The Black Sun Conspiracy (Order of the Black Sun Book 6)

by P. W. Child

Nina put her back to the wall and slowly slid to the floor. Thinking he had convinced her, Steven smiled. He rose and stood in front of her, offering his hand. “I’ll pass on your acceptance, shall I?”

  Despite his belief in his own victory, Steven was not expecting the sweet smile that greeted him when Nina looked up. That was an expression he had not seen on her since the very earliest days of their affair, when he had still felt young and daring enough to think that he might really leave his wife. Then, without breaking eye contact with him, Nina raised her fist and flicked up her middle finger.

  Steven sighed theatrically. “I’ll leave you to think about it. I’m sure that once you’re in a calmer frame of mind you will see that this is the only option you have. In the meantime, I’m sure you must be sick of wearing those clothes by now.” He called the guard waiting outside. A couple of clicks later and the door opened, admitting the guard who deposited a small holdall on Nina’s bed. Steven followed the guard, but paused on the threshold and turned back towards her. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, then dropped them in front of Nina. She did not touch them. She let them lie where they fell on the faded beige carpet. Steven sighed again and left.

  As soon as the door had closed behind him, Nina pounced on the packet and tore it open, hoping to find a lighter inside next to the cigarettes.

  There was no lighter.

  “Bastard,” she hissed, and let the packet fall.

  Chapter Thirty -Four

  Sam barely took in a word of what Alexandr was saying. He could guess at the gist of it – he ought to join the Order, he would not live if he did not, his talents would be invaluable to them. All he could focus on was his astonishment at seeing the crazy Russian who had got them out of the Antarctic submarine dock alive.

  It felt like a million years ago when they took the perilous trip to Antarctica to look for the Wolfenstein Ice Station and its Nazi secrets, his first meeting with Alexandr. They had exchanged a few emails after they subsequently parted ways in Ushuaia, but Alexandr was seldom to be found anywhere sufficiently populated to have internet access. More often than not he was beyond the reach of normal forms of communication, somewhere in the depths of his native Siberia.

  “Listen, old friend,” Alexandr beckoned Sam to lean in close. Sam doubted it would do any good, but obeyed anyway. “I can see that your mind is made up. You are already determined to tell them to go fuck themselves. I know this feeling well, right? I feel it too. Even now, now that they trust me and protect me, I am not always happy. But I am alive, yes? And there is no happiness to be had by a dead man. Dead men drink no Samogon - that is what my father used to say. You are a proud man, I am a proud man. But we will find the places to keep our pride. There is always a way to be part of something great.”

  “You think this is something great that they’re doing here?” Sam asked, incredulous.

  Alexandr replied with a one-shouldered shrug. “In my home town there are people who now have enough to eat, children who survive the winter, all because the Order wishes to establish itself there. I see men given jobs and their wives growing fat on the money. Can I tell you that this is not great?”

  Sam thought back to the research that Nina had done in the past two years, the disturbing ideology that underpinned the beliefs of the Black Sun. He tried to imagine Alexandr as a believer in the purity of a master race, but he could not do it. The man had always seemed too… not sane, Sam had to concede, but at least not crazy in that particular way. He tried to remember whether the Slavs had spread as far as Siberia and whether that part of the Black Sun’s ideology would be troubling for him. “But where do you fit into it all?” Sam asked. “Why did they bring you in?”

  “Antarctica,” Alexandr said, leaning back in his chair and carelessly crossing his booted feet upon the table. “After you left Ushuaia I was engaged to return to Wolfenstein, guiding a party of men whose task was to destroy the place once and for all. I aided them in their mission, which meant that I saw and heard things that I was not supposed to see or hear. These things should have led to my death, but it was not my time…”

  Even though they had not seen each other for some time, Sam recalled the sound of Alexandr settling in to tell a long story. He decided it was time to hit the bar. The whisky was still calling to him, and Renata had drunk it without incident. He grabbed a couple of glasses and the bottle and settled down in one of the elegant leather seats.

  The tale that Alexandr told was every bit as far-fetched and compelling as Sam had come to expect. The leader of the task force sent to destroy the ice station had been a man called Dragos Zajac, an arms dealer whom Alexandr had once assisted as he smuggled a cargo of weaponry through Russia with the secret police hot on his trail. Zajac had thanked him, agreed that he owed Alexandr a favor in addition to his payment, then called upon his services again on the return journey. The way Alexandr told it, it was his intervention that allowed Zajac to hide out in the Ural Mountains for several months and avoid otherwise certain death. They had sworn a blood pact to be brothers forevermore.

  So when Zajac had realized that he the man he was hired to exploit and kill was none other than his blood brother Alexandr Arichenkov, he refused to fulfil his commission. The two of them had pillaged the ice station for its few remaining resources, then stolen out in the dead of night on a reckless, near-suicidal trek to Novolazarevskaya. There they had stowed away on a plane bound for Cape Town. From there they had begged, borrowed and stolen one form of transport after another until they made it to Moscow, and there they had parted ways. Their brotherhood, Alexandr felt, was firmly cemented as a result of their adventures.

  “When my blood brother, my dear Dragos, told me of the Order to which he belonged and informed me that they would seek my life unless I allowed him to argue for me and bring me into their ranks, I took him at his word. I trusted him, and I still do. Just a few short weeks later I was summoned to Saint Petersburg and invited to become a part of the Order, a Member of the Fifth Level who would help Dragos to build a network throughout Russia. I agreed, not only out of love for my brother but because in the weeks since I had returned there had been no fewer than three attempts on my life! But those, Sam, are a story for another time. They helped to convince me, and that is all you need to know. And now I hope to convince you. Sam, keep your life. You can do good things with it, as long as you still have it.”

  A harsh, buzzing sound filled the room, making Alexandr wince a little. “That is to tell me that I must go and leave you to consider your answer.” He stood up and shook Sam’s hand, then pulled him into a bear hug. “I hope that I will see you again before long, but if I do not it will be because you have refused their offer. If that happens, know that I will drink to your memory.”

  “I bet you will,” Sam grinned. “And if I say yes, you’ll drink to the fact that I’m still alive.”

  He watched the Russian leave, then poured himself another dram and sat staring blankly at the mahogany wainscoting. In his mind’s eye he saw himself back home, back in his flat not far from the bookshop on the corner, his favorite pub down the road and his cat fast asleep on him. The image felt so real, so intense that Sam could practically feel his legs going dead under Bruichladdich’s weight. He imagined working at the Edinburgh Post again, back in his old job as a result of the Black Sun pulling the strings.

  ‘I doubt that would happen,’ he thought. ‘They might say that I could work anywhere I liked, but they’re not going to want me plugging their agenda on some tiny local paper.’ He adjusted his mental picture, trying to place himself in a major city. ‘Not London. I’m not living there again. But I suppose… Berlin, maybe? Or Paris? New York? I can’t exactly see myself as a Manhattanite.’

  Next he tried to picture the kind of articles he would have to write to please his beneficiaries. Back in his earliest days he had had a few articles spiked because they did not match the editorial stances of the papers he was writing for at the time. Staff writing
for news outlets whose views were entirely shaped by the political leanings of their proprietors had proved a frustrating experience, and Sam quickly went from delight at securing his first paid job to sullen anger at having to toe the party line. It had been those feelings that had pushed him into freelancing, where he had remained quite happily until his Pulitzer had made him a hot property.

  Even then, Sam’s first instinct had been to refuse the offers of permanent positions that came flooding in. He was enjoying his freedom and did not want to give it up. It was Paddy who had sat him down and talked sense into him, as he had done so many times over the years of their long friendship. The offers wouldn’t last forever, he had pointed out. Once Sam’s brief moment of recognition was over it would all dry up, and if he ever wanted a bit of security he would be fighting for it alongside everyone else. Better to seize the moment while he still had his pick of the papers and could name his price. Seeing the wisdom of Paddy’s advice, Sam had chosen the publication that seemed least likely to cramp his style. He had chosen The Clarion.

  ‘Fair enough,’ thought Sam, ‘that might not have worked out so well in the long run, but it definitely seemed like the best idea at the time. And what would have been better? To have stuck with freelancing, or chosen a different paper, and never met Trish at all? Would she still be alive if I’d made different choices, or would she always have found her way to the warehouse that day? Is it better to have loved her for a brief time than it would have been never to know her at all? What would she want me to do now? What would Paddy suggest?’

  Lost in his thoughts, Sam barely even noticed the guards coming to collect him until a hand closed around his arm and pulled him to his feet. ‘Well…’ he thought as they marched him out of the room, ‘looks like it’s decision time.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Purdue was no stranger to self-discipline. It had been the key to his success. His trials and experiments had taught him the value of forcing himself to practice patience. Yet despite his years of training, he struggled to watch calmly as Steven Lehmann provoked Nina on the screen before him.

  He knew that Renata was watching him, enjoying his reactions, so he forced himself to hold his tongue. By sheer willpower he relaxed his hands and loosened his jaw. Breathing was the key to remaining calm, he knew, so he made himself regulate it carefully. He knew that he had already shown her too much of his anger, but he was determined that she would see no more.

  As Steven cornered Nina and ridiculed her, Purdue’s face remained impassive. As she lashed out and ran, he did not react. It grew harder with every second, but he managed. The only concession he made to his emotional state was to allow himself a small, relieved exhale as Steven finally left the room.

  “You did better than I was expecting.” Renata switched off the screen with a swipe of her finger. “Your self-control is much better than it used to be.”

  “And your sense of humor leaves as much to be desired as ever, Mirela.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You have no right to call me that, you know. I expect you to address me by my title.”

  “I apologize,” Purdue’s tone was flat, his manner disinterested. “A slip of the tongue. I still remember you as the same young girl who used to rely on me when she was learning her trade. It may take me some time to become fully accustomed to thinking of you as Renata.”

  “Just see that you do,” she said. “I will tolerate no further insubordination from you, especially when I have just done you a favor. Did you like my surprise? I thought Lehmann would be the ideal person to deliver our offer.”

  “So I saw.”

  His lack of response was beginning to needle her. “It doesn’t upset you, then? The man she was with before you?”

  Purdue raised his eyebrows in an expression of mild indifference. “If you knew Nina as I do, you would realize that there was little love lost between them by the time they parted.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you that she now thinks that he’s the one who will save her? I thought you wanted to be the one responsible. Wasn’t that your plan? Secure her eternal gratitude?”

  He shook his head. “I am afraid you do not know Nina Gould, Mirela – my apologies, Renata. The worst thing I could do is to let her feel that her life or her livelihood is in my gift. I am more than happy to let Steven Lehmann be the target of her indignation on that point. Now, assuming that they both agree to join the Order, as I am sure they will, what do you intend to ask of them?”

  “They will complete the task that I set for you,” Renata said. “When Addison Fabian and I designed our little scavenger hunt I intended it to be a means of finding my successor, but it will serve just as well here. It’s nothing more than an indulgence, really. A slight abuse of my position for the sake of my own amusement. I could simply ask for the thing I want outright – or I could acquire it myself. But I would rather watch this little drama play out, so your girlfriend and her boyfriend will fetch it for me. Or, should they fail, they will die.”

  Purdue nodded. Obtaining a chance of safety for Nina and Sam was as much as he had been able to do. Sparing them Renata’s malicious games was beyond even him. It was her enjoyment of elaborate bouts of cat and mouse that had made her an excellent thief, willing to run great risks. Her love of risk, of course, had been the basis for the bond between her and Purdue, when he had been operating in the same field, her career on the rise and his on the wane as he shifted his attention to his laboratory work. They had been fine friends in those days, until Purdue had made enough to finance the building of his first lab and quit the game altogether.

  Her scorn when Purdue had decided to turn legitimate had been considerable. She despised his ambition to become like the clients they served, to establish an identity and settle down. She did not see his love for his work. She had never known the man who delighted in the minutiae of programming or the triumph of creating new forms of nanotechnology. All she had ever seen was Purdue selling out, accepting money from governments, corporations and private individuals where once he would have robbed and cheated them. Whatever sentiment had existed between them, she had considered it destroyed when Purdue made his decision. The things that had passed between them at the very last had cemented her enmity, and now he feared that it might be too late to appeal to any fondness she had once had. Too much had changed. She had changed too much.

  “Am I correct in thinking that they must do this without my assistance?” Purdue asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I thought as much. In that case, might I be permitted a slightly longer leash? If you want me to resume my original duties it would be beneficial to be able to move between my quarters and the lab without being under constant supervision.”

  Renata considered for a few moments, then gave Purdue a curt nod. “I’ll call off your guards. You may move around freely, provided you stay in the building. There will, of course, be cameras in the lab as usual.”

  He had expected nothing else. With a carefully enhanced note of gratitude in his voice he thanked Renata – taking care to address her by her proper title. She announced that it was time for her to go and find out whether Sam had been persuaded to see sense. As she turned to leave, Purdue stopped her. “One more question, if I may. Why did you have Axelle killed?”

  Renata drew herself up to her full, impressive height and stepped up so close to Purdue that they were almost nose to nose. Her eyes met his, intimidating and intense. “For you, of course,” she whispered. “No-one betrays you and gets away with it on my watch. No-one, that is…, except me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The first thing Nina wanted to do upon stepping out into the narrow cobbled street was flinging her arms wide open and embracing the outside world. Fresh air, comparatively open space, the presence of other people – in that moment she loved it all. However, knowing that she was almost certainly being watched, she made do with just lifting her head, closing her eyes and letting the cold drizzle of rain fall across her fac
e.

  Behind her, the building that had been her temporary prison loomed tall and stately. She counted four floors, including the attic she had recently occupied. Its façade was an elegant duck-egg blue, with scrolling ivory lintels sweeping over the tops of the windows. Above the front door was a large circular fanlight, protected by a design picked out in black metal. To the casual observer it would probably have been taken to be a flower, but Nina knew better. Those were no petals, but the rays emanating from the Black Sun.

  ‘That’s brazen,’ she thought. ‘They’re evidently not too concerned about being found. Well, at least it’ll make finding my way back here straightforward, when the time comes. Assuming the time does come. Assuming I get that far.’

  As the rain began to come down harder she pulled up the hood on her jacket and crossed the road to shelter under the arched gate of the Godshuizen over the way. The final instructions were in a small plastic envelope in her pocket, and she had been assured that this time they were not cryptic. Just a set of co-ordinates, a few directions and a small amount of money. Beyond that she was on her own.

  Across the road the door beneath the metal sun opened again. Nina shrank back into the archway and glanced behind her, checking her line of retreat. There was another archway on the opposite side of the Godshuizen’s courtyard. She could run clear across it if she needed to. Where she would end up, she did not know, but that was the least of her concerns. If someone was coming to tell her that the deal was off and take her back inside, she would run first and figure out the destination second.

  “Sam!” Seeing Sam emerging from the Black Sun house, Nina left her hideout and ran straight towards him. She threw her arms around him. He swept her up in a tight hug, lifting her clear off the ground.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she breathed in Sam’s ear, her face buried in his neck in a more than tender gesture that threw him back to the night in Baciu, when they shared a spontaneous kiss. Reluctantly he set her down again and she immediately corrected her tone to that of a friend. “I was so worried!”