by P. W. Child
She’d arrived at the Edinburgh Airport an hour previous, where Sam had picked her up in the pouring rain and as discussed, brought her back to his townhouse in Dean Village.
“I’m just tired, Nina.” He shrugged as he took the glass from her and raised it in a toast. “May we avoid getting the shackles and may we keep our arses pointing south for many years to come!”
Nina burst out laughing, even though she understood the prevailing wish inside the comical toast. “Aye!” she cried and clinked her glass against his, shaking her head in amusement. She looked around Sam’s bachelor pad. The walls were empty, save for a few pictures of Sam with once prominent politicians and some high society celebrities, interspersed with some photos of him with Nina and Purdue, and of course, Bruich. She thought to put to rest a question she’d been keeping for a long while.
“Why don’t you buy a house?” she asked.
“I hate gardening,” he replied casually.
“Get a landscaper or garden services.”
“I hate disturbances.”
“You do? I would think living with people on all sides there would be plenty of disturbance.”
“They’re seniors. They only come out between 10 a.m. and 11 a.m.” Sam sat forward and cocked his head with an expression of interest. “Nina, is this your way of asking me to move in with you?”
“Shut it,” she scowled. “Don’t be stupid. I was just thinking, with all the money you must have made, like we all have since these expeditions yielded good fortune, that you would use it to get yourself a spot of privacy and maybe even a new car?”
“Why? The Datsun runs fine,” he said, defending his penchant for function over flash.
Nina let it go for now, but Sam’s excuse of fatigue was not cutting it. He was observably distant, as if he were doing long division in his head while discussing the loot of the Alexander find with her.
“So they named the exhibit after you and Jo?” He smiled. “That’s quite spic, Dr. Gould. You’re getting ahead in the academic world now. Long gone are the days when Matlock was still getting under your skin. You sure showed him!”
“Prick,” she sighed before she lit her cigarette. Her heavily shadowed eyes looked at Sam. “Want a fag?”
“Aye,” he groaned as he sat up. “It’d be nice. Thanks.”
She passed him a Marlboro and suckled at the filter. Sam stared at her for a moment before daring to ask. “Do you think that is a good idea? You barely kicked Death in the bollocks not long ago. I would not wiggle that worm so soon, Nina.”
“Shut it,” she mumbled around the cigarette, putting Bruich down on the Persian carpet. Much as Nina appreciated her beloved Sam’s concern, she felt that being self-destructive was every human being’s own prerogative, and if she thought her body could handle the hell, she was entitled to test the theory. “What’s scratching at you, Sam?” she asked again.
“Don’t change the subject,” he replied.
“I’m not changing the subject,” she scowled, that fiery temperament glimmering in her dark brown eyes. “You are on about my smoking and I am on about you seeming different, preoccupied.”
It had taken Sam a long time to see her again and much coaxing for her to visit him at home, so he was not prepared to lose it all by pissing Nina off. With a labored sigh, he followed her to the patio door she’d opened to start up the Jacuzzi. She peeled off her shirt, revealing her ripped back under a tied red bikini string. Nina’s curvy hips swayed from side to side as she pulled off her jeans as well, stopping Sam in his tracks to savor the lovely sight.
The Edinburgh cold did not bother them much. It was past winter, although there was still no sign of spring yet, and most people still chose to stay inside. But Sam’s bubbly puddle of heaven had warm water, and with the slow release of alcohol from their libation warming their blood, the two of them did not mind stripping down.
Sitting opposite Nina in the soothing water, Sam could see she was adamant on him reporting to her. He finally started talking. “I haven’t heard from Purdue or Paddy yet, but there is something he begged me not to share and I would like to keep it that way. You understand, don’t you?”
“Is it about me?” she asked evenly, still pinning Sam with a fixed leer.
“No,” he frowned, sounding taken aback by her assumption.
“Then why can’t I know about it?” she asked instantly, catching him off guard.
“Look,” he explained, “if it were up to me, I would tell you in a second. But Purdue asked me to keep it just between me and him for now. I swear, love, I would not hold out on you if he did not explicitly ask me to zip it.”
“Who else knows, then?” Nina inquired, easily noticing his eyes falling downward to her breasts every few moments.
“Nobody. Only Purdue and I know. Not even Paddy has any idea. Purdue asked that we keep him in the dark so that nothing he did would interfere with what Purdue and I are trying to do, see?” he clarified as tactfully as he could, still fascinated by the new tattoo in her soft skin, just above her left breast.
“So he thinks I would get in the way?” She scowled, tapping her slender fingers on the edge of the Jacuzzi as she mustered up her conclusion on the matter.
“No! No, Nina, he never said anything about you. It was not a matter of excluding certain people. It is about excluding everyone until I get him the information he needs. Then he’ll reveal what he is planning to do. All I can tell you now, is that Purdue is the target of someone powerful who is an enigma. This person is walking in two worlds, two opposing worlds, and he occupies very high positions in both.”
“So we are talking corruption,” she concluded.
“Aye, but I can’t yet fill you in on the details out of loyalty to Purdue,” Sam implored, hoping she would understand. “Better yet, once we hear from Paddy, you can ask Purdue yourself. Then I won’t feel like a prick for breaking an oath.”
“You know, Sam, much as I’m aware that the three of us are acquainted mostly through the occasional hunt for a relic or expedition to find some old trinket of value,” Nina said impatiently, “I thought you, I, and Purdue were a team. I’ve always thought of us as the three main ingredients, constant throughout the historical puddings served to the academic world over the last few years.” Nina was hurt by her exclusion, but she tried not to show it.
“Nina,” Sam said abruptly, but she would not allow him the space.
“Usually, when two of us team up, the third is always included along the way, and if one is in trouble, the other two always get involved somehow. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this. Have you even noticed this?” Her voice cracked as she tried to get through to Sam and although she could not show it, she was terrified that he would answer her question with indifference or dismissal. Maybe she had gotten too used to being the center of gravity between the two successful, although vastly different, men. As far as she was concerned, they had a powerful bond of friendship and a profound history of life, near-death, sacrifice, and loyalty between them, something she was not keen to question.
To her relief, Sam smiled. The sight of his eyes truly looking into hers without an iota of emotional distance - being present - brought her immense delight, no matter how stone-faced she remained.
“You are taking this way too seriously, love,” he explained. “You know that we’ll include you once we know what we’re doing, because, my darling Nina, we don’t have a fucking clue what we’re doing right now.”
“And I can’t help?” she asked.
“Afraid not,” he said in a positive tone. “But we’ll get our shit together soon, though. You know, I’m certain that Purdue will have no bones about sharing it with you, once the old dog decides to call us, that is.”
“Aye, that is beginning to worry me too. The trial must have wrapped up hours ago. Either he is too busy celebrating or he is in more trouble than we thought,” she speculated. “Sam!”
In consideration for the two possibilities Nina had noticed Sam�
�s eyes wandering in thought and finding their way inadvertently to Nina’s cleavage. “Sam! Stop it. You’re not going to make me change the subject.”
Sam laughed when he realized. He may even have felt himself blushing for being discovered, but he thanked his lucky stars that she took it lightly. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them before anyway.”
“Might that prompt you to remind me again of…,” he tried.
“Sam, shut your trap and pour me another drink,” Nina commanded.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, lugging his soaking, sporadically-scarred body out of the water. It was her turn to admire his masculine form as he trod past her, and she felt no shame in reminiscing about the few times she’d been fortunate enough to enjoy the benefits of that masculinity. Although those moments were not too recent, Nina saved them in a special high definition memory folder in her mind.
Bruich sat up straight at the door, refusing to step outside the threshold where the bubbling mouth of steam threatened him. His eyes were fixed on Nina, both the former and the latter being uncharacteristic of the big, old, lazy feline. Normally he slouched about, tardy for any sort of activity and hardly focused on anything apart from the next warm tummy he could make his home for the night.
“What is it, Bruich?” Nina asked in a high-pitched tone, affectionately addressing him as she always did. “Come here. Come.”
He didn’t move. “Ugh, of course the bloody cat is not going to come to you, idiot,” she reprimanded herself in the silence of the late hour and the soft choke of the gurgling luxury she enjoyed. Annoyed by her silly assumption about cats and water, and bored at waiting for Sam to return, she splashed her hands down into the foamy glitter of the surface, spooking the ginger cat into a flight of horror. Watching him bolt inside and disappear under the lounge chair brought her rather more amusement than contrition.
Bitch, her inner voice confirmed on behalf of the poor animal, but Nina still found it funny. “Sorry, Bruich!” she called after him, still grinning. “I can’t help it. Don’t worry, pal. Karma will get me for sure…with water, for doing this to you, honey.”
Sam came running out of the living room and onto the patio, looking furiously excited. Still half wet, he still had not poured the drinks, although his hands were outstretched as if they bore glasses of wine.
“Great news! Paddy called. Purdue was spared on condition,” he shouted, evoking a chorus of irate suggestions from his neighbors to ‘shut the fuck up, Cleave’.
Nina’s face lit up. “What is the condition?” she asked, firmly ignoring the continued hushing from everyone in the complex.
“I don’t know, but apparently it concerns something historical. So you see, Dr. Gould, we will be needing our third,” Sam relayed. “Besides, other historians don’t come as cheap as you do.”
Gasping, Nina lunged forward, hissing with mock-insult, jumping on Sam and kissing him like she had not kissed him since those vivid folders in her mind. She was so happy to be included again that she did not notice the man standing beyond the dark edge of the compact yard, watching eagerly how Sam pulled at the string of her bikini top.
13
Eclipse
Salzkammergut Region, Austria
Joseph Karsten’s mansion stood in silence, brooding over the emptiness of the vast gardens where no birds would sing. Its flowers and brushes populated the garden in solitude and quiet presence, only stirring when the wind deemed it so. Nothing thrived higher than mere existence here and that was the nature of control Karsten had over what he owned.
His wife and two daughters preferred to stay in London, choosing to abandon the striking beauty of Karsten’s personal residence. It suited him well, however, so that he could have privacy while conniving and running his chapter of the Order of the Black Sun unperturbed. As long as he acted on his orders from the British government and managed Military Intelligence on an international level, he could maintain his position in MI6 and use its invaluable resources to keep a waking eye over international relations that could aid or mar Black Sun investments and planning.
By no means did the organization lose any of its nefarious power after the Second World War, when it was forced to immerse itself in the underworld of myth and legend, a mere sour memory to the oblivious while a true threat to those who knew otherwise. Those like David Purdue and his associates.
Having excused himself from Purdue’s tribunal, fearing he would be pointed out by the one who got away, Karsten had accumulated some time to finish what he’d started from the sanctuary of his mountainous nest. Outside, the day was miserable but not in the conventional way. The sun was bleak over the normally beauteous wilderness of the Salzkammergut Mountains, painting the immense carpet of treetops in a pallid green, unlike the deep emerald of the woods beneath the canopies. The Karsten ladies lamented having left behind the breathtaking Austrian landscapes, but the natural beauty of the place lost its luster wherever Joseph and his comrades were involved, forcing them to limit their visits to Salzkammergut’s loveliness.
“I would do it myself, if I did not hold a public position,” Karsten said from his garden chair, clutching his table telephone. “But I have to be back in London in two days to report on the Hebrides Launch and its planning, Clive. I will not be back in Austria for quite a while. I need people who can get things done without supervision, you understand?”
He listened to the caller’s response and nodded. “Right. You can check in with us when your people have completed the mission. Thank you, Clive.”
He peered across the table for a long while, scrutinizing the region he was blessed to reside in when he did not have to be in grimy London or densely populated Glasgow.
“I will not lose all this on your account, Purdue. Whether you choose to be silent about my identity or not, this will not spare you. You are a liability and you have to be done away with. You all have to be done away with,” he muttered as his eyes surveyed the majestic, white-capped mountain rock faces that surrounded his home. The rugged stone and the endless darkness of the forest soothed his eyes, while his lips quivered with vengeful words. “Every single one of you who know my name, who know my face, who killed Mother and knows where her secret hiding place was…all who can implicate me by association…you all have to be done away with!”
Karsten pursed his lips, reminiscing about the night he fled like the coward he is, from Mother’s house when the people from Oban showed up to spring David Purdue from his claws. The thought of losing his prized quarry to common citizens vexed him immensely, a bruise to his ego and an unnecessary clout to his affairs. Things were supposed to have been concluded by now. Instead, his troubles had been doubled by these developments.
“Sir, news on David Purdue,” his assistant, Nigel Lime, announced from the doorway of the patio. Karsten had to turn to look at the man to make sure the strangely fitting subject was indeed being presented and was not a figment of his thoughts.
“Odd,” he replied. “I was just wondering about that, Nigel.”
Looking impressed, Nigel came down the steps onto the patio under the netted shading where Karsten was having his tea. “Well, maybe you are psychic, sir,” he smiled, holding a folder under his arm. “The trial committee asks that you be present in Glasgow to sign the plea so that the Ethiopian government and the Archaeological Crimes Unit can proceed to facilitate Mr. Purdue’s penalty.”
Karsten lit up at the notion of punishment for Purdue, even though he would have preferred to be the one enforcing it himself. But his expectations were perhaps too brutal in his old-fashioned hope of vengeance, as he was quickly disappointed at the revelation of the penalty he so wished to learn of.
“What is his sentence, then?” he asked Nigel. “What is it they need to facilitate?”
“May I sit down?” Nigel asked, doing so at the wave of Karsten’s approving hand gesture. He placed the dossier on the table. “David Purdue opted for a plea bargain. In short, in exchange for his freedom…”
“Freedom?” Karsten roared, his heart throbbing fiercely in his newfound rage. “What? He is not being sentenced to prison at all?”
“No, sir, but let me inform you of the details of the findings,” Nigel suggested calmly.
“Let’s hear it. Make it short and make it simple. I just want to know the highlights,” Karsten growled, hands trembling as he lifted his teacup to his mouth.
“Of course, sir,” Nigel replied, hiding his annoyance with his boss behind his tranquil demeanor. “In short,” he said deliberately, “Mr. Purdue agreed to pay the damages to the claim of the Ethiopian people and return their relic to the place he took it from, after which, of course, he will be banned from ever entering Ethiopia again.”
“Wait, that’s it?” Karsten scowled, his face gradually growing more crimson in hue. “They are just going to let him walk?”
Karsten was so blind with disappointment and defeat that he did not notice his assistant’s quizzical expression. “If I may, sir, it seems you are taking this rather personally.”
“You may not!” Karsten yelled, clearing his throat. “This is a wealthy crook, buying his way out of everything, charming high society into remaining blind to his criminal activities. Of course I am absolutely upset when people like that get off with a mere warning and a bill. The man is a billionaire, Lime! He should be taught that his money can’t always save him. Here we had the perfect opportunity to teach him – and the world of grave robbers just like him…that they will be held accountable, punished! And what do they decide?” He fumed. “To let him pay his goddamn way out of his punishment again! Jesus Christ! No wonder law and order means nothing anymore!”
Nigel Lime just waited for the tirade to come to a close. There was no sense in interrupting the raging MI6 leader. When he was sure Karsten, or Mr. Carter, as he was known to his unwary subordinates, had finished his rant, Nigel dared to shove even more unwanted details on his boss. He gently pushed the dossier across the table. “And I need you to sign this immediately, sir. It has to be couriered to the committee today still, with your signature.”
