Order of the Black Sun Box Set 6

by Preston William Child

  “Ugly,” the boy replied, still swallowing.

  Father Harper chuckled, “Of course he was ugly. Most Scottish men are not known for their fine features.”

  “No, that is not what I meant, Father,” George explained. He set the dripping glass down on the priest’s glass plated desk and tried again. “I mean, he was ugly, like, a monster from a horror flick, see?”

  “Oh?” Father Harper asked, intrigued.

  “Aye, and he was by no means Scottish either. He had an English accent with something else,” George described.

  “Something else like what?” the priest pried.

  “Well,” the boy frowned, “he has this German vibe to his English. I know it must sound daft, but it is like he is a German who grew up in London, kinda thing.”

  George was frustrated with his ineptitude at rightly describing it, but the priest nodded calmly. “No, I totally catch that, Georgie. No worries. Tell me, he did not drop a name or introduce himself, I suppose?”

  “No, sir,” George affirmed. “But he looked really evil and fucked up…,” he started at his inadvertent cussing, “sorry, Father.”

  However, Father Harper was more interested in information than enforcing social propriety. To George’s amazement, the priest acted as if he did not swear at all. “In what way?”

  “Excuse me, Father?” George asked in befuddlement.

  “How, in what way was he…fucked up?” Father Harper asked casually.

  “Father?” the astonished boy gasped, but the mean looking priest only waited patiently for him to give the answer with a countenance so serene that it was scary. “Um, I mean, he was burned or maybe got cut.” George gave it some thought and then suddenly exclaimed eagerly, “It looks like his head was caught in razor wire and someone pulled him out of it by his legs. Chopped up, you know?”

  “I see,” Father Harper replied, returning to his contemplative position as before. “Alright, is that all, then?”

  “Aye, Father,” George answered. “Please just get out before he finds you, because he knows where St. Columbanus is now.”

  “Georgie, he could have found that on any map. My itch is that he was trying to debasing my name in my own town,” Father Harper admitted. “Don’t you worry, God does not sleep.”

  “Well, neither will I, Father,” the boy said as he started toward the door with the priest. “That bloke was up to no good and I really, really don’t want to hear about you in the news tomorrow. You should call the coppers. Let them patrol here and stuff.”

  “Thank you, Georgie, for your concern,” Father Harper soothed with sincerity. “And many thanks for warning me. I promise, I will take your heed to heart and I shall be very careful until Satan backs off, alright? Alright?” He had to reiterate for the teenager to calm down sufficiently.

  He ushered the boy he had christened years before out of the church, walking alongside him with wisdom and authority until they stepped out into the daylight. From the top of the steps the priest winked and waved at George as he jogged off back in the direction of his home. Drizzles of cool broken clouds descended over the park and darkened the tar of the road as the boy disappeared into the ghostly haze.

  Father Harper nodded cordially to some passers by before he returned to the lobby inside the church. Ignoring the still stunned people in the pews, the tall priest hastened back to his office. He sincerely took the boy’s warning to heart. In fact, he had been expecting it all the while. There was never any doubt that retaliation would come for what he and Dr. Beach did in Fallin when they saved David Purdue from the modern day Nazi cult.

  Into the half-light of the small hallway of his office, he walked briskly, closing the door a little too loudly. He locked it and drew the curtains. His laptop was the sole illumination in the study, its screen waiting patiently for the priest to use it. Father Harper sat down and typed in several keywords before the LED screen revealed what he was looking for – a picture of Clive Muller, a long-serving operative and well-known double agent from the Cold War.

  “I knew it had to be you,” Father Harper muttered in the dusty solitude of his office. About him the furniture and books, lamps and plants had been reduced to mere shadows and silhouettes, but the atmosphere changed from its static and tranquil air to a tension-riddled area of subliminal negativity. In olden days, the superstitious may have called it a presence, but Father Harper knew that it was the apprehension of an inevitable clash. The latter explanation did, however, not lighten the seriousness of what was to come if he dared drop his guard.

  The man on the photograph Father Harper had called up was the likeness of a grotesque looking monster. Clive Muller was in the news in 1986 for the assassination of a Russian Ambassador in front of 10 Downing Street, but by some legal loophole, was deported to Austria and escaped while awaiting trial.

  “Looks like you are on the wrong side of the fence, Clive,” Father Harper said as he scrolled over the scant information the internet had on the killer. “Kept a nice and low profile all this time, didn’t we? And now you take out civilians for dinner money? That must be hard on the ego.”

  Outside the weather was growing wetter and the rain was pattering against the office window on the other side of the drawn drapes as the priest closed the search ad switched off his laptop. “I know you’re here already. Are you too scared to show yourself to a humble man of God?”

  As the laptop died the room was almost completely dark, and just as the last flicker of the screen faded, Father Harper saw an imposing black figure move from behind his bookcase. Instead of an attack, as he had expected, Father Harper received an oral confrontation. “You? A man of God?” the man scoffed.

  His shrill voice masked his accent at first, but there was no denying the heavy guttural consonants as he spoke in a solid Brit way – a perfect balance of German and English – that gave away his identity.

  22

  Alter Course

  “What did he say?” Nina frowned, frantically trying to find out why they were changing course in mid-flight. She nudged Sam, who was trying to listen to what Patrick was relaying to the pilot.

  “Hang on, let him finish,” Sam told her, himself straining to ascertain what the reason was for the sudden change in plan. As a veteran investigative journalist, Sam had learned not to trust such rapid alterations to itineraries, and therefore understood Nina’s concern.

  Patrick stumbled back into the belly of the plane, regarding Sam, Nina, Adjo and Purdue as they silently waited in anticipation for him to explain. “Nothing to worry about, people,” Patrick consoled.

  “Did the Colonel order a change in course to land us in the desert for Nina’s insolence?” Sam asked. Nina sneered at him and dealt him a solid slap on the arm. “Seriously, Paddy, why are we turning? I am not comfortable with this.”

  “Me neither, mate,” Purdue chipped in.

  “Really, guys, it is not a bad thing. I just got a patch through from one of the facilitators of the expedition, Prof. Imru,” Patrick reported.

  “He was at the tribunal,” Purdue remarked. “What does he want?”

  “Actually, he asked if we could help him with a…more personal matter, before we attend to the legal priorities. Apparently he did get in touch with Col. Yimenu and advised him that we would be arriving a day later than planned, so that side is taken care of,” Patrick clarified.

  “What the hell could he possibly want from me on a personal front?” Purdue wondered aloud. The billionaire looked less than trusting about the new turn of events, and his concerns were equally present in the faces of his expedition party.

  “Can we refuse?” Nina asked.

  “You can,” Patrick replied. “And Sam can, but Mr. Kira and David are pretty much in the vice grip of the Archaeological Crimes people, and Prof. Imru is one of the heads of the organization.”

  “So we have no choice but to assist him,” Purdue sighed, looking uncharacteristically frazzled by the twist in the plan. Patrick sat down opposite Purdue an
d Nina with Sam and Adjo beside him.

  “Let me explain. This is an impromptu detour, guys. I can even assure you that it might very much interest you all, from what I was told,” Patrick coaxed.

  “Sounds like you want us to eat all our veggies, Mom,” Sam teased, although his meaning was very sincere.

  “Look, I am not trying to sugar coat a fucking death game here, Sam,” Patrick snapped. “Don’t think I am just accepting orders blindly or that I think you are naïve enough for me to have to lie you into cooperating with the Archaeological Crimes Unit.” After asserting himself, the MI6 agent took a moment to calm down. “Apparently this has nothing to do with the Holy Box, or David’s plea bargain. Nothing. Prof. Imru asked if you lot could assist him in a very secretive matter tat could have catastrophic repercussions on the whole world.”

  Purdue decided to abandon all suspicion for now. Perhaps, he thought, he was just too curious not to. “And did he say what it is about, this secretive matter?”

  Patrick shrugged. “Nothing specific I would know how to explain. He asked if we could touch down in Cairo and meet with him at the Masonic Temple in Giza. There he will explain what he called ‘an absurd request’ to see if you would be willing to help.”

  “Meaning ‘have to help’, I suppose?” Purdue rectified the phrasing Patrick so carefully weaved.

  “I reckon,” Patrick agreed. “But honestly, I think he is sincere about this. I mean, he would not alter the delivery of this very important religious relic just to get some attention, right?”

  “Patrick, are you sure this is not some kind of ambush?” Nina asked in a low tone. Sam and Purdue looked just as worried as she did. “I would not put anything above the Black Sun or these African diplomats, you know? Stealing this relic from them seems to have ruptured a very big hemorrhoid with these lads, you know?” she guessed. “How do we know they do not just land us in Cairo, kill us all and pretend we never flew to Ethiopia or something?”

  “I thought I was the special agent, Dr. Gould. You exhibit more trust issues than a rat in a snake pit,” Patrick observed.

  “Believe me,” Purdue jumped in, “she has reason. And so do the rest of us. Patrick, we are trusting you to see through this if it is an ambush of sorts. We are going anyway, right? Just know that the rest of us need you to smell smoke before we get trapped in a burning house, understand?”

  “I do,” Patrick replied. “And that is why I made arrangements for some people I know from Yemen to accompany us to Cairo. They will be discreet and trail us just to make sure.”

  “That sounds better,” Adjo sighed in relief.

  “I agree,” Sam said. “As long as we know that external units have our whereabouts we will be more at ease with this.”

  “Come now, Sammo,” Patrick smiled. “You didn’t think I would just buy into commands if I don’t have a back door open?”

  “Will we be long, though?” Purdue asked. “I must concede that I am not too keen on taking long about this Holy Box matter. This is a chapter I would like to conclude and get back to my life, see?”

  “I understand,” Patrick said. “I am taking full responsibility for the safety of this expedition. We will be back on track as soon as we have met with Prof. Imru.”

  When they touched down in Cairo, it was dark. Not only was it dark because it was nighttime, but it was dark all over the cities in the vicinity, making it extremely difficult to land the Super Hercules successfully on a runway lit by fire pots. Peering from the small window, Nina felt an ominous hand lock onto her, much like the onset of claustrophobia when she entered confined spaces. A choking, terrifying feeling overcame her.

  “I feel like I am locked in a coffin,” she said to Sam.

  He was as astonished as she was with what confronted them over Cairo, but Sam tried not to panic. “Don’t worry, love. Only people with a fear of heights should be uncomfortable right now. The power outage is probably because of a power station of something.”

  The pilot looked back at them. “Please buckle in and let me concentrate. Thank you!”

  Nina felt her legs buckle. In a hundred mile radius of land beneath them the only light was that of the Hercules’ controls in the cockpit. The entire Egypt was draped in pitch darkness, one of several countries plagued by an inexplicable power failure nobody could locate. Much as she did not want to reveal how petrified she was, she could not help feeling her phobia take hold of her. Not only was she in an old flying soup can with engines, but now she found that the lack of light completely simulated a closed space.

  Purdue sat down next to her, seeing the quiver of her chin and hands. He put his arm around her and said nothing, something Nina found extraordinarily comforting. Adjo Kira and Sam prepared for the landing by gathering up all their gear and reading material before buckling up.

  “I have to admit, Effendi, I am quite curious about this matter Prof. Imru is keen to discuss with you,” Adjo shouted over the deafening engines. Purdue smiled, knowing the excitement of his former guide quite well.

  “Do you know something we don’t, dear Adjo?” Purdue asked.

  “No, just that Prof. Imru is known for being a very wise man, and a king of his community. He loves ancient history and of course, archaeology, but the fact that he wants to see you is very much an honor. I just hope that this meeting is about those things he is known for. He is a very powerful man with a firm hand in history.”

  “Noted,” Purdue replied. “Let us hope for the best then.”

  “Masonic Temple,” Nina said. “Is he a Freemason?”

  “Yes, Madam,” Adjo confirmed. “Grand Master of the Giza Lodge of Isis.”

  Purdue’s eyes gleamed. “Freemasons? And they seek my help?” He looked at Patrick. “Now I am intrigued.”

  Patrick smiled, satisfied that he would not have to take too much responsibility for a trip Purdue would have no interest in. Nina also sat back, feeling more enticed by the possibilities of the meeting. Although traditionally women were not allowed at Freemasons gatherings, she knew of many historically great men who belonged to the ancient and powerful organization which origins had always fascinated her. As a historian, she appreciated that much of their ancient rites and secrets were the essence of history and its influence on world events.

  23

  Like a Diamond in the Sky

  “Good to see you again, Mr. Purdue. I hope you have been well?” Prof. Imru welcomed Purdue amicably as he opened the high gates for the group.

  “Well, I have been a bit upset in sleep and meals are still not appealing, but I am healing on, thank you, Professor,” Purdue smiled. “Just the fact that I am not enjoying the hospitality of a prison population is enough to bring me cheer on a daily basis, actually.”

  “I would think so,” the professor agreed with sympathy. “Personally a prison sentence was not our aim in the first place. More so, it seemed to be the MI6 people’s aim to lock you up for life, than the Ethiopian delegation.”

  The professor’s admittance shed some light on Karsten’s vindictive pursuits, even more lending credence to the fact that he was out to get Purdue, but that was something for another time.

  After the party had joined the Master Mason in the cool beauty of the shade in front of the Temple, the earnest discussion was to begin. Penekal could not stop staring at Nina, but she handled his quiet admiration with grace. Purdue and Sam found his obvious infatuation with her amusing, but they kept their mockery to winks and nudges until the conversation took on an air of formality and seriousness.

  “Master Penekal is of the mind that we are being plagued by what is called in mysticism, a Magician. Now, by no means should you imagine this character as a man of trickery and sleight of hand by today’s standards,” Prof. Imru delivered his lecture on the background of the predicament they were faced with.

  “He is the reason for these power outages, for instance,” Penekal added softly.

  “If you would, Master Penekal, please refrain from jumping ahead befo
re I have explained the esoteric nature of our dilemma,” Prof. Imru requested of the old astronomer. “There is much truth in Penekal’s statement, but you will better understand once I have explained the fundamentals. I do realize you have only a certain amount of time to return the Holy Box, so we shall try to make this as quick as possible.”

  “Thank you,” Purdue said. “I wish to get that done as soon as possible.”

  “Of course,” Prof. Imru nodded, and then proceeded to teach the group what he and the astronomer have put together thus far. While Nina, Purdue, Sam and Adjo were being informed of the correlation between the falling stars and the wandering sage’s murderous robberies, someone was fiddling with the gate.

  “Excuse me, please,” Penekal apologized. “I know who that is. Apologies for his lateness.”

  “By all means. Here are the keys, Master Penekal,” the professor said, handing Penekal the gate key to let the frantic Ofar in while he continued to help the Scottish expedition party catch up. Ofar looked labored, his eyes wide in panic and apprehension when his friend unlocked the gates. “Do they understand yet?” he panted.

  “We are informing them now, my friend,” Penekal assured Ofar.

  “Make haste,” Ofar implored. “Another star has fallen not more than twenty minutes ago!”

  “What?” Penekal raved. “Which one?”

  “The first of the Seven Sisters!” Ofar revealed, his words like the nails in a coffin lid. “We must hurry, Penekal! We must make a stand now or all will be lost!” His lips quivered like that of a dying man. “We have to stop the Magician, Penekal, or our children will not live to see old age!”

  “I am very aware of that, my old friend,” Penekal soothed Ofar, keeping him steady with a firm hand on the back as they approached the warm, hearty fire in the garden. The flames were welcoming, lighting up the façade of the great old Temple with great announcement where the walls featured the shadows of the present participants and animated their every move.