The Library of Forbidden Books (Order of the Black Sun Book 8)

by P. W. Child

  “You had better tell her, lad,” Sam forced through his impending unconsciousness. “I’m too tired to think anymore.” His big, dark eyes fluttered and he laid his head back down, still awake, but hardly calm. Sam’s chest heaved, and his breathing was shallow as the fever grew through him. Richard cleared his throat and tried to think of how to put it, what they had seen.

  “How much weight do you put in this lore of the old gods?” he started.

  “Listen, Richard, I am not the kind of bitch you want to test wits with, and I am certainly not the type you keep waiting,” Nina shrieked. “I swear to God I will make you!”

  “All right, all right. It’s just going to sound absurd, that is all,” he retorted, his voice firm and loud for a change. It proved that there was after all some marrow in old Pasty’s bones when Nina drove him into a corner. It was a corner he could not escape, here, trapped in a giant tin can in the belly of the North Sea.

  “Absurd?” Nina snapped. “Have you seen the electricity in my new house? Oh, and did you see the kind of features my basement boasts? It’s a darling little shack for the avid quantum physicist or every-day lunatic!”

  “We saw Argathule,” he said quickly.

  Silence came over the cabin where they were gathered. Gretchen swallowed hard. Normally she would not have believed it, but had she not heard the deafening wail of something that made an amplified sound lingering between whale and lion she would have laughed it off. Nina was not amused either, yet she was driven by the same acknowledgment as her friend. They knew what they had heard and encountered was not the actions of a mere sea mammal, no matter what its size. There was something malignant and intentional about the creature they encountered, as if it was a predator of immense intelligence honing in on those who brought it here.

  “It happened when we dumped the bodies in the mouth. When Sam stepped onto the submarine, while the police were bursting into the basement, he saw it lying below,” Richard confessed.

  The women shared an expression of confounded horror. Nina cocked her head, “saw it lying below, you say. Why did it not try to kill us then? Or climb out—”

  “It would not survive on land, first of all, so it was quite content in the well. But it was fed before we stepped off the edge of the well to board the submarine, so it did not feel compelled to hunt yet,” Richard explained nonchalantly.

  Gretchen stopped crying, sniffled and wiped her face carelessly. As she started approaching the man she so admired for his insights and unorthodox ideologies, the distant howl of the thing permeated through the near waters again. Waves of whining that drove the occupants of the Trident to terror surrounded the boat, gradually growing louder, announcing its approach.

  “It was fed? Richard, did you feed it?” she asked slowly. Nina gasped over where she stood watching. Her slender fingers covered her mouth under a wide-eyed scowl.

  “I had to or it would have compromised our only escape, Gretchen,” he explained in a soft tone. It was evident that he understood her repulsion and the way in which she questioned his morals. She knew that he was at fault and that he had no intention of apologizing for something he had construed as a victory in his work.

  “Richard, what did you feed it?” she asked in a childlike curiosity that bordered on brute fury. It made Richard Philips very uneasy, but he stood his ground. He had always been afraid of women to some respect, but now he understood why. Now there were two of them onto him, both of consummate intelligence and logic, both on the wrong side of tolerance with him. Nina knew.

  “McLaughlin’s sidekick,” she said coldly from behind Gretchen, stopping the stalking woman in her tracks. But Gretchen did not afford Richard his liberty from her wrath, and a moment later she came closer again.

  “It had to be done!” he exclaimed. “Your safety was secured by it, and she was there to kill Nina, so how can you not condone her sacrifice?”

  Gretchen slapped him hard across the face, leaving a substantial mark on his cheek.

  “I used to admire you . . . God, no, I used to worship you!” she screamed at him. Her body bent forward in an aggressive stance of hatred and disappointment. Nina came to collect her and pull her away from the shocked man who towered over her.

  Chapter 36

  Jaap Roodt did not even know why the subject got under his skin like this. He had far bigger things on his plate than a cheating wife, but for some reason the idea of her having the audacity to have an affair after all she was entitled to as his wife, made him seethe with rage. Admittedly he was not a grand lover and certainly not affectionate at all. That was one thing Jaap could not help. He had never been an affectionate man, and women usually just served their purpose on their knees or in his kitchen. That aside, he did Katrina a huge favor by marrying her, and it was chewing at him that she had failed to appreciate all that she had because of it.

  How dared she spend her time and her young body on anyone but the man who took her out of the gutters and made her a rich woman with all the comforts of a queen? It drove him up the wall when he found footage of her exploits in his email. The message was sent from the security office of the council in Bruges, Belgium, under a discreet subject line that read “Green Thumb.” It was a well-known fact among the council members and their immediate families and staff that Katrina Roodt was an ardent gardener, therefore the subject line of the email was no surprise to Jaap.

  However, inside he found video footage of the beautiful woman engaged in conversation with an attractive older man, much like himself, only this man was in possession of a better physique. Jaap bit his lip at the footage of her smiling, chatting as if she was truly taken with him. It reminded him of the way she used to look at him, a look he had not seen in more than a decade. Even her trademark sunken eyes and exhausted demeanor, brought on by alcohol and drugs, was absent in every clip dated differently. And the dates! Those dates at the right bottom corner of the footage had Jaap Roodt clutching harder at his tumbler of whisky harder than ever. They concluded that she had been seeing this man for more than two years.

  “Mark,” he hissed into the phone after he wiped the footage, “I want you to take the gardener to the nursery and wait for me.”

  “Yes, sir,” the lackey answered from the other side of the phone. “What time?”

  “Make it . . . ” Jaap looked at his secretary, Don, who held out his watch for Jaap to see, “8:30pm. You know how to manipulate her. Don and I will meet you there.”

  “I knew there was something going on, Meester Roodt,” the eccentric young homo bragged to his boss, “but I did not want to speculate until I was sure.”

  “Did you send me this, Donovan?” Jaap asked.

  “No,” Don replied, taken aback. “I was not sure, but all this business of spas and day-long shopping gave it away a bit, I think.”

  “Yes, you know, I don’t have time for this. I have to check on Renatus and make sure he plays into our hands. I did not do this to save his life, you know? I did this for him to get done what I needed to take over the reins. I don’t have time to concern myself with infidelity as well!” Jaap shouted.

  His home office was now void of potted plants and a couch to make sure she had no business in there anymore. The last bit of dwindling consideration he held for his wife was the reason he did not want her in his office again. Jaap feared Katrina would discover the council and the Order of the Black Sun’s plans for the near future. Most of all, he did not want her to see that she was not included in his plans to travel to Poveglia in Italy and hide in ARK until the Longinus had completed Final Solution 2.

  The safety of all council members and their families was something he planned to exclude her from. She was simply not important enough and his position in the council had now ranked higher since his affiliation with Renatus in addition to the recent murders of council members, which had by chance elevated Roodt’s position favorably. Time was running out. Soon Renatus would have the information needed to give Dr. Alfred Meiner and within mere days F
inal Solution 2 would be in action. It was time to tie up loose ends and cut dead weight—even if it weighed only 55 kg.

  “Can you believe the crap I have to deal with, Don?” he said, as he poured them both a glass of whisky. He sat on his desk with one leg on the ground and sipped as he looked out the open window at the cool, cloudy sky.

  “That is just a risk men like you take, Jaap,” Don told him as he took a drink from his glass. “What do you expect? You are constantly away from home, and she has too much money to her disposal.”

  “Men . . . like me?” Jaap asked with a twinkle of amusement. “That is half-insulting.”

  “Well, I mean, you are well into your years. And although she is no spring chicken either, she is still . . . a quarter of a century . . . your junior, Mr. Roodt,” Don explained as best he could. “You are just too . . . mature . . . for her, and she is looking for someone who wants to do, well, younger things with her.”

  “Sex has an age limit now?” Jaap bit at him.

  “I wouldn’t know. I have not yet reached your age,” Don replied.

  “Are you patronizing me, Donny boy?” Jaap gasped. He was steering the conversation into an argument deliberately, to see where Don’s loyalties lay. But he was not planning to let up until the conversational topic had reached boiling point.

  “Absolutely not, sir,” Don defended strongly, swirling his glass as he gestured. “You are just too busy with important things of global significance . . . my God, you are busy with things bigger than history, to indulge in the silly needs of a younger sexually charged woman.”

  “Yes, this is true. As long as you don’t insinuate that I cannot fuck the living daylights out of her. I just don’t feel attracted to her anymore,” Jaap rambled into his glass.

  “Of course not, Jaap. I have been working for you for fifteen years. Of course, I am only on your side. And I trust you will accommodate me when the time comes. I know all your secrets and you need me to keep those secrets from other council members and high-level Black Sun affiliates,” he reminded his boss as he raised his glass for another sip.

  Jaap frowned. His secretary was correct. He knew that Jaap was corrupt to the core, an embezzler, and a wife-beating alcoholic. Moreover, Don knew about Jaap’s long-running need to escape the council and become Renatus himself.

  “If I may ask, Jaap?” Don asked and paused. Jaap perked up to show his attention. “I have been wondering, are you the genius behind the unfortunate deaths of the council members?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Jaap evaded.

  “Oh, come on, Mr. Roodt, I think you are the only man with enough balls and ambition to put an end to these insufferable bunch of geriatric assholes who think they can rule the Black Sun’s business forever,” Donovan played his best sycophantic role. “Only you would do something about it. Everyone has been so sick of their superiority complex, but fact is they have outlived their time and their command. I just figured you would be the man to get that done.”

  Jaap Roodt stared long and hard at his loyal dog. He gave it some thought and finally put down his glass to answer. Don seemed interested, but not overly eager to know. Maybe he really meant what he said, but Jaap was wary of why he was asking outright like that.

  “I hate to disappoint you, Donny,” he said, “but I have absolutely no idea who is killing off the members of the council. But whoever it is, he is doing me a hell of a favor.” Jaap chuckled heartily at the irony, “Unless, of course, I am next on the list!” And then he burst out in robust laughter that was hard to judge if it was from fear or coincidence.

  Don laughed with him, but he was honestly surprised that it was not Jaap Roodt behind the murders. His laugh died slowly, but he would not let go. “But, are you seriously not involved? I must tell you, I am almost disappointed that my boss is not the ruthless mastermind eradicating the council to take over the Black Sun.”

  Jaap Roodt felt that same jolt of insult again. He poured them two more glasses, planning to get drunk enough not to care about his Katrina’s fate tonight. Passing Don another glass, Jaap sighed.

  “How could you be disappointed in me?” he asked his secretary. “I am already making sure the world suffers the greatest ethnic cleansing in existence! Something as common as killing off a bunch of old bastards for power over the Black Sun is so . . . so . . . insignificant,” he ranted, his voice rising and falling in exasperation and impatience.

  “That is true, sir. That is very true, I admit,” Don said, raising his glass. “Now, do you want me to escort you when you return to Italy, or shall I hold the fort in Rotterdam?”

  “No, I won’t be needing you anymore,” Jaap said.

  “How do you mean? You will need someone to take care of your arrangements for ARK. But you would have to tell me where it is, otherwise I will not be able to join you when Renatus unleashes the Longinus,” Don said, as he swallowed the rest of his whisky.

  Jaap looked out the window in silence, twirling the liquid in the glass as if it hypnotized him. Lost in the circular movement, he considered what Don had said.

  “You will never know where ARK is, Donovan. You are not included on the list of desirables, you see? And I wish I could say I was sorry, but like I said before, I have to tie up loose ends and leave behind all shackles so that I can start afresh when the old gods return,” he explained to Don. Don frowned, clearly upset. He dropped his glass and it shattered at his feet.

  “Oh, don’t take it so hard,” Jaap smiled. “You work for a powerful, smart, and high-ranking man who controls the most iniquitous organization this world has ever seen . . . and you are surprised?”

  “I don’t feel well,” Don snorted, as he stumbled backward, holding his chest.

  “I know. Your blood will begin boiling soon as your body tries to combat the toxin,” Jaap described the process patiently, ignoring the young man’s cries of agony.

  Donovan’s fingers entered his shirt where he could feel the wire pinching on his sweaty skin. He screamed loudly, indifferent to the situation and concerned more for the fact that his heart rate was hitting the roof.

  “Remember when you warned me that all this whisky was going to kill me?” Jaap laughed, “Imagine how ironic this must be for you!”

  Slowly the secretary started to crawl across the floor to get to the door, hoping for his colleagues in MI6 to rescue him soon. Jaap heard the screeching tires and doors slamming outside on his driveway.

  “You treacherous son of a bitch!” he screamed at Donovan, breaking his own glass in the young man’s face.

  “I learned from the best, Jaap,” Don groaned hysterically. “Fifteen years under an impotent fascist has taught me well!”

  Jaap Roodt landed a hefty kick to the dying MI6 operative’s ribs before fleeing to the bathroom where there was a hidden exterior door to make his escape. The flimsy, thin tap wire taped to Don’s chest began to melt, the copper dissolving into his flesh as his blood began to boil from another of Alfred Meiner’s arsenal of biological death potions. The agents stormed into the house, looking for Jaap Roodt. But he had already sped from the house on his way to the cabin he kept with Katrina.

  It was a perfect place to hide, because it happened to be the very “nursery” he had referred to for his wife to be brought to later that night. After he killed her, he planned to head straight for Poveglia and force Renatus to deliver the Longinus, completed. Once he had it activated, Dave Purdue was next on his death list, so that he, Jaap Roodt, could ascend as Renatus, just in time for the crossing.

  Chapter 37

  “Collect your thoughts,” Dr. Richard Philips told the bristling Gretchen who was readying to give him a second wallop for the danger he had dropped her and her friend into by summoning the very thing that was now attacking the Second World War submarine they were trapped in.

  “You are insane!” she shouted.

  “You did not think me insane when I delivered my theses on this very possibility, Gretchen,” he retorted calmly, althou
gh his brow was glistening with nervous perspiration. “You believed it was possible and you were fascinated by it!”

  “I was fascinated by you, you idiot! Your genius and your ability to foresee the plausible and possible routes ahead of others was what attracted me to your lectures! Just because you know something can be done, does not mean you actually have to initiate it!” she fought back, only held from him by Nina’s firm hands. “You are actually bringing these fucking monsters out of other dimensions to have a free-for-all buffet with the population of this planet? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “Come,” Nina coaxed her, tugging her away,” come and get us to a port, Gretch. This damned thing is getting closer again, and you are the only one who knows vaguely how to maneuver this submarine. Sam needs urgent medical attention, and he is going to die if you don’t get us out of the deep!” She grabbed Gretchen’s reddened face and cradled it in her palms. “Hey! Are you listening?”

  “Yes, yes,” Gretchen moaned, shooting one more deadly look at Richard. “How are we going to get rid of this thing?”

  “We are close to the Faroe Islands,” Nina jested. “Hey, we’ll lure the fucker up there and the Faroese will see it as a perfect time for some grindadráp action. They’ll make quick work of it.”

  “Geez, wouldn’t want to eat that, though,” Gretch winked, a bit more like herself now. “It’s cool. They’ll give it to the Sea Shepherd tourists,” Nina laughed.

  But before they could share a good laugh another devastating blow ripped through the tail end of the submarine. The lights flickered profusely as the women fell painfully against the levers and knobs of the panel.

  “Gretchen, we have to do something! Can you radio?” Nina shouted, cringing in pain and fright.

  “We have no radio contact, doll. We’re fucked!” her friend replied, scuttling up to check the bearings.