Order of the Black Sun Box Set 4

by Preston William Child

  Sam was not sure, in fact. The two men had not exactly shared happy times together, but they had enjoyed each other’s company. “Of course! Where in the world are you now?”

  “South Africa,” Malgas replied. “I am a lecturer at a university in Port Elizabeth…”

  “Sounds great,” Sam interrupted. He wished that Malgas would get to the point. His stomach was growling, and his liver was bored.

  “Yes, but,” Malgas stuttered, “I have something you might be interested in covering.”

  Sam paused. Granted the man did not know that Sam was not working for The Bugle or the Post anymore, he allowed Malgas to carry on.

  “Go on,” he said.

  Malgas started to explain, trying to keep his anxiety hidden from the delivery of his words. He was not a man to lie, let alone to deliberately mislead someone, but he had to pull through on this one or else he would be left broke and unable to claw his way out of the unemployment pit unless he could get to the United Kingdom or Egypt.

  "I think I found a long-missing ship off the Algoa coast, Sam, and I would like you to help me cover the salvage and whatever press I can get afterward," Malgas explained. His voice was quivering somewhat, but Sam construed it as excitement. He had not spoken to or seen Billy Malgas for years, but he knew him to be a solid, trustworthy man of reason. He was far from those academics who always insisted on being correct and all-knowing in their tiny fields of research. Malgas was always willing to listen to alternatives and those who tried to dispute his theories were always granted his consideration in their counter-arguments.

  “That is positively riveting, Billy!” Sam exclaimed while he smelled the socks he was about to wear. He put the cell on speaker phone and went about sorting his clothes. Sam was genuinely excited about Malgas’ discovery and he was eager to be involved in something groundbreaking in history, but all he could think of now was the single malt his liver was craving.

  “Oh, it is!” Malgas replied. “I just have one problem that I also hoped you could help me with.” He quickly added, “Just a referral maybe… some advice,” as not to sound needy.

  “Of course, old boy. What can I help you with?” Sam asked as he pulled off his shirt.

  “I feel extremely embarrassed to admit this,” Malgas said in a tone rife with shame, “but I was wondering if you knew of some organization that would be willing to sponsor the salvage? I have some funds put away, but to bring this thing to the surface and have various experts examine it, you know…would, uh, cost me more than what my soul is worth.” Billy Malgas chuckled coyly, but Sam knew that he had swallowed all his pride just to get that sentence out.

  “Well, as luck would have it, I happen to know of some people who might consider your proposal,” Sam offered. Immediately he pictured Purdue’s face at the prospect of another world-historical secret coming to light with the help of the billionaire. “I’m not saying it’s a definite, but I am sure I’d be able to steer some attention to your project. Do I contact you by phone? Do you still have the same e-mail?”

  Malgas sounded a tad reluctant, but Sam chalked it up to his unexpected success at procuring interest. “That sounds amazing, Sam. Please, rather call me. I don’t trust e-mail accounts that much.”

  “I agree,” Sam smiled. “I will see if we can set up a meeting sometime soon to discuss the details of the excavation…or…salvage, as you say. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?”

  “Absolutely! That would be wonderful, Sam. Thanks so much!” Billy Malgas replied excitedly. After he had hung up the phone, a sudden bolt of uncertain fear pulsed through his veins. His eyes moved over the fixtures in the ceiling above him as he sighed laboriously, “What have you gotten yourself into, Billy?”

  “What are you so worried about, Dr. Malgas?” Mieke asked as she brought them both a drink. In the safety of his home office nobody was listening, but still his conscience reprimanded him. He took the mug of fresh Rooibos tea from Mieke.

  “It is now official, you know? I am officially obliged to deliver a discovery that does not exist,” he lamented.

  “You worry too much, sir,” she assured him. “My friends have already started their dives to plant the necessary markings on the wreck off Bluewater Bay. Even if it comes to light that the wreck is not the one we claim, you will always have the markings on it to show the world why you believed it to be a Nazi boat.”

  “I would look like an inept fool,” he countered.

  “No, after my friends have placed the relevant artifacts on the sunken vessel, anyone would easily be convinced that it was a ship from World War II,” she reminded him.

  “Well, I hope you are right, Mieke. People like Sam Cleave and the likes of him don’t just fall for any old nonsense. My reputation is on the line on so many levels,” he warned her.

  Inside, he was looking forward to seeing his old friend again, even if the circumstances were somewhat sordid. But for now, his intentions would have to remain secret.

  3

  Barter

  Cheryl could not jump. No matter how miserable her life was, there was simply too much she still wanted to achieve, and there was no way she was going to throw that away. With her luck, she would end up being a vegetable or worse yet, a woman of sound mind with no use of her legs. On the other hand, surrendering to the men pursuing her would perhaps hold more bad luck. If she were fortunate, they would only kill her. She knew their type well – rapists, torturers, and opportunists who felt no remorse or responsibility for their crimes. How would they? The police and most of the local government were on their payroll.

  Zain opened the window next to her. The ledge Cheryl was standing on reached no farther than the edge of the building, making it impossible for her to move away from the window without falling.

  “Come now, Cheryl,” he said, peeking from under the bottom frame of the window, which he had slid upward. His voice was clear even in the gusts that impeded her hearing as he coaxed her back inside with the promise that she would not be murdered if she cooperated. “It’s cold and slippery out there,” Zain insisted. “Come inside and we’ll talk like adults, hey?”

  She frowned in distrust, “Like you did with Alison? The same way you spoke with Hilary?"

  Zain scoffed and shook his head.

  “They tried to cut and run, Cheryl,” he told her. “Don’t. Please, don’t do the same.”

  He would never admit it, but his stomach churned in remembrance of those women. He had had no choice but to kill them. Contrary to what anyone would think, he had not enjoyed ending their lives one bit. He, too, had a boss who rated his efficiency, and if he failed he would share their fate.

  “How many are with you?” she asked.

  “Just one other, I swear,” he reported. He stuck his head out as far as he could to add, “But he is harmless unless I tell him to strike. I promise, Cheryl. He is not even worth considering.”

  Cheryl Tobias gave it some thought. She tried to keep her mind as clear as possible, but the latest hit of blow had left her too paranoid to regulate her perceptions of danger. She took the drug to keep her awake and alert, but she neglected to cater for the subsequent anxiety that usually followed when she came down.

  Eyes wild and unquiet stared down at the thug in the window. He knew she would have to act soon, but he honestly did not care if she decided to jump or not. Cheryl expelled a frustrated cry, her skinny fingers clutching the corner of the window bricks. A moment later she looked at Zain, “Move over. I’m coming in.”

  He stepped aside, but not before grasping her wrist in mock-protectiveness from where he planned to control her movements.

  Her heart pounded rampantly in her chest, but Cheryl had reached the point where she no longer cared if he was sincere or not. Even if Zain was going to kill her, the drugs made her indifferent and hopefully dampened her pain sensors should he decide to run her through. She watched the two men rapidly exchange looks as he helped her inside.

  As she set both feet back on the floo
r again and slowly brought the window down to lock out the world, Cheryl's eyes welled up with tears. Both her wet eyes and the dirty glass of her window formed a thick shroud that cut her off from any help from the outside world. Now it was final. She had surrendered, and nobody would ever know that she was dead when they dumped her body in the muddy rivers outside Addo’s game reserves for the crocodiles to chomp on.

  Sibu was still leaning against the front door when she turned to face him. His face frightened her to the core. She knew that kind of expression only from her meanest clients; the ones who’d beat and raped her. Zain’s face was none the kinder, and for good reason. Baring his white teeth, his left hand came out of nowhere and struck her across the cheek. Cheryl’s small body crashed into her coffee table as the blow shocked her mind into oblivion for a moment. Before she could compose herself, Sibu slapped her from the other side and pushed her head down onto the rug.

  “Oh, please God, no! Please! Don’t!” she screamed as she felt her dress being flung over her head. She expected the worst from this all too familiar scenario she had suffered before; back then the police had taken her statement and never followed up on the shocking incident. But nothing happened. In the quiet darkness of the early morning, all she could hear over her sobbing was the hard breath of the male menace holding her down forcefully.

  "You remember this? Do you?" Zain shouted from behind her. But Cheryl could not nod with her face firmly pushed to the floor. It felt as if his entire weight pushed her skull down. "If you fuck with us, this is going to happen again. We know about it, yes. Our friends in the police showed us your file.”

  Sibu smiled. His voice was calm when he finally said something. “We know exactly what to do to remind you of that night. What were you thinking? You actually thought that the police would waste their time on the rape of a whore? I mean, isn’t it just part of your job to take that shit?”

  Zain chuckled, "You have a good point there, Sibu. We could ravage her within an inch of her life, or even kill the bitch, and there would be no questions asked. If we kill her, we won't even have to pay for the… extra.” The two men laughed, but she was in no position to take a stand, so Cheryl just closed her eyes and waited. Her face hurt, but from what she had heard of this kind of men, this was nothing. She had no idea what they were planning.

  “Sit down on the couch,” Zain said as he released Cheryl’s head from his furious grip. “Sibu, get the light on.”

  “I have no lights,” she said softly.

  “What?” Zain asked.

  “I don’t have any lights in the flat. Just candles,” she revealed reluctantly, desperate not to provoke them even more. She pointed with a shaky finger to the candles she extinguished shortly before they had come to her door earlier. “I can light them quickly.”

  “No!” Zain bellowed. “My associate will light them.”

  “Why me? I’m not your fucking maid, man,” Sibu protested, but his more vicious associate gave him a stern glare.

  “Because we don’t want the whore to have matches or a lighter in her hand, you fucking idiot!” Zain rasped impatiently. “Or is that too much for you to figure out?”

  Sibu shook his head. He had not thought about it, but he was not about to admit it out loud. One by one he lit the white candles, illuminating Cheryl’s home with their warm light. Regrettably that ambiance was filled with terror. She found it strange how the same lighting in the same place usually gave her such serenity and security and now was equivalent to pure fear and imminent death.

  “You owe our employer a large sum of money, Cheryl,” Zain started. His beady black eyes looked even more sinister in the candle light as he stared her down. His hands were folded comfortably on his lap, but she knew he was dangerous. "We have provided you with the necessary documents to leave the country, and you have not paid us the balance."

  Cheryl was petrified. She wondered if they knew that she had been duped into the whole transaction, or even if they knew - if they would care. Her fingers were tightly entwined, wringing profusely as she rocked slightly in her agitated state, a condition that Zain enjoyed no end.

  “I was cheated by a client who made me believe he was going to take care of that,” she explained in a weak voice, rushing her words for fear of being battered before she could state her case.

  "We know, but the work is done, and our people are short paid, you see? So that means you have to pay up for your documents, darling, or no border guard will ever recognize that pretty face of yours again,” Zain clarified.

  “I don’t have that kind of money. Not in years of working will I be able to get that kind of dough together! How does your boss expect me to…?” she almost raised her voice, not from arrogance, but in absolute disbelief that they could be this unreasonable.

  Sibu whistled ominously, reminding her to compose herself. He seated himself next to her and placed his calloused hand on her knee. Cheryl winced as her heart went wild in anticipation of what he was going to do. Zain did not move. There was no order from him to stop Sibu’s intentions and this frightened Cheryl into a place of despondency that prompted her to employ her criminal reserves.

  “Wait, I can’t pay you, but I can tell you a secret that would make you very rich,” she offered desperately.

  “Oh Christ, just do her and be done with it, Sibu," Zain groaned, obviously not in any mood for tolerance. Sibu's hand slid up under her skirt, and he licked his cracked lips as he inched closer on the sofa.

  “I’m serious! Listen to me!” she cried.

  “Listen, bitch, if you know a secret that could make us rich, why are you living in a shit hole like this? Huh? Why can’t you pay for your documents? Shouldn’t you be out on a yacht in the Caribbean, then?” Zain asked her in a bellowing roar.

  Sibu had a hearty laugh at his colleague’s suggestion, hoping Cheryl had nothing to offer so that he could have his way with her and be done with it. The Cape Malay blood in her veins made her rather stunning, a morsel no man would just kill before sampling first.

  "I cannot get to it; that is why!" she moaned through her runny nose, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand while the other hand was deterring Sibu's advances. "It is in a storage room at the university where I used to work! But it belongs to a lecturer there whom I used to help with his research. He was always the one to open the storage. Otherwise, I would have been able to get some stuff for myself already!"

  “What’s his name?” Zain asked.

  “Dr. Malgas. He keeps ancient treasures that he exchanges with international museums and universities there, I swear! I can take you there, but then you must consider our business done!” she dared to negotiate. Her voice trembled, but her eyes told Zain that she was not lying. For a moment, the educated woman in Cheryl the hooker emerged to direct him truthfully. He motioned for his associate to cease his sexual intimidation, much to Sibu’s disappointment. She knew the price of treachery. He did not have to mention it.

  “Take us to Malgas.”

  4

  The Other Woman

  Nina grabbed her laptop and stuffed it hastily into its leather slipcase. With her foot, she kicked her slippers under the bed and zipped up her luggage bag. She was running a bit late, but she still had enough time to make it to Edinburgh to meet up with Dave Purdue. He had offered her a paid assignment to assist him on what he had called a mellow expedition to the east coast of South Africa. Nina had not been to the south in a while and since it was still mostly summer weather there – at least to any Scotsman – she was elated to go this time of year.

  Seeing Sam and Purdue was a close second to the climate she was looking forward to, but in all honesty, the historian had little else to do in the next two months while she waited for one of her co-written books to be published. It was a venture she had taken on with another history expert from the Hebrides, but apparently all the fact-checking was delaying the publication. For now she would do well to distance herself from her gloomy hometown and the constant showers that
drowned her flowerbeds. This time, Nina decided to take her own car from Oban to Edinburgh and leave it in the safety of Purdue's massive property, his mansion Wrichtishousis.

  In the past year, Purdue had beefed up his security considerably since it had been well overdue with the kind of enemies he had made since the ordeal on Deep Sea One bought him far too close to the Order of the Black Sun. Most historians thought that the old Nazi organization had been disbanded long before the 1950’s, but she knew better. Having dealt with the sinister doings of its present day elite society, Nina had long badgered Purdue about getting better security for his estates all over the world. The Black Sun had near-unlimited power, influence and financial reach, which even the likes of even a billionaire like Purdue could not get away from.

  Fortunately for Purdue, the organization's presence had significantly diminished since the deadly clash in Venice a while back, although they had made no secret of the fact that their means were far from exhausted. For now the Order of the Black Sun was like a silent watcher, biding its time.

  Purdue had implored Nina to make use of his private jet, but she had refused to make such a dramatic journey. Secretly she did not want to talk about her doubts about the safety of his aircraft, about her suspicions concerning any crew, fixed or freelance. Nina had learned not to take anything for granted in the last few years, and that the enemy could strike at any time, in any disguise. Taking her car under the pretense of wanting to visit one or two relatives on the way had been an acceptable excuse. He would probably figure it out, but Nina knew she was less likely to be followed or tracked down in an inconspicuous vehicle than an elaborate private jet of a well-known philanthropist and playboy like Dave Purdue. She had a good three and a half hour drive ahead of her, so she made sure that she did not leave too late. Having a breakdown or flat tire in the dark would be a nightmare, so she left her house shortly after noon so that she would be in Edinburgh in time for dinner with Purdue.