The Atlantis Scrolls (Order of the Black Sun Book 7) Read online

  But none of them discussed Bern’s affection for the historian.

  Some of his longer friendships, men who defected with him years before, knew what his wife looked like and they found it almost creepy how this Scottish lass resembled Vera Bern. It was, in their opinion, not a good thing for their commandant to have encountered the likeness of his late wife, because he had become more melancholy. Even when the strangers and newer members could not tell, some could clearly distinguish the difference.

  Just seven hours before, Sam Cleave and the striking Nina Gould were escorted to the nearest town to begin their quest, while the hourglass was upturned to time the fate of Alexandr Arichenkov and Katya and Sergei Strenkov.

  With them gone the Brigade Apostate waited in anticipation during the next month. Surely the abduction of Renata would be a feat of note, but once it was accomplished the brigade would have something to look forward to. The delivery of the leader of the Black Sun would certainly be a historical moment for them. In fact, it would be the most progress their organization had ever made since their inception. And with her in their keep, they had all the power to finally sink the Nazi begotten swine globally.

  The wind had turned nasty just before 1 a.m. and most of the men had turned in. Under the cover of the nearing rain another scourge awaited the brigade’s stronghold, but the men were completely oblivious to the impending strike. From the direction of Ulangom a fleet of vehicles approached, steadily making its way through the dense fog brought on by the high altitude of the escarpment where the clouds came to settle before falling over its edge and weeping onto the land.

  The road was bad and the weather worse, but the fleet persisted toward the mountain range, determined to make it up the difficult trail and remaining there until its mission was fulfilled. The trek would lead first to the Mengu-Timur monastery from where an emissary would continue up to Mönkh Saridag to locate the nest of the Brigade Apostate, for reasons unknown to the rest of the company.

  When the thunder began to claim the sky Ludwig Bern settled into his bed. He had checked his duty roster and would have the next two days free of his role as first head of the members. As he doused the light he listened to the rain and felt an incredible loneliness overtake him. He knew Nina Gould was bad news, but that was not her fault. Losing his beloved had nothing to do with her and he had to orient himself to let it go. Instead he thought of his son, lost to him years before, but never far from his daily thoughts. Bern thought he would be better off thinking about his son than his wife. It was a different kind of love, the one easier to handle than the other. He had to leave the women behind, because the reminiscence of them both only brought him more sorrow, not to mention how soft they made him. Losing his edge would evacuate his capacity for harsh decisions and the occasional cruel treatment and these were the very things that helped him survive and command.

  In the dark he let the sweet relief of sleep take him for but a moment before he was brutally torn from it. From outside his door he heard a loud shriek—“Breach!”

  “What?” he shouted out loud, but in the havoc of the siren and men on duty shouting orders, he was left unanswered. Bern jumped up and pulled on his pants and boots without bothering with socks.

  He expected gunshots, explosions even, but there was only the sound of confusion and corrective measures. From his apartment he came flying, gun in hand, ready to fight. He swiftly moved from the south building to the lower eastern area where the stores were located. Did this sudden breach have anything to do with the three visitors? Nothing had ever penetrated the brigade systems or gates until Nina and her friends showed up in this part of the country. Could she have incited this and used her capture as a decoy? A thousand questions shot through his mind as he made his way to Alexandr’s room to find out.

  “Ferriman! What is going on?” he asked one of the members who passed him.

  “Someone violated the security system and entered the premises, captain! They are still in the compound.”

  “Lockdown! Initiate lockdown!” Bern bellowed like an angry god.

  The technicians on guard punched in their successive codes and within seconds the entire fortress had been closed up.

  “Now, units 3 and 8 can go hunting these rabbits,” he ordered, wide awake from the rush of confrontation that always left him so exhilarated. Bern burst into Alexandr’s bedroom and found the Russian looking out his window. He grabbed Alexandr and slammed him against the wall so hard that a trickle of blood seeped from his nose, his pale blue eyes wide and bewildered.

  “Is this your doing, Arichenkov?” Bern seethed.

  “Nyet! Nyet! I have no idea what is going on, captain! I swear it!” Alexandr shrieked. “And I can promise you this has nothing to do with my friends either! Why would I do anything like this while I am here, at your mercy? Think about it.”

  “Stranger things have been done by smarter people, Alexandr. I trust nothing for what it is!” Bern insisted, still pinning the Russian to the wall. His eye caught movement outside. Releasing Alexandr, he rushed to see. Alexandr joined him at the window.

  They both saw two figures ride from the shelter of the nearest clump of trees on horseback.

  “Christ!” Bern shouted, frustrated and fuming. “Alexandr, come with me.”

  They made their way to the dispatch room where the technicians checked the circuits one last time, switching to every CCTV camera for a feed. The commander and his Russian companion thundered into the room, pushing the two technicians aside to get to the intercom.

  “Achtung! Daniels and Mackey, get to the horses! The intruders are moving south east on horseback! Repeat, Daniels and Mackey, pursue on horseback! All snipers report to the southern wall, NOW!” he barked orders over the system that was rigged throughout the entire fortress.

  “Alexandr, do you ride?” he asked.

  “I do! I’m a tracker and a scout, captain. Where are the stables?” Alexandr boasted with zeal. This type of action was what he was made for. His knowledge of survival and tracking would serve them all well tonight and, oddly enough, he did not care this time that there was no payment for his services.

  Down in the basement level that reminded Alexandr of a big garage they rounded the corner to the stables. Ten horses were permanently kept, in case of un-navigable terrain during floods and snow, where vehicles could not pass over the roads. With the serenity of the mountain valleys the animals were taken out daily to the pastures just south of the rock face where the lair of the brigade was. The rain was ice cold, its spray blowing into the open side of the area. Even Alexandr elected to steer clear of it and silently wished he was still in his warm bunk bed, but then, the heat of the chase would fuel him to keep warm.

  Bern gestured for the two men they met there. They were the two he had summoned over the intercom to ride and their horses were already saddled.

  “Captain!” they both greeted.

  “This is Alexandr. He will be accompanying us to find the trail of the intruders,” Bern informed them as he and Alexandr prepared their horses.

  “In this weather? You must be good!” Mackey winked at the Russian.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” Bern said, buckling his stirrups.

  Into the furious and frigid storm the four men rode out. Bern was ahead of the other three, leading them along the trail where he had seen the intruders fleeing. From the surrounding grassland the mountain started slanting southeast and in the pitch dark it was very dangerous for their animals to traverse the rocky territory. The slow speed of their pursuit was necessary to maintain the footing for the horses. Convinced that the fleeing horsemen had an equally careful trip, Bern still had to make up for the time lapse their headstart had granted them.

  They crossed the small brook at the foot of the valley, navigating across on foot so as to lead the horses over the substantial boulders, but by now the cold rivulet did not faze them at all. Soaked from the water the heavens poured, the four men finally got back on their horses and continued
south to get through the gorge that allowed them access to the other side of the mountain base. Here Bern slowed.

  This was the only traversable trail the other horsemen could have taken out of the area and Bern motioned for his men to bring their horses to a walk. Alexandr dismounted and crept alongside his horse, passing Bern slightly to check the depth of the hoof prints. His hand signals suggested that there was movement just on the other side of the jagged rocks where they stalked their quarry. They all dismounted, leaving Mackey to lead the horses away from the site, doubling back so that they would not betray the party’s presence there.

  Alexandr, Bern, and Daniels stole toward the edge and peeked over. Grateful for the noise of the rain and the occasional bellow of thunder, they would be able to move comfortably without being too quiet, should need be.

  Toward the road to Kobdo the two figures had stopped for a breather, while just to the other side of the massive rock formation where they collected their saddle bags, the hunting party of the brigade noticed a gathering of people on their way back from the Mengu-Timur monastery. The two figures slipped into the shadows and crossed the rocks.

  “Come!” Bern told his companions. “They are joining the weekly convoy. If we lose sight of them they will be lost to us and blend in with the others.”

  Bern knew the convoys. They were sent with provisions and medical supplies to the monastery on a weekly, sometimes fortnightly, basis.

  “Genius,” he smirked, refusing to admit defeat, but having to concede that he was rendered powerless by their clever deception. There would be no way to tell them from the group, unless Bern could somehow hold them all up and force them to empty their pockets to see if there were anything familiar taken from the brigade. On that note, he wondered what they wanted with their rapid entry and exit of his compound.

  “Shall we get hostile, captain?” Daniels asked.

  “I believe so, Daniels. If we let them get away without a proper, thorough attempt at capture they will deserve the victory we give them,” Bern told his companions. “And we cannot have that!”

  The three stormed over the ledge and, rifles ready, rounded up the travelers. There were only about eleven people moving with the five-car convoy, many of them missionaries and nurses. One by one Bern, Daniels, and Alexandr checked the Mongolian and Russian nationals for any sign of treachery, demanding to see their identification papers.

  “You have no right to do this!” a man protested. “You are not border patrol or police!”

  “Do you have something to hide?” Bern asked so maliciously that the man retreated back into the line.

  “Among you there are two people who are not what they seem. And we want them handed over. Once we have them, we will let you go about your business, so the sooner you deliver them, the sooner we can all get warm and dry!” Bern announced, prancing past each and every one of them like a Nazi commander laying down the rules of a concentration camp. “My men and I have no problem staying out here in the cold and rain with you until you comply! As long as you shelter these criminals you will remain here!”

  Chapter 10

  “I don’t recommend you use that, dearest,” Sam jested, but he was quite sincere at the same time.

  “Sam, I need new jeans. Look at this!” Nina argued, opening her oversized coat to show Sam the haggard condition of her dirty, now torn, denims. The coat came courtesy of her latest cold-blooded admirer, Ludwig Bern. It was one of his, lined with authentic fur on the inside of the roughly tanned garment that enveloped Nina’s small body like a cocoon.

  “We shouldn’t use our money yet. I’m telling you. Something isn’t right. Suddenly our accounts are unfrozen and we have full access again? I bet you it’s a trap, so that they can locate us. The Black Sun froze our bank accounts; why on earth would it suddenly be nice enough to give us our lives back?” he asked.

  “Maybe Purdue pulled some strings?” she hoped in reply, but Sam smiled and looked to the high ceiling of the airport building, where they were due to leave in under an hour.

  “My God, you place so much faith in him, don’t ya?” he scoffed. “How many times has he dragged us through life-threatening situations? Don’t you think that he could be doing the ‘cry wolf’ trick, getting us used to his charity and goodwill to win our trust and then . . . then we suddenly realize that all this time he was out to use us as bait? Or scapegoats?”

  “Would you listen to yourself?” she asked with true surprise playing on her face. “He has always gotten us out of what he got us into, has he not?”

  Sam was in no mood to argue over Purdue, the most insanely fickle being he had ever encountered. He was cold, exhausted and fed-up with not being home. He missed his cat, Bruichladdich. He missed getting a pint on with his best friend, Patrick, and both had almost become strangers to him now. All he wanted to do was to return to his flat in Edinburgh, lie on the couch with Bruich purring on his stomach, and have good single malt while listening to the streets of good old Scotland under his window.

  Another thing that needed completion was his memoirs about the whole incident with the arms ring he helped bring down when Trish was killed. The closure would do him well, and so would the publication of the resulting book that had been suggested by two different publishing houses in London and Berlin. It was not something he wanted to do for the sales that would obviously skyrocket in light of his subsequent Pulitzer fame and the fascinating story behind the entire operation. He needed to tell the world about his late fiancé and her invaluable involvement in the success of the arms ring’s demise. She paid the ultimate price for her bravery and her ambition and she deserved to be known for what she had accomplished in ridding the world of that insidious organization and its henchmen. After that was all done, he could fully close that chapter of his life and take some rest in a nice, mundane life—unless, of course, Purdue had other plans for him. He had to admire the tall genius for his insatiable zest for adventure, but as for Sam, he had mostly had his fill of it all.

  Now he stood outside a store in the large terminals of Moscow Domodedovo International Airport, trying to talk sense into the stubborn Nina Gould. She insisted that they take a chance and draw some of their funds to acquire new clothes.

  “Sam, I smell like a yak. I feel like an ice statue with hair! I look like a destitute drug addict who had the shit slapped out of her by her pimp!” she moaned, stepping closer to Sam and grabbing him by the collar. “I need new jeans and a nice ushanka hat to match, Sam. I need to feel like a human being again.”

  “Aye, so do I. But can we wait until we get back to Edinburgh to feel human again? Please? I don’t trust this sudden change of our financial status, Nina. At least let’s get back to our own soil before we start taking any more chances with our safety,” Sam stated his case as gently as he could, without sounding like he was lecturing. He knew full well how Nina possessed a natural reaction to oppose anything that sounded like a reprimand or a sermon.

  Her hair in a low, careless ponytail, she stared at the dark blue denims and the trooper hats in the small curio store that also stocked Russian apparel for those tourists who wanted to blend in with the cultural fashion of Moscow. Her eyes glimmered with promise, but when she looked at Sam she knew he was right. They would be taking a huge gamble using their debit cards or the ATM here. Common sense left her momentarily in her desperation, but she quickly recovered it against her will and yielded to his argument.

  “Come on, Ninanovich,” Sam consoled her with an arm flung around her shoulder, “let us not reveal our position to our comrades in the Black Sun, eh?”

  “Da, Cleavenikov.”

  He laughed, pulling her by the hand as the announcement came for them to report to their gate. By habit, Nina was paying close attention to all the people congregating around them, checking each of their faces, their hands, and their luggage. Not that she knew what she was looking for, but she would quickly recognize any suspicious body language. By now she was well-trained to read people.
/>   A coppery taste oozed down the back of her throat, followed by a faint headache right between her eyes, pulsing numbly through her eyeballs. Deep folds fell in her brow from the growing agony.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam inquired.

  “Fucking killer headache,” she muttered, holding the palm of her hand flat on her forehead. Suddenly a hot streak of blood ran from her left nostril and Sam jumped to tilt her head back before she even realized.

  “I’m okay. I’m all right. Let me just pinch it and get to the restroom,” she gulped, blinking profusely from the aching in the front inside of her skull.

  “Aye, come,” Sam said as he led her to the ladies toilet’s broad door. “Just make it quick. Plug it up, because I don’t want to miss this flight.”

  “I know, Sam,” she snapped, and entered the cold restroom with its granite basins and silver fixtures. It was a very frigid environment, impersonal and super hygienic. Nina imagined it would have been a perfect operating room in a posh medical facility, but hardly made for a nice place to piss or apply blush.

  Two ladies were speaking at the hand dryer and another was just coming out of a stall. Nina bolted into a cubicle to help herself to a handful of toilet paper and while she held it over her nose she tore a piece off to make a plug. Stuffing it up her nostril, she took more and folded it neatly to put in her yak jacket pocket. The two women chatted away in the harshly beautiful dialect when Nina came out to wash the drying blood stain from her face and chin, where the trickling droplets escaped Sam’s quick response.

  From her left she caught sight of the lone woman who emerged from the stall next to the one she used. Nina did not want to look in her direction. Russian women, she realized soon after arriving with Sam and Alexandr, were quite chatty. Since she could not speak the language she wanted to avoid an awkward exchange of smiles, eye contact, and attempted conversation. In Nina’s peripheral she saw the woman glaring at her.