by P. W. Child
“Don’t bother, Sam,” Purdue shot him a wry smile. “That’s one piece of information I will give you freely. It’s Tramadol. It has been necessary, from time to time, to keep the pain at bay. I promise you that I have been extremely careful to avoid developing any kind of dependence.”
“That settled it,” said Nina, “you’re staying here. We know where we’re going, it won’t take us long.”
Sam very nearly suggested that Nina was in no fit state to go out again either, but he recognized the expression on her face. He could tell that she was determined to get to the bottom of whatever Purdue was hiding and considered solving their latest puzzle an integral part of the process. To try to stop her now would be unwise. ‘Besides,’ he thought, ‘I’ll be happy to have her company.’
“Coming, Sam?” Nina already had her coat on. The shovel and small trowel that Purdue had dropped as he entered were in her hands.
Sam grabbed his jacket and followed her out of the door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“In retrospect we should’ve anticipated this.” Nina rattled the locked gate gently. “I saw the gates earlier on, but since it’s a through road I just didn’t register that they’d be locked. Stupid.”
Sam looked around. There was nothing nearby that looked as if it would open any earlier than the museums. “I wonder what time they open the gates?” he mused aloud. “We could try coming back first thing in the morning.”
“If there’s someone here to open the gates, that means there’s someone around – and whoever opens them, I doubt they’d fancy letting us dig things up. I think it’s got to be now, Sam. Come on. Give me a leg up.”
The gates were made of long, vertical, twisted iron bars, each ending in a treacherous point. There was a gap between the gate and the stone archway that framed it, leaving enough space for one person at a time to climb through, but Sam could see no footholds that would make the climb any easier. Especially for Nina, being both short and injured.
She saw the doubt on his face and was having none of it. “Sam, we’ve got to do this. If this is what’s going to get us home, we’d better just get on with it. So thank you for your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need you to give me a leg up.”
With a shrug, Sam crouched down and formed a basket with his hands. “Up you go, then.” Nina put her foot on his hands and let him boost her upwards, far enough for her to catch hold of the bars and start pulling herself over. Once she was clear of the spikes she dropped to the ground on the other side, stifling a cry as a searing pain shot through her injured ankle upon impact.
Sam picked up the shovel and trowel and handed them to her through the bars before he began to climb as well. His fingers closed around the cold iron and he hauled himself up, jamming his toes against the twists in the bars. Little by little he inched his way towards the top, then landed in a clumsy heap beside Nina.
“Not my most graceful moment,” he winced. “Come on. Let’s dig.”
*
The ground at the spot Purdue had indicated at which the gazes of the riders crossed was hard in the cold weather and not particularly susceptible to digging. Sam’s shoulders ached. Fortunately he had only to dig down a couple of feet before he hit a container of some sort and Nina took over with the trowel. He stood by, holding the torch, and tried to breathe heat into his frozen fingers while she worked.
A short metal cylinder lay in the hole that they had dug. Nina pulled it out and examined it. Unlike the reliquary it was completely smooth, and at one end there was a cap which she unscrewed easily and pulled out a long sheet of parchment.
“It’s a map,” she said. “Of course it is. Bring the torch a bit closer?” Nina held the map up close to her face and squinted at it. “Ah. That’s not so helpful. It’s not a map that will lead us from here to the next place – look, it’s just a map of what looks like a park or a garden. Two lakes next to each other – or maybe one lake with a bridge across it; and… this building. Presumably that’s where we’re meant to go, since it’s drawn larger than anything else on the map. What do you think?”
The sketch was quite exquisite, delicate and detailed. Clean black lines snaked across the thick ivory parchment. It was not an antique, but evidently someone had taken a great deal of trouble to make it look as if it was. The building in the map looked like it belonged on a chocolate box, to the point where Sam wondered whether it could possibly depict something real – but with Bruges all around them, filled with one impossibly pretty and pristine building after another, perhaps it was not so implausible. Beneath a roof that ended in stepped gables were pale red brick walls with small leaded windows.
“What’s it sitting on top of?” Sam asked, pointing to the series of arches that seemed to be propping the house up.
“I’m not sure.” Nina scrutinized it. “This looks like water here, so I’d guess it’s beside a river or something. Maybe the arches are for boats? Or a dam of some kind? I don’t know. Purdue could probably do an image search, though.” She began to roll up the parchment. “Let’s fill the hole in and then head -”
The gate clanked. They froze. Slow, careful footsteps crunched across the gravel, more than one set.
Trying not to look round, Sam reached out to Nina to help her up. She took his hand and got to her feet. The footsteps grew closer, one set on either side. Sam adjusted his grip on the shovel, ready to use it as the closest thing he had to a weapon. He looked over at Nina to see if she was doing the same thing with the trowel, but she was looking straight past him, over his shoulder. Her eyes widened.
“Get down!” she hissed, tugging hard on Sam’s arm so that bent down immediately. A knife whistled over his head, exactly where he had been a moment earlier. It clattered against the ground as it fell.
They ran. Sam, being stronger and swifter, took the lead. Picking a direction at random he turned right at the gate, pulling Nina behind him. A black car sped past them and screeched to a halt, cutting them off. They skidded and scrambled round, ready to flee in the opposite direction, but the car door flew open and a familiar blonde head looked out.
“Nina! Sam!” Axelle cried. “Get in!”
Hearing the sound of pursuing footsteps behind them, Sam and Nina hurled themselves into the car. The door slammed shut behind them and the engine roared as they sped away.
Chapter Tw enty-Five
“What’s happening?” Sam gasped, snatching at his seatbelt and jamming it into place. Just seconds later he was glad he had, as Axelle spun the wheel and sent the car tearing round a tight corner. Nina, who had not been so quick off the mark, ended up sprawled across him.
“Axelle, who were they?” she asked as she righted herself. “Were they Black Sun?”
Axelle glanced in the rear view mirror, checking for vehicles in pursuit. There were none. “Not as such,” she said. “Those men were hired specifically to intercept you tonight. They do not work for the Black Sun exclusively; they work for whoever pays them.”
“Well, I can’t think of anyone else who wants to kill us,” said Nina. Sam caught Axelle looking intently at him in the mirror. She did not look away when he met her gaze. ‘What does that mean?’ He wondered. ‘What does she know?’
As they sped through the dark, silent streets, Axelle explained that Purdue had intercepted the order being given to the would-be assassins and had dispatched her to bring Sam and Nina back safely. When pressed on the matter of who had given the orders and exactly how Purdue had been able to find out about them, she demurred. “I’ve told you all that I know,” she said. “Anything more would be speculation only.” Sam and Nina exchanged a look at the sound of those familiar words.
Suddenly a motorbike shot out from a side street, right in front of the car. Axelle yelled and swerved wildly. The shriek of metal against metal pierced the air as they struck a row of parked cars, dragging the fender painfully along the line of doors until they were back on track.
The car tore along Nieuwe Gentweg, the motorcyclist
keeping pace on their left. He reached into his jacket and drew out a gun. It glinted under the streetlights as he drew level with the driver window and took aim at Axelle. She swerved a little, just enough to force him to swerve too to avoid being hit. He fell behind. Axelle stamped hard on the accelerator – then, just as suddenly, she braked hard, as a shot rang through the night.
Just as the car slowed to a stop, another shot disturbed the silence. The car shuddered. “The tire!” Axelle cried. “They’ve shot the tire!” She hit the pedal again, testing her control. “It’s alright. They will not stop us.” Sam wondered whether her words were intended to reassure him and Nina or Axelle herself. The car pulled hard to the right, but Axelle compensated.
Up ahead loomed a fork in the road with a tall, gothic church in the center. The motorcyclist had caught up, once again on the left hand side. Axelle scanned the road, calculating the best choice of route to lose their unwelcome companion. She bore right.
‘Too soon,’ thought Sam, ‘too soon! We could have caught him out with a feint, maybe… Can we lose him? We can’t get up the speed to shake him off, not in these tight little streets.’
“Hang on!” Axelle yelled. She swung the nose of the car round. With a sickening crunch the motorbike ploughed into the fender. The impact threw the rider high, clear of the vehicle. Sam spun in his seat, watching open-mouthed, too slow to see the fall. The rider lay in an unnatural position on the pavement outside the church door, his head at an impossible angle to his body.
The long moment of seeing the dead man passed, and the car rushed into the night.
*
It took no more than ten minutes to get back across the quiet city center to the safe house. Axelle stopped the car at the end of the street. “You two left on foot, did you not? Then you had better return on foot. There is a place nearby where I can hide the car, then I shall catch up. There are things we need to discuss.”
“Are you alright?” Nina asked Sam, watching the car move off. Sam had not realized that he was shaking until she asked. He gave a non-committal murmur in response. They walked as casually as they could back to the little white house and knocked on the door.
Purdue answered, still drawn and pale. His eyes moved rapidly over both of them, checking for any new injuries. Then, quite unexpectedly, he launched himself forward and embraced both of them. “I should have been with you,” he said. “It was far too dangerous to let you go without me.”
“If you’d been with us you probably wouldn’t have found out that those men were after us,” said Sam, giving Purdue an awkward couple of pats on the back before disentangling himself. “Then we’d all have been killed.” ‘He’s such an odd one,’ he thought. ‘I never know what to make of him. He’s so distanced most of the time, and then every so often he has these outbursts and acts like we’re the best of friends. I can never tell whether he’s enjoying all of this or whether it’s as frightening for him as it is for me.’
Another knock at the door made them all jump. Purdue was on edge at once, facing the entrance, putting himself between Nina and whatever lay beyond the door.
“It’s ok.” Nina checked the fisheye and then reached for the handle. “It’s Axelle.”
‘It could be my imagination,’ Sam thought, ‘but I think Purdue just went a little whiter. What’s the problem between him and Axelle?’
It took no more than a few minutes to bring Purdue up to date on what had happened – the map, the knife-wielding figures, and the pursuit. “The car is safely hidden,” Axelle assured him. “By now I would expect that the motorcyclist has been found, and perhaps the police are searching for the vehicle. They will not find it, at least not any time soon.”
“Good,” said Purdue. “And there was only one motorcyclist? What happened to the other assailant?”
“I do not know. Certainly we were only pursued by one, but there was no chance to see where the other one went. I do not imagine he would have been able to give chase on foot.”
“Good. Thank you, Axelle. You may tell Matteus that I am extremely glad that he passed our case on to you. I shall, of course, make sure that you are suitably recompensed for the damage to the car.”
Axelle fixed Purdue with a hard look. There was none of the gratitude that would usually have followed such a compliment. “Mr. Purdue,” she said, her voice as unforgiving as her stare, “I understand from your tone that you would like me to say you’re welcome and leave. But I will not. Tonight I have seen these two people risking their lives, without even knowing why they are doing so. It is time that you did them the courtesy of telling them what you are doing. Because if you do not, I will.”
Purdue’s jaw tightened. He looked as if he intended to argue. Then suddenly he relented. He turned and walked through to the living room, picked up the whisky bottle and poured himself a drink. “I would suggest that you all join me in this,” he said, gesturing towards the glasses. “You may need them.”
Cha pter Twenty-Six
Axelle accepted a drink, but she did not settle into her chair. Instead she perched on the edge of the seat, clutching her glass, staring intently at Purdue. “Well, are you going to tell them, Mr. Purdue? Or shall I?”
Purdue sighed and swirled the whisky in his glass. “I shall, I suppose. Or at least I shall start. I am sure that by now you have realized that my relationship to the Order of the Black Sun is closer than I had led you to believe.”
“You’ve never really led us to believe anything about where you stand with them,” said Sam. “Well, me at least – I don’t know what you’ve told Nina. I knew you were connected to the FireStorm lot when you did that presentation on the death of privacy or whatever it was. And it was more than just coincidence that you disappeared off the radar after that fuck up with Stromer’s people. Then I must mention the Deep Sea One incident where you facilitated a meeting with members of the Order concerning the Spear of Destiny, remember? Naturally when you told us that the Order of the Black Sun existed I figured out that you must have had some involvement with them, but you’ve actually never told me the nature of it.”
“Nor me,” Nina chimed in. “I’m as confused as Sam. You’ve never really told me anything about who you’ve worked for.”
“Very well, than I shall tell you now. The fact of the matter is that a few years ago, I was invited to join the Order as a Level Seven Initiate.”
“What does that mean?” Nina asked. “What’s a Level Seven Initiate?”
“Effectively a contractor, but one whose work requires an understanding of their operations that is not permitted without initiation. They approached me to design a tracking device that could be easily swallowed without the person swallowing realizing it. I took the job, of course. It was particularly lucrative and their specifications offered some interesting challenges. But they required me to work in their laboratories at least part of the time, which meant that I needed clearance that could only be given to initiates at the lowest level – Level Seven. That level offers only the minimum information. I was informed that the Black Sun was a global organization dedicated to the advancement of certain aims. These seemed innocuous enough at first – peace, prosperity, developing technology that would make large amounts of money for a small group of people. I had little interest in their beliefs. Belonging to organizations has never been something that I cared for. But since it made little difference to me whether they considered me among their number or not, I allowed myself to be initiated.”
Sam thought back to the things he had seen at Parashant. “So does that mean you had to go through the same kind of ritual as Jefferson?” he asked. “All the gold masks and chanting and the like? That did actually happen, right? That wasn’t just me off my face on their drugs?”
“No, you’re not imagining that,” Nina confirmed. “I saw it too, and I wasn’t nearly as high as you.”
Purdue smiled at the idea. “Fortunately, such rituals are only popular amongst the FireStorm cult. It is, as I told you before, a subs
idiary of the Black Sun. Its practices are not to be found throughout the entire organization. My initiation was a less elaborate affair, one that only consisted of a brief meeting with someone a few levels higher. My involvement was extremely limited until quite recently. After my return from Deep Sea One, in fact. At that point I was told of the FireStorm branch and asked to take over the work that was already in progress in preparation for the death of privacy. At that point I was given considerably more information and advanced to Level Four. I learned then that their intention was to gain absolute control, to establish an authoritarian regime that would dominate the entire world.”
Sam felt Nina’s whole body go tense beside him. “And you still worked with them?” Her voice shook slightly. “You were prepared to help them? To be part of that?”
“Better me than anyone else, I thought. If technology of that nature is going to exist – and I had accepted that someday it would – then I would prefer it to be of my own design and ultimately under my control. Had it not been of my making, we would not have been able to destroy it.”
“If it hadn’t been of your making,” Nina snapped, “we wouldn’t have had to destroy it. Besides, you said it would only be a matter of time before they‘ll replace it.”
“That is true. Which means that the reasons for my earlier involvement still stand. And that is why, when I was contacted by the Order again, I thought I had better seize the opportunity to reinstate myself and regain my control. You see, they do not consider that membership of the Order can be revoked, whether by them or by me. Membership is for life. I was offered the opportunity to make good the damage I had done – which they attribute largely to the two of you, assuming that I was unwillingly caught up in it – or to terminate my membership by the only other means possible. What else could I do? If I had refused to co-operate, your lives would have been forfeit along with my own.”