The Black Sun Conspiracy

Chapter Fourteen

By the time dawn broke, Sam had slept very little. His dreams had been full of strange, frightening things, images that kicked him out of sleep and into wakefulness over and over again. Memories of Trish and the days leading up to her death wove themselves together with the events of the past forty-eight hours.

During the small hours he had seen himself step out of his bedroom into the living room in Florence to watch Nina being gunned down just as Trish had been, her pretty face half-destroyed just as Trish’s had been. He had been back in the warehouse, running out from behind the crate as the smoke cleared to cradle Trish’s corpse, except this time the man wielding the gun was still alive and taking aim at Sam. As Sam had leaned back to welcome the bullet he had caught sight of the man’s face and watched it change from Charles Whitsun to his father, Admiral Whitsun, to the grinning, golden face of Jefferson Daniels and finally to Purdue before the sound of the gun shot had jolted him back into consciousness.

With such unwelcome thoughts filling his mind, Sam had found it easier just to stay awake. It was too dark to write so instead he continued to plan his book, composing paragraphs in his head and hoping that he would remember them by the time he was able to see his notebook again. Shaping sentences on the wall kept him focused, prevented him from turning over and seeing the dimly outlined shapes of Nina and Purdue in the opposite bed. He had no idea how things stood between the two of them. He did not know how to ask. Caught up in the business of running for their lives, there had been little time to be concerned with how they defined their relationship.

‘You’re thinking about it again,’ Sam rebuked himself. ‘And you shouldn’t be. It’s none of your business what they do. If Nina wants to talk, she will. If she doesn’t, then it’s safe to assume that she doesn’t want to. Or at least, not to me. The important thing is that she knows that she can talk to me as a friend. At least I hope she does.’

He pushed the thought of Nina out of his mind.

The fresh scent of the crisp morning entwined with stark black caffeine permeated Sam’s senses. His body was still a little stiff from a night of nightmares and he had yet to make peace with Nina and Purdue’s new sleeping arrangements.

“So do we have a plan?” Sam climbed onto the bench and set his heavily laden plate down on the long refectory table.

“You know, you could have gone back for seconds, Sam,” Nina remarked, eyeing the heap of rolls, ham and cheese in front of him. “There’s no-one else here, I doubt anyone would have judged you.”

“God is always watching, Nina. Besides, who says I’m not going back?” Sam tore open a roll, smeared it thickly with butter and stuffed it full. “This is me just getting started. You know the rules, never waste free food.” He took a big bite and munched contentedly. Nina rolled her eyes at him and sipped her hot chocolate.

Never one to answer swiftly when there was a moment of intrigue to be created, Purdue kept them waiting before answering Sam’s question. He looked around, taking in the length of the empty hall, the height of its vaulted ceiling, the tall, narrow windows. “It’s an interesting safe house, isn’t it? I considered buying this place, you know, about five years ago. It seemed to me to have immense potential — sufficient space to build labs and work rooms, and I had a romantic fancy for a monastic cell. A small, irrational part of me was taken with the idea that I might work well in a place that had been built specifically for devotion and contemplation. But it lacked the privacy and seclusion that Wrichtishousis offered, and besides, I was outbid. Not something that happens to me very often, as I’m sure you can imagine, but it mattered a great deal to somebody that this place should remain open to those in need. But then, had I not purchased Wrichtishousis I would have missed out on the opportunity to meet you. Anyway, knowing of this place has done me a disservice now, because if I hadn’t I am almost certain that I would have made a mistake in interpreting the first clue.”

“Clue?” Nina pounced on the word. “What the hell are you talking about, Dave?”

“We have a mystery to unravel, Nina!”

“Oh, God…” She groaned and pushed her hands through her hair, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Please, no. Have you forgotten that we’re on the run? Tell me you didn’t bring us here just so you can play Hercule Poirot.”

Despite himself, Sam laughed. Purdue’s penchant for drama and Nina’s low tolerance for it had the capacity to entertain him, even when he was confused and frightened. Especially when he was confused and frightened, perhaps. For a brief moment, they diverted him from the gravity of their situation — until Nina shot him a death glare that silenced his laugher.

“I promise you, Nina, this is not a game. Nor is it a distraction from the task of staying safe — and alive. There is a task I must complete for someone who has the resources to guarantee our safety indefinitely. This person seeks a particular object, an item which I must retrieve.”

“Renata, presumably?” Sam remembered Nina’s words from two nights ago. “The same Renata who won’t wait much longer?”

“Correct,” said Purdue. “And believe me, she will not.”

“Who is she?” Nina asked. “She’s got to be someone pretty powerful if she can protect us from the Black Sun.”

“I would endanger you both if I were to tell you any more about Renata, and I have put you in too much danger already” Purdue said regretfully. “Suffice it to say that I have no reason to doubt her. I know exactly how powerful she is — or if I do not, then I err on the side of underestimating her.”

“So what’s this item that she wants, then?” Sam took a large swig of tea and moved on to his second roll. “And why do we have to solve clues to get it?”

“Another painting,” said Purdue, “which probably won’t surprise you. She made contact with me on the recommendation of the first person for whom I ever obtained an artefact, some years ago, before I had made my fortune. We were both quite surprised when we discovered who the other party was… Anyway, she is keen to own a particular painting by a Flemish old master, but it is a painting that has seldom been legitimately owned. It was first stolen from the court of Philippe le Bon and has since become something of a prize amongst art thieves and collectors who value work that cannot be found on the open market. The Arnolfini Portrait. People refer to it as “Fides Manualis”, since it depicts a man and a woman joining hands. The most recent owner of the painting, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, is a man named Addison Fabian, an American with a penchant for puzzles. He decided to return the painting to Belgium, where he felt it belonged — but being a sportsman, he anticipated that someone would come for it someday and left a trail of clues for them. A little dramatic, perhaps, but I can understand his reasoning. When you have the resources to set something like that in place…”

“It must be tempting,” said Sam. “So what’s the first clue?”

“To search in Ghent — A reliquary waits beneath the dozen, where the adored Lamb should be. That’s what led me back to this place, last night — before coming up to the room, I investigated the chapel. It may no longer be a functioning place of worship, but it was dedicated to Saint Agnes when it was consecrated, so I thought it might be the place we are looking for. So our task for today is to go there and find what we need. Just as soon as Sam has finished clearing out the breakfast buffet.”