Order of the Black Sun Box Set 6

by Preston William Child

  During his trip to the tent village at the base of the mountain site, Karsten’s mind was racing. Purdue was becoming a serious liability, not only to him, but to the Black Sun in general. Their release of the Magician to dump the planet into a terrible pit of catastrophe was coming along just swimmingly. The only way their plan could fail, was if Karsten’s double life was exposed and the organization discovered, and those problems had only one trigger – David Purdue.

  “Did you hear about the floodings in Northern Europe, now hitting Scandinavia?” Col. Yimenu asked Karsten. “Mister Carter, I apologize for the power failures making everything so inconvenient, but most of the North African countries, as well as Saudi Arabia, Yemen, all the way up to Syria, are suffering darkness.”

  “Yes, so I have heard. It must be a terrible burden on the economy, for one,” Karsten said, playing a splendid role of ignorance, while he was the architect of the current global dilemma. “I am sure, if we all put our minds, and financial reserves, together, we might be able to salvage what is left of our countries.”

  After all, that was the aim of the Black Sun. Once the world was crippled by natural disasters, businesses failing and security threats causing grand scale robberies and destruction, it would be injured enough for the organization to overthrow all super powers. With their boundless resources, skilled professionals and collective wealth, the Order would be able to capture the world under a new regime of Fascism.

  “I don’t know what the government will do if this darkness, and now the floods, cause any more damage, Mr. Carter. I just don’t know,” Yimenu lamented in the noise of the bumpy trip. “I trust the United Kingdom has some form of emergency measure?”

  “They should,” Karsten replied with a hopeful look at Yimenu, his eyes not betraying his disdain for what he deemed a lower species. “As far as the military is concerned, I reckon we will be using our resources as much as one can against acts of God, really.” He shrugged, looking sympathetic.

  “This is true,” Yimenu replied. “These are acts of God; a cruel and angry god. Who knows, we might be standing on the brink of extinction.”

  Karsten had to fight off a smile, feeling like Noah, watching the un-favored meeting their fate at the hand of the god they did not worship well enough. Trying not to get carried away in the moment, he said, “I am sure the superior ones among us will survive this Apocalypse.”

  “Sir, we have arrived,” the driver told Col. Yimenu. “It looks like the Purdue group has already arrived and taken the Holy Box inside.”

  “Is there nobody?” Col. Yimenu shrieked.

  “Yes, sir. I see Special Agent Smith waiting for us by the truck,” the driver affirmed.

  “Oh, good,” Col. Yimenu sighed. “That man is on top of things. I must congratulate you on Special Agent Smith, Mr. Carter. He is always one step ahead, making sure all orders are executed.”

  Karsten winced at Yimenu’s exaltation of Smith, playing it off as a smile. “Oh, yes. That is precisely why I insisted Special Agent Smith accompanied Mr. Purdue on this trip. I knew he would be the only man for the job.”

  They exited the vehicle and met with Patrick, who informed them that the Purdue party’s early arrival was due to a turn of the weather which had forced them to take an alternative route.

  “I thought it was odd that your Hercules was not at the airport in Aksum,” Karsten remarked, hiding how furious he was that his appointed assassin was left without a target at the designated airport. “Where did you land?”

  Patrick did not like his superior’s tone, but having not been let in on the true identity of his boss, he had no idea why the esteemed Joe Carter was so insistent on trivial logistics. “Well, sir, the pilot dropped us in Dansha and proceeded to another flight strip to see to repairs for damage incurred during the landing.”

  Karsten had no retort to that. It sounded perfectly logical, especially provided that most of the roads in Ethiopia were not sound, let alone being of proper condition in the rainless floods lately plaguing the countries of the continents around the Mediterranean Sea. He accepted Patrick’s quick-witted lie without reservation in front of Col. Yimenu and suggested they go into the mountain to make sure Purdue was not up to any skullduggery.

  Col. Yimenu received a satellite phone a call and excused himself, gesturing for the MI6 delegates to continue on into the site in the meantime. Once inside, Patrick and Karsten, along with two of Patrick’s assigned men, followed the sound of Purdue’s voice to find their way.

  “This way, sir. They have managed to secure the surroundings, courtesy of Mr. Adjo Kira, to make sure the Holy Box is returned to its old place without concern for cave-ins,” Patrick informed his superior.

  “Mr. Kira knows how to prevent cave-ins?” Karsten asked. With great condescension he added, “I thought he was a guide.”

  “He is, sir,” Patrick elucidated. “But he is also a qualified structural engineer.”

  A winding, narrow corridor led them down toward the chamber where Purdue first found himself confronted by the locals, just before he stole the Holy Box, mistaken for the Ark of the Covenant.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Karsten greeted, his voice falling on Purdue’s ears like the song of dread, splitting his soul with hatred and terror. He kept reminding himself that he was not captive anymore, that he was in the safe company of Patrick Smith and his men.

  “Oh, hello,” Purdue greeted jovially as he pinned Karsten’s glare with his icy blue eyes. Mockingly, he accentuated the charlatan’s name. “So nice to see you…Mr. Carter, is it?”

  Patrick frowned. He thought Purdue knew the name of his superior, but being a very sharp chap, Patrick quickly caught on that something more was going on between Purdue and Carter.

  “I see you started without us?” Karsten noted.

  “I explained to Mr. Carter why we had arrived earlier,” Patrick told Purdue. “But now, all we have to worry about is getting this relic back in place so we can all go home, hey?”

  Much as Patrick maintained an amicable tone, he could feel the tension tighten around them like a noose around his neck. According to him, it was just an uncalled for emotional jump because of the bad taste the whole relic theft left in everyone’s mouth. Karsten noticed that the Holy Box was replaced correctly and when he turned to look behind him, he realized that Col. Yimenu conveniently had not returned yet.

  “Special Agent Smith, would you please join Mr. Purdue by the Holy Box, please?” he instructed Patrick.

  “Why?” Patrick frowned.

  At once, Patrick learned the truth behind his superior’s intent. “Because I goddamn told you so, Smith!” he roared furiously, drawing his sidearm. “Yield your weapon, Smith!”

  Purdue froze in his tracks, holding up his hands in surrender. Patrick was dumbstruck, but he obeyed his superior nonetheless. His two subordinates scuffled about in uncertainty, but soon composed their reaction, electing to keep their weapons holstered and their feet still.

  “Finally showing your true colors, Karsten?” Purdue mocked. Patrick scowled in his confusion. “You see, Paddy, this man you know as Joe Carter is in fact Joseph Karsten, head of the Austrian arm of the Order of the Black Sun.”

  “Christ,” Patrick mumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We did not want you to be implicated in anything, Patrick, so we kept you in the dark,” Purdue explained.

  “Well done, David,” Patrick groaned. “I could have avoided this.”

  “No, you could not!” Karsten shouted, his fat red face quivering in derision. “There is a reason I lead Britain’s military intelligence, and you don’t, lad. I plan ahead and do my homework.”

  “Lad?” Purdue scoffed. “Stop pretending that you are worthy of the Scots, Karsten.”

  “Karsten?” Patrick asked, frowning at Purdue.

  “Joseph Karsten, Patrick. Order of the Black Sun, First Level and traitor the likes of which Iscariot himself could not match,” Purdue told Patrick.

 
Karsten pointed his service firearm straight at Purdue, his hand shaking profusely. “I should have ended you in Mother’s house, you over-privileged termite!” he hissed through his fat, maroon cheeks.

  “But you were too busy running away to save Mother, weren’t you, you despicable coward,” Purdue stated calmly.

  “Shut your mouth, traitor! You were Renatus, leader of the Black Sun…!” he shrieked.

  “By default, not choice,” Purdue corrected for Patrick’s sake.

  “…and you chose to abandon all that power to instead make it your life’s work to kill us off. Us! The great Aryan bloodline cultivated by gods, chosen to rule the world! You are the traitor!” Karsten roared.

  “So what do you aim to do, Karsten?” Purdue asked as Patrick was pushed to his side by the Austrian madman. “Are you going to shoot me in front of your own agents?”

  “No, of course not,” Karsten sneered. He promptly turned and planted two bullets in each of Patrick’s MI6 support staff. “There will be no witnesses left. This rancor stops right here, for good.”

  Patrick felt sick. Watching his men lying dead on the floor of a cavern in a foreign country infuriated him. He was responsible for everyone! He was supposed to know who the enemy was. But Patrick would soon realize that men in his position could never know for certain how matters would come out. One thing he knew for sure was that he was as good as dead now.

  “Yimenu will be back soon,” Karsten announced. “And I will be back in the United Kingdom to claim your estates. After all, you will not be presumed dead this time.”

  “Just remember one thing, Karsten,” Purdue retorted, “you have something to lose. I don’t. You have estates too.”

  Karsten pulled back the hammer of his weapon. “What are you playing at?”

  Purdue shrugged. For once he had shed all fear of consequence for what he was about to say, because he accepted whatever fate he would be dealt. “You,” Purdue smiled, “have a wife and daughters. Aren’t they arriving home in Salzkammergut in, oh,” Purdue sang, checking his watch, “about four hours?”

  Karsten’s eyes grew wild, his nostrils flared and he emitted a smothered cry of utter exasperation. Regrettably, he could not shoot Purdue, because it had to look like an accident in order for Karsten to be absolved, to be believed by Yimenu and the locals. Only then could Karsten play the victim of circumstance, to keep the attention off him.

  Purdue quite enjoyed Karsten’s stunned look of horror, but he could hear Patrick breathing hard next to him. He felt sorry for Sam’s best friend, again at the bad end of a death wish because of his involvement with Purdue.

  “If anything happens to my family, I will send Clive to give your girlfriend, that bitch Gould, the time of her life…before he takes it!” Karsten warned, spitting through his fat lips as his eyes blazed with hate and defeat. “Come, Adjo.”

  31

  Flight from Wereta

  Karsten started toward the exit of the mountain, leaving Purdue and Patrick completely dumbfounded. Adjo followed Karsten, but he stopped at the mouth of the tunnel to engage Purdue’s fate.

  “What the fuck!” Patrick growled, at the end of his tether with all the traitors. “You? Why you, Adjo? How? We saved you from the goddamn Black Sun and now you are their pet?”

  “Don’t take it personally, Smith Effendi,” Adjo cautioned, his slender dark hand resting just short of a stone key the size of his palm. “You, Purdue Effendi, you may take this very personally. Because of you, my brother Donkor was killed. I was almost killed to help you steal this relic and then?” he wailed angrily, his chest heaving in rage. “Then you left me for dead, before your associates kidnapped me and tortured me to find out where you were! All this is what I suffered for you, Effendi, while you were happily chasing whatever you found in this Holy Box! You have every reason to take my betrayal personally and I hope you perish slowly under a heavy rock tonight.” He looked around inside the chamber. “This is where I was cursed to meet you, and this is where I will curse you to be entombed.”

  “Christ, you certainly know how to make friends, David,” Patrick muttered next to him.

  “You built this trap for him, didn’t you?” Purdue guessed, and Adjo nodded, confirming his fears.

  From outside they could hear Karsten shouting to Col. Yimenu’s men to get away. It was Adjo’s cue, and he pressed the dial under his hand, birthing an awful rumble above them in the crusts of the mountain. The supporting rocks Adjo had carefully constructed in the days leading up to the meeting in Edinburgh, gave way. He disappeared into the tunnel, racing out past the cracking walls of the corridor. Into the night air he stumbled, already covered with some debris and dust from the collapse.

  “They’re still inside!” he screamed. “The other men will be crushed! You have to help them!” Adjo grabbed the colonel by his shirt, pretending to desperately urge him. But Col. Yimenu pushed him off, shoving him to the ground. “My country is under water, threatening the lives of my children and growing more destructive as we speak, and you keep me here over a cave-in?” Yimenu reprimanded Adjo and Karsten, suddenly not feeling diplomatic anymore.

  “I understand, sir,” Karsten said dryly. “Let us consider this accident the end of the relic debacle for now. After all, as you say, you have children to see to. I completely understand the urgency to save one’s family.”

  With that Karsten and Adjo watched Col. Yimenu and his driver take off into the pinkish hint of dawn on the horizon. It was almost the time when the Holy Box was originally meant to be returned. Soon, the local site laborers would rise to what they thought would be Purdue’s arrival, planning a good beating for the white haired intruder who pillaged their country’s treasure.

  “Go and see if they are properly caved in, Adjo,” Karsten ordered. “Hurry, we have to go.”

  Adjo Kira made haste to what had been the entrance to Mount Yeha, to make sure its collapse was dense and final. He did not see Karsten follow in his tracks, and unfortunately bending over to examine the success of his work cost him his life. Karsten lifted one of the heavy rocks above his head and brought it down on the back of Adjo’s skull, crushing it instantly.

  “No witnesses,” Karsten whispered as he dusted off his hands and walked towards Purdue’s truck. Behind him, the corpse of Adjo Kira covered the loose rock and stone debris in front of the disintegrated entrance. With his shattered skull painting a grotesque mark upon the desert grit, there was no doubt that he would look like just another casualty of the rock fall. With Purdue’s ‘Deuce and a half’ military truck Karsten spun away to race back to his home in Austria before the rising waters of Ethiopia could trap him.

  Further south, Nina and Sam were not as fortunate. The entire region around Lake Tana was under water. People were frantic, panicking not only for the flood, but for the inexplicable manner in which the waters came. Rivers and wells ran over without any current from a feeding source. Still, no rain had fallen, yet the dry riverbeds had sprung fountains from nowhere.

  All around the world, power outages, earthquakes and floods tormented cities, destroying important buildings. The UN headquarters, the Pentagon, the World Court in The Hague and a myriad of other institutions responsible for order and progress were being decimated. By now they feared that the airstrip at Dansha could be compromised, but Sam was hopeful, since that community was far enough for Lake Tana not to be directly influenced by it. It was also resting far enough inland, so that it would still be some time before the ocean could reach it.

  In the ghostly haze of early dawn, Sam saw the night’s destruction in its full horrible reality. He was filming the remnants of the entire tragedy as often as he could manage, taking care to preserve battery power on his compact video camera while he waited anxiously for Nina to make it back to him. Somewhere off in the distance, he kept hearing a strange buzzing noise he could not place, but he chalked it up to some sort of aural hallucination. He had not slept in over twenty-four hours and he could feel the effects of fatigue, b
ut he had to stay awake for Nina to find him. Besides, she had been doing the hard work and he owed it to her to be there when, not if, she returned. He refused to entertain negative thoughts tormenting him, concerning her safety on a lake full of treacherous creatures.

  Through his lens, he sympathized with the citizens of Ethiopia who had to leave their homes, their lives, behind to survive. Some were weeping bitterly from the roofs of their houses, others were dressing injuries and every now and then Sam was confronted with floating bodies.

  “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, “it really is the end of the world.”

  He filmed the immense body of water that seemed to go on forever ahead of his eyes. With the eastern sky painting the horizon in pink and yellow, he could not help but notice the beauty of the milieu to which this gruesome play was set. The smooth water had ceased to rush and fill out the lake, for now, and it decorated the landscape with bird life populating the liquid mirror. Many were still on their tankwa, fishing for food or just floating. But among them, only one little boat was moving – really moving. It appeared to be the only vessel headed somewhere, to the entertainment of onlookers from other boats.

  “Nina,” Sam smiled. “I just know it is you, wee lassie!”

  To the annoying whine of the unknown sound, he zoomed in on the rapidly gliding boat, but as the lens adjusted to better his vision, Sam’s smile vanished. “Oh my God, Nina, what did you do?”

  Behind her came five equally hasty boats, only moving slower because of Nina’s head start. Her face said it all. Panic and painful effort twisted her pretty face as she rowed away from the pursuing monks at her heel. Sam jumped down from his perch, at the Town Hall and spotted the source of the peculiar sound that had been baffling him.

  Military helicopters were coming in from the north to pick up the citizens and carry them to dry land farther southeast. Sam counted about seven choppers, landing sporadically to pick people up from their temporary holds. One, a CH-47F Chinook, was stationary a few blocks away, while the pilot was rounding up a few people for airlift.