He was very nervous, even after all the sting operations he had conducted before, gathering intelligence for one exposé after another, and dealing with serious crimes and espionage. Nina was his biggest concern. God knows what they have been doing to her while she was held captive.
Sam looked forward to seeing her, but he feared how she would react to him. After all, he was fucking about on a drinking binge when he should have collected the damn flask and bringing it to her. Had he done that promptly, none of this may have happened, because they would have been together, and safe. It was, indirectly, his fault that she was abducted and he was sure she would let him have it. But that was alright with him, as long as Nina was alive.
At precisely 7am, a blue and grey catamaran appeared on the waves from under the Forth Road Bridge, coming in from the east. The vessel sat wide and low atop the breakers, bobbing with a foamy white trail in its wakes. Two hulls pounded the water as it sped toward Port Edgar, but Sam could see no identifying markings or insignias. Still seated on the Honda, he watched the vessel slow down into the port area and it moored shortly after. A whole crew appeared on the deck. Sam sharpened his gaze to see if he recognized anyone among them, but the shadowy morning made it difficult to discern between the moving figures at a distance. In his leather jacket pocket, his hand fondled the evil vial that had caused them so much trouble. Sam had a silent conversation with the item several times between his departure from Denton House and his destination.
Now that he had succumbed to its thrall, it yielded no more eerie sensations or irresistible manipulation of his will. On his way to the Yacht Club, Sam had accused the flask, ‘You know, you are nothing but a plain slut — only beguiling my senses long enough for the fruition of your seduction. Oh, you were all over my body, pushing and luring me with such eagerness… and now? Now that I have partaken of you, now you ignore me. Seriously?’ Sam had spoken to the object in his silly mind as he pushed the Honda on the A90. ‘You think behaving absolutely normal is going to make me believe that I imagined it all? Well, guess what, I know what’s going on here. And when I give you to Slokin and he finds out there is nothing magical about you anymore, you are going to end up with all the other discarded canteens. A has-been. So you can kiss my ass!’
When he realized that he was smack-talking an inanimate object, Sam shook his head.
“You are certifiable,” he told himself under his breath while the incoming sea air ruffled his hair. He could not help but have a vendetta against the silver vial, though, no matter how ludicrous it may appear. From the beginning, it felt to him as if the vial was after him, hunting him, and deciding so intelligently.
Now he could see two people disembark. Sam perked up. A scrawny man stepped onto the jetty. He was dressed in white shoes and a black suit, covered by a long black coat that was obviously too large for his frame and it made him look like a baby bird, throwing its skimpy neck forward to receive a worm from its mother. Behind him, a small female appeared, dressed only in jeans and a sweater. Her hair was slightly matted and her skin pale, paler than usual.
“Nina,” Sam whispered, his heart racing at the thought of her condition. He did not even care about the imp who could very well out him for the fake dream juice and send both him and Nina to the next world. He pulled out the half-filled vial and walked over to meet them where the road became a pallid concrete slab which led to the platform.
Nina’s face was blank. All she did was stare dead ahead, emotionless and numb, it appeared. Sam did not like it one bit. He had heard of this Slokin prick and he did not trust him one bit. If he had done anything to harm her, Sam was ready to kill him, regardless of the repercussions.
With his departure this morning, The Brotherhood and Sleipnir had also trekked from Denton House, to assure that Lita’s goons could not attack them there. This was war — once and for all the stalemate between Lita Røderic and The Brotherhood would be ended and the casualties would be inconsequential to the survival of the relatively free world as they knew it. Since becoming a member of the Nazi fold, Lita had been a festering boil on the ass of The Brotherhood, constantly disturbing the resting places of the Vikings throughout Northern Europe and Scandinavia.
“Nina?” Sam shouted, but she did not respond at all to his voice. Thinking that she may not have heard him, he called again, but her face remained stark as she limped along with Slokin.
“Mr. Cleave!” Slokin squealed with a ratty smile. “I like a man who is on time for his appointments.”
“What’s wrong with Nina?”
“Nothing. Just an adverse reaction to incarceration, I suppose. Or it could have been the asparagus last night, “Jasper Slokin shrugged, and then had the audacity to trace Nina’s cheek with the back of his index finger. When Sam saw that she did not even flinch or blink, aberrant behavior of the feisty, defensive Nina he adored, he could feel his blood boil. Something very traumatic had to have befallen her.
“Maybe she is allergic to inferior races,” Sam remarked snidely, deliberately playing on Slokin’s heritage to get under his sarcastic skin and skewer his balls. “Here is your aphrodisiac. Doubt anything would drug away those handsome features of yours. Now give me Nina.”
Slokin fumed. He had never been outdone, at least not in his opinion. Sam did not wait for him to deliver Nina, but stepped forward and claimed her. Slokin shook the vial to ascertain that it was not empty. Then he opened it and sniffed at it like a dog. His beady eyes darted in space as he took it in and established its authenticity. Sam pulled Nina against him while they waited for his verdict. He could feel the subdued tremor in her tiny physique and it only infuriated him more.
Finally, the reprehensible insect snickered, “It’s the stuff. Off you go, then.”
It was the green light Sam had been waiting for. Behind Slokin he noticed Gunnar emerge from one of the boat lock-ups, his vengeful eyes fixed on Lita’s lackey. Slokin killed his wife and he vowed to treat him to a slow departure from this earth. Sam knew that if Gunnar killed Slokin right here in public, he would be arrested and locked up for life. That would profit him and Sleipnir nothing and would probably force the motorcycle club and The Brotherhood to disband.
“Hey, Slokin, a message for your queen bitch…” Sam feigned a spiteful laugh and planted his right fist hard across Slokin’s left side jawbone so hard that he fell on his knees with a crack. Instantly, the pain of the impact of knuckle against bone threw Sam into a vision of Valhalla again. For a moment, he was stunned by the shift into the other state, but he quickly recovered. A short distance away, Gunnar stopped in his tracks, seeing Sam’s dip into the other side.
Unfortunately for Sam, Slokin saw this. With a mild hint of suspicion, he looked at the journalist who had a right hook from hell and held his jaw in place with his right hand while grasping the vial in the other. Some of his nautical entourage rushed to his side to help, asking if they should summon the local law officers, but Slokin rejected their offer and watched Sam intently as he walked away with Nina in his embrace.
Gunnar would have to exact his revenge some other time and Sam would have to watch his reckless behavior. Nina’s arm was bandaged and she was aware of the wound, but she had no idea what the medical staff of the Black Sun did to her. She had no memory of it, courtesy of the benzodiazepine related designer substance they had fed her at dinner. All she knew was that Lita would never let her walk away after acknowledging her as nemesis. Something foul was afoot and she had a bad feeling that it was under her bandage.