Order of the Black Sun Box Set 8

by Preston William Child

  Down in the cellar, the two men sat listening to her story. It was a shock to hear Anita turn on them like that, but they were not leaving empty handed. Yes, they were leaving, and that was final. Court could stay behind and try to explain if he wished, but Paul was not going to be caught. Not again. Above the ceiling of the cellar, a hard trampling ensued. Three women shrieked hysterically as the owner, Mr. Rufus Hall, shoved his wife and daughter into the drawing room and slammed the doors shut. Only Anita was left and they could hear her desperate sobbing and begging as he dragged her along the hallway.

  Paul and Court followed the sound above them as it oved from one side to another. Their torchlights were off, but both knew that the other was genuinely terrified. Anita was begging and explaining as she was slapped around, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. A heavy thump abruptly halted her crying, prompting both men in the cellar to perk up.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ, tell me that was not what I think it was,” Court murmured. Another muffled blow sounded, then another, before they heard the man’s heavy footfalls return up the corridor. To avoid being discovered Court thought quickly, and jumped up to unscrew the bulb from the hanging wire.

  “Eileen, have you called the cops? You two stay in there until the police arrives,” Mr. Hall thundered furiously. Paul grabbed the suitcase to shield himself as Mr. Hall opened the trapdoor. Court was frantic, with nothing to hide behind.

  “Hope you made peace with your gods, you fuckers!” Mr. Hall roared, but Paul let loose a 9mm hollow point into his thigh from behind the shelter of the suitcase. Court’s heart was pounding madly at the developing bloodbath as a screaming Mr. Hall drew on Paul, clipping the suitcase twice and missing the target in the dark.

  The homeowner stumbled down the stairs, and all Court could think of was escaping. Now, while the wife and daughter were hiding in a locked room, all he had to do was get past Mr. Hall. He waited for Paul to engage the sadistic Hall, so that he could slip around them and head up the steps.

  ‘Stay calm. Stay…calm,’ Court advised himself. ‘If you panic you are going to end up dead. Wait. Just wait. It is dark enough.’ With the suitcase in Paul’s grasp Court had nothing to sell but the cutlasses and the belt, but at least he would escape with his life. Flashes from both barrels momentarily lit up the room as the wounded bear of a man raged after the intruder shooting at him. Court saw his chance as Mr. Hall fell hard on the suitcase, trapping Paul underneath. He took two more of Paul’s hollow points in the shoulder and neck, but he was too angry to feel anything.

  Court looked back from the steps as he crawled nearer. Mr. Hall planted a bullet firmly in Paul’s head before he collapsed.

  ‘Go! Go! Go! You can still get away!’ Court’s inner voice shouted. He scrammed up the steps, barely hearing the panic-stricken Hall women in the drawing room. They had no idea who was being shot, but they had specific instructions to stay in the room. From a distance away in the bloody night, Court Callany could hear the approaching police sirens as he exited the house and laboriously scaled the stone wall and fence.

  He ran. As unfit as he was, he braved the stabbing pain behind his clavicle and in his side and he ran for his life. Two squad cars stopped in front of the house. “There!” he heard one officer shout.

  “This is the police! Stop or we will open fire!” another officer yelled, but Court was not going to get caught. If he had to go to prison, his wife would never get the help she needed and his grandson would end up in a shelter or worse. He had to escape.

  At once, a rain of bullets erupted in the normally quiet neighborhood and hit the fleeing suspect in the knees, spine and back of the head.

  “What the fuck?” the officer gasped. His colleagues were as shocked as he was. “Shoot him!” he shouted, and another cluster of gunshots rang through Whitecraigs, hitting the suspect at least twice more. “Are we shooting blanks?”

  Court gasped for air as he fled across two unfenced yards to reach the main road. The bullets that struck him felt like pelting rocks, but there was no blood. In fact, there were no entry wounds. He had no idea what was going on, but he kept running until he could not feel the pain anymore. Across the parking lot, his car came into view and it was then that Court Callany began to weep hysterically. As he unlocked his car behind the supermarket building, he removed the belt and swords and threw them on the passenger seat.

  Back at the Hall residence, the police found Mr. Hall dead on top of the intruder he managed to slaughter. They still could not explain how at least a dozen slugs hit the running suspect, yet left him unharmed.

  “Anything stolen from the premises?” the officer asked the distraught Mrs. Hall.

  “Not that I know of. That was all of it,” she sobbed over her husband’s body as they emptied the suitcase back onto the shelves. She neglected to note that the umbrella holder had been ransacked, but not being the antique dealer her husband was, she had no idea that a priceless relic had indeed been lifted – a relic of legendary power.

  4

  Glasgow History Week

  Gracewill Primary was a relatively new school, considering the curriculum followed. Principal James Willard was reminiscent of the archetypical teacher, apart from the fact that he dressed somewhat like a wizard. The sixty-year old Brit had been teaching for most of his life, until the position of principal opened up at Gracewill’s old premises, a place he had long yearned to work at.

  Principal Willard was a whimsical man, making him the perfect leader for a school of young children. His love for wearing an inverness cape over his suit perfectly complimented his borderline imperial moustache, giving the grey haired headmaster an appearance of a gentleman from the school’s heyday. Not a man for sports, he was tall, sporting a bit of a beer belly, which was probably what started his affinity for the cape business over his suits.

  “Welcome to Gracewill, Dr. Gould,” he chuckled as he briskly traversed the floor of the front office to greet Nina. “I must say, it is an honor to host such a renowned historian at our humble academy, and I cannot wait to attend one of your lectures at the Edinburgh History Society next month.”

  “Wow, that is a mouthful,” she jested with a wink and she reached out her hand to him. Both his soft, warm palms enveloped Nina’s dainty hand as he introduced himself. “The pleasure is all mine, Principal Willard. I am sorry that I answered so late, but I was tying up some loose ends after a disastrous train trip in Eastern Europe.”

  “My God, I heard about that,” he replied seriously. “I believe you saved a group of international delegates from a terrible crash.”

  Nina scoffed with a smile and tolled her eyes back in mock modesty. “Actually, I was one of those saved by my two colleagues. They deserved the accolade, in truth, but yes, we narrowly averted a terrible tragedy.”

  Nina tried to keep her replies simple, but in fact, the light mention of the would-be catastrophe ordained by the Order of the Black Sun would have brought on global destruction. It merited a long and dramatic account, but she hardly had the strength to relive it, let alone explain the anomaly of physics that was employed for sinister agendas. For her peace of mind and that of the world, Nina elected to treat the ordeal as a train accident and nothing more.

  “Well, I am very glad that you and your friends did something to save the people on that train, Dr. Gould, and delighted that you are still with us!” he cheered as he ushered the petite brunette into his office.

  “So, Principal Willard, would you like to fill me in on the purpose of my advisory position here for the next week?” she asked as he sat down opposite her. The office reeked of wood polish and old carpeting, reminding Nina of her visits to the principal’s office during her high school career. To her surprise, she found herself feeling quite affected by the smell, jolting her memory back in time to when she was a diligent, but feisty student.

  In the sharp morning light that permeated through the pallid blinds behind him, Principal Willard looked like an Olympian god. The grey halo of his sideburns a
nd hair shimmered from the blinding rays as he folded his hands together. “We have a history week here at Gracewill every year and the faculty and I thought it would be interesting for a historical academic to advise us on the finer details. We thought it would breathe some new light into the tiresome old curriculum prescribed by the school board. You know, just to make things more exciting for the children before they grow up and discard it altogether.”

  “Interesting,” she smiled. “I think it is a great idea.”

  Of course she did. Nina would garner more attention towards her field and its exciting possibilities. If anything, she was hoping to plant some seeds in the young minds at Gracewill that would rouse such a wonderful curiosity for the past as she harbored. Although the school board were not paying her much for the pulling power she could bring them, Nina had enough money to spend her time spreading the word on the fascinating world of history.

  “So, you would be interested in sitting in on our history classes, then?” he beamed.

  “Aye,” she nodded cordially. “Which grades would I be sitting in on?”

  “Mostly Primary 7,” he replied, gathering the papers printed for her to sign for the assignment, “because they are at a ripe age for inspiration, I believe. As I want all aspects and sides of historical events to be covered during lessons, I do not think the younger children should be included yet, you understand.” He pulled an adorable face and whispered, “Just for those more gory tales we all secretly prefer to learn about, hey?”

  Nina laughed. “You and I, sir, will be getting along just fine.”

  A knock at the door halted the merriment for a moment. From the other side a shrill voice spoke reluctantly. “Principal Willard? You called for me?”

  The principal rose from his chair. “Ah, Miss April! Please come in.”

  Nina turned her head to face the door. In stepped an extremely peculiar looking woman that had Nina staring without reservation. Light brown, reddish soft locks coiled onto her shoulders. Taller than the average woman, Miss April looked like autumn on legs. Her bright green eyes sat far inside her head, parted by a delicate narrow nose and shy freckles barely showed on her skin. Nina was fascinated by her rake thin body, her shoulders sunken behind alarmingly protruding collarbones and a long neck so slender that it barely supported her head. The thin neck was Nina’s speculative reason for the shrill voice of the woman as she spoke again. “Is this the famous Dr. Nina Gould you told us about?”

  The beady green eyes pinned Nina, and it made her feel like an insect being scrutinized by a grotesque and curious scientist. “I am sorry if I am staring,” Miss April apologized as she drew nearer to Nina, “but I have seen you on the telly before and read about those scary expeditions you and those other fellas have braved. To be frank, I do regard you as a piece of history in the flesh, so it makes me stare.”

  “Why do you see me as a piece of history, Miss April?” Nina asked as the women shook hands. Miss April’s pale hands were ice cold. ‘Probably the bulimia-induced anemia,’ Nina’s nasty side sneered inside her head. Something about Miss April freaked her out even more than the woman’s odd choice of words.

  “Oh dear, I hope I did not offend you by saying so,” Miss April said sincerely, as she sat down on a less lavish chair as the one offered to Nina. “All I meant was, the adventures you have had and relics you have discovered sort of makes you a figure in the history texts of the next generation, see?”

  Nina hated admitting that she liked the teacher’s sycophantic excuse. Miss April added to her statement with a softer tone, teeming with admiration. “Only, we get to meet you and speak to you already. You are not some long deceased historical figure leaving us with unanswered questions. We can ask you straight to your face.”

  “That is quite the observation, Miss April,” Principal Willard smiled, clasping his hands together on the desk. Nina found the woman’s intense stare terribly disturbing, an expression of obsessive admiration coupled with a lustful foreboding.

  “Aye, it is a very unusual reflection,” Nina agreed politely, desperate to change the subject before Miss April suggested a sacrificial feast or something. She quickly turned to Principal Willard and cleared her throat. “So, in conclusion, you just want me to observe Miss April’s classes and add bits in?”

  “That would be wonderful,” she heard Miss April swooning next to her.

  “That is correct, Dr. Gould. Maybe you can just add anecdotes or elaborate on some of the lessons,” the principal agreed. “It would also be interesting for the children to learn from two different sources in the same class, like a discussion between two history teachers, instead of endless sermons of the same old accounts.”

  Miss April clapped her hands rapidly and lightly next to Nina, declaring her excitement. It was the first time she openly smiled, a beautiful gesture that only bewildered and unsettled the visiting historian. ‘Creepy woman,’ Nina thought. ‘So many levels of creepy.’

  “Shall we introduce Dr. Gould to the class?” Principal Willard suggested.

  ‘Stop being a bitch. She is just happy to meet you, you condescending cow!’ Nina’s conscience reprimanded. “By all means,” Nina smiled.

  In awkward silence Nina accompanied the wiry Miss April and the eccentric principal down the long corridor of uniform doors, each with a similar mat placed on the floor in front of them. It had an unsettling air of perfection, like a pedantic prison for young minds. Contrary to what people assumed about the historian, Nina had never been a fan of the school system, but it was a short week for her to make some extra cash. After all, Nina hoped to impress the children enough to pursue her field of study once they hit high school.

  The red brick halls reached ahead into the dark dead end where the boys and girls lavatories were located. Along the straight lines of the brickwork, wall-mounted hooks toothed the light brown pine they were fixed to. The precision was an eyesore for Nina. She found it oddly annoying how identical and repetitive the doors and hooks were. For a moment, she wondered if this was evidence of some sort of developing obsessive behaviorism.

  “Here we are!” Miss April shrieked, smiling like a comic book psycho. To Nina the teacher’s shrill voice sounded far worse in the hollow echo of the hallway, but she kept on her poker face and smiled nervously. “I cannot wait to introduce you to them, Dr. Gould.”

  “Smashing,” Nina replied, pulling up her nose in a sarcastic gesture Miss April either ignored or remained oblivious to. Upon entering the classroom, Nina’s critical state of mind shattered. It was not the children or the decorations that changed her mind, but the interior of the room. From where she stood, the school bunks were few and stood positioned in an amphitheatrical fashion. Like a lecture hall at the university she attended, the classroom resembled the old lecture rooms of English medical schools.

  From wall to wall the shelves were lined with books and artifacts, the latter being replicas, of course. Nina felt right at home and this time her smile was genuine. What made it even better was the capacity of the class.

  “Only a few students, I see,” she remarked to Miss April, who took her place at the desk at the center of the floor and clapped three times. She nodded, “Principal Willard believes in smaller classes for better individual attention.”

  The class consisted in no more than seventeen children, most looking quite wayward, but attentive. Nina’s eyes briskly scanned across them all to assess the demographic.

  ‘Mostly boys,’ she thought, already adjusting her manner to accommodate their consideration. The young lads stared with saucer eyes at the pretty guest hosted by their history teacher. Her dark hair was back in a simple ponytail and she wore a blazer with her blue jeans and heeled boots. In short, Nina looked hip and professional, with a priceless bronze Celtic torc around her neck to match her bronze earrings.

  One boy in particular found Nina especially engaging and she noticed him at once. However, she pretended not to have seen him gawking at her. She was used to male attention from al
l ages, but the boy’s persistent stare was peculiar.

  “Children, for history week, I have invited a very special person to come and visit us,” Miss April announced happily. “She is a historian from Edinburgh University, among others, and her name is Dr. Nina Gould. Please welcome her to our classroom.”

  Although the class were full of rather rugged looking young ones, they were remarkably obedient. Yet, this was not what took Nina aback. At their teacher’s request for Nina’s welcome, the entire class proceeded to knock on their wooden desks, a trait from a bygone time in formal academia. She did not know whether to find this lovely or weird, but nevertheless, Dr. Nina Gould turned on her charm and took a bow to the delight of the children in Miss April’s unconventional history class.

  5

  The Walking Gem

  In Edinburgh, David Purdue was sipping Cristal along with a small handful of relic hunters, such as himself. They called themselves many things other that, though. Some called themselves antique dealers, others preferred ‘collector’ or ‘custodian’, but Purdue called a spade a spade. He referred to himself as relict hunter and explorer, regardless of the sensitivity of the company he was in.

  Bedecked in his favorite tuxedo, Purdue kept a keen eye on the guests of the bi-annual Euphrates Society Auction. A few new faces surfaced, but he had not attended in four years, leaving him feeling the stranger for the most part.

  “Good evening, Mr. Purdue,” a lady’s voice greeted.

  He turned to face a short, friendly beauty in a silver dress that dazzled the eye. Her eyes were pristine as a glass of mineral water and her hair draped down to the small of her back, almost as silver as her raiment. The odd, but fetching appearance of the lady instantly instilled a warm admiration, and Purdue turned his body entirely to face her.