by P. W. Child
In hindsight, when Sam had shared it all with Purdue, he soon realized how far-fetched and absurd it all sounded when he said it out loud. Nevertheless, it had happened and Nina was with him through it all to vouch for his accuracy. However, both Sam and Nina had elected to keep their greater secrets, their more clandestine knowledge and discoveries about the Black Sun to themselves for now. After Purdue’s fickle loyalty in the past they thought it best to catch up in the most superficial way they could without letting on just how much they had learned about the Order.
Now it had been a few weeks of laying low just like the old days of peril and distrust, thanks to the swift action of Matteus to rescue Sam and Nina from certain death in Prague. Since they had met him, Matteus had gradually grown accustomed to their bickering, their personality traits and bad habits. In hiding for an indefinite stretch this time, the three of them were once again at the mercy of their wits and their camaraderie, perhaps the most useful of all in a situation such as this.
It had been some time since Nina had seen Sam step out for a fag. She had just made a cup of tea when she heard the clang of the doorknob’s clumsy ricochet.
“Sam? What the hell happened to you?” Nina took in the sight of Sam’s battered face as she emerged from the kitchen. Immediately she set down her steaming mug and rushed over to inspect the damage. “You’re a mess. How did you manage this?”
“I’m fine,” Sam groaned, reluctantly allowing her to point his face towards the window. He winced as her fingers gently touched the swelling around his left eye and jaw. Soon his face would be black and blue. “Nothing to worry about.”
She gave a derisive snort. “What, walk into a door, did you? Bullshit, Sam. Someone did this to you. Now, I’m going to get you something to put on that and when I get back you’re going to tell me who it was.”
With her usual briskness she stepped back into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a handful of ice cubes wrapped in a small towel. “I know it’s traditional to use steak,” she said, “but considering the lack of raw sirloin in the fridge and the fact that I’m not even sure if steak actually works, you’ll have to make do with this.” She pressed the cold compress against his face. “Anywhere else, or is it just your face that’s messed up?”
Sam pulled up his shirt to show her the deep purple patches mottling the skin over his ribs. “It’s fine,” he said, seeing the alarm on her face. “I’m just bruised, honest. They gave me a bit of a kicking, but it’s not too bad. I’ve had worse. I’ll be ok.”
“Who did it?” Nina persisted. “Are we in any danger?”
“No,” Sam said, “I don’t think so. Just your average, common or garden muggers. They weren’t very impressed when they found out that I didn’t have much money on me - or a phone. They had their hearts set on a phone, apparently. I should probably think myself lucky - God knows what they’d have done if they’d seen my actual phone. Stabbed me, probably.” He tried to laugh, but the pain in his ribs made him catch his breath.
“Matteus will probably do that for them when he catches sight of this. You know what he said, Sam. I hate it as much as you do, but… he’s right. The more we go out, the more likely it is that we’ll get spotted eventually. Unless… you don’t think he and Purdue are wrong, do you? Maybe we’re all just overreacting. Maybe these people don’t have such a long reach after all?”
‘If only that were the case,’ Sam thought. He had hoped that he would never find himself being targeted by a shady, dangerous and internationally connected organization again. He had hoped that his run in with the arms ring that had ultimately led to Patricia’s death would have been the last of it. ‘How did this become my life?’ He asked himself. ‘I was going to write Jefferson’s book, then go home and start building a life. I was going to buy a flat. Holing up in one city after another wasn’t part of the plan.’
He looked around at the cramped living area of the flat. The ceiling was high, but the room was narrow and dingy, barely lit by the narrow window. A cheap folding sofa was pushed up against the wall, with the rickety armchair that Sam now occupied beside it. Three small bedrooms – well, two small bedrooms and a hastily repurposed study – a kitchen that was little more than two gas rings with a fridge in the corner and a tiny, sulphur-scented shower room made up the rest of the apartment. Compared to this, his one-bedroom flat in Edinburgh was palatial. He could only imagine how Purdue must feel, coming to this from his sprawling mansion by the River Forth.
Not that they saw much of Purdue these days. The billionaire spent most of his time shut up in his room, permanently installed behind his keyboard. When Sam had checked on him, he had said that he was making the necessary arrangements in case they had to stay in hiding for an indefinite period. Sure enough, after no more than a couple of days in Florence, Matteus had appeared with a laptop for Purdue and fake identification documents for everyone. Sam Cleave had become Kevin Anderson and Nina’s new passport would prove that she was Sabine Bauer. They were yet to learn Purdue’s new identity, which struck Sam as a little risky.
Sam realized that he had not answered Nina’s question, but just as he opened his mouth to reply there was a knock at the door. Both he and Nina froze instinctively. They had already learned not to trust the knock at the door, to dread that someday it would be a prelude to danger. Nina glanced at her watch then visibly relaxed. She mouthed “Matteus” at Sam and crept over to the door to look through the fisheye.
As Matteus entered, laden with bags of groceries, Sam braced himself for the inevitable lecture. He shot the agent an apologetic smile, hoping for leniency, but Matteus simply glared at him for a moment, taking in the dried blood and bruising before shaking his head and stalking through to the kitchen. “I shall ask about your injuries later,” he threw over his shoulder as he went. “I do not think I would appreciate it before coffee.”
*
In fact Matteus did not get the chance to ask Sam about his injuries. Before he had even finished unpacking the groceries his phone had begun to buzz urgently, prompting him to rush off.
“Where do you reckon he goes when he does that?” Sam asked aloud.
“Who knows?” Nina said. “Seems like there’s a roaring trade in running errands for people in hiding, though.”
It was Purdue who reacted badly to Sam’s battered face. Emerging from his room in search of breakfast, he paled the moment he caught a glimpse of the bruising. In a split-second he was crouched in front of Sam’s chair, firing a rapid stream of questions at him and scrutinizing his facial expressions for any sign of fear or dishonesty.
“I need you to tell me everything about what happened, Sam,” he insisted. “Every detail you can remember. How many of them were there? All male? What language did they use? Did you see any of their faces clearly? What questions did they ask you? Did they mention any specific item or piece of information that they wanted from you?”
Sam raised his hands to fend off the interrogation. “It’s fine! Nothing to worry about. I know, I know, you’re worried they were Black Sun. So was I. But they weren’t, they just wanted my wallet and phone. Nothing more than that, ok? Standard mugging. I’m sorry for frightening you both. I’ll stop the night-time wanders. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re sure?” Purdue arched an eyebrow. “They were not looking for anything else? Did they search you?”
“Yes, but like I said, they were after my phone.”
“What were you expecting them to be looking for?” Nina asked from across the room, her tone chilly. “Something you haven’t told us, Dave?”
Chapter Three
Anyone other than Purdue might have looked shifty or embarrassed at having been caught out. But as Sam and Nina both knew, that was not in Purdue’s nature.
He looked Nina straight in the eye, his face calm and solemn. “Of course,” he said. “I doubt there will ever come a time when there is nothing I have held back. In answer to your first question, I was concerned that they might be looki
ng for a particular artefact that I have in my possession. That would of course assume, that they were somehow aware of Sam’s connection with me, but that would have been entirely possible for anyone who had uncovered this address and observed the property for a while.”
“What kind of artefact are we talking about here?” Sam asked. “Something you’re not meant to have? Stolen property?”
Purdue shrugged. “The means by which I acquired it were comparatively fair. Stolen, yes, but not by me – or at least, not from its rightful owner. It was merely something I found on behalf of someone else, and it will be out of my hands soon enough.”
A sudden snort from Nina made Sam jump. “Great!” she cried. “Just great. So we won’t be in any danger, then? You can just get on with whatever dodgy stuff you’re doing, and we’ll be safe as houses. Well, I know I’m reassured!” She dropped into a chair, exasperated. “What is it, and who is it for? If this has anything, anything at all to do with the Black Sun…” she trailed off, too furious to think of a threat grave enough.
Without replying, Purdue rose and went into his room. He returned a moment later with a small cardboard tube, which he handed to Nina. “See for yourself,” he said. “But take great care with it. In its current state it will keep us safe for several months.”
Puzzled, Nina opened the tube and cautiously slid its contents out. A cylinder of rolled-up fabric fell into her hand. She spread it across her knees. It was a painting, no bigger than a sheet of A4 – an oil painting depicting a tranquil riverbank, with reeds and tall grass swaying in a gentle breeze in the foreground and lavender blue water rippling in the background.
“It’s beautiful,” she acknowledged. “But what is it? I take it it’s valuable. Who painted it?”
“Renoir,” said Purdue. “In 1879. According to legend it was a gift to his mistress, painted on a linen napkin – hence its unusual size.”
“And you stole it?” Sam asked, failing to suppress a smile. Purdue terrified him sometimes, but he could not help a sneaking admiration and amusement at the man’s sheer audacity.
Purdue shook his head. “It was originally stolen some time ago – in the 1950s, if I am not mistaken. From the Baltimore Museum of Art. It has since changed hands a number of times. It is considered to be something of a prize amongst people who take their art collections seriously. Seriously enough to want to include work that has never been, strictly speaking, on the market.”
“So what are you doing with it?” Nina demanded. “Are you planning to keep it? I’d have thought that you might have more than just your art collection on your mind just now.”
Sam thought he caught a flicker of emotion cross Purdue’s face, but he could not quite tell what it was. Hurt? Offense? Only Nina seemed to have the ability to needle Purdue… Or was it simply Sam’s imagination? It was gone in an instant, whatever it was.
“Being in hiding is an expensive business, Nina,” Purdue said, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather. “We can hardly expect people to shelter us and ensure our safety at considerable risk to themselves unless we are prepared to offer suitable remuneration. Matteus’ fees alone are substantial. Even without me, the Black Sun has people who are capable of monitoring even the more private of my usual accounts, and without access to those accounts I find that for the first time in many years I am concerned about money. By ensuring that this painting finds its way safely from one pair of hands to another, I ensure that our needs are met for a while longer.”
Nina shook her head in incredulous confusion. “You’re telling me that you’re… what, a fence? A go-between? There wasn’t any legal way to make money?”
“Be fair to the man, Nina,” Sam understood her irritation, but was sure that getting into an argument would do them little good. “If getting legitimate jobs would put you and me at risk of being discovered, the same rules apply for Purdue.”
“I know. We discussed it at length, I haven’t forgotten. But we agreed that we’d all just keep our heads down. Completely. Out of harm’s way, remember? It was meant to stay that way until we were sure everything had blown over. That’s what you said, Dave. It was your suggestion. You said you had plenty of money and that since you’d got us into this, it was only right that you’d make sure we had somewhere to live. And when I said they’d be watching your accounts, you said you had ways round that. And like a bloody idiot, I have allowed myself to be lulled in by your spiel once again. God, by now I should know better!”
Slowly, with a gentleness that was completely at odds with her tone of voice, she rolled the Renoir up and returned it to its protective tube, before she held it out to Purdue. He reached out to take it, and then laid his hands over hers.
“I am sorry, Nina. I should not have misled you. But I must ask you to trust me. I will keep you both safe, I promise, but you must allow me to -”
“Purdue.” Nina’s voice could have sliced through glass. “Stop it. We’re only here because you got us into danger. Don’t insult my intelligence by promising our safety. Whatever you’re going to do, we can’t stop you. We’re living on your good graces, pretty much at your mercy. I’m not listening to you anymore. Just try not to get yourself killed and that way maybe we’ll stand some chance of getting home alive. And until we do, just leave me the fuck alone.”
She got to her feet, pulling her hands from Purdue’s grasp, and a moment later the door to her room slammed shut behind her. Purdue let his head drop and sighed.
“Perhaps you will have a little more faith in me, Sam,” he said.
Sam did not answer. He was not sure what to say – Nina was right, Purdue had put them in danger, and Sam had long thought that the man was too crazy to be responsible for anyone’s safety. Yet at the same time they were still alive, and that was in no small part thanks to Purdue…
“All right,” said Sam. “Look, I’m not going to pretend that I’m fine with all this. But Nina’s right, we don’t have a lot of choice. I’ll trust you. Just… just keep it as low profile as you can, ok? I trust you not to succumb to the temptation to make things interesting, right?”
Purdue smiled. “I understand, Sam. Now would you care for a drink?”
C hapter Four
The Piazza dei Cavalleggeri was quiet in the early morning. One of Florence’s infrequent rain storms had hit, keeping most people indoors. The few who did not have the luxury of staying in were scurrying swiftly across the square, huddled under umbrellas to shield them from the raindrops that slammed like mortar bombs into the uneven pavement.
Nina was out of the habit of using an umbrella due to years of living in Edinburgh, where the wind blew the rain almost horizontally, and umbrellas seldom survived long. Still, for the sake of blending in she had one pulled down low to conceal her face. Her hair, no longer brown but hastily bleached during their first few days in hiding, was tucked under a navy blue beret and the collar of her jacket was turned up. She worried that she was trying too hard to look inconspicuous, hoping hard that she simply seemed cold.
The pale pillars of the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze loomed up ahead of her. She pushed open the heavy double doors, stepped inside and inhaled deeply. The familiar, comforting scent of books, dust, old stone and polished hardwood floors surrounded her. For the first time in a long time, Nina briefly experienced the feeling of being at home.
“English?” The old woman behind the desk squinted at Nina through thick glasses. Judging by the tone of her voice, acquiring library membership was going to be a lot harder if Nina answered yes.
Instead, she fished out her new fake passport. “Tedesca?” she smiled, applying her carefully-learned German accent to the few words of Italian that she had recently acquired. “Vorrei guardare dei libri?”
The old woman nodded briskly and stuck out her hand. “Passaporto per favore“ Nina handed over the passport and tried to remember to breathe as the librarian checked and scanned it. She took the form that she was offered and muddled her way through i
t, giving her false name and the address of the flat.
“Foto.”
Nina looked up from the form. The librarian was gesturing towards a little webcam perched on the desk, waiting to take a picture for the library card. Nina hesitated. ‘I should have anticipated this, she thought. I was just hoping that they wouldn’t have adopted photos on cards here yet… What am I going to do? Just turn and walk out? Far too suspicious. Fake an emergency phone call?’
“Foto!” The librarian tutted impatiently, gesticulating more emphatically.
‘I can’t,’ Nina thought. ‘I can’t risk being photographed just for the sake of accessing a library. I can’t risk it for anything. It’s crazy. But then, so is wandering all over Florence alone. And so is dealing in stolen paintings! You know what? They’re not the only ones who get to take risks.’
She stepped in front of the camera, pulled off her hat and combed her fingers through her messy blonde hair. The picture that flashed up on the screen behind the desk was unflattering and unfamiliar. The new hair color still looked strange to her, and she could see that her attempts at cutting it herself had left it a little uneven. After her recent months of running, fear, and not to mention the unfortunate torture due to assignments that came a little too close for comfort, Nina’s prettiness looked strained. The woman in the photograph looked tired, drained, a bit pissed off, perhaps older than her 36 years. ‘I always knew blonde hair wouldn’t suit me,’ Nina mused.