“Val,” was all Nina could say as she took the flask in her hand. It was no bigger than her palm and part of her fingers. “Where did you get this?”
“Family,” Val replied and she looked at it with great nostalgia. “I want you to have it. But Nina,” she placed her hand firmly on the historian’s arm and looked her in the eye with seriousness, “you must never ever give it away. Keep it safe. Guard it with your life, because…” she hesitated with tears in her eyes, “…because… it is very precious to me. You are the only person I can imagine would not only appreciate it, but also keep it with the respect such old things demand.”
Nina was floored. She had no idea what to say, less even what to think now.
“Of course, you know I will,” she smiled wide-eyed and when Val hugged her, she could feel her body’s almost imperceptible shudder. Nina was being bribed, she thought, and as much as she appreciated the magnificent gift she would not allow Val to get away with looting most valuable relics. But now was not the time for confrontation and she accepted the gift graciously.
Chapter 13
“For fuckth thake, I don’t know what you are thalking about! I’m not a goddamn runner, man. I’m juth a biker!” Jan screamed through blood soaked lips, his broken teeth making it difficult to form his words. Another blow landed against his head, sending a jolt of pain ripping through his skull and into the back of his neck.
“Where do we find The Brotherhood?” the little man asked calmly, while seated comfortably on an empty upturned drum in the abandoned ruin of a house near The Wisp where they had apprehended the ginger haired biker.
“I thwear to Chrith I don’t know who the Brotherhood ith, man!” he was sobbing like a bullied child now. His hands were tied behind him with barbed wire and his shirt removed. Dry blood covered his shoulders and torso from the night’s torture session, now reaching its 11th hour, but the scrawny man who could not seem to sit still had no plans to relent.
“I have it on good authority that The Brotherhood knows what I need to know and that they are masquerading as a motorcycle club, my friend. Your motorcycle club. So please, for the love of the Virgin, just cut the bullshit and tell us where your brothers are and we’ll let you go. Hell, we’ll even drop you off there with your Honda. Just point out the leader of The Brotherhood and we will leave you all in peace,” the imp explained as he sat with folded arms, sighing like a bored high school girl.
Jan cried hopelessly. His tears burned in his weary eyes where the sand of a thousand deserts sat for his lack of sleep and the battery of hours of crying. Almost swollen shut from it, his impaired vision warped the image of his emaciated tormentor and his massive punisher, turning them into the demons they were inside. All Jan could do was shake his head. He could never betray the location of his brethren, even if it would save his life. What kind of animals would keep their word if they could do this to him? They could not be trusted, their word was shit to him. For a while, he wondered if he should make something up, but he quickly realized that they would take him with them and they would surely kill him if they found out that he lied.
Jan honestly did not know who The Brotherhood was. If his friends were involved in some sort of clandestine cult, they certainly did not tell him about it. How could they be? They were far too busy doing small deals with other clubs and territories, making deliveries and such. Above him, the gorilla stood ready for another beating to be dealt and he had to do something soon or they were going to beat him to death. He had already lost so much blood that his limbs had gone cold, his muscles going into constant contractions that felt like hell on ice.
“I can tell you where the leader ith thtaying! That ith all I know, thwear…” he cried in a shaking voice, at the end of his tolerance for the pain; he was suffering. The cold rough cement floor had torn his skin and little rocks of loose gravel from the debris of fallen rafters and crumbling brickwork were digging in his flesh. “Hith name is Gunnar Jouthen! Denton Houthe up on Haggard, out on Newingtonth area!”
“Oh!” Slokin cheered and looked at Gunter with a delightful sneer as he clapped his hands together. “Did you hear that, Gunter? He is going to take us to the leader of the fucking Brotherhood,” the short fiend cried in elation and sheer cruelty was shimmering in his eyes as he leaned forward to stare at the weeping man. His smirk vanished instantly, “Now why the fuck did you waste a whole night of my life telling me you knew NOTHING?” He screamed in a voice Jan thought such a small man to be incapable of — a low roar of uncontrolled rage.
Slokin kicked Jan square in the face, snapping his neck backward with awful violence. The bleeding man’s head struck the wall behind him with a crack. Both Slokin and Gunter froze instantly, waiting for Jan to recover, but the bloody goo that ran down the wall behind him was a certain allusion that he would not be making dinner plans. Slokin winced like a scolded child and then shrugged, “Get rid of him. And hurry. We have a date with ‘Gunnar of The Brotherhood’, my friend. Lita will be over the moon if we bring him to her and I will hopefully get a few days off to catch up on my gardening.”
In the car, Slokin waited for Gunter to get rid of the biker’s body. He thought it good to call Lita and deliver his update. For once, he was not nervous to hear her voice on the other side of the line, because he finally had something solid to tell her.
“Miss Røderic, I have a location for The Brotherhood. Once we detain the leader, we will be on our way to you,” he smirked while his free hand tapped on the dashboard of the car. He listened to her orders where to bring the captive.
“May I ask one thing, though? Could you perhaps send us a few men to assist us? This organization is known to move in groups, so our target will not be alone when we take him. If I could impose on you for some help in this regard… thank you. I shall wait on their arrival before we go to get him. I shall text you the address, Miss Røderic. Thank you so much,” he chimed in his overbearing way that he mistook for charm. Gunter exited the narrow lane that ran to the deserted building site, overgrown with brush, wiping his hands.
Val was on her way back to Newington from the Tower. Her 1000cc Kawasaki screamed down the highway as she raced to get back to her husband. In her reddened eyes, the evidence of tears, and her legs shivered in numbing panic while a million thoughts raced through her mind. The robbery was another reason why she had to make haste. It was not supposed to happen so soon and she knew now that she had run out of preparation time. Hopefully Nina Gould would heed her words and take good care of the vial. Val could not afford to have it anymore.
The Order of the Black Sun was after it, as demonstrated by their reckless display in the restaurant manager’s office. Did they actually think she would not identify one of their people immediately? When she saw the two men sitting in the office at The Tower, she instantly knew who they were. It was not her first clash with this post-World War II Nazi club of aristocrats and tycoons. Now they were after her? The robbery was clearly a diversion. How did they know where to find her if they did not get to her husband yet? Had they possibly wiretapped Dr. Gould’s phone? Her throat contracted as she panted, hoping that Gunnar was alright. She dared not use her cell phone to check on him now. It was too risky.