The Black Sun Conspiracy (Order of the Black Sun Book 6)

by P. W. Child

  “Where did you get these?” he asked.

  “That’s not important,” said Renata.

  “Then what’s the point of this? You’re trying to show me that you’ve got control over me, right? That you’re everywhere? Well, I know that, so you can -”

  “No, Mr. Cleave. The purpose of this is to impress upon you that we are interested in you, and that we have gone to some trouble to learn about you. You should feel flattered, not intimidated. We do not take such pains for everyone, and hardly anyone gets their invitation from me, personally.”

  “And who are you, exactly?” Sam’s patience was beginning to wear thin. “It’s not easy to appreciate the honor you’re supposedly bestowing on me when I don’t know you from Adam.”

  “The prize-winning investigative journalist hasn’t figured it out.” Renata chuckled and took a long sip of whisky.” I’m the head of the Order of the Black Sun, Sam.”

  The words sank in slowly. Sam stared blankly at Renata. Then suddenly, involuntarily, he burst out laughing. Her expression turned sour at once. “You were expecting a man, perhaps?” she asked through pursed lips.

  Sam spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “I wasn’t expecting anything! Frankly, if I had any expectation at all it was probably that I’d get killed off by some underling or other. I wouldn’t have thought that the head of a global secret society or however you’d describe it would have time to waste on the likes of me. I’m not really the kind of person who gets sit-down meetings with powerful people unless it’s part of my work.”

  “You are right,” she said. Her tone thawed, but only a little. “As talented as you are, you are not the kind of person I would normally approach in person. Under normal circumstances, someone of your particular skills would be approached by a Member of the Fourth Level, or the Third at the very highest. You would be invited to become an Initiate, a Member of the Seventh Level, and it is very likely that you would never have learned my identity. I would have been aware that you had joined us, but we would have had no contact. However, considering the amount of trouble you have caused us and the failure of even a Member of the Third Level to bring you in… I thought it best to attend to the matter personally.”

  Sam wondered who the Member of the Third Level had been. Not Purdue, presumably, since he had been trying to keep Sam away from the Order.

  “The offer is this, Mr. Cleave,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “You are invited to join us. In light of your particular skills and everything you have already learned about us, you would be brought in as a Member of the Fourth Level. We propose to place you in a major newspaper. Any city in the world, any salary you like. However lavish the lifestyle you choose, we will fund it. You will be supplied with a list of the newspapers we would approve, but you will find it extensive. You will be doing what you have always done, what you have been so successful at doing, but the targets of your investigations will be provided by us. The work you produce will be consistent with the messages we wish to send to the world. You will be responsible, in part for the furthering of our aims.”

  “Write your propaganda pieces, you mean? Take down anyone who happens to displease you? Will I have any way of knowing whether I’m investigating genuine corruption, genuine wrongdoing, or will I just have to trust you and your Order that any evidence I uncover is sound?”

  Renata shrugged. “You may think what you like, Sam. Most of our members have already come around to our way of thinking by the time they join, but those few who join while still having doubts tend to get over them fairly quickly.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” said Sam. “But writing to order isn’t really what I do. I appreciate the offer, but honestly, I’d rather just get out of your hair.”

  “Mr. Cleave, that argument is beneath you. You’re an intelligent man. I am sure you are aware that we cannot simply leave you to your own devices now. But in case there is any doubt remaining, let me make it perfectly clear… You will take this job and enjoy its many, many benefits, or you will not leave this place. Your reticence is unsurprising, and I understand that it is important to you to see yourself as a man of integrity. We would value your integrity… once you have been taught to appreciate our way of thinking.” She waited for Sam to speak. When he did not, she leaned forward and spoke into the panel in front of her in a language Sam did not know. “I can see that I have not persuaded you, and I have no more time to spend. Perhaps my colleague will succeed where I have failed. I look forward to having you join us, Mr. Cleave. When you are ready.”

  She rose and strode out of the room, exiting through the double doors. As she left, a man Sam had not seen for some time entered, nodding respectfully to her as he passed. Sam looked the newcomer up and down, taking in the wiry frame, the mad black-brown hair, the husky eyes and the deep scar on his cheek.

  “Alexandr,” he said with an involuntary smile. “Long time no see.”

  Chapter Thirty-T wo

  The door to the salon slid open without a sound. Purdue did not turn around. His attention was fixed on a painting on the wall in front of him, a triptych on wood panels. He was busy scrutinizing a detail on the right-hand panel.

  “This figure here,” he said, still not moving, “the one being strangled on the riverbank. Would I be correct in thinking that this is just the first stage in her execution?”

  “Yes,” Renata replied, standing at his shoulder. “The two men carrying out her sentence will next immerse her in the river until the life is almost gone from her, then they will deal the death blow to the back of her head. It is a time-honored way of doing things.”

  Purdue nodded, but made no further response. He continued to study the painted figures. Renata watched him. “You like my little gallery?” she asked.

  He glanced around casually, paying scant attention to the display spread out across the walls. “I seem to recall that your standards of curation used to be higher. This collection is less well-organized than it could be.”

  Renata smirked. “Then you haven’t spotted the thematic link? Come. Let me tear you away from Provoost for a moment and talk you through it.” With a light touch on his shoulder she guided him to an early example of Flemish Primitive work. God, long-haired and long-bearded, surrounded by red-feathered angels, was depicted in tempera on wood. The breath of God emanated from him in a long and wide golden line, and his head and shoulders were surrounded by what looked at first glance like a halo. On closer inspection Purdue noticed that beneath the intricate gilding the paint was black, and long, black lines zig-zagged outwards from it. “Do you recognize it?”

  “Melchior Broederlam?” Purdue guessed.

  “That’s right. I got it from the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Dijon, where an excellent copy now hangs – minus the most important detail, the Black Sun itself. You’ll also see here the painting that prompted me to start this little collection.” She pointed towards a panel from the Ghent Altarpiece which Purdue knew to be called The Just Judges. “This one was passed on to me a few years ago, when I became Renata. It has been in the Order’s possession since 1934, when the legendary Arsène Goedertie stole it from St Bavo’s for much the same reasons as you undertook your failed quest. Here you see Philip the Good and the Van Eyck brothers depicted, but also a number of men who were prominent members of the Order in the 1430s. Are you beginning to grasp the theme of my collection?”

  Knowing the significance of the first few paintings, Purdue looked again at the jumbled collection. He began to understand why Renata had Flemish Primitives sharing wall space with Ensor and De Smet. “All of these works have some connection to the Order of the Black Sun,” he said. “Some depict moments from its history, presumably including the woman being strangled in the Provoost triptych. Some must be allegorical, like Ensor’s skeletons… and others portray significant members, is that correct?”

  “Quite,” she smiled. “The Provoost Diptych is a particular favorite of mine. From time to time I like to visit the Groeninge Museum
and listen to the guides there describing it to the tourists as Death and the Miser, while I stand and nod politely and know that every word they say is nonsense. The man in the left panel is no mere allegorical figure. He is Markus van der Beck, the man who purchased the building that originally stood upon this site. Were it not for him, the Order might not exist in its current form today. This place, this city, gave us a focal point for our activities. Our headquarters have always been here, and we have succeeded in establishing a city run entirely for our convenience.”

  She pointed to the Black Sun medallion around the neck of a clergyman standing behind the “Death”. “This was altered for the later copy, of course. But what you see is a Member of the Second Level taking the instructions from the dying de Beck regarding the appointment of his successor – this lady in the pink, Maria di Canossi. She was the first woman to lead the Order, the very first Renata.”

  “And the woman being killed?”

  “Her twin sister, Marta. De Beck’s instructions were that they should share the leadership. Maria was married to de Beck’s eldest son, and it was his intention that Marta should marry his youngest. Their children would intermarry, and by this means a dynasty would be founded which would rule the Order. He had studied the rise of the Carolingian dynasty and intended to be the founder of a line that would eclipse their achievements. He intended to be the progenitor of a ruler who would put Charlemagne to shame. Unluckily for him, Maria was not a woman inclined to share. Her spies had informed her of de Beck’s intention to name both her and Marta, so she sent her guards to kill her sister. In the end she had only a daughter who died in childhood, and de Beck’s dreams of ruling forever through his bloodline burst like a bubble.”

  “Why not appoint one of his sons, then?”

  “History does not tell us. Presumably he had some reason for thinking that they were not up to the task.” She glanced at the elegant Cartier watch on her thin wrist. “Now, as much as I would love to take you through my entire collection, there is something we have to keep an eye on.”

  They moved over to a small area of blank wall at one end of the gallery. “Room 3,” Renata said clearly, and the inlaid screen lit up at once. It showed Nina’s room from four different angles, the images coming from the cameras in each corner. Renata selected one to highlight. It showed Nina, a little disheveled in the same clothes she had been wearing since they were caught, staring in horror as Steven Lehmann walked into her room.

  The expression on her face changed from shock to anger and indignation. There was no sound, but she was clearly shouting at him to get out. He laughed and took a couple of steps forward. Involuntarily she backed away, her posture defensive.

  Purdue turned to Renata, his face white and his eyes blazing with fury. “You promised me that she would be safe,” he said through gritted teeth. “You gave me your word, Mirela. If Steven Lehmann lays so much as a finger on her, if she comes to the slightest harm, I will -”

  “What?” Renata’s smile was full of scorn. “You’ll what, Purdue? Do you forget how little power you have here?” Purdue backed down, but as he looked back at the screen Renata saw his fists clench in mute frustration. “Don’t worry about it, Dave. Your girlfriend will be safe. I am prepared to make sure of that. Of course, there is nothing I can do if she decides to rekindle whatever she had with Lehmann of her own free will, is there?”

  She laughed, enjoying Purdue’s discomfort, and commanded the screen to activate sound.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Don’t you touch me,” Nina snarled, backing up until she touched the wall was behind her. “Don’t you fucking come near me, Steven. Whatever you have to say, you can say it from the door. And then you can get the fuck out.”

  The man Nina had once thought that she loved stood and laughed at her. Bile rose in her throat at the thought that there had ever been anything between them. What she saw now was a stocky, middle-aged man with a paunch hanging over his belt. His hair had receded and he now wore his black curls a little longer to compensate, but it did not suit him. Spidery red veins were scattered across his face, the result of years of over-eating and drinking too much. The Roman nose that had once looked distinguished now simply looked hawkish as Steven’s face had grown too fat.

  He advanced on Nina, backing her into a corner. “Aren’t you pleased to see me, Nina? You used to be. I remember when you used to be so thrilled to see me that you’d beg me to fuck you the minute we got behind closed doors.” He closed in on her, so close that she could feel his hot breath on her skin. She turned her head away. “Fancy another shot, Nina, just for old times’ sake? Bring back old memories? I’m game if you are.” He slipped a hand onto her thigh and began to slide it upwards. “Just a quick one?”

  Nina’s hand swung round and delivered a powerful slap. Steven’s head spun and he took a step back, giving her just enough space to get away from him. “I said don’t fucking touch me,” she repeated with an animalistic hiss.

  Steven rubbed his reddening cheek. The smile was gone, replaced by a contemptuous sneer. Furtively, frantically, Nina scanned the room for anything she could use as a weapon. She had no idea why Steven was here or what he might want, but she remembered the threats he had made after they had broken up. She recalled her suspicion that he had arranged for her flat to be ransacked after Sam had visited his father, when Steven had assumed that Sam was Nina’s new lover. Whatever he wanted, Nina knew that she would feel safer if she had anything, anything at all, with which she could defend herself.

  “I’m an important man here, you know,” Steven whined, his nasal voice setting her teeth on edge. “So you can just treat me with a little more respect. If you do that again, you’ll be sorry.”

  “And if you touch me again, you’ll be sorry.”

  “I never liked that temper of yours, Nina. It’s unbecoming.” He sat down in the chair and indicated that she should sit on the bed. She did not move. “Very well, stand if you must. It makes no difference to me either way. The point is that I always told you that I had powerful friends. You never believed me, did you? Well, now you know. Now you’ve seen them for yourself. This is what I’m part of, Nina! A worldwide organization with connections into government, the military, big business, everything you can think of. What do you think of that?”

  She wanted to shrug, but she knew that would only provoke him. “I don’t know, Steven,” she said. “What am I supposed to think? Am I meant to be impressed? I’ve no idea what I’m meant to think of anything here.”

  “Well, I can help you with that.” Steven’s bloated face looked swollen with his own self-importance. “You ought to be thinking how remarkable it is that an organization such as this exists and has done for centuries – and not only that, but you found yourself in direct contact with it! Most people will never be in such close proximity to the Black Sun as this. It is possible, I suppose, that someone like you might have come to our attention in due course, but it’s unlikely. There are, I believe, a handful of academics involved in various research positions, but the world is full of intelligent people. We have the very best of them to choose from, and your career was hardly stellar.”

  Nina held her tongue, much as she was tempted to relay to the poor self-righteous prick that she knew more than enough about his precious friends and their sick clique of psycho’s. Desperately fighting to refrain from just blurting out that she had come to know the Order of the Black Sun in ways she was certain he carried no knowledge.

  But that would be foolish in this endeavor. She knew that what she had learned about the Black Sun’s history from the Brotherhood and that what she had suffered at the hands of Lita Røderic had to be harbored deeply within, serving as the trump card of a seasoned gambler.

  “Get to the point, Steven.”

  He bristled, but did not allow Nina’s bluntness to interrupt his self-aggrandizement. “I realize that you did not choose to be part of all this, Nina. You were dragged into it by someone who had operated on ou
r peripheries for some time. Dave Purdue has only ever been a liability, you know – I actually cautioned against his involvement right back when he was first brought in, but I was overruled by people who have subsequently come to regret their decision. And that man Cleave, whom you sent to my house! I was so angry then. Of course I later realized that you had no way of knowing what you were getting into. But get into it you did, and there are plenty of people within the Order who want you dead for what you know.”

  Nina lifted her head and stared straight at Steven. Her head was aching, she was exhausted from months of constant fear and anxiousness, and she was more tired than she had ever thought it was possible to feel. “Tell them to get on with it, then,” she sighed. “If that’s what’s going to happen, let’s get it over with.”

  Steven was wrong-footed. He gaped at her, his mouth open and his face resembling nothing more than a dead haddock. “You… you’ve put me off my stride,” he muttered indignantly. “I was trying to tell you that I can save you from that fate.”

  “And why would you?” Nina demanded. “It’s not as if you’ve got much concern for my well-being. It was you, wasn’t it, who had someone break into my flat? Just to frighten me?”

  “Nina, don’t you want to live?” He was getting frustrated, she could tell. A tinge of red was rising from his collar, creeping up his face. “I am prepared to use my influence to secure your safety! Do you know how many favors I will have to call in to make that happen? But I can do it! I can help you. You would have to be willing to submit to the Order completely, but there are archives all over the world and I could get you a position in one of them. You would offer your skills in exchange for your safety. You’d be under close scrutiny for a while, but eventually you would become a trusted member. You might even advance to a higher position, as I did.”