The Black Sun Conspiracy

Chapter Fifty-Three

The noise of the gunshot and the sound of Nina’s scream hung in the air and then dissipated. The thick, dark smell of blood filled the room, metallic and sour. Sam’s head spun. The memories of Trish and crowded in on him. He felt sick. He could not reconcile the slumped, wasted corpse in front of him with the keenly intelligent old man he had known so briefly.

“Good God, Renata,” Purdue whispered, the first to break the silence that followed the death. “What have you done? They will destroy you for this.”

Even Renata appeared a little taken aback — less by the killing and more by the horrified reactions of those around her. The only person who did not look sickened, worried or devastated was Steven. His face was alight, elated, glowing with the fervor of a man who has done something unspeakable and, in doing so, removed the last restraints upon himself.

“They won’t,” Renata shook her head a little too emphatically. “The Council will understand. A demonstration of power is sometimes necessary. Traitors cannot be tolerated.” Her eyes were wide and fixed on the bloody mess that had once been Professor Lehmann. “He was no longer useful, anyway. What functions he retained are easy enough to pass to Steven.”

“He was well-liked,” Purdue’s voice was as soft as a kiss. Sam, straining to hear from the other side of the table, thought at first that he was trying to reassure her. Then he caught the actual words rather than just the tone. “They are mostly men of his generation, Mirela. They will see this as an attack on them.”

Nina knelt beside Professor Lehmann’s body, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She laid a hand on his back, as if she were trying to make him feel better. Sam wanted to go to her and take her away from the dreadful sight, but Steven got there first. “On your feet, Nina,” he said, gesturing with the revolver. “There’s no sense in crying over him. It was long overdue. He’s been nothing but a burden for years now, and if he was going to keep putting the Order in danger…”

“That’s his gun,” Nina said numbly. She remembered Professor Lehmann showing it to her years ago, his old service revolver that he had kept ever since Peenemunde. He had kept it in excellent working order, polished and perfect, as a constant reminder to himself of what he had once been. She rose slowly. “Something to blow his brains out with next time the wrong people came to power, that’s what he used to say, isn’t it?” A sudden hysterical laugh escaped her lips. “Never a truer fucking word, right Steven? You killed your father with his own gun!”

Her hand shot out and walloped Steven squarely across the side of the head. Then she was on him, pounding him with her fists, knocking him to the floor, slapping, punching, screaming, battering. “You’ll never be a fraction of the man he was!” she shrieked. “You’ve lived your whole life in the fear that you’ll never live up to your father — and you won’t, you can’t! He was an incredible man and look at you! Overgrown fucking man child who thinks he can run with the big boys! They’re using you, Steven, using you and laughing at you behind your back just like they always have. Everyone has! It wasn’t even your idea to kill him. You had to wait for her to say you could. He must have been so fucking ashamed of you!”

“Nina. Nina, come on. Sssshh.” With a gentle hand on her shoulder, Sam stemmed the tide of recriminations that flowed from Nina’s mouth. Reluctantly she stopped hitting Steven and allowed herself to be helped up. As she got to her feet her ankle gave out. She grabbed at Sam to steady her, and only then did she see that Steven must have dropped Professor Lehmann’s revolver when he fell, because it was in Sam’s hand now. And it was pointed straight at Renata.

In a split second Alexandr was up and approaching Sam and Purdue pushed in front of Renata. “Don’t do it, Sam,” he urged. “This is not the way. Put the gun down.”

“Sam, he’s right,” Nina clung to Sam’s free arm. ‘If you try it, we’re dead,’ she thought. ‘There’s no way you know how to fire that thing properly. I doubt it fires straight. You’re more likely to hit Purdue than to hit her, or to miss altogether and drop the gun.’

“Sam.” Alexandr marched straight up to him, as nonchalant as if Sam had been holding a water pistol instead of a loaded revolver. “You will not shoot her, Sam. Come on, my old friend, who are you trying to fool? You may be many things, but a killer you are not.” He held out his hand authoritatively. “Give me the gun. I will ensure that it never finds its way back into Steven’s hands.”

Wrong-footed, Sam hesitated. ‘What did I think I was going to do?’ he asked himself. ‘I don’t have much of a plan here. I was just going to demand that they let us go and that was about it. I just saw the gun and went for it.’ He could feel Nina’s fingers buried in his sleeve, trying to pull him back into sense. ‘I’m only going to get us both into more trouble here,’ he thought. ‘Any second now Renata will call her guards, or Steven will attack. Either I have to shoot now or I have to drop the gun.’ His finger was on the trigger, ready to squeeze. His arm was a little unsteady. He doubted his ability to make a straight shot. ‘If I were going to do it I’d have done it already… wouldn’t I?’

His finger came off the trigger. His arm dropped. He held out the gun to Alexandr, who examined it with pleasure. “A beautiful weapon,” he said. “Professor Lehmann took great care of it. A Nagant M1895, if I am not mistaken, designed here in Belgium and manufactured in my homeland.” He turned the gun over in his hand, running a finger over it cylinder. “Revolvers were never popular among the Nazis, or so I am told. An error of judgment on their part, for these guns are among the most durable and reliable that I have ever known… I always admired the Order for recognizing that there are times when what a man wants is a sidearm that can be repaired with a hammer blow! It seems a pity for such a fine weapon to fall into the hands of a son so unworthy as to kill his own father with it.”

In one fluid movement Alexandr raised the gun, took aim and fired. Both Sam and Nina felt the air move as the bullet passed and found its mark in Steven’s stomach. He collapsed at once, shrieking and writhing in pain.

“What in the blazes of hell do you think you are doing?” Renata screamed. “You had no right, no authority — put that gun down! You may consider yourself cast out! You are renegade, you are finished. Guards!”

Casually, Alexandr laid the gun down on the table in front of him. “You have no guards,” he said. “Not a single one. This is the beginning of the coup, Renata. Your time as head of the Order is almost up. Your guards have turned against you, and the Council has forsworn you. The only thing that remains is for you to name your successor before you are deposed — or you can make history by relinquishing the right. If it were me, I know which I would choose! But you are not me, and perhaps you will choose one last moment of control.”