Order of the Black Sun Box Set 6

by Preston William Child

“On the right, but I can’t reach it, Purdue. You’re taller than me,” she grunted, rolling away from him to pass. With their bodies in the mud, close together, Purdue was tempted to remind her of a time when they’d slept this closely, but it was hardly the time and he proceeded up the tunnel. There was a slit at the top, a letterbox, aptly named so, for behind it is where the blueprint showed the Olympias Letter to be.

  He slid his fingers through the slit, feeling the torment of his still weak and injured body as he stretched. Trying it every way he could, he found that it served as a handle, not an entrance.

  “Nina, it’s like a car door handle. Be prepared for what lies behind it,” he warned in rapid exhales before pulling it downward. Purdue fell back as the wall caved in like the flap of a cardboard box. As it moved, a tremendous tremor ensued throughout the ground, shaking the muddy deposits from the massive rusted panels. In turn, the horde of snakes fell from the walls, thankfully static, and collected on the floor of the tunnel.

  “Oh Jesus, don't let them wake up!” Nina screamed over the chaos as the panel opened completely. “Guys! You alright?”

  “I'm coming to see!” Joanne shouted over the din. The boat captain said nothing as he squirmed into the bed of snakes, but he was grinning like a shark. Purdue took off his backpack and pulled out industrial grade glow sticks to light up the chamber under the Place of No Happening. He stood in awe, smiling, apparently having forgotten about the serpent problem.

  33

  The Way of Alexander the Great

  Upon the opposite wall, engraved in the solid gold it was made from, Nina filmed the seal of the great conqueror in high definition, gasping as she traced every detail of the engraved face and the script around the edges.

  “Linear-B,” Nina smiled.

  “What?” Purdue asked.

  “It is etched in Linear-B: the ancient script of the Mycenaean Greek…the original Greek. My God, Purdue, do you realize that this form of writing predates the Greek alphabet by hundreds of years!” she reported, and her information fell to the ear of the recording camera, which only added to the genuine feel of the footage Sam could produce for his documentary.

  “Do you know what it says?” Joanne asked, glowing in awe.

  “I'm a historian, Jo, not a linguist,” Nina smiled. “Purdue knows a few renowned linguists who can decipher it for us, though.”

  “Absolutely,” Purdue agreed, laying his hand on Virgil's shoulder as the boat captain wept in reverence. Against the wall where the massive seal was flawlessly carved, three roughshod tablets were displayed. Nina stepped inside, traversing knee-deep mounds of gold, silver, gems, and weapons of antiquity. She lifted the malachite stones on which Olympias had carved her message to Alexander, revealing to him what would make him an incomparable warrior and undefeated general.

  “But we won't know what it was,” Joanne sulked.

  “Only until my associates have deciphered it, my dear Jo,” Purdue consoled her cordially. “In the meantime, we can enjoy the spoils of the so-called normal treasure we are wading through.”

  “Aye,” Nina smiled.

  “I would like that medallion now, please Miss Earle?” Virgil asked modestly. “For services rendered.”

  “Ha!” Purdue exclaimed. “My friend, where I lead expeditions,” he looked at the ladies, “if I may take the lead here, everyone involved gets a handsome helping for their risk and their loyalty. I don't deal with snakes, unless they are the reptilian kind.”

  “Holy shit! Purdue!” Nina shouted. “Sam! We have to get the snakes to the hospital!”

  Virgil and Nina ran to the boat to radio for an emergency services chopper to pick up the snakes for the hospital laboratory on Baffin Island. Purdue was exhausted, relying on Joanne to help him back to the septic tank.

  “Shall we switch off the snake charmer, Dave?” Joanne smiled.

  “No, let's keep it alive for now, for good measure. I’m not sure how dead those adders are,” he coughed, chuckling in between.

  “Something really bad happened to you, didn't it?” she said softly. Weary, he just nodded to affirm her assumption.

  “They'll get what is coming to them. You know, the first big empire Alexander toppled and claimed was Persia,” she relayed in her teacher-storyteller manner. “And there is a beautiful Persian proverb, perfect for this situation and perfect for the people who did this to you.”

  Purdue was pleasantly surprised at Nina's friend's company. “What is the proverb, Miss Earle?”

  She leaned forward and winked. “Use your enemy's hand to catch a snake.”

  Purdue's blue eyes sparkled. He was content right now and he reveled in Joanne's wisdom while admiring her beauty. With the discovery of the hidden treasure of Alexander the Great, he would now be able to pay restitution to the Archaeological Crime Unit in order for them to drop his charges. The relic he’d taken illegally from Ethiopia could be returned to them to hopefully reach an accord with the government and its archaeological organizations.

  Still, he had to deal with MI6.

  “Purdue's Greek linguist figured out most of the script on the Olympias Letter,” Nina smiled as she joined Sam in the hospital. “I sent a copy of the report to Joanne. She is going to flip.”

  “What does it say?” Sam asked.

  “Other than the words to her son, Olympias had chiseled an ancient incantation on the malachite,” she explained. “The stone was Egyptian, holding the power of the spell like a geological Faraday cage, but with some of the script being corroded and some of the tablet fragments having been affected by weather and time, the missing words remain unknown. And that, fortunately, makes the spell incomplete. Useless.”

  “And was it worth hiding from the world after his death? Was it worth killing for?” he asked. “What was so dangerous about an incantation made by a bunch of wine-drinking hedonists?”

  “From the rest of the words, the linguist reported that it was a summoning of celestial power that would infuse the one invoking it with the power of Ares, the Greek god of war. Whoever knew this chant would be imbued with unsurpassed martial supremacy and the power to conquer the world,” she told Sam. “Kind of cool, right? If you believe in this stuff. It’s a remarkable coincidence that he ended up doing just that. If he had not been poisoned, which is my take on his death, he may well have held all the kingdoms of the world in his palm.”

  “No wonder the fucking SS and the Black Sun were looking for it. Imagine if Hitler had what Alexander had possessed. And they couldn’t even get as far as you did, pretty woman. I wish I could have been there,” Sam lamented, looking much more colorful than the last time he gazed at her through dark eyes on a wan skin. “Even just to see something happen in the Place of No Happening!”

  Nina laughed. “With what was under it I am not surprised it was cursed.” She took Sam's hand in hers. “You were there, love,” she said. “Remember, had it not been for you, the rest of us would have all been attacked by those things. You got us all the way there, just short of ground zero, Sam. You scouted ahead and took a few for the team,” she teased.

  “I almost took too many for the team. Do you know that I have a bite right next to my…?”

  “It’s time for your shot, Mr. Cleave,” the nurse interrupted before Sam could get lewd.

  “Okay, I have some business to attend to regarding a few stone tablets for redistribution,” she winked at Sam. “Be a good boy, alright Mr. Cleave?”

  She pecked him on the forehead, breathing his scent in and whispered, “Miss you.”

  Nina was hoping to get Purdue to throw a small get-together for the members of the Olympias expedition, as well as for the heroes who’d saved Purdue's life, Nina's new friends in Oban, but she had to wait for Purdue to finalize his affairs now that he was publicly alive again.

  Father Harper and Dr. Beach never spoke about what had happened after they’d left the concealed house in Fallin with Purdue in dire straits. It would be their collective secret, just like the p
revious vocation of Father Harper.

  Purdue had to keep to the deal he had struck with Special Agent Patrick Smith and appear in front of a military tribunal for his alleged involvement in international espionage, masquerading as relic hunting or historical research. First, though, he had agreed to accept a summons to an informal hearing in Glasgow. Thereafter, Purdue's own team of attorneys would investigate the illegal annexation of Purdue's residential property, Wrichtishousis in Edinburgh.

  “Something does not sit right about that,” Purdue told Patrick.

  “I know. It is unprecedented, which is why the seizure of your mansion had to have been authorized by someone very powerful,” Paddy agreed, speaking very softly. “But we'll sort that out as soon as you are off the hook with the archaeological spy thing.”

  “Indeed,” Purdue sighed.

  They watched the members of the primary litigation team enter the room.

  “Oh, there is the head of MI6, my boss.” Paddy pointed towards the Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service. “His name is Joe Carter, thirty-year veteran of the SIS.”

  Purdue's heart stopped. Under the pointed finger of Special Agent Smith was a familiar face he hoped he would never see again. His hand was bandaged, the exact hand Mother had sent a bullet through.

  “Jesus Christ,” Purdue muttered, sinking his head as his ears started ringing.

  “Are you okay, David?” Patrick asked.

  Purdue looked up at the walking nightmare in the posh suit. Joe Carter is Joseph Karsten! No wonder MI6 was trying to confiscate my house! He is in charge of it all!

  This was war. Purdue felt furious, cheated, and had a bone to pick, but he was not going to act on it now. He was going to make peace with the right people and clean his slate. Then he was going to adamantly follow Miss Earle's advice. He was going to use his enemy's hand to catch the snake.

  END

  King Solomon’s Diamonds

  “Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

  How I wonder what you are!

  Up above the world so high,

  Like a diamond in the sky.

  When the blazing sun is gone,

  When he nothing shines upon,

  Then you show your little light,

  Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

  Then the traveler in the dark

  Thanks you for your tiny spark,

  How could he see where to go,

  If you did not twinkle so?

  In the dark blue sky you keep,

  Often through my curtains peep

  For you never shut your eye,

  Till the sun is in the sky.

  As your bright and tiny spark

  Lights the traveler in the dark,

  Though I know not what you are,

  Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”

  ~ Jane Taylor (© The Star, 1806)

  1

  Lost to the Beacon

  Wrichtishousis was even more radiant than Dave Purdue could remember. His home for over two decades, the majestic historical mansion’s towers, three in number, reached toward the ethereal Edinburgh sky as if to attach the manor to the heavens. Purdue’s white crown of hair stirred in the silent breath of the evening as he closed the car door and walked slowly up the remainder of the drive toward his front door.

  Careless of the company he was in or the taking of luggage, his eyes reacquainted themselves with his residence. Too many months had passed since he had been forced to flee its security. Its security.

  “Um, you did not get rid of my staff also, did you, Patrick?” he asked sincerely.

  By his side Special Agent Patrick Smith, Purdue’s former hunter and rekindled ally from the British Secret Service, sighed and motioned for his men to close the gates of the estate for the night. “We kept them on, David. No worries,” he replied in a calm, deep tone. “But they have denied any knowledge or involvement in your pursuits, and I hope that trusting them to stay did not impair our superior’s investigation as to the harboring of religious and invaluable relics on your property.”

  “Rightly so,” Purdue agreed firmly. “These people are my housekeepers, not my colleagues. Even they are not allowed to know what I work on, where my pending patents are or where I travel to when I am absent on business.”

  “Yes, yes, we have ascertained that. Look, David, since I had been following your movements and put people on your trail…” he started, but Purdue lent him a sharp look.

  “Since you turned Sam against me?” he snapped at Patrick.

  Patrick caught his breath, unable to formulate an apologetic comeback worthy of what had transpired between the two of them. “I fear he put more stock in our friendship than I had estimated, but I did not intend for things between you and Sam to crumble because of it. You have to believe me,” Patrick explained.

  It had been his decision to alienate himself from his childhood friend, Sam Cleave, for the safety of his family. The separation was sore and necessary for Patrick, affectionately known to Sam as Paddy, as Sam’s involvement with Dave Purdue had steadily drawn the MI6 agent’s family into a dangerous world of post-Third Reich relic hunting and very true threats. Subsequently Sam had to rebuke his favor of Purdue’s connotation in exchange for Patrick’s acceptance once more, which turned Sam into a mole to seal Purdue’s fate during their excursion to find the Vault of Hercules. But Sam had ultimately proven himself loyal to Purdue by helping the billionaire stage his own death to avert capture by Patrick and MI6, while maintaining Patrick’s partiality for assisting in Purdue’s location.

  After exposing his status to Patrick Smith in return for rescue from the Order of the Black Sun, Purdue had agreed to stand trial for archaeological crimes lodged by the Ethiopian government for his theft of the Ark of the Covenant replica from Aksum. What MI6 wanted from Purdue’s property, not even Patrick Smith could figure out since the government agency had taken custody of Wrichtishousis shortly after the apparent demise of its owner.

  Only during a short preliminary hearing to prepare for the main tribunal meeting, did Purdue manage to connect the smears of corruption, which he shared with Patrick in confidence the very moment he was confronted with the vile truth.

  “Are you sure that MI6 is being controlled by the Order of the Black Sun, David?” Patrick asked under his breath, making certain that his men did not hear.

  “I stake my reputation, my fortune and my life on it, Patrick,” Purdue answered in the same fashion. “By God, your agency is under the supervision of a madman.”

  They ascended the steps of the front façade of Purdue’s home as the front door opened. Inside the threshold Purdue’s house staff stood with bittersweet welcoming faces, applauding their master’s homecoming. They kindly ignored the hideous deterioration of Purdue’s physical appearance after his week of starvation in the torture cell of the Black Sun’s matriarch, and they kept their astonishment a secret hidden securely under their skins.

  “We raided the pantry, sir. And your bar has been ransacked too, while we were drinking on your good fortune,” said Johnny, one of Purdue’s grounds keepers and a man Irish to the bone.

  “I would not have it any other way, Johnny,” Purdue smiled as he stepped inside amidst the affectionate furor of his people. “Let’s hope I can replenish those stores urgently.”

  Greeting his staff took only a minute, as they were few, but their loyalty was like permeating sweetness dripping from jasmine blossoms. The handful of people in his service were like family, all like-minded and they shared Purdue’s admiration for courage and perpetual search for knowledge. But the man he most wished to see was not there.

  “Oh, Lily, where is Charles?” Purdue asked Lillian, his cook and the in-house herald of gossip. “Please don’t tell me that he resigned.”

  Purdue could never reveal to Patrick that his butler, Charles, was the man responsible for indirectly warning Purdue that MI6 was out to capture him. It would squarely discount the assurance that none of the Wrichtishousis staff was involved in
Purdue’s business. The hardy butler was also responsible for arranging the release of a man held prisoner by the Sicilian Mafia during the Hercules expedition, a sign of Charles’ ability to go beyond the call of duty. He had proven to Purdue, Sam and Dr. Nina Gould, that he was beneficial in so much more than just ironing shirts with military precision and remembering each engagement on Purdue’s calendar every day.

  “He has been absent for a few days, sir,” Lily elucidated with a somber face.

  “Has he called in?” Purdue asked seriously. “I told him to come and live on the estate. Where does he live?”

  “You cannot go out, David,” Patrick reminded him. “Remember, you are still under house arrest until the meeting on Monday. I’ll see if I can go round his place on my way home, alright?”

  “Thank you, Patrick,” Purdue nodded. “Lillian will give you his street address. I am sure she could tell you anything you need to know, right down to his shoe size,” he jested, and winked at Lily. “Good night, all. I think I will retire early. I have missed my own bed.”

  To the third floor, the tall, emaciated master of Wrichtishousis climbed the stairs. He showed no signs of being at all emotional to be in his house again, but the MI6 men and his staff wrote it off as fatigue after a very trying month on his body and mind. But as Purdue closed his bedroom door, his knees buckled as he made for the balcony doors on the other side of his bed. Barely able to see through the tears that flooded his cheeks he reached for the handles, the right one a rusty annoyance he always had to wiggle.

  Purdue threw open the doors and gasped at the rush of cool Scottish air that filled him with life, real life; life like only the soil of his forefathers could bestow. Overlooking the vast garden of perfect lawns, ancient outbuildings and the distant sea, Purdue wept to the ear of the oak, spruce and pine trees that guarded his immediate yard. His silent sobs and chipping breaths disappeared in the whisper of their tops as the wind rocked them.