“So now what?” Gille asked. “What are you going to do, then, to get Toshana back?”
The leader shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. I would hate to resort to using people close to him. Getting Toshana, though, is worth the risk of kicking the hornet’s nest.”
“The enemy of my enemy, and all that, seems to come into play here,” the old man reckoned. “That makes it hard for us to trust. But on the other hand our leader is right, brothers. We have to tolerate Sam Cleave and maybe use him to find Toshana, before we make him disappear without the Brigade Apostate learning of his sudden demise.”
“Wise words, Papa, wise words,” the leader acknowledged.
“So I shall track him and see if I can reason her away from him. If he resists, I will shoot him in the face and stone the bitch without much effort in some abandoned building,” the leader shared. “But either way I will remove her from this earth, with or without Sam Cleave’s help.”
The men all sat in silent contemplation of the new plan. They were used to sitting in wait while developments dictated their next move. From where they bided their time, their leader usually paved the way for their next endeavor and they had learned by now to trust him with all decisions.
“Just sound the charge when you need us, son,” the old man said.
“I will. I will leave in two hours for Edinburgh. The tracker I put in Cleave’s equipment points to a stack of mass cage-living Scots in some prime part of the city — just the place you would expect a cheap superstar to live,” the leader said. “No matter how this turns out, we will know which path to take within the next twenty-four hours.”
10
Nina Gets a New Gig
Nina tried calling Purdue, but his personal assistant told her that he was in the Netherlands for an exclusive meeting that she could not disclose. The information somewhat unsettled Nina, especially given that Purdue had previously stepped over very perilous borders during other similarly spun meetings. These gatherings usually involved shady dealings between high society members with agendas way beyond the next merger or lucrative proposition.
Purdue was, whether he liked it or not, a very prominent member of high society. Now that he had been absolved by most of the speculative types from his previous misdemeanors towards the Black Sun and other élite conglomerates, he was back in his old position as billionaire playboy. However, even with the political and business climate concerning his recent history settling, Purdue was far from the man they used to know.
With everything he had endured, learned, lost, and fought in the past five years or so, the jovial philanthropist and explorer had turned slightly. More cynical and apathetic these days, though equally fearless, he was now wary of those he used to charm into his business associations. Still, he was attending to assure those watching from the sinister shadows of the annually held private conference that he was back in charge of all his holdings and open for allegiances.
“Would you like me to ask him to call you back when he calls tonight, Dr. Gould?” Nora, Purdue’s new PA, asked Nina courteously. Nina liked Nora. She was Scottish, charming, and efficient.
“No worries, Nora,” Nina refrained. “I just wanted to say hello and catch up a bit. I’m on my way back to Oban tonight, so I will not be in Edinburgh by the time he gets back anyway.”
“Alright, Dr. Gould. Keep well and have a good trip home,” Nora beamed over the handset.
“Ta, will do,” Nina replied, ending the call shortly after. She shook her head and took a drag of her Marlboro. “Right back out of the frying pan, hey Purdue?” She sighed, surveying her clothing in piles on the bed, ready to be packed and lugged into the car. She knew which exclusive secret party Purdue was attending and it made something in the pit of her stomach stir. Like the punishment of a bad batch of seafood burritos and cheap wine, her stomach cramped at the thought of him plunging right back into the cesspool of super rich monsters and charlatans he had just managed to crawl free from. But like with Sam, she dared not say anything. She dared not pry, warn, or offer her help.
“Well done, Purdue. You just do what you do best, my darling. You just keep charming the the patrons at the Bilderberg Conference and see how quickly you end up in a fucking oubliette under the floor of some Nazi Mutti’s kitchen,” she grumbled as she tossed her once neatly folded garments carelessly into her suitcase. Nina was goddamn tired of trying to support Sam and Purdue, usually to her own detriment.
What did baffle her, though, was how emotional she was about both men and how she was unable to convince Sam to trust her enough. It was unlike her to give a damn about most things, especially the petty reactions of men, yet she felt uncomfortably unhappy about Sam’s rejection and Purdue’s unavailability. It was not so much that she felt locked out, but that she was weakened by loyalty and friendship, and Nina hated that.
For some reason her only consolatory thought was to see Father Harper. Nina, the heretic, the anti-Catholic, the shunner of religion, wished to see a Catholic priest to feel better? Nina scoffed at the travesty of her feelings, but she had to concede that it was her true desire to just speak to the giant in black robes at the St. Columbanus museum of historical repression.
“No absolution. Just talk,” she told herself as she closed the door of the Bed & Breakfast she’d stayed at.
When she arrived in Oban, the mid-afternoon sun was strong and unusually solitary in its presence above, with but a few clouds to populate the sky. The wind was mild, filling the town with the odor of the ocean and primrose flowers as she drove home. She decided to moor at her house first for a bit of a rest, unpacking and getting back into her domestic routine again before bothering the priest with her reluctant disclosure.
After all, she was a heathen, not quite an atheist, and generally just not a fan of organized religion. Still, she wished to speak to Father Harper in his capacity as counsellor, not for any spiritual assistance. Even though the esteemed Dr. Nina Gould was not a member of his congregation, Father Harper never turned her away. Perhaps he was of the opinion that he could eventually sway her to his god or even just to attend one service. On the other hand, he was far too intelligent to be that naïve. Anyone with a grain of perception of psychology could read that Dr. Gould was a resolute woman in all her opinions and beliefs, not that she could not admit when she was mistaken.
Her house on the steep slant from the street leered over her like a jilted lover. The porch light was burning, as she had left it on.
“Shit, electricity is going to be through the roof again,” she mumbled as she walked up the cement walkway, lamenting the lawn’s growth that she could simply not keep up with. Untidy stems reached across the cracked stone and concrete where she labored with every pace.
Getting old, Nina. Your temple at Ronnie’s Fitness down awaits. You didn’t even bother for a single workout at Masterton’s in Quartermile territory when you were in Edinburgh, you slothy bitch, she reprimanded herself. This is why you’re puffing like a locomotive up your own bloody walk!’
She finally reached the stair to the porch and flung her suitcase onto the top landing. The porch light was flickering ever so slightly, proof that her forgetting to set the timer while she was absent was taxing on the old bulb. Ignoring the burn in her legs and easing her breathing to dismiss the fact that she was a bit out of shape, she elected to skip the last three steps — successfully.