The Hunt for Excalibur

29 Morning Glory

When Pam woke from her exhaustion, she could hardly lift her leaden arms. Her eyes sought for her son. She found the boy sleeping soundly in the bend of her pulled up legs. On the bunk, she saw Sue’s waning heat drive her to shiver uncontrollably. Headaches and weakness tormented them all, but it was Pam who had the hardest time of it. Her migraines triggered nosebleeds that had to be treated as serious injuries, given the fact that her body was already suffering dehydration. The least bit of blood loss could sweep her consciousness from her, something she could not afford, as protector of her son and his frail grandmother.

Pam sat up. At least they each had some old army blankets to sleep under while incarcerated, but she just saw the blankets as would-be shrouds for Bernard to drag their carcasses in when they die. It was early morning, she guessed, because the sun was barely kissing the horizon’s sharp dark lines with orange and yellow. Even if the sun came out, it would soon be usurped by the heavy bank of clouds that rested but a finger’s width above the vista.

When she turned to expose her eyes to some light at the far end of the large chamber, her eye caught sight of something she found hard to grasp. On the floor, just outside the bars of the cell, was a steel tray with three plates and a pewter pitcher of water. Upon the plates Pam could discern a bread roll each with some sweetcorn on the side. Tucked half under the brim of the plates she saw three large steel spoons.

“Oh Jesus!” she exclaimed loudly. “Thank you! Oh God, thank you!”

On her knees, she rushed to rouse her son and Sue. “Beany! Beany, wake up! Sue! We have some water and food! Sue!”

The boy’s eyes sprang open, disbelieving the godsend before them. His mother passed on the plates of bread and corn while Brian poured his weak grandmother a cup of water.

“Ta, Beany,” Sue smiled dimly. Her illness had only been exacerbated by the abduction, since she had no medicine with her. Taking the steel cup from her grandson was an arduous task in itself, but the boy was patient and waited until she could grasp it properly.

“I cannot believe this,” Pam whispered, virtually choking on her food.

“Slowly, Pam,” Sue advised. “Your body will reject your food if you eat too fast.”

“I don’t care,” Pam replied with a mouthful of everything. “M’ fucking hungry.”

Brian giggled. It was the sweetest sound that ever echoed through this wretched ruin.

“I wonder if Miss Nina has food,” Brian said. “She has been very quiet up there.”

“Hope she is alright,” Pam said. “Shall we give her a call?”

“How, Mum? Do you have a phone?” Brian asked.

“No,” Pam replied. “Like this.”

She whistled like a cattle wrangler, the sharp screech cutting through the birdsong and wind like a knife. “Nina! You well?” Pam shouted in long, drawn out words. She looked at her son and winked. “See? We called her.”

Brian laughed, but after that, they heard nothing from Nina. Smiles faded, as did morale. Nina’s presence as their advocate has been soothing, so her silence was a great concern.

“What if she is dead?” Pam asked Sue. Sue tried to silently protest against saying this in front of Brian, but it was too late. He had heard his mother’s supposition, and it upset him.

“She will be fine, I am sure,” Sue tried to plaster over Pam’s statement. “After all, she has not even been here as long as we have, right? Maybe she is just sleeping.”

In the chamber where Bernard had made himself comfortable, the phone rang. He was outside on the balcony just under the crown of the square wing, looking over the sheer peaceful beauty of Guernsey. Far away, past the trees, he could see a local small town. For a moment, he wished he could be there, unassuming, with no responsibilities. His cell phone ring tone beckoned, and he raced inside to receive news of the rapid excursion from his sister.

“Hey Ava,” he panted as he barely made it to the phone on time.

“Hey,” she said. “We are leaving later today. Major Rian called us and gave the order.”

“Order? Of what?” he asked.

“To kill Nina Gould,” Ava said casually. “And the Callany’s too. Do not call him directly. Remember that. Send the pictures of their dead bodies to me and I will get it to Willard and Rian as confirmation.”

Bernard was confused. “Um, Ava, I thought we were bluffing about the killing business.”

“Are you daft?” she shrieked. “How do you think we will get away from all this while they know who we are and what we look like? We will take care of Purdue and Sam on this side.”

Bernard’s face drained of all color. He was not a killer. “Do it, Bernard. For Excalibur. If you want to be a millionaire, you have to make sacrifices.”

Before he could protest, she had hung up. Suddenly the beauty of the surrounding landscape lost all appeal to him. What was dawn had become dusk to him, as the circumstances of his purpose fell dark. He went out on the balcony again for fresh air. Nausea crept up on him and his hands broke out in a sweat. Nina’s words reverberated in his reminiscence.

You are better than the goddamn Nazi’s whose tracks you are walking!

Bernard took a deep breath. It was time to choose sides once and for all. He had been working for Willard and Rian and the Euphrates Society for so long now that he had forgotten that he was in this line of work for the beautiful artifacts. He was not some war criminal, smuggler, kidnapper, killer of children and women.

“Think,” he muttered. “Think, think!”

In the morning breeze he paced, trying to find a solution to the situation. How would he confirm the kills without incriminating himself? How could he fool Rian and the others that he actually killed Nina and the Callany’s? The latter could only be achieved if he asked the help of his hostages, and that would just undermine his authority completely. On the other hand, it would save lives and absolve him of any more responsibility.

But Bernard Somerset had no more time to waste, pondering about his loyalties. Beneath the hillock where the ruin lurched over the old town hall buildings, he could see something moving along the narrow meandering road. The clouds finally eclipsed the waning sunlight above him. It began to drip, but Bernard braved the cold wetness to follow the object below. It was black, and it approached the fork in the road that split the ways between the old town hall and the modern town below.

When the black car came to the fork, Bernard held his breath. Something about the car made him very uncomfortable, although he did not know why. It stood stationary, the engine idling as if it was deciding where to go. As it pulled away, it was still difficult to see where it would head, but to Bernard’s dread, the car abruptly turned left into the fork of the road. It was the only way up to the abandoned town hall of the old town and the church ruins next to it.

“Oh Christ!” he exclaimed at once. “Major Rian!”

If the major had to find out that Bernard already had the scabbard, he would smell the double-cross instantly. Ava’s plan to cover for them and stall delivery to Rian whilst locating Excalibur was backfiring. Bernard had to hide the scabbard to make the wicked military man believe that he had not yet found the sheath. He quickly called his sister, grabbing the scabbard to hide it. Bernard hastened downstairs and outside to the abbey clock tower, where he was hiding his vehicle from sight to maintain obscurity and not to let locals know that there was someone between the old mossy walls of the ruins.

Behind the seat of the farm truck, he slipped in the giant sheath. Upon hearing the approaching car through the rain, Bernard bolted back into the ruins to meet Major Rian at the arched gate of the fortress-like building. No sooner had he caught his breath when the sleek 1928 Hudson Victoria pulled in under the archway and switched off its lights. Bernard tried to look calm, although he had a bad feeling about the unannounced arrival. The main reason for this bad feeling was the fact that only Ava knew where he had taken the hostages.