Mystery of the Amber Room (Order of the Black Sun Book 13)

by P. W. Child

  “That is a bother!” Carrington cried, shaking his head amusedly.

  “Hence the frustration, Mr. Carrington,” Purdue smiled. “Well, at least I know that I'm not in any trouble with the law. I will sort it out with my own people.”

  “Good. Then we have discussed all we can with the little information we have on this unusual occurrence,” Carrington concluded. “Off the record, though, Mrs. Holtzer,” he addressed the attractive German envoy.

  “Yes, Mr. Carrington,” she smiled.

  “On CNN the other day you officially represented the Chancellor regarding the assassinations, yet you did not disclose the reason for it,” he asked with a very interested tone. “Is there something amiss that the press is not supposed to get hold of?”

  She looked extremely uncomfortable while trying her utmost to maintain her professionalism. “I'm afraid,” she looked at both men with a nervous expression, “that is highly sensitive information.”

  “In other words – yes,” Purdue probed. He approached Gabi Holtzer with care and soft spoken respect and sat down right next to her. “Madam, does it perhaps have something to do with the recent targeting of the political and social elite?”

  There was that word again.

  Carrington looked utterly spellbound in his anticipation of her answer. With fumbling hands he poured more tea, keeping all his attention on the German liaison.

  “Everyone has their own theory, I suppose, but as an official spokesperson, I am not permitted to voice my own views, Mr. Purdue. You know this. How can you think I could discuss this with a civilian?” she sighed.

  “Because I get concerned when secrets run on a governmental level, my dear,” Purdue replied.

  “It is Germany’s business,” she said plainly. Gabi flashed her gaze toward Carrington. “May I smoke on your balcony?”

  “Of course,” he agreed and got up to unlock the lovely glass doors that led from his office onto a beautiful balcony overlooking Wilhelmstrasse.

  “I can see the whole city from here,” she remarked as she lit her long, slender cigarette. “Out here, one would be inclined to speak freely, away walls that may have ears. There is something brewing, gentlemen,” she told Carrington and Purdue as they flanked her to enjoy the view. “And it is an age-old demon that has woken up; a long forgotten rivalry… no, not a rivalry. It is more like a conflict between factions that had been presumed dead for a long time, but they have woken up and are ready to strike.”

  Purdue and Carrington exchanged rapid glances before taking note of the rest of Gabi's message. Not once did she look at them, but she talked as she sucked on the thin smoke between her fingers. “Our Chancellor was taken already before the killings began.”

  Both men gasped at the bomb Gabi had just dropped on them. Not only was she sharing privileged information, but she had just admitted that Germany's head of government was missing. It smelled like a coup, but it sounded like something far darker was behind the abduction.

  “But that was over a month, ago, maybe more!” Carrington exclaimed.

  Gabi nodded.

  “And why has it not been made public?” Purdue asked. “Surely alerting all neighboring countries would be of great benefit before this kind of insidious plot moves to the rest of Europe.”

  “No, it has to be kept under wraps, Mr. Purdue,” she disagreed. She turned to face the billionaire with eyes that emphasized the seriousness of her words. “Why do you think those people, those elite members of society, were murdered? It was all part of an ultimatum. The people behind all this threatened to kill influential German citizens until they got what they wanted. The only reason our Chancellor is still alive is that we are still within their ultimatum,” she informed them. “But when we approach that deadline and the Federal Intelligence Service has not delivered what they demand, our country will be…,” she laughed bitterly, “…under new management.”

  “Good God!” Carrington said under his breath. “We have to get MI-6 involved, and -”

  “No,” Purdue interrupted him. “You cannot risk turning this into a huge public show, Mr. Carrington. If this leaks out, the Chancellor is dead before dusk. What we need to do is get someone to investigate the origin of the attacks.”

  “What do they want from Germany?” Carrington fished.

  “That part I do not know,” Gabi lamented, blowing her smoke up into the air. “What I do know is that it's a very wealthy organization with basically unlimited resources and what they want is nothing short of world domination.”

  “And what do you suppose we do about this?” Carrington inquired, leaning on the banister to look at both Purdue and Gabi. The wind disturbed his thinning straight gray hair as he waited for a suggestion. “We cannot let anybody find out about this. If it becomes public, hysteria will spread all over Europe, and I am almost certain that would be the death sentence for your Chancellor.”

  From the door, Carrington's secretary beckoned him to sign off on a visa discrepancy, leaving Purdue and Gabi in awkward silence. Each contemplated their role in this matter, even though it was none of their business. They were just two good citizens of the world, eager to help fight the dark souls who had brutally ended innocent lives for the pursuit of greed and power.

  “Mr. Purdue, I hate to admit this,” she said, quickly glancing back to see if their host was still occupied. “But I was the one who arranged for your flight to be rerouted.”

  “What?” Purdue uttered. His pale blue eyes were full of questions as he stared at the woman in astonishment. “Why would you do that?”

  “I know who you are,” she said. “I knew you would not tolerate being turned away from Danish airspace, and I had some - let's call them associates - hack into the air traffic radio control to send you to Berlin. I knew I was going to be the person Mr. Carrington would call in on the matter. I had to meet you in an official capacity. People are watching, you see.”

  “My God, Mrs. Holtzer,” Purdue frowned, looking at her with great concern. “You certainly went through a lot of trouble to speak to me, so what is it you want from me?”

  “That Pulitzer-winning journalist, your companion on all your hunts,” she started.

  “Sam Cleave?”

  “Sam Cleave,” she repeated, relieved that he knew to whom she was referring. “He must look into the kidnapping and the attacks on the wealthy and powerful. He should be able to figure out what the hell they are after. I am not in a position to expose them.”

  “But you know what's going on,” he said. She nodded as Carrington joined them again.

  “So,” Carrington said, “have you told anyone else in your office about your ideas, Mrs. Holtzer?”

  “I have archived some information, of course, but, you know,” she shrugged.

  “Clever,” Carrington remarked, sounding deeply impressed.

  Gabi added with conviction. “You know, I am not supposed to know anything at all, but I am not asleep. I tend to make things like this, things that would impact the well-being of the German people, and all others for that matter, my business.”

  “That is very patriotic of you, Mrs. Holtzer,” Carrington said.

  He pressed the barrel of the silencer against her jaw and blew her brains out before Purdue could blink. As Gabi's mutilated body fell over the banister from where Carrington had flung her, Purdue was promptly overpowered by two embassy bodyguards who knocked him unconscious.

  Chapter 4

  Nina bit down on the mouthpiece of the snorkel, wary of breathing wrongly. Sam had insisted that there was no such thing as wrong breathing, that she could only be breathing in the wrong place - like underwater. Pristine and at a pleasant temperature, the water enveloped her floating body as she propelled forward over the reef, hoping that she would not be ravaged by a shark or any other sea creature having a bad day.

  Below her, the twisted corals decorated the pale and barren ocean floor, livening it up with bright and beautiful colors in hues Nina did not even know existed. A great a
ssortment of fish species joined her in her exploration, darting across her way and swirling in rapid movements that made her a bit nervous.

  ‘What if something hides among these bloody schools and lunges out at me?’ Nina scared herself. ‘What if right now I am being followed by a kraken or something and all the fish are actually racing like this because they want to get away from it?’

  With a jolt of adrenaline courtesy of her overactive imagination, Nina kicked faster, pressed her arms tightly at her sides and speared her way past the last large rocks to get to the surface. Behind her, a wake of silver bubbles marked her progress and a rush of shimmering little beads of air jetted from the top end of her snorkel.

  Nina broke the surface just as she felt her chest and legs begin to burn. With her wet hair swept back on her head, her brown eyes looked especially big. Her feet found the sandy floor and she started to wade her way back to the beach inlet between the hillocks formed by rocks. Wincing, she pushed hard against the current, goggles in hand.

  Behind her, the tide started swelling for the flow, a very dangerous time to be in the water around here. The sun had thankfully disappeared behind the gathering clouds, but it was too late. It was Nina's first time in the tropical climes of the world and already she was suffering for it. Sore shoulders punished her every time the water hit her red skin. Her nose had started to peel already from the sunburn of the day before.

  “Oh God, can I just get to the shallows already!” she sneered in frustration at the constant onslaught of the waves and sea spray that spattered salty surf against her reddened body. As the waist deep water became knee deep, she hurried to find the closest shelter, which just happened to be a beach bar.

  Every single boy and man crossing her path turned to stare as the petite beauty strutted onto the loose sand. Nina's dark eyebrows, perfectly shaped over large dark eyes, only accentuated her marble skin; even if now it was quite reddened. All eyes immediately fell on the three emerald green triangles that barely covered the parts of her that men coveted most. Nina's physique was by no means perfect, but it was the way she carried herself that drove others to admire and desire her.

  “Have you seen the man who was with me this morning?” she asked the young bartender who was aptly sporting an unbuttoned flower shirt.

  “The man with the obsessive lens?” he asked her. Nina had to smile and nod.

  “Aye. That would be the very one I am looking for,” she winked. She collected her white cotton tunic from the corner chair where she had left it and pulled it over her head.

  “Have not seen him recently, ma'am. Last I saw he was on his way to meet with some elders of the neighboring village to learn about their culture or something,” the barman added. “Drink?”

  “Um, run me a tab?” she charmed.

  “Of course! What will it be?” he smiled.

  “Sherry,” Nina decided. She doubted they would have liqueur. “Ta.”

  The afternoon dulled into a smoky coolness as the tide brought with it a saline mist that drifted onto the beach. Nina sipped her drink, clutching her goggles, while her eyes surveyed her surroundings. Most of the people had left, save for a group of students from Italy making a drunken racket on the other side of the bar and two strangers hovering quietly over their respective drinks by the counter.

  When she had finished her sherry, Nina realized that the sea had come much closer, and the sun was sinking quickly.

  “Is there a storm coming or something?” she asked the barman.

  “I don’t think so. There are not nearly enough clouds for that,” he replied, leaning forward to peek upward from under the straw roof. “But the cold will be coming in soon, I think.”

  Nina laughed at the thought.

  “And how could would that be?” she giggled. At the bartender's puzzled frown, she filled him in why she found their idea of chill amusing. “Oh, I'm from Scotland, see?”

  “Ah!” he laughed. “I see! That is why you talk like Billy Connelly! And why you,” he frowned sympathetically at her red skin with specific attention, “lost a fight against the sun on your first day here.”

  “Aye,” Nina agreed, pouting at the defeat as she looked her arms over once more. “Bali hates me.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “No! Bali loves beauty. Bali loves beauty!” he cried and ducked under the counter, only to emerge with the sherry bottle. He poured her another glass. “On the house, compliments of Bali.”

  “Thank you,” Nina smiled.

  The new-found relaxation unquestionably served her mood well. Not once since she and Sam had arrived two days before had she lost her temper, except of course when she had cursed the sun that had lashed her. Away from Scotland, away from her home in Oban, she felt as if more profound matters could simply not reach her. Especially here, where the Equator was north of her instead of south, for once, she felt well out of the reach of any kind of mundane or serious matter.

  Bali was hiding her securely. Nina enjoyed the strangeness, how unlike Europe the islands were, even if she loathed the sun and the incessant waves of heat that turned her throat into a desert and made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. Not that she had anything specific to hide from, but Nina needed a change of pace for her own good. Only then would she be on top of her game when she returned home.

  After learning that Sam was alive and seeing him again, the feisty academic had promptly decided to make the most of his company now that she knew he was not lost to her after all. Seeing him step out of the shadows at Dave Purdue's estate, Wrichtishousis, taught her to appreciate the present and nothing else. When she had thought he was dead, she had learned the meaning of finality and regret and vowed to never endure that pain again – the pain of not knowing. His absence from her life had convinced Nina that she loved Sam, even if she could not imagine being tied down in a serious relationship with him.

  These days Sam was different to some extent. Naturally, he would be, having been spirited away on board a devilish Nazi ship that had imprisoned his very being in its bizarre webbing of unholy physics. How long he had been flung from wormhole to wormhole was unclear, but one thing was clear – it had altered the world renowned journalist's view of the improbable.

  Nina listened to the dwindling conversation of the patrons, wondering what Sam was up to. Having his camera with him only assured her that he would be away for a while, probably getting lost in the beauty of the islands and not keeping track of the time.

  “Last one,” the bartender smiled and offered to pour her another.

  “Oh, no, thanks. On an empty stomach this stuff is like Rohypnol,” she chuckled. “I think I will call it a day.”

  She hopped off her bar stool and gathered up her amateur snorkeling gear, slinging it over her shoulder as she waved goodbye to the bar staff. At the room she shared with Sam, there was no trace of him yet, which was to be expected, yet Nina could not help but feel ill at ease about Sam wandering off. She brewed herself a cup of tea and waited, looking out through the wide glass sliding door where the gauzy white drapes rippled in the sea breeze.

  “I can't,” she groaned. “How can people just sit around like this? Jesus, I'll lose my mind.”

  Nina closed the windows and got dressed in her khaki cargo pants, hiking boots and packed her small satchel with a switchblade, compass, towel and a bottle of fresh water. Determined, she set off toward the thickly forested area behind the holiday resort where a hiking trail led to a local village. At first, the overgrown sandy path meandered through a glorious cathedral of jungle trees, full of colorful birds and crisp, clear streams. For several minutes, the bird calls were almost deafening, but eventually, the chirps diminished as if they were restricted to the vicinity she had just emerged from.

  Before her, the path ran straight uphill, and the plant life here was far less lush. Nina realized that the birds had stayed behind and that she was now trudging through an eerily quiet place. Far in the distance, she could hear the voices of people in heated debate
echo across the flat terrain that stretched from the edge of the hill where she was standing. Down below in the small village, women wailed and cowered while the men of the tribe were shouting defensively at one another. In the middle of it all, one man sat in the sand – an intruder.

  “Sam!” Nina gasped. “Sam?”

  She began to walk down the hill toward the settlement. The distinct smell of fire and meat filled the air as she came closer, keeping her eyes on Sam. He sat with his legs crossed and had his right hand on the crown of another man, repeating one word over and over in a foreign language. The disturbing sight scared Nina, but Sam was her friend, and she hoped to assess the situation before the mob became violent.

  “Hello!” she said as she entered the center clearing. The villagers reacted with raw hostility, immediately shouting at Nina and waving their arms wildly to chase her off. With arms outstretched she tried to gesture that she was not an enemy.

  “I’m not here to cause any harm. That,” she pointed to Sam, “is my friend. I will take him away, alright? Alright?” Nina sank to her knees to exhibit a submissive body language, moving toward Sam.

  “Sam,” she said as she reached out to him. “My God! Sam, what is wrong with your eyes?”

  His eyes had rolled back in their sockets as he chanted one word over and over.

  “Kalihasa! Kalihasa!”

  “Sam! Dammit, Sam, wake the hell up! You’re going to get us killed!” she shouted.

  “You cannot wake he,” a man, who must have been the chief of the tribe told Nina.

  “Why not?” she frowned.

  “Because he dead.”

  Chapter 5

  Nina felt her hair stand on end in the dry heat of the late afternoon. Above the village, the sky turned into a pallid yellow, resembling the highly pregnant skies of Atherton, where she had once visited as a child during an electrical storm.

  She scowled in disbelief, looking sternly at the chief. “He is not dead. He is alive and breathing… right there! What is he saying?”