Order of the Black Sun Box Set 8

by Preston William Child

  “The belt thing! The sheath! Shit, where…?” he mumbled in the dark, fiercely rummaging around in the close vicinity, hoping to find the scabbard concealed by shadows. Court’s time was running out. In the dead silence of the musty little space, he could hear the watch on his arm ticking especially loud. Paranoia gripped him as his one hand turned up the muddy concrete under his feet, yielding nothing but dirt and glass.

  Above his head, Court could hear the plumbing shiver, a sure sign that someone was flushing the toilet. His heart skipped a few beats.

  ‘Sue. Sue is up. Shit! Shit! Shit!’ he thought in panic. What could he do? No doubt she would see his car in the drive. He had to think up a plausible agenda quickly and some good back-up bullshit to explain the collection of antique weapons. ‘Or…you could just cancel your appointment with Alan Silver and pretend you came home to be with Sue.’

  Court shook his head profusely. There was no chance that he was going to miss out on this deal. There was much to barter about and he regretted having not had the time to research the value of what he had in his possession. In the end, Sue would just have to accept that he came into some goods to flog and be content, he decided.

  With a strong will, he bolted across the barely visible floor with its uneven slabs and sunken nooks. He heard his wife speak to someone and halted abruptly, listening. A man’s voice unfamiliar to him was in conversation with Sue, but Court could not betray his presence now. He had to wait. On the mother of pearl face of his watch, the arms threatened to reach eleven o’clock. Sweating like a rapist with his balls in a vice grip, Court slowly poked his head out from the small door that led into the laundry room.

  Hearing Sue chatting away, he used the moment to close the small door behind him and head in the opposite direction to the front door. Through the kitchen, Court tiptoed with his heavy portable armory, straight towards the back door, where he unlocked the latch and left the house. Once outside, he first took a deep breath, surveying his surroundings before leaping over the trench of mud he dug a week before to fix the drainage pipe.

  The driveway ran past the master bedroom, but was cut off from the front lawn by a tall picket fence, overgrown with ivy vines. ‘Good thing she is not in the bedroom. She would have seen me.’ For once, Court was grateful for his wife’s talent to babble on about little nothings for an alarmingly long time. She occupied herself and her caller, giving him time to put the car in neutral and push it out behind the emerald screen of ivy. He noticed that it was Father Hennessey calling on Sue, and no sooner had Court recognized him, before Sue invited him in.

  ‘Perfect!’ the mechanic turned thief cheered in his head. The front door closed and Sue would never know that he had been there. It was 11 a.m. on the dot, sending Court into a frenzy. With the merchandise in the back seat, he raced to Alan Silver’s establishment. There was no time to make excusing calls. He had to just get there. Overhead, the sky had significantly darkened. Glasgow looked its old self again – dreary and beautiful, angry and cold.

  Court was no fool. He knew that haste could cost him dearly if he got caught by a traffic officer for speeding or reckless driving. Calming himself with the notion that he had what Silver wanted, he navigated the fifteen-minute drive to the pawnshop within the speeding limit. Late by a quarter of an hour, Court finally pulled up to the back of Alan Silver’s pawnshop.

  They looked menacing, even by Glasgow standards. There were two of them, flanking Silver outside the back entrance of the shop. One looked like a Mediterranean bouncer and the other was an emaciated man in his mature years, looking sharp and cold. Both men wore Italian suits and elaborate jewelry, but not the kitsch rapper-style jewelry. Blancpain watches adorned their wrists and pure platinum cufflinks decorated their shirtsleeves. None of the three men looked amused at Court’s late arrival.

  “My watch must be slow,” the gaunt man said as Court darted out of his car to apologize. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the perspiring local mechanic. “But wait, my watch is a Swiss masterpiece that costs more than your house, Mr. Callany, and it unlikely to be slow or fast.”

  “I am so sorry,” Court huffed, laboriously dragging the wrapped items from the back seat. “My wife is very ill, and I had to tend to her first. That is what kept me.”

  “How noble,” the gaunt man purred sarcastically. His German accent was prevalent under his English. “You caught me on a good day, Mr. Callany. Those weeping gods of self-pity that hang over your sick wife must have their blessed hands over you today.”

  Court was offended, but he dared not utter a word in defiance. By the expression of toil on the reddened face of Alan Silver, Court could tell that he was very unsettled and nervous. If he could, the mechanic would abort his mission, but judging by the tension it would be a deadly choice.

  Silver leered anxiously at the tarp parcel. “Is that the Hall items?” he asked plainly.

  “Aye,” Court replied. “I had another piece, but I could not find it in time to make this appointment.”

  The thin man scratched his clean shaved head, the skin wrinkling under the brim of his fedora. He sighed, “Could not find it? You leave antique artifacts lying about like undergarments?”

  “No, of course not,” Court panted nervously. “As you can appreciate, I had to hide them pieces away, otherwise my family…my family…they do not know…”

  “They do not know that you are a thief,” the man finished Court’s difficult statement. The words came out blunt, but somehow cut through the mechanic like Japanese steel. He could do nothing but nod like a fool, knowing that there was no other way of describing what he had become. With a sharp leer, the man addressed Court. “Well, thief, meet the hunters.”

  “Please, gentlemen, let us go in?” the sweaty Alan Silver suggested, looking around frantically. “We can continue the transaction inside, away from prying eyes.”

  The gaunt man nodded at his bodyguard and the huge man planted himself at the door, on the inside, to make sure that nobody could show up while the deal was underway. Better still, he could assure the safety of his employer, Major Johannes Rian, master collector of bladed weaponry of all eras.

  Alan led the two men into a small, brightly lit office where he usually appraised prospective artifacts. Shelves lined the wall behind his chair, separated into four sections, filled with trinkets, ornate utensils, hand-carved clocks and the like. Court could not help but conclude that Alan Silver was far from the financial caliber of the men he had invited over. The Major introduced himself, as did Court, given that Alan Silver did not know more than Court’s first name and had him vouched for by a reliable businessman, Tony Hamish.

  As Court laid out his stolen goods, he silently realized that he had made a terrible mistake. Perhaps it was the snide menace of the Major, or maybe the fact that Court had entered the jaded world of murder and larceny. All plausible reasons, however, Court’s sinking feeling may have come from the look on the Major’s face…and the black Swastika tattooed on his neck.

  11

  Impervious

  School was over for the day. Usually a time of relief for kids, one child was far from relaxed as he exited the building into the early afternoon drizzle. Brian was very worried that his grandfather would discover that he took the scabbard, but if he made it home on time, all would be well. Grandpa Court only got home after five o’clock, so he had plenty of time to return the scabbard to where he had found it, provided he could evade the bullies just for one day.

  It had become ritual for Jimmy Leonard and Percy Klein to bully the frail Brian Callany. Even the soft rain that wept all over the moist footpaths cutting through the weed-riddled lawns of the park did not deter their malice. At least, Brian thought, he would be free of their bullying when it rained, but he was disappointed to see them trail him anyway.

  He was wearing his grandfather’s newly acquired scabbard around his small waist. It was far too loose, but instead of buckling the belt, he had tied it in a knot to keep it from falling off him. T
he long sheath was dragging on the ground and Brian held it up for the most part to keep it from getting damaged.

  “You look so stupid!” Jimmy yelled from a distance behind him.

  His cry drew the attention of Nina, who was outside the school, busy unlocking her car. Frowning, the historian watched the two boys follow Brian into the canopy of foliage. She did not like the look of it, and decided to follow them. After all, it was not as if she had to be anywhere in particular after school. Tiptoeing carefully to avoid detection, Nina snuck in behind the drooping tree branches, taking her time to catch up to the children.

  Most of her hair had gotten wet anyway, so she did not care for the inconvenience. Her heart raced uncontrollably, fueling her natural fiery temper, because Nina despised bullies, having suffered at the hands of their cruelty herself, when she was young. However, what aggravated her the most, was the fact that she was not allowed to strike out at these children. If it were up to her, bullies of all ages would simply get a good, hearty ass kicking and sent on their way. Old fashioned or not, in her opinion, there was no better discipline than a little physical pain, and she would love to give these juvenile tyrants a punch in the crotch.

  “You know that piece of junk is worthless, right?” Jimmy kept going as his accomplice laughed ruggedly. Alongside him, the podgy Percy trudged, picking up stones. He would hurl them at the determined Brian, who kept his eyes straight ahead and hastened on to put distance between them. Nina passed from shrub to shrub, pausing behind thickets, growing increasingly pissed at the bullies.

  Above their heads, the clouds grew heavier. Thunder warned of what was coming and Brian hoped to make it home before the rain started pouring. His mother always got upset when he got soaked, fearing that her son’s timid immune system would bring him ill health. After all, it was an unfortunate flaw Brian inherited from Pam. Pneumonia or chronic flu hit the mother and son with ease, even when the rest of the immediate family were unscathed.

  Nina could not believe what she was doing. Like a proper stalker, she was trailing a bunch of young boys. Feeling like some pervert cougar, but she had to protect Brian if she could. Even just this once. Across the park, they pursued him while he dragged the heavy leather artifact along. Brian pulled off his woolen sweater and wrapped it around most of the scabbard, trying to keep it dry. Mud clung to Nina’s boots, but she had steady feet and made good time in catching up to the boys.

  The skies roared above Glasgow. All the cars frequenting the overpass to Brian’s neighborhood had their headlights on. This is how dark the afternoon had turned. Every now and then, one of Percy or Jimmy’s rocks would strike Brian, pushing Nina into secret fuming at the injustice. Lightning pulsed behind the clouds as the boys marched through the wide trench of mud and rain pools to reach the other side of the park. Brian would cower under the rocks that hit him, yelping, but it was the lightning that terrified them all the most.

  He turned suddenly, forcing Nina to stop in her tracks and wait. In the hiss of the rain and the crack of thunder she could not discern his words, but he angrily screamed something at Percy and Jimmy. They stopped, waiting for him to approach them, still mocking him. To Nina’s surprise, young Brian clobbered Percy with a sudden and powerful punch to the face that took the fat bully down for the count. Before Jimmy could do anything, Brian kicked him in the groin, undeterred by the scabbard’s uncomfortable burden.

  Nina gasped, catching her breath with a smile she was a little ashamed of. “Right in the bollocks,” she giggled softly to herself. “Well done, Brian!”

  Percy Klein struggled back onto his knees in the brown mess of mud and stones, holding his nose. “You broke my nose! You faggot freak! My dad is going to sue your dad and take all your shitty stuff!”

  “Go fuck yourself!” Nina heard the small-framed Brian defy in response. He looked enraged. His wet hair dripped over his wild eyes as he seethed. Nina could not believe the transformation of the child, as he spat on Percy and pointed at the wailing Jimmy Leonard, still writhing on the ground. “Stay down, Jimmy! Or I swear to Christ I will kick your jaw off!”

  ‘Maybe it is time to interfere now?’ Nina’s inner reasoning kicked in. She was still in shock by the way in which the frail boy turned the tables without warning.

  “Brian?” she shouted through the rain, stumbling to the trench to break up the fight before it became deadly. Lightning split the sky again, sending Nina into an instinctive bob as she walked.

  “Miss Nina?” Brian frowned, looking completely taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just checking that you boys all go home without any more ugliness,” she replied, trying to sound firm, but compassionate. She helped Jimmy to his feet. “Go on, get home you two.”

  Reluctantly, the bullies obeyed, still groaning and nursing their injuries. Brian was still standing in the trench, looking like a lost puppy with his wet clothing drooping from him. His lean body was shivering from the cold, but his eyes pinned hers down once more. Just like he did in class, Brian Callany’s demeanor seemed to change into that of a stout mature man and again it stunned Nina.

  With a sharp crack, the thunder accompanied a particularly powerful bolt of lightning which found young Brian equally intriguing. As Nina watched, the electrical current darted straight down at the child. His feet were planted in the muddy water as the bolt connected with the top of his head.

  “Jesus!” Nina screamed in horror. “Brian!”

  But by the time Nina’s words fell from her mouth it was over. Hysterical, she raced towards the boy’s limp body, lying in the watery muck. “Oh Christ, no!” she whined, choking on her rapid breaths, falling to her knees to assess the boy’s condition. “Brian?”

  “Aye, Miss Nina?” the child answered as she cradled his head.

  Nina almost swallowed her tongue. Dumbstruck she stared into the boy’s eyes as he spoke. Apart from burned clothing and the whites of his eyes having turned crimson from the current that coursed through his small body, Brian seemed fine. Even his skin, which was smoking, had not been charred. In fact, not even a blister could be seen.

  “What the f…?” she gasped, checking his vitals. “How do you feel?”

  “Tingly,” he reported quite evenly. “My head hurts like I had too much ice cream, Miss Nina, and my fingers are pins and needles, but I am okay.”

  “My God, I cannot believe this,” she muttered as she examined his hands. “Come, we have to get you to a hospital.”

  “I am fine, Miss Nina,” he protested, his voice stern and resolute. “I have to get this scabbard home or my grandfather is going to beat the shi…crap out of me. There is no time for hospitals and that.”

  “Alright, listen. Let me drive you to the clinic just quickly to get checked out,” she negotiated.

  “No. I said no,” he argued.

  “Do you realize that, if you do not see a doctor you could die, Brian?” she snapped. It was time to do what she did best. Her feisty manner had not been tested this much by any of the children thus far, but Brian’s categorical objection started to piss her off.

  “I don’t care!” Brian barked, ripping her hand off his wrist. He started to walk on with difficulty, but she knew his only objective was to return the scabbard before his grandfather returned home. Although she understood this, there were clear signs of damage to his equilibrium. Nina guessed that an electrolyte imbalance was playing havoc with his system. She rushed up on the boy and roughly grabbed his shoulder, swinging him round to look at her.

  “If you do not come with me right now, young man, I am telling your grandfather that you took his scabbard,” she threatened. “Besides, how will you explain your burnt clothes to your mother, huh? I am calling them if you don’t come with me.”

  “Don’t you dare!” he hissed, but Nina Gould was known as the type of lady not to be fucked with.

  “Try me!” she smirked maliciously. “And do not forget about the trouble you are already in for fighting with Percy and Jimmy, pal. Do
you really want to talk back to me?”

  He looked utterly hopeless, swaying as he tried to hold his footing. She was right and he knew it, but he was afraid of his grandfather’s temper. Nina sighed, looking up at the thunderous heavens. “Listen, I will do my best to keep you out of trouble if you just do this one thing for me, okay?” she tried to coax. “Anyways, for all we know the doctor will not even take long and I can drive you home long before your grandpa gets home. What do you say?”

  Brian felt his head spin. He was not in much pain, but he realized that the lady had a valid point and he could use all the help he could get. All he gave her in response was a nod of approval. Nina and Brian hastened back to her car in the downpour.

  “I am going to get sick again,” he sniffed as she switched on the car heater.

  “No, you won’t. The heater is only on mild, so it cannot make you sick,” she maintained.

  “But I get sick from nothing,” he assured her. “My mom too. Oh shit, she is also going to be furious with me. I am not supposed to get wet like this.”

  Nina scoffed. “Looks like it is just your week to piss everyone off, hey?”

  Brian chuckled. “Aye, Miss.”

  When they arrived at the emergency room, Nina met with local physician, Dr. Le Roux, on duty. Brian was asked to wait in the examination room while Nina tried to relay the incident to the doctor. At least she had managed to convince the boy to allow her temporary custody of the scabbard while he was being examined.