Black Sun Rising

Chapter Eight

As dawn broke the following morning, Sam joined the line of FireStorm delegates staggering out of the Verbena into the first rays of Las Vegas sunshine. It was too early to be up, and judging by the amount of squinting and groaning that was going on, Sam had not been the only one to retreat to his room and drain the mini bar following the welcome dinner.

"Mr. Sam Cleave?"

Sam lifted his head to see one of the hotel's perky young employees flashing her perma-grin at him. She was one of three people standing a little way outside the Verbena, between the doors and the waiting luxury coaches. Two others were holding large trays full of Starbucks cups. The girl who had spoken picked up one of the drinks and held it out. It had his name written on the cardboard.

"Breakfast tea with a little milk and three white sugars, is that correct?" She pressed the cup into his unresisting hand, then a look of horror flashed across her face. "Oh no! It's four, isn't it? Four sugars. Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Cleave. Here!" She dived into the pocket of her blazer and pulled out an extra packet of sugar and a long wooden stirrer. The smile returned. "You have a great trip, now!"

The young woman turned her attention to the person behind Sam, greeting him by name and reciting the type of drink she had anticipated he would require. He wanted to stop and ask how they had learned what he liked to drink, especially because he never frequented coffee shops, other than greasy spoons. Jefferson could have told them, I suppose, he thought, eavesdropping as the person behind him was given a triple latte with hazelnut syrup. But still, it's a lot of effort to go to.

Drink in hand, he allowed himself to be marshaled onto the coach. It was nothing like his previous experiences of buses. There was nothing resembling normal bus seats — instead the interior was ringed with leather couches. At the far end, a large screen showed landscapes from around the world, accompanied by a gentle ripple of soothing string music. Out of habit, he looked around to see if any of the others were aboard the same coach, but they were not. Jefferson and his family were visible in the coach parked parallel, and Sam saw Purdue and Nina being ushered aboard the same vehicle. Of Julia Rose, there was no sign. Sam guessed that she must be aboard the third coach. Grateful for the peace and quiet, he dropped into a corner and rested his eyes, just for a moment.

Nina had succeeded in getting her cup of weak, milky tea changed for a double espresso. The tea tasted wrong here, but the coffee was strong and the caffeine hit welcome. Or at least it had been at the time. Now she watched the other passengers beginning to nod off within minutes of being assigned their seats on the plane, and she envied them. She was now alert, her nerves jangled, and her body tense. Sticking to a single espresso might have been a better idea, she thought.

The North Las Vegas Airport stretched beyond the windows toward the distant mountains. It hardly seemed worth loading everyone on the Boeing 737 SX–VIP for such a short journey, though Nina could imagine that she would feel otherwise if faced with the prospect of traveling the whole way by coach — and she could not deny that there was a certain decadent delight in taking such a brief flight in such a fancy aircraft. She stretched out in the spacious seat, luxuriously upholstered in soft white leather, and spread a cashmere blanket the color of butterscotch across her lap. Even in the cool breeze of the cabin's air conditioning, it was nowhere near chilly enough to warrant a blanket, but it seemed a pity not to make use of it.

This is crazy, she thought, as she settled her head on the small white pillow. I'm not one of these people. They're rich, successful, and used to stuff like this. And I'm… not. I'm an under-employed, underpaid academic — well, ex-academic, I suppose — and before I met Purdue I'd never experienced anything like this. Damn it! I have got to get used to calling him Dave. It's been a month now; it's ridiculous still to be thinking of him as Purdue when we're—

Her train of thought was abruptly derailed by Purdue's sudden appearance beside her. He had been looking around the plane and was enthusing about it, babbling happily about its technical specifications and the ways in which it could be modified to incorporate all sorts of new software. Every single word of it went over Nina's head. "I thought your professional field was software and technology, not engineering?" she said.

"Oh, yes," Purdue nodded. "That's my primary area of expertise. Aviation is merely a hobby! But it is a fascinating one. I can't say that I've ever flown in this particular model before, but the pilot has kindly agreed to talk to me about his experiences."

"Let me guess — you're spending the flight in the cockpit? Again?"

Purdue dropped a kiss on the top of Nina's head. "You'll have company this time," he assured her. "I took care of it."

Before she could ask any questions or raise any objections, Purdue strode up the gangway and disappeared into the area marked "Cabin Crew Only." Nina hardly had time to register her annoyance before a flight attendant materialized to show another passenger to the seat beside her. She didn't even need to look up.

"Hello, Sam."

Damn you, Dave Purdue. Damn your stupid, twisted sense of humor. Nina was torn between laughing and swearing under her breath as Sam slumped into the seat next to hers. She noticed that he looked around first to see whether any of the other seats were free, but he was the last person to board and there was no chance of his being reseated.

"Where's Purdue?" Sam asked eventually, when it became clear that the cabin crew was not going to tell him there had been a mistake and ask him to swap seats. "I'd have thought he'd be sitting here."

Nina shook her head, carefully keeping her face neutral. "He's in the cockpit."

She watched with increasing amusement as Sam tried to find the right way to phrase the questions he clearly wanted to ask. At length he gave up his search for something tactful, subtle, or original. "I thought that you and he were… er… that you were, you know… together? Was I wrong about that?"

"Oh, no!" She smiled sweetly, unwrapping a mint and offering one to Sam as the plane began its path along the runway. "We're here together. I wouldn't be attending this shindig if he hadn't invited me. As for whether we're together in the sense of, you know, together… I have no idea."

"Has it been going on for long?" Judging by the tone of Sam's voice, he was equally curious and reluctant to know the answer.

Nina sighed. "For fuck's sake, Sam, you know it hasn't. When's the last time we saw each other? March? April? And you knew I wasn't seeing anyone then. I actually didn't cross paths with him again until July, if that's what's troubling you. If you want the details, I was teaching at summer school, he was giving a talk at some STEM event, we were both at the same drinks reception, and he asked me out. I said yes. And here we are."

"Look, I'm not judging," Sam's tone was, to Nina's ears at least, a little defensive. "What you do is entirely your business. I'm just trying to make sense of it, that's all."

"Christ, you and me both."

In a display of unusual tact, Sam did not question Nina further. She felt a little bit bad. That response had been snappier than she had intended it to be, and she was irritated with herself — partly for sounding like a teenager trying to be enigmatic and partly for letting Purdue's little joke get to her. The last thing she had expected was to run into Sam in Las Vegas, and the prospect of spending the next couple of weeks in close proximity to him, with Purdue engineering opportunities to leave them alone together just to see how they would react, did not make her happy.

I don't know why he thinks it's so bloody interesting anyway, she thought. It's not as if anything really happened between me and Sam. One kiss, that's all. I didn't think anyone was even paying that much attention. But then, Purdue never seems to miss a damn thing.

With a muffled roar, the plane glided smoothly from tarmac to air. Nina's fingers closed around the arms of her chair and dug in deep. Her mind with images of screaming passengers, of flashing lights, of the white hot fireball that the plane would surely become when it inevitably crashed. She had not always been such a terrible flyer. For a long time she had been able to keep her claustrophobia under control when traveling by air, but it had taken a turn for the worse after her experiences in the submarine during the Wolfenstein expedition, followed by a turbulent flight home from Ushuaia and then the disastrous confinement of Deep Sea One. She had not flown again until this trip to America. In retrospect, I should have done some short flights first, she thought, and got my hand in again. Doing another long-haul trip was insane.

She jumped as she felt a hand cover hers.

"Sorry!" Sam took his hand away again. "I just thought you might want — I remembered that it used to help you, having a hand to hold. I didn't think. Sorry."

"No, it's ok," she said, holding her hand out to him. "It's fine. You just took me by surprise, that's all. It does help. It really, really helps. I just hate feeling that if the plane goes down, I'm going to die alone."

"Well, you're not. All of these nice people will be right here with you, keeping you company. And if we're going to die, I promise you that I won't hold it against you if you break my fingers." He smiled. Despite herself, Nina smiled back. She wanted to hold onto her reluctant distance from Sam. Damn it, he was not supposed to interfere! He wrote that feature on Frank Matlock, advertising his book, knowing full well that Dr. Matlock had shafted Nina by stealing her work. It had damn near killed their friendship for good.

It took perilous experiences well beyond her acceptance and surreal terror under the thrall of an ancient relic to mend their fresh camaraderie. Then her subsequent emotional collapse ripped her from Sam's friendship and she had to make the harsh decision to distance herself long enough, to keep her episode utterly secret from all who knew her, and retreat into the drudgery of devising her next move in life. And with all her plans in place, finally working out, Sam had to plummet back into her life.

The plane finished its steep ascent and settled into a comfortable cruise. Little by little, Nina relaxed her grip on Sam's fingers. She wondered whether she was being unreasonable. Leaving the faculty was a welcome blessing to freedom disguised as a suicidal move at the juncture her career had reached, at the time a bold decision while in the throes of severe emotional trauma and unsound resolve.

Besides, she had already been uncertain about her academic career. The harder she tried to be angry about her missed opportunity after Wolfenstein, the more certain she became that she had not lost anything that she really wanted. There would have been other opportunities, if she had really wanted them. And there were. The hunt for the Spear of Destiny was as equally glamorous as revealing the existence of a secret Nazi ice station. Besides, plenty of people managed to forge successful careers based on less momentous material. She could have continued along the tedious path she had been on, churning out publications just for the sake of it, going to the right conferences, and kissing the right asses.

It's just a bit of a funk, she told herself. Everyone goes through it at some point. I'm sure that once I've had some time away from academia, I'll remember why I once thought it was my vocation. All I need is a different route to the same goal. God, I hope this is the right one this time.

The captain's voice came over the speaker, announcing the plane's descent. Nina realized that she still had not let go of Sam's hand. It had been a short flight, barely forty-five minutes, but still, she should not have left her hand in his the whole time. She wondered whether it would be more awkward now to remove it or to leave it where it was. She decided in favor of leaving it where it was. Taking it away would only draw attention to the awkwardness, and she did not want to risk him offering it again to comfort her during the landing.

"Nina?" Sam touched her arm as she stood up to disembark.

"Yeah?"

"About the material we gathered on Deep Sea One… "

Nina shook her head as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Not yet, Sam; soon, but not yet." Sam was uncertain what that meant, but her tone was polite and serene and he trusted her to return later to that statement. A brisk nod was all he got from her, but he smiled, nonetheless, as she walked down the passage. Purdue had emerged from the cockpit. He smiled and greeted Sam as he passed, then Nina took his hand and they left the plane together.