Order of the Black Sun Box Set 8

by Preston William Child

  “Here is your soup. It is practically ice cold by now, but that is your own fault,” Bernard said. She inched herself to sit up, while Bernard cut her hands free. “Eat,” he commanded. “I have to keep you alive until David delivers Excalibur to me.”

  “There is a new twist,” she scoffed sarcastically. “I should have known, the way you salivated over that scabbard. Let me guess, the patterns on the leather is a map to find Excalibur.”

  “You knew,” he smiled, looking both impressed and annoyed.

  “Aye, it is not impossible to figure out for a historian. Those tiny inscriptions are the names of towns that were here before modern eras. Obvious deduction,” she condescended. “So, what did you do with the brat?”

  “He is rather insufferable, isn’t he?” Bernard agreed, stepping out of Nina’s cage to lock the gates behind him. “My sister and I grew up in the projects – Red Road flats – and we had nothing easy. But I tell you, that lad has no goddamn manners. I do not care for delinquents or prepubescent scum like that. Threw him in a hole with his slut mother and the old woman.”

  “Here in Guernsey?” Nina asked, trying to eat like a lady when she was ravenous with hunger.

  “Of course,” he sneered. “Would I leave them all in Glasgow to be found by some prying neighbor or business owner while I am here with you?”

  She did not like his haughty manner, but she tolerated it if only to gather information and take the time to examine the building she was in. By the design of the place, the deep bell sound in the wind and the tree tops swaying just above the windowsill high above her head, she figured out where she was being kept.

  “Bernard, is this the famous cell from your story about Ronald Hall?” she suddenly exclaimed in surprise. Nina kept up the charade of fascination to tame her captor little by little. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at the dripping cracks in the stone ceiling.

  “It is,” he affirmed. “Did you think I was making it up?”

  Nina shrugged. Normally she would defy him and answer with audacity, but she was trying to win him over. “Sounded accurate to me.”

  A feeble wail ensued from somewhere under the stairs that led down one story. Nina could see the black square that marked the opening to the landing and the sound that came out of it made her blood freeze. She perked up, but Bernard did not react at all.

  “Do you hear that?” Nina asked.

  “Yes,” he replied casually, still looking out the empty window on the far side of the vast hall filled with holding cells.

  “And?” she pressed him.

  “And what, Nina?” he snapped without giving her the courtesy of eye contact.

  “Are you going to do anything about that?” she kept pushing.

  “My sister informed me that Sam killed our man in the Callany residence in Glasgow yesterday,” he reported. “That was the man who was supposed to look after the Callany family downstairs, while we are all waiting for Excalibur to be discovered. I am not a nursemaid, Nina. They are suffering because Sam killed Yiannis.”

  “You can only afford two goons?” she mocked. Nina did not care that her attempts at winning Bernard’s trust anymore. If this was his caliber of disposition, she could not hide her contempt for him. Her words must have had some impact, because he turned and walked towards her. His footsteps were accompanied only by the wailing wind, serenading the desolate ruin in perfect synchronicity with Mrs. Callany’s weeping. Bernard stopped in front of Nina’s cell and smirked.

  “Congratulations,” he said, his face fraught with juvenile condescension. “Your continued insolence just cost young Brian his short, miserable life.”

  “Wait!” Nina protested desperately. “You cannot kill a snot-nosed kid over your hurt feelings!”

  He kept walking, flipping back his jacket to reveal a holstered weapon. Nina charged at the iron bars and screamed after him. “Are you seriously this sensitive, you nancy?”

  Bernard descended the steps. Mrs. Callany’s whining escalated into a full-blown keening as she heard Nina’s objections through the hallways. It was a clear warning that Bernard was on his way to kill Brian, and the women threw the boy behind them and shielded him. They were weakened by malnutrition and lack of sleep, but their fight burned like a furnace inside them. Although the ill Mrs. Callany cried hysterically, Brian’s mother stood her ground without a sound. The boy held on to his mother’s arm as Bernard entered the ill lit chamber where Irma Bormann had met her fate seventy odd years before. Drawing his gun, he aimed at each of the Callany women before lowering his weapon to find Brian’s forehead behind his mother’s hip.

  “Please! Please, don’t!” Pam screamed. “I will do anything you want!”

  “I have no use for you. You are only here because I made a deal with Brian’s headmaster, you stupid bitch,” he winced, quivering with the thrill of their fear. In the background, they could hear Nina shouting, but her words were swept by the gale, unheard, ununderstood. “Until I hear from him, there is no reason for me to even come down here.”

  “Water,” Mrs. Callany begged. “Please, just one pitcher for us?”

  There was a pause in the solemn atmosphere. From somewhere above them Nina cried, “Bernard! Be a decent man and give the weaker prisoners some water. You are better than the goddamn Nazi’s whose tracks you are walking!”

  “Psychology does not work on me, Dr. Gould,” Bernard called back to her. He knew what she was trying to do, and yet, as he looked upon the mothers and the child, he could not help but consider Nina’s affirmation. Was he really a monster? Could he be a firm chief without resorting to cruelty? Then the question came that had him faltering. As an antiques specialist, was this how he wanted to use his expertise, cultivated through two decades of trade and knowledge?

  Something did take hold of Bernard’s reasoning after Nina mentioned his humanity after all. He could not deny it. For a moment, he honestly took stock of what exactly this level of malice would afford him as a man, as a dealer of relics and literature from ancient worlds. He was more than this. Under Major Rian, a Black Sun operative, Bernard had become a decaying relic himself. Years of splendor and passion had been reduced to just another vindictive Nazi personality, bullying the helpless in cages.

  “Jesus,” he murmured as he turned his back on his prisoners, letting his gun hand drop to the side of his thigh.

  Bernard Somerset had truly not realized how depraved and greedy he had become in service of Major Johannes Rian and his colleagues. ‘All of this happened when that wretched school Principal Willard and his son, Paul, entered the antiques world. Conniving bastards!’ he lamented in his mind, recollecting the moment when his delight for history and its objects was defiled and twisted into a hunt for power and wealth.

  “Bernard?” Nina kept at it. Even she knew that aggression would be the worst thing right now, so she tried the gentler approach. “Bernard, give them some water. Come on. They are just people like you.”

  Another blow fell in Bernard’s soul.

  “That is enough! You think I cannot see what you are trying to do? I am in charge! Me!” he thundered. The Callany women instinctively jumped in fright, whimpering at his sudden outburst.

  “I know you are in charge,” Nina cried out. “Otherwise I would not be sitting in a fucking cage right now, would I?”

  Bernard looked at the three Callany’s. “Thank her for your slow demise.” With that, he retired to his section of the ruin on the west wall. During the Second World War it was the quarters of Stabsscharführer Martin Hessler, the man who gave the command to terminate those chosen families before Irma had Colin’s killed. Bernard sat in the room and poured himself a glass of brandy. Considering whose room he was occupying, he could not help but compare himself to Hessler – the man who had his lover executed in the worst way – and to think on his own crass decisions about his captives.

  “I wish you would just get the bloody sword and be done with all this!” he raged to himself, drinking another s
hot of brandy. It was seeping through, after all, that this was not who he was and that one truly becomes the company one keeps. The schoolmaster was a prime example. He invited Dr. Gould to attend his school’s history week, knowing who she was, all to get her into the fold at a later stage. He could be amicable towards the people he targeted for strategic reasons. Why couldn’t Bernard?

  It vexed him, this clash of morals, but as long as he stayed in the large room that almost remained completely the same in décor and comfort, he could not be confronted with his fickle ability to maintain allegiance with those he served. Figuring that, if he stayed in here, he could not hear the cries of those he was torturing, was a terminal mistake. Bernard would only learn that his victims’ cries could reach him anywhere at anytime, because there was no escaping one’s conscience.

  28

  Mordred’s Courtesy

  Under the threat of Nina’s assassination, and more casualties at the hand of the sinister antiques collector, Major Rian, Purdue had to adhere to Ava’s orders. They arrived at a stylish house in Glasgow before nightfall. Ava and Kostas accompanied Sam and Purdue through the heavy security gate. Neither men spoke a word to Ava as they entered the premises. A man was cleaning the massive pool on the side of the house, while two gardeners were laboring to finish the lawn before the night came. More rain was soon to come, according to the radio broadcasts.

  Ava punched in a selection of codes and waited. The overhead camera swiveled to locate the newly arrived guests and a click from the lock on the door allowed them access. Inside, the house was rather mediocre and not as grand as the outside presented. Whomever lived there was a modest person with a love for old paintings, but not much else in the way of style.

  “Welcome, my friends,” a man smiled from the open plan kitchen. He had a peculiar mustache that lent him great character, Purdue thought. “I am sincerely sorry that we had to meet under such awful circumstances. I just hope we can get this out of the way as soon as possible.”

  “Give me a gun and I can end all of this for you in a minute,” Sam threatened.

  The man just smiled wryly. “I will not bother to stick out my hand for introductions, because I would not expect any courtesy. However, I shall introduce myself nonetheless. James Willard, and it is honestly an honor to meet you both, as it was to make Dr. Gould’s acquaintance.”

  He gestured for the men to sit. Kostas took his place at the door, as usual.

  “How do you know Nina?” Sam frowned.

  “She was a guest lecturer at my school recently,” the principal smiled. “Lovely woman.”

  “If you admire her so much, how come you are working with her kidnappers?” Purdue wanted to know. Uncharacteristically, the white haired billionaire was abrupt with the schoolmaster.

  “That is just an unfortunate necessity, Mr. Purdue,” Willard shrugged. “Things got out of hand with this scabbard business, I’m afraid, and we had to use the lovely Nina as leverage.”

  “But you have the scabbard now, don’t you?” Sam protested. “The boy had it with him when your thugs took him and Nina out of my apartment.”

  “Aye, yes,” Willard cordially retorted, “but it is not the scabbard we are after, Mr. Cleave. We are looking for Excalibur. It is the only reason why we sough the sheath in the first place. The Warkadur would lead us to Excalibur. And it is regrettable that we had to involve the family of a well-loved pupil of my school, but I suppose my late son is to blame for that.”

  “How come?” Ava asked, making herself at home behind the kitchen counter.

  “My son, Paul, was supposed to,” he shrugged with some discomfiture, “alleviate the Hall collection of several random items to make it look like a run of the mill break-in. Among those random objects, would be the scabbard of Arthur’s sword, Warkadur. You see, from it we would be able to follow the map etched into the leather by Ronald Hall, indicating the location of where he hid Excalibur.”

  “Why would he hide Excalibur? If I had it, I would keep it for myself,” Sam reasoned. Purdue nodded in agreement, as Sam tried to make sense of the sword’s disappearance.

  “It is quite simple. Ronald Hall was relentlessly pursued by the SS after he escaped. He feared that they would find the sword on him, the sword representing Britain’s sovereignty, and the patriot that he was could not have that,” Willard explained. “So he hid it, vowing to retrieve it as soon as he could make it to London. From there he would accompany the Allied unit bound for the Channel Islands, and upon defeating the Nazi forces there, he would recover Excalibur.”

  “Let me guess,” Purdue said. “He never made it to London.”

  “Exactly,” Ava chipped in from the frothy cappuccino she was nursing. “After disposing of Excalibur, he burned the map into the old leather with a hot nail, and gave the scabbard to a close family member residing at Brodick Castle on the Isle of Arran. That family member was a cousin of the Hall brothers, the great grandfather of Rufus Hall, the man Paul Willard and Court Callany stole it from.”

  The school principal shifted uncomfortably in his chair and sighed. “My son died during that robbery, gentlemen. He died for Excalibur and I will be damned if I am not going to pull out all the stops to finish what we started. He was not supposed to involve Court Callany, but he felt sorry for the man. Thought he could help him make some money. Ironic, how the Callany’s were in no way involved in the original plan, and now they are our biggest liability.”

  “What happened to Alan Silver?” Ava asked.

  “Ask Kostas,” Willard said. He groaned as he rose from his chair and sauntered to the kitchen for coffee. Kostas said nothing. His hard eyes burned through Sam, the man who killed his best friend with such impudence, but his very presence told Purdue and Sam that this Alan Silver character was no more.

  “Makes sense all of a sudden,” Sam mentioned. “Purdue, that auction house you bought the table and other stuff from?”

  “Euphrates Society?” Purdue asked.

  “I checked them out. Prime establishment for what I believe to be the Black Sun’s relic mill. Probably why they invited you to the auction,” Sam explained. He gave Ava a disdainful leer and pointed at her from the armrest of his chair. “It was no accident that she tried to play you. According to some research I did on Euphrates, they had previously been locked in a dispute with Rufus Hall to try and gain control of the Hall Hoard. It was called the Hall-Rian case, but it just vanished from the judicial records, probably due to the high corruption probability of the Euphrates experts. I saw the list. Willard and Rian were benefactors of the society.”

  “There you go,” Purdue grunted with satisfaction. He could always trust Sam to know the backgrounds of their opponents. Through it all, Willard did not deny any of the remarks.

  “I need for you to do what you do best, Mr. Purdue,” Willard implored politely. “We are not friends, and I understand that you begrudge me for kidnapping Dr. Gould, but I hope you appreciate that this situation was brought on by circumstances.”

  “You can flavor it in any way you like, Mr. Willard, but in the end you are just a criminal with a nice demeanor,” Purdue stated. “In truth, you are responsible for your son’s death, but what makes you all nothing more than criminals, is that your greed caused the death of innocent people. I will so as you ask. I will launch a minor excursion to locate Excalibur, which in my opinion, is probably just an old sword anyway.”

  With Sam’s steely eyes following Kostas from where he sat, Purdue moved slowly towards Willard and Ava. He had one more thing to get off his chest before he would start on the Warkadur map. “Let us be clear on one thing. If anything happens to Nina or the remaining Callany family, you will never outrun me. Make no mistake, Willard. I am a man of limitless means and great intellect, two things that make me the most dangerous enemy you will regret to have crossed.”

  Ava scoffed. “And you,” Purdue addressed her with his index finger pointing, “…my dear, will never set foot in my house again. You have served your pur
pose.”

  Sam smiled. He felt mean and happy that Purdue knew who Ava was before he bedded her, and still got his rewards from her. He was proud of Purdue for bugging Bernard’s vehicle that night. He was proud that he used Ava like a cheap one-night stand, because all in Purdue’s inner sanctum got tired of women fucking him over because he was nice. It was good to see Purdue’s less than nice come out precisely when it was supposed to.

  “Come on, then,” Purdue told Willard. “I need the map.”

  “No,” Ava purred, “we will keep the map, Kostas and I. You will make the necessary arrangements for our collective tip there…”

  “Wait a minute,” Sam objected loudly. “Just clarify this for me. How are we to know you will not kill Nina anyway while we are out there bringing back the sword and then you just kill us too, Willard?”

  “Mr. Cleave, I am not a murderer. I cannot speak for my associate, Major Rian, but as far as I am concerned, you are all quite safe,” Willard elucidated. “I am a reasonable man, so for my part, we will all come out of this alive. You get Excalibur for us, but you do not keep it. Mr. Purdue gets bragging rights to make another huge splash in the media about his famous explorations, claiming to have discovered the legendary Excalibur.”

  “What is the catch?” Sam asked.

  “The catch is that Mr. Purdue takes the glory for the find, and declares that he donates it to the Euphrates Society. That way, nobody needs to die for knowing too much. Leave that for American thriller films,” Willard conveyed.

  Sam watched Ava’s face as the schoolmaster revealed his plan and she did not look at ease with the arrangement. However, she said nothing, leaving Sam with nothing but speculation.