Order of the Black Sun Box Set 7

by Preston William Child

  The armed men Sam had borrowed from the Brigade Apostate chuckled at his mockery of the idol. “No sign of Toshana?” Sam asked Purdue.

  A hard sigh came over the speaker. “It feels like I am never going to get back at her for what she did. Thanks for taking that goddamned contract with you. I don’t want her to invoke any rights from that thing while we are trying to apprehend her.”

  “Invoke is the right term. Steer clear of her charms, Purdue,” Sam advised, aware of the futility of his suggestion. “Just be careful.”

  “We’re okay. I have five men, all they could spare, but they are armed and ready to breach the Black Sun’s citadel,” he said, but paused before finishing his sentence with a weak, “if we ever find the bloody place.”

  Ayer sat up, as did his father in the chair at his side. They looked at one another.

  “Mr. Cleave, we know what you are looking for,” Ayer declared excitedly. One of the Brigade’s men approached Ayer to shut him up with the butt of a gun, but Sam stopped him.

  “What do you know? Purdue, hang on a second,” Sam asked the beaten up leader.

  “The Order of the Black Sun operates sometimes from a citadel in Medina,” he cried.

  “We know, old boy,” Purdue said over the speaker.

  “But it is not theirs. It belongs to an affiliate of theirs,” he related, “some German nobleman called, I think, Geiger?”

  Purdue could be heard catching his breath on the speaker. “I know that name. Why do I know that name? Wait, is it Geier, perhaps?”

  “That is the name, oui!” Ayer affirmed. “It is marked in what looks like Hebrew lettering, but it is not Hebrew,” he revealed, “it is a name, disguised in the script. All you have to do is read it in plain language.”

  Sam frowned, shifting in his chair to face Ayer. “What name?”

  Ayer gave a smug chuckle. “Take me with and I’ll show you. Otherwise you will just kill us before you go.”

  “Déjà vu,” Sam told Purdue. “Same lines, different villains.” Sam sneered at Ayer across the table.

  “We are not villains,” Ayer’s father remarked.

  “You were about to kill someone very fucking close to me in cold blood, you son of a bitch!” Sam growled.

  “And if you did not know her? Would we be villains? You are the villain, Cleave!” the old Templar spat angrily. His son had to whisper for him to calm down, but the generally agreeable man refused to back down this time. “You are the villain. When we finally caught that snake Toshana, you sided with her! You killed my…” he broke down, still insisting on finishing his story, “…my other son to save that filthy, evil woman! You are the villain, Cleave! My youngest son is dead. His brothers-in-arms, good men, are all dead because you killed them and you killed them…for her? For her!”

  “Come on, Papa,” Ayer consoled. Being tied up, he could do little to soothe his father’s pain. “Calm down. We’ll get her back.” He looked at Cleave with hate burning in his eyes. “Even if it kills me, I’ll avenge my brothers. Crown – or no Crown.”

  Sam could not argue that he could also be someone’s boogeyman, someone’s villain, a killer of sons, of husbands and fathers, a maker of widows. The old man’s sobs hit Sam like a Mack truck, but he dared not show it. A lump grew in his throat. How had he never seen this? How did it never occur to him that even the bad guys in the story were sometimes victims of other bad guys who think they are good guys?

  Sam got up and stormed out, calling back to his men, “I’m going to check on Nina.”

  He was so upset that he had forgotten about Purdue waiting on the line. Purdue finally said, “Alright, lads. We’ll wait for you to get here. I am sending one of my Irish squads to collect you and fly you to Medina within the next four hours. Is that right for you?”

  “Yes, Monsieur,” Ayer responded. “From our side, you will have four allies.”

  “Thank you,” Purdue said. “Over and out.”

  “Nina appeared from the hallway, having heard it all. She could barely walk, but Dr. Hooper had put a brace on her ankle to stabilize the fracture so she could move around. Wrapped in a blanket, she shuffled around the doorway to look the Militum survivor in the eye. While the old man was still sobbing silently, the others regarded her without a flinch.

  “Hey! Hey!” Sam cried out, coming back from her room when he had found her absent. He put his arm around her, protectively. “Don’t come in here.”

  But Nina said nothing. Her head was pounding like a hammer on an anvil and her skin was riddled with little blisters, making her ache under the blanket’s weight and fibers. When she’d awoke, after she’d slapped Sam for abandoning her to near certain death, he’d told her everything that had happened in Jerusalem. With bloodshot, swollen eyes, she looked at the maniacs who strung her up like a pig for the slaughter. “You are all on my shit list,” she rasped, her voice raw from the heat, smoke, and screaming. “I will never forgive you for this, but tomorrow I will be your ally.”

  “Are you daft, woman?” Sam gasped.

  Nina looked at Sam with a vengeful expression that left him cold. “That bitch killed Father Harper, right? I am going to help these beasts, Sam,” she said with conviction, pointing at the four remaining members of the Militum, “and I want to see her sit on that goddamn throne.”

  Ayer smiled. “Done.”

  34

  Like Thieves in the Night

  Medina, Western Saudi Arabia

  At seven p.m. the following night, Purdue and his hired men waited at a house he’d rented for the week, situated in a village called Sultanah. He had forwarded the coordinates to Sam via the communication devices he had designed to look like common electronic watches. Sam had notified him that they were on their way by means of a local crew employed by an affiliate of Purdue in the transport business.

  “More of that good coffee from your dallah, my dear lady,” Purdue smiled, holding up the diminutive cup he had just drained. “Thank you.”

  “At this rate you will have stones in your gallbladder before you are a year older,” the house owner smiled at him. She was amazed how well the Scottish man could handle Arabic coffee. In the driveway, two cars arrived. Purdue was elated to have his friends back with him. Much as he was a debonair, well-traveled man, he had been feeling a tad wary of the cruel world lately and good company was not enough. He needed those specific people. People like Sam and Nina, his loyal partners in adventure, crime, and personal matters.

  When they entered the modest little house, the place lit up with subdued merriment.

  “Good to see you again, Sam. Good to see that eye is healing up,” Purdue teased about the stitches Sam had to get from their little scuffle under the mosque.

  “That’s nothing,” Sam responded swiftly. “You should see the other guy.”

  Purdue laughed with Sam, but when the small frame of his darling Nina limped through the door, his face sank to a bitter happiness. “Nina,” he said in a broken voice, “my God! You are the toughest little thing in history and that’s no lie. I had to hear of everything through a bloody communications device.”

  “Why weren’t you there?” she asked plainly, leaving him speechless. Sam cleared his throat and joined Ayer and the other three Militum members in the introductions.

  “Because I am a fool, Nina. Telling you that I was on a drug-less acid trip for those days would not excuse what my ignorance caused you,” he apologized. “But I am going to make it up to you.”

  Nina’s voice was hoarse and sore, and Purdue could not hug her because of her scalded skin, but she leaned in to him to make something clear. “If you try to protect her again, I will kill you myself. Are we clear?”

  She did not wait for an answer, but just limped past Purdue to join Sam and the others. The Brigade Apostate was happy to help one of their members to free Dr. Gould, but they would not stick around for the rest of the mission, leaving Sam and Nina with only the Militum at their side.

  Never before had the owne
r of the house met so many cut, bruised and injured Europeans together in one place. She sat in the far corner with coffee, fascinated by their indifference to the fact that they were planning to breach the most cursed fortress in Medina, the unholy wart on the holy face of the region.

  After they’d had a small dinner and exchanged ideas, the group decided to attack the Geier citadel in the night, for the element of surprise to be optimal.

  “We have no way of knowing Toshana is in there, though,” Purdue said, “so we are all wearing coms so that we can notify each other of tactical positions and free zones, alright?”

  They nodded in unison. Occasionally, Nina and Ayer’s eyes would meet. The connection was powerful, and she would keep seeing his scythe reach for her throat every time he looked at her. Consequently, she dropped her eyes altogether, focusing on the plan.

  “Now Ayer, where is the building we seek?” Purdue asked.

  “At the edge of town, Mr. Purdue,” Ayer responded, “there is a place called Kittanah. About three kilometers from there sits the hideous citadel. On the gates is this symbol…” He drew a rough sketch on a ripped piece of newspaper. Purdue felt his skin crawl. “That is the symbol on the contract Toshana gave me to sign. That proves the citadel belongs to her, because she is the widow of one Klaus Geier. Ayer said the owner was Geier.”

  “Oui,” Ayer said.

  Nina craned her neck to see the symbol sketched by Ayer and she lifted an eyebrow as she scrutinized it. “You do know what that symbol represents, correct?” she asked Purdue. He shook his head. “No, I thought it was one of the Bilderberg affiliates.”

  “It is,” Nina replied, almost smirking in the sick twist, “so to speak.”

  They all stared at her in apprehension. “This, gentlemen, is the Sigil of Mammon.”

  “Money,” Purdue said softly. “Of course, she said she worshiped money. She said I do too.”

  “That makes sense, because the name on the building that masquerades as Hebrew lettering, reads ‘Mammon,’” Ayer confirmed. “I don’t care how much money she has. Some things cannot be bought.”

  Nina scoffed.

  “Now remember, we are going in blind. I’ve used Ayer’s expertise to advise me on the elemental and chemical composites of the Crown of the Templars. My tablet, based on the information, will direct me to the Crown. Nina, Sam,” he announced, “you come with me to retrieve the relic.”

  “We will be looking for Toshana,” Gille smiled slyly.

  “Now, we go with the two vehicles outside,” Purdue said. “It will allow each unit to leave the premises as soon as they have achieved their objectives.”

  “Got it,” Sam chimed in. “But I still think Nina should stay here.”

  “Noted,” Nina said. She got up and slid a Bowie knife into her boot, keeping it fixed with the ankle brace. “Now, let’s go and get our shit done.”

  “You heard the lady,” Purdue smiled, also concerned for her. But he knew how tenacious she was and that any advice would only piss her off.

  35

  Breach of Contract

  With the full moon traversing the clear skies of Saudi Arabia, the outlines of the towering castle of Mammon looked especially sinister. The front and back gates were not guarded, only locked with an electronic system Purdue quickly disarmed. Inside, they could see luxury cars parked in a rough row. From Bentleys to limousines, they stood in the shadows of the tall palms on the premises.

  “Sounds like a party,” Nina whispered. “But it must be a very private party. No bodyguards. No doormen.”

  Purdue nodded, “And look, the guests are dressed in old Nazi uniforms. How quaint.”

  “Let’s go,” Sam suggested, as he cocked his gun. “I don’t wanna be late for the orgy.”

  Nina smiled for the first time.

  They entered through the back gate, keeping track of their associates slipping in from the fences by the parked cars. The Militum elected to use guerilla techniques for this breach, keeping their kills silent and clean cut. If Sam Cleave or his friends decided to fire even one shot, they would draw the attention from the Militum and it would be easier to seize Toshana.

  On his trusty tablet, Purdue used his infrared function to gather information on the blueprint of the fortress. “Here, ten meters on,” he whispered, “a sub-level entrance.”

  They crept nearer in the darkness cast by the palms and brushes. Nina’s ankle was killing her, but she dared not admit it. Sam used his lock pick tools to open the locks and they made their way swiftly down the ramp.

  “Is this a garage?” Nina asked as softly as she could. There were no lights on. “The ramp is wide, like for a car.”

  “Aye. Purdue, can you check your diagram?” Sam asked.

  Purdue scanned the dark place with his infrared, and smiled. “Hello nurse.”

  “What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

  Purdue flicked on his bright light to reveal a small collection of old motorcycles from World War II and some rare Russian and American models being restored. “Ah! Nice,” Nina smiled. “Dibs on the old Triumph.”

  “With that foot?” Sam teased.

  “On that note,” Nina said, “I think I should stay here and wait.”

  “That is a stellar idea, love,” Sam agreed as Purdue nodded with him.

  She sat down in the dark, checking her watch for the movements of the group. “See you soon,” Sam whispered. “Won’t be a minute.”

  Purdue scanned the corridors and hallways, stealing forward with Sam on his heel.

  “You weren’t too far off, Sam,” Purdue whispered, barely ducking from a passing man in SS uniform. “Looks like an orgy of sorts. The women are naked.”

  “Jesus, of all the times not to have my camera,” Sam jested, gawking at the bare breasts and suspenders worn by the women in the citadel. Looking at one in particular he asked,“Wonder what rank she holds?”

  “Come up the right flight, straight up. The device is picking up the Crown on the top floor,” Purdue said. The two of them waited for the right moment, all the while smelling the intoxicating scent of opium. “The party is predominantly on the ground floor, by the indoor pool, so we should be okay.”

  With long paces the two raced upstairs, grateful that there was nobody hanging about. Purdue was out of breath, feeling agitated to be so close to the claws of Toshana again, but his friend could read his mind. “Don’t think about her,” Sam said. “Just think of the Crown and get what you came for.” Purdue agreed, but it took all his strength to fight thoughts of Toshana.

  “Here,” he finally said as they came to the top landing of a small, narrow stair. The screen on his tablet revealed the contents of a locked closet in the wall. “That broom cupboard is filled with artefacts and trinkets.”

  “Right,” Sam said, getting to the antique pirate’s padlock. It was a difficult one, for which he had no tools. Purdue heard the rustling of clothing behind him. “Sam,” he whispered, but Sam hushed him. “Sam, I think I hear someone.” But Sam was too busy concentrating by the wavering light of a penlight he was using.

  “You do hear someone,” a male voice affirmed Purdue’s fears, breathing on his neck as he spoke. He swung around to strike, but found Gille standing behind him, chuckling softly.

  “Good God, man!” Purdue exhaled, clutching his chest. From behind Gille, in the shadows, a figure extended from the ceiling beam. Gille looked around and shoved Purdue playfully. “Don’t worry. It’s only Ayer.”

  As the other two Templars stole nearer to join them, the athletic body of the Militum leader dropped to the floor, landing like a cat. He walked straight for Sam, pulling him aside. “Let me,” he said, and pulled a flathead screwdriver from his belt.

  Sam protested. “The lock is tricky, Ayer. It has different…”

  He stood in amazement, feeling thoroughly stupid, as Ayer simply used the flathead tool to lift the pins from the hinges. With a self-righteous grin, Ayer removed the doors quietly and propped them up against the
wall. “You’re welcome,” he told Sam.

  “Don’t you have to find Toshana?” the journalist snapped, still grateful for the help.

  “She’s nowhere to be found,” Gille remarked. “Maybe Purdue has a tool for detecting Toshana.”

  Ayer and the others chuckled. “He does, actually,” Ayer teased. Even Purdue had to snicker with them, shrugging at Sam’s scowl.

  Two rooms down, something creaked. The group stiffened in place, waiting for movement. A tall, thin Nazi officer emerged from one of the bedrooms, his hair unkempt and his uniform in disarray. Purdue nudged Ayer, who nodded in return. So quietly did they stand in the shadows that the man didn’t even see them in passing as he skipped down the stairs.

  They could hear someone in the room he had left. Ayer motioned for his men to investigate and kill if necessary, while he stayed to help Sam identify the Crown. They fumbled through dusty and gruesome items as Purdue shed some faint light. All manner of things populated the shelves. From ivory phalluses to pure gold skulls, rare items from occult books, and even pristine crystal balls, all engraved with the Sigil of Mammon and the symbol of the Vril Society.

  “Oh Jesus!” Sam shrieked out loud, throwing himself backward onto the floor.

  “What?” Purdue asked.

  “I just touched something fucking disgusting,” he gulped, looking spooked. Ayer smiled as he bent to see under the shelf where Sam had reached. “Congratulations, Sam,” he said, drawing out the hideous and hairy severed goat’s head, “you found the lost Crown of the Knights Templar!”

  “Christ, what an ugly fucking thing! It looks like a spider,” Sam yelped as quietly as he could, while Purdue stood fascinated.

  “This is the mechanical Head the Pope made?” Purdue asked Ayer.

  “Oui. Look,” he answered, pulling aside the hard, brown hairs to reveal the robotic skull and horns. “The Head of Baphomet. Finally we have it back. God, I wish I could destroy it once and for all so that we could rest assured this shit doesn’t happen again.”