly swallowed her words once the true horror of the scenario entered her mind. Calmly, Father Harper urged, “Now, when you are positive about your innocence in this matter, Mrs. Beach, I suggest we get to Fallin as soon as possible. There is a man who needs our help.”

  With Maria Winslet in their custody, Dr. Beach and Father Harper left Sylvia in charge of church business until Father Harper was scheduled to return. He assured her that they would be but three days at the most and that she only needed to take care of the arrangements pertaining to the Ladies Church Action, soup kitchen, and choir practice.

  “Her pupils are still dilated, but she is fine, Father,” Dr. Beach reported. “I’m more concerned for the condition of the man her boyfriend kidnapped.”

  “I expect him to be in a bad state, given the clients Mr. Beck delivered him to,” the priest said as they drove along the main road, thirty minutes from their destination. “I took the liberty of looking up Maria's partner and found him to be a rather unsavory character who once worked as an MI5 operative. Nothing states why he left Her Majesty's service, but I can only guess.”

  “With the type of women he keeps company, I have all the information I need on this bloke's psychology. Birds of a feather, I suppose,” Lance Beach replied from the backseat he shared with their willing, although heedless guide. Dr. Beach put his pen light back in his pocket and closed his leather medical bag. “How far still?”

  “We’re close. I’m not sure what she meant, but she said the house was concealed on the other side of the River Forth. Rather odd,” Father Harper admitted. “As far as I know the area she gave me coordinates to has no bridge.”

  “Father, what happens when our escort here finds her bearings?” Dr. Beach asked. “LSD does not take this long to wear off. What did you really give her?”

  “A Russian devised psychoanalytic compound that serves as a truth serum,” Father Harper disclosed. “They used it on KGB personnel and it is highly efficient, but I added the hallucinogen for good measure to convince her of the Biblical tyranny that would follow if she did not comply.”

  To the priest's surprise, Dr. Beach bellowed with laughter. It made him smile to see that someone out there still appreciated the unorthodox measures needed to thwart evil. “How did you get your hands on SP117, Father?”

  Father Harper smiled at his companion in the rear view mirror and shrugged. “I was not always a priest.”

  30

  Mysterious Ways

  Purdue was in excruciating pain, but he dared not cry out or else Mother would switch on the air conditioner again. Inside the oubliette she had an outlet for such a system that blew ice cold air into the dungeon, exacerbating the dreadful aches of his bones and exposed flesh by a hundred fold. He had been running a fever for two days now and it only grew worse with his lack of sleep. By his pants he could feel that he had lost considerable weight and with nobody aware of his plight or his location, there was no hope in sight.

  In his delirium of agony Purdue heard Karsten's voice coming from the dining room, but he thought it a dream. Mother had been engaged in a conversation with him for well over an hour.

  “Is he still alive?” Karsten asked Mother.

  “I believe so. I can only go on the last time he screamed, though, and it has been a while,” she said coolly, evoking laughter from Karsten.

  “We will put an end to the devil-may-care philanthropist this time. Besides, he’s supposed to be dead anyway,” the Austrian answered.

  “How goes the procurement of his estates?” Mother asked.

  Purdue perked up, so to speak, at the woman's strange question. In his state, slipping in and out of consciousness, he was uncertain if he’d heard what he thought he had. The silence after punished him. He could hardly stay awake in his weakness, but he had to stay conscious to hear the answer.

  “Slowly. You know we can only claim his estate by law if he remains missing for over seven years. May I ask, Mother, what is your interest in Purdue's property?” he asked.

  “Properties,” she corrected him. “Plural.”

  “You wish to extend your investments in the United Kingdom?” he asked.

  “No, I just want Wrichtishousis.” Karsten was silent for a long time before asking in what sounded like a tone of threat.

  “What on earth for?”

  “That is my business, Joseph. What would you do with it anyway? You have vast mansions in Europe already,” she retorted.

  “Mother, with respect, Purdue's manor is known to possess a wealth of technological and historical resources within its walls. It is even reputed to be the vault of the Heilige Lanze!” he growled under his breath. “With his superior-quality laboratories and equipment, along with his notes and designs – things he had not even patented yet – we could take over the world of technology and science! Purdue's mansion is hardly a quaint museum full of historical trinkets for the ego of the conqueror, Madam.”

  Purdue heard her clout the passionate speaker, a smack so loud that even Purdue's fading senses felt it. With his meager energy Purdue could not help but smirk just a little.

  How lovely to hear them fight over Wrichtishousis, he thought. If they only knew what it would take for them to breach those resources they so direly desire.

  “Mind your tone with me, boy! I know what lies beneath Wrichtishousis and I have an inkling that fool who owns it knows too. The greatest relic I have sought, next to the Olympias Letter, lies under that goddamn mansion and I shall have it, at all costs. And you are the one who will procure that property for me. That was the deal!” she raged, her low rasp like the lust of a feeding lion. “In return, you can claim all the other estates he owns, along with reasonable access to his laboratories, if I deem it necessary.”

  What is lying beneath Wrichtishousis? Purdue wondered in the solitude of his prison.

  “I know what our deal was, but you are just going to waste all the possibilities we could harness with your nostalgia for treasure getting in the way,” Karsten fought. “You lost Alexander's treasure and I’m sure that in your world that must have been devastating! But this is a different era, Mother! The greatest wealth, the biggest treasure of this century is technology! Gold and silver can only buy you more of the same. But whoever controls technology controls the world!”

  “Don't you dare speak of what is precious, you fucking wretch!” she sneered.

  “Put the Luger down, Mother. Please. We are on the same side,” Karsten coaxed, but the enraged woman would hear none of it.

  “Do you realize who you are talking to, Joseph? I am not some girl who likes glittery things, chasing after pirates' chests and kings' ransoms! I am Yvetta goddamn Wolff, do you understand? My father was Himmler's treasure hunter, his golden boy,” she bellowed, out of breath with fury. “My father was the man whose research uncovered the existence of a hidden hoard from the empire of Alexander the Great! He deserved to have it for himself, after being Hitler's bloodhound for the Spear of Destiny, the Black Tarot, Odin's Tomb, and all the other invaluable relics hunted by the Nazis!”

  Karsten had retreated up against the wall. Mother was so close to him that he choked in her vile alcoholic breath. “You will get me Wrichtishousis or you will join David Purdue in the oubliette, you ungrateful miscreant.”
>
  A sudden clap started both of them. It sounded like a large rock had fallen on the porch's corrugated iron roof.

  “Are you expecting anyone, my friend?” she asked sarcastically, toting the gun at his belly.

  Karsten shook his head profusely. “Of course not! This is your house. Are you expecting anyone? Perhaps you sent for someone to kill me?”

  “Oh don't insult me,” she groaned, and promptly shot Karsten in the hand, shattering two of his fingers. “I do my own cooking and I do my own killing, you insolent coward.” He howled in pain, a rather lovely melody to Purdue's ears. “Besides, I still need you to annex Purdue's holdings.”

  Another sound, footsteps, ensued from the front of the house. There were no car lights outside, and when Mother checked from a hidden peephole in the wall she saw no other vehicles or strange figures lurking. Then she saw someone by the door. Mother closed the dining room door to block out Karsten's childlike whining. Setting her gun on the table she went to answer the door.

  “Good evening, Madam,” a tall, attractive priest greeted.

  “Good evening, pastor. Are you lost?” she asked.

  “No, why would you ask that?” he smiled.

  “Because the gods worshiped here are eons older than your Christ,” she stated in a condescending tone. “I’m afraid you’re wasting my time and yours by calling on me. Good night.”

  He stepped against her closing door, halting its movement, but he maintained that smile so well that it was almost unpleasant to behold. “But I am not here to discuss the Lord, Madam. I am here to…how do you say…raise hell.”

  Mother had the most peculiar reaction to his words. Her face twitched in confusion before lighting up in amusement, and then she let out a hysterical laugh that Father Harper could tell was true humorous invigoration on her part. Through her cackle she heard a window shatter in the back and she ceased immediately. “What have you brought here?” she hissed at him, trying to strike him. But Father Harper had no reservations regarding stumping the acts of harpies and he caught her arm in mid-air.

  “Justice,” he said to her and pushed her back into the house.

  “Joseph!” she screamed as she scuttled for the Luger on the table. “Joseph! Help me, you worthless bastard!”

  The door to the dining room opened, but it was not Joseph Karsten. A very tidy blond man stood there with his doctor's bag in one hand and a grasping awful looking young woman on the other. “Good evening, Madam. This is Maria Winslet, a very talented hacker who used to work with your private investigator, Jonathan Beck. She’s the one to thank for disengaging all your alarm systems.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” the Italian looking girl saluted through drugged eyes.

  “And you are her doctor?” Mother scoffed. “Jesus, I hope you never have to see to me, if that is what your patients look like.”

  “Oh, trust me, lady, the only treatment you would get from me is a death certificate,” Lance retorted. Maria laughed lazily at his excellent counter, having no idea where she was. “Who is Joseph?”

  A horrible sound echoed from somewhere in the drawing room. They all listened, apart from Mother, who started talking loudly, but Father Harper seized her and tightened his huge hand over her face to silence her. By his swiftness and strength she knew he would be a formidable opponent, so she relented in provoking him.

  “H-h-aaalp!”

  “What the fuck was that?” Dr. Lance whispered.

  The ghastly cry had no voice, only a dry rasp formed into vowels, like a mummy speaking from its sepulcher. Again it tried to make a word, but it came to no more than a whimper.

  “What is that?” Dr. Lance scowled.

  Maria snickered, “Probably Purdue.”

  “Where are you keeping him?” Father Harper asked the old woman. She declined with silence.

  “Give her to me, Father,” Dr. Beach offered.

  Purdue was trying to make alarm, feeling a second wind fueled only by bare hope. He slammed one of his hands against the wall of his prison until it bled. Trying repeatedly to cry out in vain, he started sobbing in hopelessness. They walked over the mouth of his cell without even noticing and he had nothing to make noise with. Purdue gathered all his strength and screamed. Nothing but hissing breath came out of him, yet he knew this was his last chance. In the scrape of his throat something emerged.

  A sound, a little shard of sound escaped him, sending his rescue party scampering to find him. Once Purdue heard the commotion near his pen he summoned more strength and it came freely now that he was so close to freedom. Purdue tried once more, crowing like a morning cock as words eluded him.

  “He is under the floor!” Dr. Lance shouted. “Get him out! Get him out!”

  Taking Mother with them to the kitchen the two men looked for the entrance to the oubliette. They did not bother to negotiate with the cold hearted wench, so they simply obliterated the door that covered the entrance. Gasping at the sight of the iron spikes, Father Harper retreated slightly, dangling the thin old woman from his grasp.

  “Get a rope, doctor!” the priest cried. Unable to give the gun to the untrustworthy Maria to watch Mother, and unable to save Purdue with both dangerous women free, the two men decided on something that would normally be construed as villainous.

  “Throw them in the oubliette?” Dr. Lance offered. With a reprimanding look from the preacher the doctor felt a bit bad for suggesting it, but then Father Harper gave it some thought. “We really don't have any choice.”

  “Don't you even think about it, you miserable son of a whore!” Mother growled at the doctor. “I will unleash people on you that your God will not save you from!”

  “Can you do it from a little room under your house?” he asked the hissing witch, and gave her a nudge into the gaping mouth of the prison cell. Striking her head against the wall of the room on her way down, Mother was knocked unconscious and landed with a twisted thump in front of Purdue. He did not move. He did not feel sorry for her and he did not hate her. Purdue felt absolutely no emotion at the vision of her bleeding face in the dust and grime of her own oubliette.

  The priest dropped down a thick rope he retrieved from the broom cupboard and came down with perfect execution. My God, it seems that the Almighty is sending priests to save souls in quite a physical way, Purdue thought as he watched the strong chaplain reach the bottom of the rope without even running out of breath.

  “Now I have seen it all,” the doctor said from the top level, peering down. “A clergyman throwing an old lady down a trap.”

  Father Harper looked up. “I told you. I was not always a priest.”

  Wincing at the grisly remains of Maria's partner, Father Harper reached for Purdue. “David?”

  Purdue nodded, barely able to stay conscious. “We're here to help. Up there a medical doctor is waiting to take care of you until we can get you to the nearest hospital.”

  “T-th-ank y…” Purdue tried, “…you.”

  After they lugged Purdue's injured body upward and laid him on the dining room table for some emergency treatment, Father Harper took Maria to the trapdoor. He removed his collar and undid the pin to reveal his throat and chest. She slapped him hard. “You wish, Father.”

  “No, I don't,” he smiled. “I'm not your type, but I am going to unite you with your type. I just feel too guilty wearing this when I’m about to do this.”

  “Do what?” she snapped at him.

  Moments later Maria Winslet broke both legs in her fall, screaming in pain. The shriek awakened Mother, daughter of Waffen-SS Obergruppenführer Karl Wolff. She saw the feisty little assassin discover her lover's ripe cadaver rotting in the corner. Then the two women met gazes, and Maria seethed in rage.

  “You killed Jonathan, you bitch!” Maria growled.

  “I did,” Mother smiled. “And I fucking loved watching him choke!”

  As Father Harper closed the lid of the oubliette he was at least consoled by the fact that neither woman he put in there would die fro
m starvation.

  31

  Rush for Venom

  Iqaluit, Nunavut (Canada)

  “You have to go back and finish this before we miss out on it,” Sam insisted in slow deliberate words while the emergency room doctors administered antivenin to reverse the effects of the snakebites. “Remember this is the treasure he did not want the world to know about. You have to find out why!”

  “Sir, you have to relax. Your heart rate elevates when you get excited and that spreads the venom faster,” the ER nursing sister advised urgently.

  “Nina, take my gear and record everything,” he begged Nina through his rising fever.

  “Do you think I am going back there again? No fucking way! What if we get bitten too? I don’t want to spend the rest of eternity with a bunch of Nazis in a glorified toilet bowl!” Nina protested.

  Her exclamation was of such an amusing and peculiar nature that the staff and patients within earshot could not help but gawk, but Nina ignored them.

  “Nina please,” Sam implored. “We have to know what was worth so much that Alexander the Great sent an armada to an unknown continent to bury his secret. Find a way to clear the snakes. Do what you have to do.”

  “Just rest now, please, love. I don't want to lose you…again,” Nina answered. “We will go back – when you can accompany us.”

  “I might not make it. Jesus, Nina, I am on fire here,” he moaned softly in her ear while she held his hand.

  “Excuse me, Miss?” the attending doctor addressed Nina. “But you have to leave now. Mr. Cleave is in critical condition and we have to get him in.”

  “Of course,” Nina sighed. Reluctantly she let go of his hand and settled in the waiting room with Joanne to wait out the rest of the nerve-wracking hours.

  “How are you doing, Nina?” Joanne asked when Nina sat down. Joanne sounded absolutely bereft.