Order of the Black Sun Box Set 7

by Preston William Child

  “You cannot help being a grammar Nazi?” Sam jested openly, phrasing the two words to sink in with a flavor of mockery. Nina paused and then looked up. She gave Sam one of her rip-your-bollocks-off looks, waiting for him to utter another nail in his proverbial coffin. Sam laughed jovially at her reaction. He lifted his hands in surrender and sat farther back against his chair to keep his distance, just in case she struck.

  “I’m sorry, I had to. It was just too good to let that one slide! Come on! That was golden!” he chuckled.

  The handsome darkness of Sam’s features accompanied his comic laugh so that Nina could not possibly fault him for the remark. Without reservation, she burst out laughing with him.

  “Alright, I’ll give you that one. That was pretty brilliant,” she giggled.

  Something shifted around the casket area of the lab, propelling them both out of their humorous fit and straight into a frozen stare.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked. “And I know this time it is not you fooling around because you are sitting right here.”

  “Aye,” he whispered. “That wasn’t my doing.”

  Again, it sounded as if a lid was creaking, but the two of them held strong. They were both equally curious about what was to rear its head from the neatly arranged and marked coffins.

  “If you make a mummy joke, a Jesus joke, or a zombie joke, Sam, I swear I will punch you in the face,” she warned softly.

  “No fucking problem,” he replied, his voice quivering slightly. “I am too busy trying not to shit my pants over here.”

  “What can it be – logically?” she asked, still not moving. Her big dark eyes were glued to the collection of human remains, not that she wished to see anything that caused such a sound.

  “This is a lab, so the question of rats is out,” he speculated under his breath. “The caskets are brand new from the hardware store, so it is not wood rot or old hinges.”

  “You know, I would run out, but you are in my way,” she finally said, provoking a flabbergasted expression from the tall journalist. His frame was crouched somewhat, as if he was cowering. Nina knew Sam to have nerves of steel, the type of investigative journalist that would walk right into the lairs of the enemy. To see him cringing was rather unsettling for her.

  “Alright, this is just too interesting,” he announced, sitting up straight. His voice was loud and clear. “I have to investigate that noise, don’t you think?”

  “Go ahead,” she said a bit too quickly to stop Sam. “I’ll be over by the front door by the time you find the source. Seriously, let’s just get one of Purdue’s people to come and have a look.”

  “What? And destroy my reputation as a tough guy?” he frowned playfully. “Look, if it was something dangerous, it would have gotten us by now, right? It’s not like they can wake up now, suddenly, after five days in the house.”

  “This is preposterous,” she sighed. “We both know better, for God’s sake.”

  Sam was halfway across the floor, maneuvering his way through the small maze of steel tables and medical cabinets on wheels that held examination instruments. The light buzzed monotonously as she watched Sam brave the confines of his courage to see what was irking them so.

  From the caskets came a low moan that had Sam turn his head to look at Nina. She gawked in amazement while he was pallid from fear. His heart was beating madly, but his legs were like granite under him and he could not move an inch to bolt out of there. When he turned from Nina to find the source of his horror, something shot out from the boxes. Along the floor the swift thing squealed and scarpered right into Sam’s legs.

  “Jesus!” he screamed, trying to run, but the table behind him trapped him, and he stumbled over it with a mighty crash that sent him hard to the floor. Two gurneys toppled from the force of the pushed table, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting clamor. All Sam could do was curl up to protect his body from whatever was falling around him. The fine clanks of silver and steel tools ended off the magnificent noise with gradual decline until only the footsteps of rushing staff members echoed nearby.

  Sam gathered his strength, with his hangover still in firm control of his motor skills, and got up. On his knees, he finally dared look up towards the door only to find Nina smirking, gently stroking the big old cat in her arms. Behind her a stood the butler and the housekeeper, desperately trying not to follow Dr. Gould’s suit.

  “Bruichladdich, you bastard!” Sam howled, dusting off his knees. Charles, the butler, quickly rushed to assist him in correcting the damage. Nina burst out laughing with Miss Lillian, the merry housekeeper who knew her employer’s friends like her own children. The dead serious Charles, thank God, was too British to share in the silliness and spared Sam his ridicule.

  “I will take care of this, Mr. Cleave,” he reassured. “No worries.”

  “Ta, Charlie,” Sam wheezed from the diminishing terror and effort. He gave Nina a hard look, fraught with humor, and seized his cat from her. The big feline moaned in a meow that imitating exactly the sound that so frightened them a few minutes before. Defensively, Sam told the pretty historian, “You know, you were as frightened as I was.”

  “Aye,” she smiled.

  “And now you act all pompously,” he whined in his own macho way.

  “Aye,” she chuckled.

  Miss Lillian’s giggle stopped abruptly when Purdue appeared in the doorway. “What happened?” he asked her. Nina and Sam were engaged in a little banter over by the desk where the documents were being examined by the historian before, so Lillian delivered a concise account of the hilarious incident to catch him up.

  “Hey, you would have shat yourself too, mate,” Sam told the laughing Purdue, as he gave Bruich to the jolly housekeeper. “Please lock him in the dungeon, Miss Lily. I don’t want to have to endure this again, unless it is because of a proper fucking ghost.”

  “Of course, Mr. Cleave,” Lily winked at Nina, and removed the mischievous feline.

  “Grown any wiser, dear Nina?” Purdue asked. His white hair was wet and his skin moist, permeating the scent of cocoa butter and aftershave. Nina was lurching over the love letter again, with Sam checking the charge on his equipment at the wall plug.

  “Look at this,” she replied, and showed him the original letter. Purdue perused the piece with intense concentration, having a good command of German himself. Sam turned to face them and leaned against the wall-mounted cupboard, fiddling with his camera. Nina waited for Purdue to note what vexed her, and he did not disappoint. At last, he looked up from the letter.

  “His German is way off,” he remarked, as perplexed as she.

  “I told you, Sam,” she smiled at Sam, and he gave her a little salute in congratulations. “It has been bothering me too. And did you notice his knowledge of basic geography?”

  “Of which there is none,” Purdue added.

  “Precisely,” she said. “He is referring to his ship’s orders to sail to Argentina, where they would sail due west to find the lost city. But Peru is north of Argentina. See? El Dorado is supposed to be in Peru, where we were when we followed the priests of the Inca Prophecy, right?”

  “That is correct. Although we did not find it,” Purdue reasoned. “It is common knowledge that it is reputed to be close to Machu Picchu, definitely nowhere west of Argentina.”

  “I thought the men chosen for this operation had to be prime candidates from their respective disciplines,” Nina conjectured. “Call the Nazi’s what you will, but they were pedantic about picking the elite of men in all their endeavors, especially when it came to sensitive clandestine operations like the Inca treasures we found with their bodies. Why is this soldier so obviously oblivious to fundamental geography, not to mention his appalling grammar.”

  Her eyes quickly darted to Sam, silently warning him not to mention the silly moniker again. He only smiled and carried on cleaning his lens caps.

  7

  Trouble from Down Under

  Under the buzzing white light
of Storage 4, Nina and Purdue deliberated on the contents of the letter and its unlikely mistakes.

  “So what is west of Argentina?” Sam chipped in while the other two were talking. They halted their discussion and looked at Sam. He added, “Perhaps that lad is not as dumb as we think, hey?”

  Purdue gave him his full attention. “Meaning?”

  Sam shrugged. “Believe it or not, but many times I have used my cleverness to infiltrate organizations and drug rings by pretending to be stupid. That way, they would never see me as a threat. People will sooner trust an idiot because smart people usually end up dead.”

  “That did not help our friend here,” Nina said nonchalantly.

  “I know,” Sam replied, “but what if this German soldier knew that he was going to die, and decided to leave some kind of clue. There would be no better way than to conceal tactical information in a soppy letter to his bird, right?”

  Purdue’s face lit up. “Nina, let’s look at it again. I have a notion on what the bad grammar could be about.”

  “A cipher?” she asked.

  “My God, I love the two of you,” Purdue grinned.

  “Invoice will be mailed to you,” Sam jested.

  “I don’t recognize any familiar ciphers in what he did here, Purdue,” she said. “Do you think he used something of his own?”

  “That is possible,” Purdue guessed. “But at Oxford, when I was there to attend a symposium on electrical engineering a few years ago, I met a man who knew of secondary level ciphers used specifically during secret operations.”

  “Great! Call him. Maybe he can shed light on this,” Nina suggested.

  But Purdue shook his head. “We can’t. He was murdered shortly after we attended the 2012 Bilderberg Conference in Chantilly together. I always knew that his expertise in covert communication would make him a liability.”

  “So, what are you planning to do?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe I can get his widow to give me his hard drive or relevant books?” Purdue reckoned.

  “Why don’t you just hack into it?” Sam suggested casually. “God knows you are the man for the job.”

  “He would never have that kind of information on his computer, Sam, I can assure you,” Purdue replied. “Let me see if I can get you that book, Nina. I trust you will be able to manage without my help?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “I mean, ciphers are not necessarily historical in nature, so it might be a bit out of your avenue. However, your historical skill will be invaluable to regulate any pertinent details from the message,” he explained to Nina.

  “I get it, Purdue,” she smiled warmly. “Get me the book and I’ll get on it. No offence, but I would love to go home sooner than later.”

  “Not me,” Sam said. “I like it here. The cooking is so much better than my microwave gourmet.”

  Purdue smiled, “And the Scotch is free.”

  “There you go,” Sam chuckled with Purdue.

  “Please excuse me. I have some lawyers at my Old Town offices, so I will get my assistant to promptly contact Dr. Williams’ widow for the cipher, while I arrange for the bodies to be collected tomorrow,” Purdue sighed, suddenly looking a bit wan with stress.

  He left the room. He heard Nina whisper, “Oh my God, I hope he is not being chased by those entitled bastards again. Do you think he is in trouble?”

  Sam answered quietly. “Leave it. It is Purdue’s business. You don’t get to step on this many toes if you don’t have a myriad of business ties with entire contents of the chamber pot, you know.”

  By now Purdue was out of earshot, and he asked Charles to make sure that his overnight bag was ready, just in case.

  “Sir, shall I ask Lillian not to hold your dinner in the oven, then?” Charles asked, appropriately keeping his voice low.

  “I think so, Charles, thank you,” Purdue answered before getting into his favorite Hummer. “I hope this case does not require me to travel and I still hope to dine here tonight.”

  Soon after he left his gates, Purdue called his assistant, Jane, to get in touch with the widow of Dr. Williams to arrange for the cipher book.

  He drove to the offices of Hayden & McCleod, his attorneys in Scotland, and the firm that summoned him to attend to a ‘small matter’ that came to their attention. Purdue was above worry, in the way that most men were. With his boundless financial troves and genius, he rarely had anything to fear that was born from the world of mankind. In fact, he was considered one of the highest order of the insanely rich and powerful, although he had proved himself a rogue from the first attempt at assimilating him into the New World Order.

  There was just too much adventure, empathy, and passion in David Purdue’s veins, to adhere to the rules of common men such as himself, with equal or less to offer. By the sound of his lawyer’s voice on the phone earlier, the matter in question was not paramount, but important enough not to be ignored. It was usually custom between Purdue and Robert Knox, Esq. to meet at Wrichtishousis to take care of legal matters, but with Sam and Nina at the manor, Purdue thought it better to conduct his business at the lawyer’s offices.

  When he arrived at the opulent office, Purdue was met by Robert at the lobby.

  “Hey, old boy,” Purdue greeted him.

  “David,” Knox smiled uncomfortably. In silence he gestured for his client to come with him as they walked to one of the boardrooms. As they walked through the reception area, Knox loudly requested, “Mr. Purdue, please follow me.” His voice was tense, something uncharacteristic of the barrister who could easily have the devil on his knees on a good day in court.

  “What is going on, Robert?” Purdue asked, but his lawyer only cast him a look of warning.

  Through a massive, broad hallway, they passed without conversation. Overhead, the golden inlays of the ceiling glimmered in the sharp lighting of grand chandeliers that lit the intricate designs of the thick carpets that stretched from wall to wall. The building was very old, renovated into something magnificent and lavish to accommodate the footsteps of the affluent and powerful. The tall billionaire looked at the seated people as he traversed the hallway, all painfully smart in dress and conduct, waiting for their appointments.

  When they ascended the steps up the widening staircase, where the carpet was the hue of dry blood and the bannister of ivory looked like the ribs of a whale, Knox turned to Purdue and said, “Whatever they say, just play it cool, agree and tell them you will need two weeks to sort it out.”

  “To sort what out?” Purdue inquired urgently. “Listen, Robert, what is going on here?”

  “David,” the lawyer implored with a stern countenance, “just do what I tell you. Use that charm of yours to fool them into thinking that their case is important. Trust me.”

  Completely bowled over by his lawyer’s words and odd behavior, Purdue heeded the man’s advice and prepared himself for the presentation that no doubt awaited. They entered the luxurious boardroom, and immediately Purdue felt the cold of what was not the air-conditioning, but the clients of the opposing party. The two people sitting at the end of the table did not even attempt to lighten their intimidating appearance, but David Purdue was not easily intimidated.

  “Good afternoon,” he smiled.

  The woman bore a striking resemblance to a bitch called Maria, the villainous harpy that served the Order of the Black Sun and its spoiled sons. Maria was proudly involved in the attempted murder of Purdue and Sam Cleave aboard a Spanish trawler just over a month before. It was uncanny, but Purdue tried not to show his befuddlement. The woman glared at him with no display of emotion whatsoever.

  They merely nodded to acknowledge him. “Good day, Mr. Purdue,” their representative reciprocated the pleasantries. With the familiar looking woman was an older man of color, but Purdue could not place his ethnicity. It was a strange occurrence, if it was indeed Maria, to be in the company of a man like this. The Italian villainess Purdue got to know was the archetypal Nazi drone, and would never
deign to keep company with a man of color. For a moment, Purdue thought of just coming out and asking the man of which nationality he was.

  “So, you are the genius inventor?” the man suddenly said to Purdue, snapping him right out of his inner tug-of-war of propriety. “You are the explorer who rips the holy relics of cultures from the wombs of their graves for money? What did you invent this time to make you more money for your next pillage, Mr. Purdue?” With that accent, the man’s mysterious ethnicity was undeniable.

  “Ah, you’re Aboriginal!” Purdue exclaimed without thinking. The other people in the room gawked at his response in silent horror. However, if their brainwashed morals felt the need to be offended on his behalf, the man did not share it. He responded to Purdue’s utterance by sarcastically acting out mock surprise. “A genius, hey, McKenzie?”

  Ben McKenzie, the opposing counsel who was the only one cordial enough to greet Purdue earlier, rose and buttoned his blazer. He addressed Purdue, who had just sat down with Robert Knox next to him, and retrieved some documents from his narrow messenger case. At the same time, he introduced his two clearly hostile clients. “Mr. Purdue, this is Miss Louisa Palumbo, Department of Nature Conservation in Adelaide,” he gestured to the stern woman. “And this is Mr. Eddie Olden, from the Wilderness Society.”

  Before Purdue, the lawyer set down two small silver containers, along with a dossier marked ‘Scorpio Majorus – lawsuit’. “The depositions are in there, along with the laboratory results from two different institutions from Brisbane and Perth.”

  Scorpio Majorus was an affiliate company of Purdue’s main holdings, of which he was the CEO. The company comprised of a chain of medical facilities and forensic laboratories, as well as three drug production companies, mainly for research purposes and testing of new drugs for terminal diseases.