“Dave, that really doesn’t sound reassuring — look, why don’t you just let one of us come with you and at least that way we’ll—”
She was cut off mid-sentence by his lips suddenly covering hers. Before she could decide whether to push him away or relax into his embrace, he was gone. The door fell shut behind him, leaving her to fix the lock once again.
Chapter Seven
The unmistakable aroma of Sam’s cooking hit Nina as soon as she stepped into the apartment. The slight hint of smoke in the air from singed bread, the sweet artificiality of tomato sauce.
“You just can’t get this right with the bread you get here,” Sam said as he set two plates on the table, eyeing the beans on toast ruefully. “It’s the salt, apparently. At some point there was a hefty tax on salt, so they stopped putting it in the bread. So you’ll need this.” He pushed a salt shaker towards her and took a seat. “You’re very quiet, Nina. Everything ok?”
Nina snapped back to reality. “Sorry, Sam, I was miles away. Yeah, everything’s fine. As fine as it can be. Thanks for cooking.”
“It was my turn. That’s probably why Purdue went out when he did. You just missed him, by the way — he’s gone out to deliver that painting and he’ll be back in an hour or—”
“I know,” Nina cut him off more abruptly than she intended. “I know. I ran into him on the stairs. It’s probably just as well that he’s not here, anyway. I spent the whole day trying to find out more about the Order of the Black Sun’s reputation and historical accounts of brushes with them and I’d rather just talk to you about it. I don’t think I can deal with any dramatic revelations from Dave right now.”
“I’ll tell you as much as I’ve figured out so far,” Nina said. “But it’s going to take me a lot more than a day to get a clear picture…”
Since Sam was far less versed in the occult mythology that had fascinated Hitler and other high-ranking members of the Nazi party, Nina started from scratch. In her research at the library she had discovered that the Order had several tentacles in places even she and Sam would not have expected. Not only was the organization responsible for the abhorrent experiments she had already witnessed first-hand, but they had infiltrated society to an extent than not even she would ever have expected.
Nina explained a little about the Theosophical Movement, founded in the late 19th century by Helena Blavatsky and Henry Olcott, and how Blavatsky had theorized that humans descended from seven Root Races. The fifth of these was the Aryan race, the purest of races, descended from the people of Atlantis. Briefly Sam had flashbacks of the collapsing structure in the North Sea, where being on Deep Sea One had almost introduced both him and Nina to the fate of the mythological Atlanteans.
“I know,” Nina said, as Sam tried not to smirk. “I know. But bear with me; it’ll get a lot crazier than this. Not only were the Aryans descendants of Atlanteans, the Semites were apparently Aryans who had become ‘degenerate’ — yes, you heard that correctly — and chosen the material over the spiritual. There are other categories of supposedly inferior people, though most of us are just standard issue humans who lack the ‘sacred spark’ that makes the Aryans so special. Anyway, this later gives rise to Ariosophy, when Guido von List picks up these ideas and suggests that Teutonic and Norse people are a sub-race of the Aryans.”
“Oh my God, here we come right back to the Brotherhood’s problem again,” Sam remarked, shaking his head at the obsession the Nazis had with Norse Mythology. It felt like yesterday when he and Nina joined the Brotherhood in their battle against the Black Sun’s pursuit of Valhalla’s location.
“Exactly. Guido von List apparently wasn’t keen on the Nazis co-opting his work, but there wasn’t a great deal he could do. The Nazis ran with the idea, favoring the Nordic kind of Aryan, and mixed in a bit of misunderstood Nietzsche — you’ve heard of Übermenschen and Untermenschen? Good.”
Sam listened attentively, trying hard to follow every detail as Nina began to explain the significance of the Black Sun as their insignia. The earliest mentions of the symbol that she had found dated from the 5th century, when the design that they had seen used as the FireStorm logo had been used on iron brooches.
“With something like Freemasonry we at least know it exists,” Nina said. “There are Masonic Lodges all over the place. Their rites and customs are secret, not the existence of the society itself. And while you hear rumors that the Masons look out for each other and that sometimes means that people enjoy a greater level of protection from the law than they should, they’re pretty benign. Whereas the Black Sun… well…”
Sam thought back to the ideology they had encountered at the FireStorm retreat in the desert a few years back. At first it had seemed like the usual absolute confidence of the rich and powerful, certain that the world belonged to them because it always had. Combining technology with some half-formed spiritual beliefs appeared to be nothing more than the latest diversion for people with considerable amounts of money, much like Kabbalah or Scientology. Was it really possible that it had all been a front, just a means of luring these well-connected people into a frightening form of white supremacy?
“I agree,” said Sam, “but there’s one thing that worries me, and that’s how much they seem to bother Purdue. Whatever they do or don’t believe, they seem to be genuinely dangerous. If he’s prepared to go into hiding rather than just going back to Wrichtishousis and ramping up his security… that can’t be good, can it? And then he says that we need to stay in hiding too because we know too much, and I feel like we know bugger all. So what does he know? Forgive me if I’m suggesting the obvious here, but would he tell you if you asked him?”
A tinge of scarlet crept across Nina’s cheeks. “I’ve asked,” she said. “Just after we got here. I told him that if he didn’t tell me everything that was going on I’d leave, and I’d hitchhike my way back home if I had to. I meant it, too. He knew I did. I’ve never seen him go so pale. He told me that there are things you and I are better off not knowing, that we’ve got to trust him, all the usual stuff — but he actually begged me not to go, not to take the risk. You know Purdue. He doesn’t plead. And he doesn’t usually worry about risks.”
“You’re sure that wasn’t just because you’re…” Sam fumbled around for the right word, unsure of how to proceed since neither Nina nor Purdue had ever really clarified the nature of their relationship of late, if even they knew anymore.
“No, I don’t think so,” Nina shook her head. “I’ve never seen him like that before.”
“Maybe he’s lost some of his nerve? He got messed up pretty badly in Vegas.” Sam recalled their flight from the hotel and how Purdue was prompted to employ every ounce of his knowledge and reach, like he had never had to before. It had to be somewhat sobering.
“And God knows what else he has been up to during his lengthy absence from our esteemed company,” Sam added. “The stress on him has to be immense, even on base level.”
“Maybe. Either way, there’s a lot he’s refusing to say,” Nina pressed with urgency in her eyes.
“Which means we really need him to tell us what he knows,” Sam sighed. “I’ll talk to him. See if I can get anything out of him. Anything else to share?”
“That’s it for now,” said Nina, pushing her plate away. “A few things I still need to make sense of. However, I’d be more than happy to give you some cooking tips some time. Not that I don’t enjoy beans on toast every time it’s your turn, but you could stand to widen your repertoire a wee bit.”