Order of the Black Sun Box Set 7

by Preston William Child

  “Purdue, I ju . . . ,” Sam was going to say goodbye, but they were promptly picked up by the two enormous mariners and flung harshly into the pitch black void. Purdue was thrown too far out for the rope’s reach and subsequently the recoil dislocated his shoulder as he crashed into the cold water. His screams were drowned out by the heaving waves of the powerful current that swept under the boat.

  A similar fate befell Sam. His forearm broke as one of the men was holding the end of his rope in order to bring it to the stern. Both men were wailing in pain as they sank in under the side, swallowing mouthfuls of water and suffering the pounding of the hull against their tender bodies. Sam, a smoker, had less lung capacity than Purdue. Under the water, he could see nothing and the strong pull of the water along the moving trawler prevented him from reaching Purdue.

  But both men saw the same thing as they opened their eyes under water. A frightful vision greeted them from the bottom, an image that took no more than three seconds to register, yet it felt like a slow motion film. Almost out of sight was the wreck where Vincent had died.

  Catching meager breath between ebbing spaces, they barely had time to gasp before going under again. Beneath them a circle formed, a large radius that appeared to be an entire territory. It kept stretching as the inside of the circle fell away and left the center pitch black. Before Sam’s lungs filled with water, he saw the big black circle with edges like lightning. Purdue beheld the same vision, but he lasted a second more to see the edges light up like magma.

  Their bodies went limp as the clanking of metal on water echoed into the darkness that smothered them together. In the darkness of the moonless night, Sam Cleave and David Purdue would become the subjects of future legends bound to the cursed history of the Alboran Sea.

  28

  Revelation

  Solar Eclipse Imminent: 88%

  When Madalina opened her eyes, she felt like death warmed up. In fact, she felt way too warm; it was the reason for her premature waking. The humidity made it difficult for her to breathe, but she kept her breathing slow and controlled just as she’d been taught by a yoga instructor she’d met at college in 2014. Everything was vague about her, but she could discern the sun shining through lush branches and foliage. The hiss of sun beetles paced with her heart as she sat up on what felt like a stretcher.

  At once, the sunshine reminded her of her late brother, and inadvertently she began to sob uncontrollably. There was no such thing as a good death, she thought, but the death he had suffered was atrocious. Guilt overwhelmed her all over again as she contemplated her actions, the very actions that had dragged Javier into the circumstances that had cost him his life. Had she not acted on saving the little boy, her brother would still be alive and healthy.

  In the aching emotion of her loss, Madalina tried to determine her location. It did not feel like Portugal or Spain, though it was certainly as hot. The climate was moist and the birds sounded different. “I can’t see,” she whined, rubbing her eyes. Her surroundings remained blurry, no matter how hard she blinked.

  “Oh my God!” she gasped in terror. “My eyes! My eyes! He did the same thing to me that he did to Javier!” Her heart raced madly at the horrific notion of joining in her brother’s fate, and she found herself crying like a child. But all the tears she shed did not correct her vision and she imagined those final moments with Javier when he had gone completely blind. The white film over his eyes as he groped around to find her hand haunted her. She could still feel the weak pressure of his fingers over hers.

  Madalina was crying shamelessly, stretching her eyes to try and focus. Soon she realized that nothing she did would better her sight. Miserable, she lay down in a fetal position on the stretcher. “He did the same to me. I’ll never see again! I’ll never . . . .”

  “Oh be quiet,” she heard Dr. Sabian’s voice. A jolt of hate-fueled panic shot through her whole body. “It’s just the tranquilizer. You’ll get your vision back in a few hours. We kept you heavily sedated for the whole trip.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Where am I?”

  “We are just outside Pucallpa, a town in the Amazonian rainforest. Do you really want me to explain the obvious?” he asked, sounding less tolerant than before.

  “Okay, but you did not have to bring me along on your . . . trip . . . where is Raul?” she said, vocalizing several thoughts at once.

  “Raul is none of your business anymore, but we had to bring you along. You are the Last Mother,” he informed her. She could see his phantom shape through her defective eyes, moving around in what appeared to be a tent or a gazebo.

  “What is the Last Mother, for God’s sake?” she groaned. “More of your mumble jumbo bullshit?”

  He paused in place, leering at her. “I see antagonism runs in the family.”

  “Only when dealing with mental fuckwits like you,” she bit back. “And I doubted Javier when he blamed you! Now I know what you are.”

  “What I am is too much for your simple mind to comprehend, my dear,” he replied nonchalantly. “What you are part of is bigger than people like you can understand. But you play a role, regrettably, and I have to tolerate you until you’ve done your part.”

  “Oh, geezuss,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to be mummified alive too?”

  He crouched next to her, his white clothing looking like a shapeless haze. “Your brother endured an exquisite death once considered an honor, a condition only saints could boast of. Some enlightened Buddhist monks practiced the ritual of self-mummification, called Sokushinbutsu,” he said, his voice gaining a sense of fascination. “Imagine what it took; imagine the discipline and devotion these men had for the sake of attaining enlightenment!”

  Madalina glared at him with contempt, even though she could only hate him with the percentage of what she could see of him. “You are insane. Why don’t you practice that ritual on yourself, become enlightened, and bless the world with your absence?”

  He sighed. “I knew you would never embrace your role in Raul’s ascension.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked quickly, terrified of the boy’s lot in the hands of Sabian’s cult. “What role am I playing in your twisted bible?”

  “Bible? A relatively new book compared to what is happening here. You are the Last Mother. You must bring Raul into the next world.”

  “What the fuck?” she shrieked. “The next world? Like . . . the afterlife?”

  “Now you’re getting it,” he smiled. “You were chosen thousands of years before your birth, Madalina. Long before the Inca Empire fell to the Spaniards, your forefathers. Raul was also chosen, though he is not of Spanish descent.”

  “He’s not?” she asked.

  “Raul is the last of the Inca emperor’s bloodline. He is the last full blooded Q’ero, the people of the emperor Atahualpa.” Dr. Sabian hummed the revelation like a song. “And you will have the honor of taking him to the next world.”

  Madalina’s frown deepened as she tried to veer towards not dying in the story. “Right, so what use is he as emperor if he’s in ‘the next world’?”

  Dr. Sabian erupted into a roaring laugh that terrified Madalina. It was a strange uttering that reminded her of a demon from an old horror film. “He’s not here to rule a dead empire, my dear, dear girl,” he gasped in amusement, “he is here as the sacrifice to open El Dorado!”

  “Jesus Christ! Have you abandoned your wits completely?” she shouted. “You’re going to kill a child? And for what? For gold?”

  Dr. Sabian was pleased. Finally the Last Mother fully understood her role, set forth according to the prophecy. “This was scribbled in a Nazi officer’s journal from 1944, recovered from a sunken, unregistered naval vessel off the coast of Peru,” he told her. “Shall I read it to you?”

  The Martyr will fall when Inti makes fire of earth.

  The Golden Woman will save the Empire when her heart is cut out.

  And the Last Mother will bring the Red Messiah to the mouth of the Promise.
>
  When Inti blinks, he will ascend in blood and renew the Temple.

  Madalina tried to keep her senses straight while she bided her time for her sight to fully recover. For now, she pretended to have surrendered, to keep Sabian talking so that she would learn where Raul was being kept. “The Martyr is my brother,” she said.

  “Uh huh,” Dr. Sabian affirmed. “Inti is the sun god, in other words, the sun.”

  “And I am the Last Mother, but who is the Golden Woman?” she asked.

  Dr. Sabian exhaled laboriously. “That, we are still not sure of. Only World War II legends have referred to something similar. The ship that sank off the Peruvian coast during the Second World War apparently had a sister ship somewhere in the Mediterranean. Both ships were to moor in Argentina, where the Spanish relics, once plundered from the Incas, would be reunited with the artifacts from the Peruvian-based ship.”

  “So it is not a real woman?” she wanted to know, although she would never admit that she had become a bit intrigued by the story.

  “We think it is a golden statue stolen by the conquistadors in the sixteenth century, one that had been stashed in a convent in Spain. However, I don’t care so much if our associates in the Mediterranean find her,” he confessed.

  “Why not?” Madalina urged, playing dumb for now for the sake of her eyesight.

  “Because she can save Raul from his fate, and I don’t want that. He must ascend for El Dorado to open, you see, for the ‘temple to be renewed’.”

  “You think Raul’s death is going to open up the mountain and voila! Your city of gold will welcome you to pillage it?” she gasped in a shrill tone that irritated the Santero beyond measure. He wished he could silence her like he’d silenced her equally inquisitive and antagonistic brother.

  “Yes, in fact. His death will renew the temple. According to historical accounts, the Inca Empire boasted several temples hidden in the rainforest, made of solid gold. When Inti blinks . . . when the solar eclipse commences in three days from now . . . we will go up to Macchu Picchu, where you will kill Raul to bring the Prophecy to fruition.”

  “You must be hard of hearing,” she repeated. “I am not killing that boy. You cannot make me!”

  Dr. Sabian shook his head and smiled tenderly at her, his condescension undeniable. “My dear Madalina, if I can make your brother starve himself to death and I can make you walk into a motel to kill someone, trust me,” he leaned closer, his malevolent eyes looking into her soul, “I can make you.”

  29

  Convergence

  Nina’s lips fell softly onto Sam’s. He became aware of a hum that prevailed in the darkness, but he could not place what it was. Unaware of his surroundings, he only focused on her, his lover on occasion, his friend perpetually. Sam parted his lips with hers and he felt as if he were floating through space. The hum turned into a rhythmic echo far away, and it gradually turned into a heartbeat as his ears processed the sound. Eventually he realized that the heartbeat was breaking up into little pieces, separate voices and words, spoken in a tunnel.

  Is this what it is like to be dead? he wondered, thinking of all those tales about tunnels and loved ones. But Nina isn’t dead, so I must be imagining her.

  Sam could still smell her perfume, but she seemed distant, unable to see him. Drifting in and out of darkness, the words and voices became more prominent. Again he felt Nina’s kiss, but this time it was cold. Sam tried to open his eyes, but the dark would not release him.

  “Sam!” he heard Nina yell. Her voice was sharp and loud, almost unpleasant. The he felt the cold, not the cold of her lips, but the discomfort of the cool wind on his wet body. “Sam, can you hear me?” she repeated a few times, tapping him lightly on the cheek. Her voice turned vague as she addressed someone behind her, “He is alive, but I can’t seem to revive him.”

  He forced his eyelids apart, but as soon as he managed that he was blinded by a collection of bright searchlights glaring down on him. Sam lifted his hand to shield his eyes, but his arms felt like lead. “Oh God, my arm!” he groaned.

  “He’s awake! He’s awake!” Nina shouted. “We got them both! Fuck yes!” she shrieked excitedly. “Sam, can you hear me, love?”

  “I thought I was in heaven before, but I seem to be there now,” he smiled faintly. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice again. I thought I would never hear that sweet sound again.”

  Purdue spoke from next to him. “And would you even have missed me?”

  Sam tried to laugh, but both men were too exhausted, having barely survived their atrocious ordeal. Had it not been for Nina and Capt. Sanchez, they would have filled the bellies of sharks by now.

  Blankets could hardly keep Sam and Purdue warm, but Capt. Sanchez’ officers brought them some soup and got them inside. Again, they sat at the nook where so many discussions had determined their fate thus far, that both of them looked a little ill in the gills at having to sit there again.

  Purdue’s shoulder had been dressed. He kept it folded against his chest in a sling, while the EMT braced Sam’s arm and put it in a cast on site. They found that the infirmary on the trawler was less than adequate for these types of injuries: it had been ransacked, by the looks of it.

  “Where is Barnard?” Purdue asked Capt. Sanchez. “How did you find us?”

  “Who is Barnard?” Nina asked.

  “A you-know-what from the you-know-who,” Sam answered, holding his bluish lips to the soup to warm up.

  “What?” Sanchez asked with a frown.

  Nina answered, “Another asshole from the Order of the Black Sun, Captain.”

  “Oh,” he replied, “them again.”

  “Aye, they are everywhere,” Purdue sighed. “How did you locate us?”

  “Capt. Sanchez called me as I was about to start my search for you two,” Nina explained. “By the way . . . a huge fucking thanks for not calling me to let me know you are not dead, you bastards. We will still have that discussion. I swear to God, if I was not so stoked to see you both, I would have keelhauled you myself.”

  Purdue looked at Sam with a victory smile, gloating, “See? I told you we should have called her.”

  Sam only scoffed. He was too tired to explain himself. It felt as if he had been rescued from the bowels of hell, and he had been, but he just wanted to sit there and listen to Nina’s bitching for a bit, soaking up her trademark threats with pleasure.

  “We approached the trawler in the dark, using only infrared and radar to navigate. Dr. Gould asked me to assist her in finding you, so we picked up your signal, Mr. Purdue,” the police captain elucidated.

  “His signal?” Sam asked.

  “Your tablet, Purdue. Capt. Sanchez had been using a global satellite network to track the movement of the device since the date of the crash,” Nina smiled. “And we found you in the nick of time. Literally.”

  “Earlier today, a patrol plane noticed that the Cóncord was in trouble when the pilot reported what looked like blood all over the decks and around close proximity of the boat—too much to be fishing bait. It coincided with your locator, which had Dr. Gould here convinced that you were in trouble . . . again,” Sanchez recounted. “We came out with an eight-man fire team, just in case. And good thing we did. We spooked the villains, it seemed, because we reached the trawler just after you were both tossed overboard.”

  Nina looked upset, but she placed her hand over her mouth and contained it. “I watched it happen. Jesus, I watched it happen and I was still so far away, too far to help you.”

  “But they took off as soon as we started shooting from the darkness. They obviously had no idea how many of us were on approach,” Sanchez said. “Who is Barnard, exactly?”

  “Well, all we have gathered between the lines is that his grandfather was an Allied soldier during the Second World War, a traitor who assisted the SS in obtaining stolen relics from a Spanish convent,” Purdue explained through small sips of hot soup that were filling him with life again.

&nb
sp; “Aye, and now he thinks he is entitled to the treasures his grandfather helped steal, like that golden statue,” Sam added. “By the way, where is she? Did they take her before you got to them?”

  “Where is who?” Nina asked.

  “The golden woman,” Purdue chipped in quickly.

  Nina and Capt. Sanchez gawked at one another for a long moment. They looked taken aback by Purdue’s uttering. Shocked, in fact. Purdue saw that, and he wondered if they knew something that he and Sam did not.

  “What?” Sam asked.

  Nina and Sanchez started talking together, both fascinated by the cryptic clues falling into place by some eerie chain of coincidences. She let Sanchez have the stage on this one.

  “From the last transmission Dr. Gould and I received from the bug on our suspects, the Golden Woman is part of an Incan prophecy,” he said in pleasant surprise. “I’ve been trailing a murder suspect who, believe it or not, is a victim of a bigger crook . . . uh, also from the Black Sun! This is why I called Nina in the first place.”

  “No way,” Sam cried. “They really are everywhere!”

  “But it gets better,” Nina squealed excitedly. She couldn’t believe that in all this misfortune and pain for so many people, she was sounding like a silly schoolgirl, but Purdue and Sam’s information finally helped her and Sanchez to make sense of Madalina and Raul’s abduction.

  “They are out to kill a young boy as a sacrifice to open the golden city of El Dorado,” Sanchez told them. “And they tried it before, according to Dr. Gould, during the Second World War, to attain the hoards of gold reputed to make up the city.”

  “They failed because . . . and here is the part we couldn’t solve yet . . . both ships sent to Argentina sank at the same time in different oceans!” she exclaimed. “I mean, they went down within the same goddamn minute, according to my records of the logbooks recovered!”