Order of the Black Sun Box Set 3 Read online

  This placed some strain on their relationship, not a considerable amount, but things between Paddy and Sam felt a little tense for the first time since they met as young lads. When the alarm went off on Sam’s bedside table, announcing it was time to get ready for tonight’s stakeout. From what Patrick told him, he overheard that a member of the council was murdered in his house and that a meeting was being held at 11:00pm tonight. If Sam and Patrick could collect valuable intelligence from this gathering, it would be greatly beneficial to the information they would get for MI6. The location to the hidden meeting place where the management of the Black Sun convened was pivotal to the investigation.

  “I’m not sure what to do about this,” Paddy told Sam as they sipped their coffees. Anneke had just come home from shopping and her kitchen smelled of fresh toast and percolated coffee. She stood by the stove, quickly making the two agents in her charge some omelets with grated cheese and black pepper.

  “What?” Sam asked.

  “Should we both follow Roodt to the meeting place or should one of us stay to watch the house while the other tails the car? If we split up, we’ll get more covered,” Paddy suggested. “Thank you, Anneke,” he said, receiving his delicious-looking dish.

  “I’m sorry I am making you boys breakfast at night, but it is nutritious enough and not too heavy on the gut for the rest of the night,” she shrugged with a smile.

  “Oh, no, it’s perfect, thank you,” Sam assured her, eyeing his friend’s food and eager to get his own. He looked at Paddy with some concern, “Have you dealt with these people before, Paddy? They are not to be trifled with, but I have a feeling you have been given plenty of information on them already, like, before you elected me your accomplice.”

  Paddy knew that Sam was still pissed. He could hear by his friend’s tone that Sam did not buy that Paddy enlisted him purely for his journalistic skills. It was obvious that MI6 would never send in an agent without thoroughly apprising him about the target’s affiliations and the reasons for the pursuit. Sam knew Paddy had knowledge of the organization Roodt was involved with before he acquired his friend’s services. What bothered him most about it, and infuriated him, was that Paddy still insisted on Sam’s company after he was fully aware of the peril Sam would be in. It felt as if he did not care for Sam’s welfare.

  “Sam, I know the level of danger these people represent, believe me. But if we are ever going to take them down, we will need to get close enough to their core,” Paddy explained in a professional manner.

  It took Sam some getting used to seeing Paddy in this capacity, evoking thoughts in him about the lengths to which Patrick Smith would go for the service of his country, and if he would even push the boundaries of their friendship to attain what his position dictated.

  “That is a very hot core you speak of, Agent Smith,” Anneke remarked from the stove, her back still turned to them. “I would dare place the people Roodt is involved with in my top five most dangerous organizations in the world, in recent history!”

  “Nobody knows that better than me, Anneke,” Sam chipped in.

  He was getting frustrated with his companions, who acted as if they knew more about the Black Sun and its cesspool of rotten gods because they read all the files and studied the information gathered by other agents. How could they not realize that he, Sam Cleave, had been through lifetimes of hell in the embrace of these demented Nazi devils? If anyone knew the organization and its doings, its core, it was he and Nina Gould. Now he was reduced to a mere photographer on a field trip courtesy of his best friend. It was demeaning.

  “I have dealt with several sections of this organization, Paddy. You know this,” Sam insisted.

  “Listen, Sam. You appear to think I am discounting your significance regarding this assignment, but I promise you I am doing just the opposite,” Patrick Smith told his friend with conviction that came across as truly sincere. Anneke watched the two from her place at the stove, occasionally flipping the rubbery egg fold.

  “How? How are you exactly planning to use what I know if you keep hiding things from me?” Sam sneered, creases sinking deep into his brow.

  “I am trying to keep you clear of direct contact, while using your expertise and opinion about these people, Sam. You have got to see that, mate! All this,” he gestured wildly, showing a rare side of him that denoted that he was getting annoyed at Sam’s accusations, “is to get intel from your previous experiences on hand, while we are out here. Do you understand?”

  Anneke served Sam his steaming yellow dish, the flavor permeating pleasantly to relieve his fury. He looked at his friend. Paddy shot him a suspiciously surreptitious glance that Sam construed as a hidden message. Clearly he had more to say that he did not want Anneke to overhear, and Sam instantly ceased his incessant prying into his purpose on this assignment. Zealously he dug into the delicious omelet and pretended that his meal was the reason he had stopped talking about the mission. Anneke smiled as she finished her coffee.

  “Might have put in too much garlic,” she winced with a cute shrug, pulling up her nose.

  “No, it’s lovely,” Sam mumbled happily through his stuffed mouth.

  “Oh, good. I am going to take a shower and watch some TV,” she smiled. Anneke looked immensely drained, even through her mild demeanor and sweetness. Her eyes were pink, her lips off color and her hair unkempt as if she was too tired to groom. Their hostess retired to her bedroom and closed the door.

  It was two hours before Paddy and Sam were due to leave.

  “Was there something else in that conversation?” Sam asked under his breath.

  Paddy’s well-trained eyes scanned the place briefly for any signs of surveillance equipment before he leaned in toward Sam.

  “I have . . . I sort of have my own agenda in this, mate,” he whispered, still combing the background as he spoke. “I was going to tell you later in the game, but now, with the meeting changing our course of action I suppose I must tell you that for me it is not just a mission for the Secret Service.”

  “Then what? Are you a double agent or something?” Sam asked, intrigued.

  “No, nothing like that. It’s just that I have seen what this organization is capable of, what they have managed to accomplish. You know this stuff, Sam—how they have infiltrated just about every important sector of modern civilization,” he told Sam in the stark light of the back porch that he had led Sam to, to isolate them as best as possible from any possible scrutiny.

  “You see, what MI6 doesn’t want is for us to make waves until it has enough information to orchestrate a formal plan for the destruction of all the authorities concerned with the Black Sun,” Paddy presented his strategy. “However, what you and Nina had to endure for the past few years prompted me to take a more immediate, more blatant approach without the knowledge of MI6, you understand?”

  “You want to do this alone?” Sam grunted with incredulity, grabbing Paddy’s forearm to snap him out of it.

  “Not entirely,” Paddy answered. “Let’s not jump the gun, mate. First I need to get all the details I can get, you know? Let’s just first gather more intelligence until we can formulate a more destructive way to topple this Nazi empire that lies dormant under our world like a fucking disease waiting to erupt.”

  Sam felt his faith in their friendship restored. True, Paddy lied to him at first, but now he could understand why and it kind of made him proud of his best friend’s intentions. Once more Sam was ready for the fight against the Order of the Black Sun, and with the help of MI6 and a few other clandestine government creepers they might well just pull it off.

  Sam grinned.

  His face filled with contentment as he sipped his coffee, looking out over the backyard and the glittering streetlights that covered the landscape like a blanket of stars. Paddy knew he was forgiven and it made his work so much easier now, without the distraction of interpersonal chaos.

  “So I am tailing Roodt tonight, and you are staying behind to watch what ensues at his
house while he is gone,” he told Sam in a more tranquil tone.

  “Wait, I have to get footage of the meeting place! How can I do that if I am watching the house?” Sam protested vigorously.

  “Listen, Sam. Much as I hate to pull rank on you, just remember that this is my mission ordered by my superiors. You are not supposed to interfere with either the orders or the chain of command, otherwise they will not allow me to choose my team again,” Paddy clarified with a stern tone that once again fascinated Sam. Smith had a good point.

  “I just don’t think you should go alone tonight. You know what we are up against and going alone is just short of suicidal,” Sam argued. He was honestly troubled by the thought of Patrick following Jaap Roodt into the hornet’s nest.

  “You know, laddie, I feel just a bit patronized by that. Lucky for you, I know you. And I know this is your half-assed way of caring, but might I remind you of my position in the police service, my years of expertise, Sam, my qualifications and experience as an agent? You are viciously underestimating my abilities here,” Paddy laid into Sam, almost with a tinge of disbelieving exacerbation at the journalist’s dismissal of whom he was. “I can’t believe this! Do you really think I am not able to run this operation, Sam?”

  At once Sam realized just how blind he had been to the whole setup. It crossed his mind like a roaring eighteen-wheeler truck. He had been so busy obsessing about the council and the dangerous situations he had suffered firsthand, that he became completely oblivious to the caliber of agent Patrick Smith really was. Perhaps he was too preoccupied seeing Paddy as his old best friend, his pal, his drinking buddy, that he neglected to observe the man in his professional capacity.

  13

  Agent Patrick Smith chose the next vantage point carefully. Surveillance worked best when the spy changed his routine completely from day to day, unlike the mark that was being scrutinized. Different spots from where to observe at differing times assured that no suspicious activity could be detected by security personnel or the occupants of the house. Better yet was when the spy had equipment that could pierce the cloak of darkness or pick up heat signatures, thereby avoiding having to round obstacles and risk discovery—and Sam Cleave had the necessary equipment.

  It was just before 9:30pm when the drizzle came down on Rotterdam, gradually drenching everything in its deceptively meager downpour. Through the light rain, the lights of houses looked like disembodied eyes faintly glowing with no detail to guide the eye on the dimensions of the setting. Sam would kill for a smoke, but he had to focus on preparing his nest for the evening. He had borrowed Anneke’s vehicle for the evening, as she had no obligations the following day and Paddy would need their car to tail Roodt to the meeting.

  “You ready?” Paddy panted as he jumped into Sam’s passenger seat, his short hair clinging to his face in wet points that dripped tiny tears every now and then.

  “Shit, it is really coming down, isn’t it?” Sam noted. “And yet it is dead quiet, this sprinkle. Like ghost rain.”

  “Aye, but it’s real enough to wet my entire head just after I washed my bloody hair,” Paddy answered with an irritated shudder from the cold that gripped him. Sam sniggered and shook his head. “Sam, I need you to watch carefully for any activity while I’m gone. If anything happens, contact Anneke. She is leaving her comms on at all times, but I will have my device switched off. The last thing we want while I am sneaking about among those snakes is for my phone to ring, yeah?”

  “Affirmative,” Sam agreed. “Paddy, I know you know what you’re doing, but please just be careful, all right? You’re my best mate, man. I don’t want to scoop you up with a dustpan when your locator leads me to you.”

  Paddy smiled dryly, “Oh, Sammy. I didn’t know you cared.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” Sam scoffed between humor and sincere concern in the midst of his friend’s mockery.

  Paddy laughed, “I’ll watch my back, Sam. No worries. Before you know it I’ll be back with everything we need. Can I borrow your camera? I need to document every move over there.”

  “What kind of camera do you need?” Sam asked.

  “Preferably one that shoots video but is small enough to handle like a phone. I saw you using something like that a few days ago,” Paddy said.

  “Ah!” Sam nodded, remembering the device Patrick was referring to. He fumbled in his large, shapeless sports bag and pulled out his Vivitar DVR 925 high definition camcorder and slammed it into Paddy’s palm. After a brief tutorial about how to operate the intricate technology, Paddy packed it in his coat pocket. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, apparently listening to the rain accumulating into solid droplets that clanged off the side of the car and dripped hard on its roof from the sagging leaf tips of stretching overhead branches.

  Below them, through the spooky haze and glowing orbs of light, they noticed movement on the Roodt premises. Lights went off in certain windows and on in others until they could see Roodt and his driver emerge from the front door. Crouched over, the two men rushed to the large, black, luxury sedan waiting in the driveway.

  “Okay, that’s my cue, Sam,” Paddy said suddenly, decimating the peace in the dark car. He opened the door and stepped out, briefly bending into the car to talk to Sam. “Be careful. Don’t let the lack of movement fool you and draw you out. Stay put, all right?”

  “Aye, I won’t move unless they aim an RPG at me, I promise,” Sam half jested with a wink, hiding his welling anxiety. “Godspeed, Paddy.”

  Without another word his friend closed the door and made for the other car, taking care not to switch on his beams before he had safely come into the same street as the departing vehicle below them down the street. Sam’s stomach turned. No matter how many times he had been in these situations, it was a nervousness that was impossible to lure into false comfort. Every time he had his eye on the enemy he felt agitated by the possibilities of his demise. By now he had learned that things could go really bad, really quickly, and he refused to ignore the daily awareness of his mortality.

  Two pairs of headlights swam lazily along the invisible road below Sam’s parking spot, where Paddy’s vehicle casually weaved in behind Roodt’s, leaving a comfortable distance between them to avert alarm from the black car ahead. Sam’s dark eyes stretched wide open to keep his vision sharp on the two cars until they finally disappeared in the haunting white mist of the night rain, leaving him alone in the dark to his own task.

  Finally he could smoke, Sam thought, and lit up a fag. He rolled down his window just enough for the smoke to escape without admitting the wet spray from outside. By the glimmer of the golden orange burn at the end of his cigarette Sam could see just how much his hands were really shaking.

  “Get your shit together, Sam,” he told himself out loud, exhaling the blue tufts from his lungs. For some unexplainable reason the morphing smoke reminded him of the first day he set eyes on Nina when they stood outside smoking, both finding the insufferable ass-kissing of the faculty and benefactors tedious. He recalled the cold breath from Salisbury Crags whipping at their coats and hair as they stood outside the then newly acquired and mollycoddled Braxfield Tower.

  That day he would never have dreamed that the two of them would ever become so close, so familiar. Neither of them ever thought that they would endure so much toil together after billionaire playboy Dave Purdue would bring together on that fateful expedition party to Antarctica to seek out Ice Station Wolfenstein. Sam wondered what had become of Purdue after he was delivered to the council after returning from their excursion to look for Atlantis in Madeira almost a year ago.

  Then Nina’s face blessed his mind’s eye. Her perpetual scowl, her dark eyes and hair, her angry beauty, and the way she chewed her pens just like he did. Her voice had abandoned his memory by now, a pity. Sam wished he could hear it just once more, but he dared not contact her again, at least not until she had made up her own mind to find direction for her tumultuous and indecisive affections.

  “I miss y
ou, lassie,” he whispered over the filter of his smoke, pursing his lips one last time to exhaust it. “Hope you’re safe, wherever you ran away to.”

  Something caught Sam’s eye as he flicked the butt from the narrow slit in the top of the window. At the Roodt residence there was a commotion inside Jaap’s office, seen by Sam as shadows moving behind the curtain in the well-lit room. Two figures peaked and sank, heaved and stretched over the illuminated square like characters on a projector, the folds of the drapes warping their shapes so that he could not discern their identities or number.

  He used his strong camera lens to zoom in through the shroud of rain. Sam watched the hectic dance of the black silhouettes. Unable to see properly he tapped into the sound feed, but it yielded only white noise, crackle, and the occasional half word from Jaap’s young wife. There was a man’s voice coming through, but it literally only merited a syllable with long intervals, not good enough by any stretch for evidence or review.

  “Goddammit,” Sam sighed. The weather was disturbing the satellite link, no doubt, and it presented a costly inconvenience. The problem had to be corrected, and promptly. Without the audio, and now lacking visuals of definite activity, the time spent on this stakeout would be useless, not to mention a steep waste of time. Sam knew his quiet, concealed perch was over and he had to somehow fix the connection by getting nearer to the residence to manually assess the situation by means of wireless handheld devices that would record the goings on in the interim until the weather cleared up a bit for the primary surveillance to recover.