The Black Sun Conspiracy

Chapter One

A flicker of yellow light flared up in the darkness, followed by the pinprick orange glow of a lit cigarette. The streetlights at the end of Via dell’Acqua were out again, but that suited Sam well enough. A dark corner, a quiet cigarette… for the briefest of moments he could step into a doorway, shut his eyes and imagine himself back in Edinburgh.

It was a little too warm, of course. The January wind lacked the bite that he was accustomed to back home, and it hardly ever rained. However, it was safe enough as long as he kept his head down, and that was what mattered most. During daylight hours it was safest to stay indoors, but in the dead of night, when the feeling of being cooped up got too much for him, Sam went wandering.

Matteus had warned him not to, of course. There had been plenty of short, terse lectures and passive-aggressive comments about the danger Sam was bringing them into by going out unnecessarily. Poor Matteus was fighting a losing battle, though. Sam smirked as he pictured the agent’s irritable face glaring round at him, Nina and Purdue. ‘It can’t be much fun trying to tell the three of us what to do,’ he thought. ‘God help him when I’m the most biddable person in the room.’ Still, as a concession to Matteus’ concerns Sam tried make himself a little harder to recognize. His messy brown hair, which had always been slightly too long, was now close-cropped and covered by a woolen beanie pulled down to his eyebrows, and the collar of his jacket was turned up to obscure his face. To anyone walking past him on the dark streets, he would look indistinguishable from any other man trying to keep warm.

Sam glanced along Via delle Burella as he finished his cigarette. He could see the door to their staircase, black and forbidding, but with every step he took towards it he felt less and less inclined to go back. ‘Just another five minutes,’ he thought. ‘A wee bit more time to myself. Stretch the legs. I’ll have a quick saunter round the square and then I’ll get back.’

He headed along towards the Piazza di Santa Croce, all but deserted at this time of night, and began a slow circuit of the spacious square. As he strolled past the church, a softly-lit pink and white confection, a trio of young men emerged from the shadows and made their way in the opposite direction to Sam. Gripped by a sudden feeling of apprehension Sam turned his head to check that they weren’t turning back, but before he could look round he felt fingers close around his arm, twisting it up his back. He thought he could feel the point of a knife pressing against him, just under the ribs.

“English?” a young male voice hissed. Sam swiftly weighed up his chances of convincing them he spoke neither English nor Italian in the hope that an obstacle, however minor, might cause the men to lose their nerve and run. He decided against it. These three did not seem like opportunists who would be put off so easily. He nodded.

“Walk. Don’t say a word.”

Sam allowed himself to be marched past the church, into the shadows where one of the men pulled a scarf around his eyes. Blindfolded, Sam tried to make a mental map of the twists and turns of their route, but the alleyways of an unfamiliar city did not lend themselves to easy visualization. Helpless, he put one foot in front of the other.

‘I can’t get out of this,’ he thought. ‘If these guys are anything to do with the Black Sun… I’m dead. I just hope I haven’t led them straight to the others.’

“Far enough,” the young man said, and Sam’s captors brought him to an abrupt halt. “Now. Empty your pockets. Quickly.”

For a moment Sam wanted to laugh in relief as he dug out the meagre contents of his pockets. They just want to mug me! He thought. Well, fine. Let them take anything they like. His fingers closed around his cheap Bic lighter, its plastic reservoir nearly empty, and a twenty euro note. He held them out for his captors to take. It was only when he felt the lighter snatched from his hand and heard it being thrown and skittering away across the ground that he realized that he was still in danger.

“Are you crazy?” The young man’s voice was angry this time. “What is this shit? Give me your phone and your wallet, now.”

Sam held up his hands. “No phone, sorry. I didn’t bring it with me. Or my wallet. I was only out for a smoke.”

“Are you fucking with me? Give me your fucking phone.”

“Honestly, I don’t have one. If I did I’d give you it. Honestly. You can search me if you like.”

Rough hands grabbed at Sam, rifling through his pockets, patting down the lining. Failing to find what he wanted, the young man uttered a stifled obscenity.

Then the first blow landed. An unseen fist slammed into Sam’s face, sending him spinning. He collapsed onto his knees. A sharp blow to his back knocked all the breath out of his body. Now prone, he curled up in a ball and threw his arms over his head. The blows rained down, fists and feet connecting with his back, his belly, his ribcage. There was no point in trying to fight back. Three against one, especially when the three were younger, stronger and fitter than the one, would only end badly and Sam knew it.

After what felt like an age the assault came to an end. Sam wanted nothing more than to rip off the blindfold, but he made himself wait until he had heard the three men leave. Slowly, trying not to use any of the muscles that were currently aching, he reached up and pulled the scarf from his eyes. The alley was empty. No chance of catching a glimpse of any of his attackers. Not that he could have gone to the police anyway.

Step by painful step, Sam began trying to find his way home.