“So, you admit it then? That you are using Purdue?” Harris asked.
“Of course,” Toshana replied, looking surprised at the reporter’s words. “He has no choice. I’m paying him greatly for his servitude.”
Harris caught her breath. “You mean, his service.”
Toshana shrugged. “Right.”
Harris wished she did have a high definition device on her to capture the awe-inspiring beauty of the mosque’s interior. The ancient arches, built during the era when the Knights Templar used the mosque as their headquarters, seemed to lean silently over the women inside. It was by no means as grand as the main mosque, of course, but the marble and stone seemed to speak volumes. If the stone tape theory could be employed here, Harris thought, it would have been filled with the sounds of war, counsel, and masculine powers of chivalry.
“Tell me, Janet,” Toshana said suddenly, “how are you involved in this excursion? You have no place here. You are not filming, are you?”
“Nope, just came to help to look for the crown. I have to keep my eye on Sam, so I came with him,” she confessed.
“Why?” Toshana asked, as they reached the insignia Father Harper referred to. “What is Sam to you?”
“Insurance,” Harris bragged. She couldn’t help it. Feeling important was important to her, so the thought of having Sam by the balls was reason for boasting. Having no idea that Toshana was an agent of the Black Sun, sent to seduce Purdue through the meeting at Bilderberg, Harris spilled the beans on how she was blackmailing Sam with footage of the street killings in Barking and how she’d solicited him after he escaped an assassination. But the worst damage Harris’ ego incurred was when she revealed that Sam’s paramour, Dr. Nina Gould, was being held hostage by the very men he had saved Toshana from.
28
Dragon’s Breath
Nina was surprised that her captors carried on as if she were just another housemate, although the structure they were housed in wasn’t quite a house. She knew it had to be somewhere in the UK, mainly because of the British broadcasts on the radio and some trash she saw in the kitchen being English brands.
They hardly looked at her, nor did the insult or attempt to harm her in any way. She’d now been with them for several days, still sleeping on the covered stone slab she’d awoken on that first night and having only two meals a day. Toast, bacon and tomato in the morning and usually some deli foods at night. Although the men of the Militum wore casual clothes, Nina could see that they had all had some training in tactics, as well as some sort of theological background. What baffled her still, was that even with the indoctrination of the latter they showed no practice of Christianity.
“Ayer,” she peeked around the doorway of the chambers where she was allowed to roam freely. He was on the phone with someone, holding up an open hand for her to wait. Nina’s propriety prompted her to give him his privacy and she retracted. In the dark corridor there were strong lights overhead, as there was no daylight to come in, but she could find no switches.
The lair had to be a centrally controlled base, so there had to be a communications room or some office from where the lights and the water usage was monitored. She was told that she could shower, but only if one of their men escorted her, so alternatively Nina had been taking sponge baths in her room for the last three nights and had the dreaded use of a chamber pot.
“Dr. Gould,” Ayer called from his room, beckoning her back. “What is it?”
“Well, I just wanted to ask you the things you would expect to be asked by someone you are holding,” she started.
“Like, are we going to kill you?” he asked quickly, polishing his Doc Martins.
“Um, aye. I suppose that is important to know,” she shrugged, her arms folded over her chest as she leaned in the doorway. “But I wonder also, why you are so lenient on me?”
“Would you prefer we lock you up like a prisoner? Because we would have no problem doing that,” he replied nonchalantly.
“No, I just don’t understand. If you’re going to let me walk around here, eat with you, and join in your conversations, why am I even here at all? Can’t you just let me go home?” she asked evenly.
“You’re joking, right?” Gille said behind her, lurching over her small frame like a shadow. Frightened at his sudden, hard voice, Nina winced and drew away from him. “You know who we are. You know what we are and… and, ultimately, you know what happened at the morgue — you know that we exist, Dr. Gould. You can rain a world of hell on our little sect, smaller now, because of that journalist and his friend running down our brothers like stray dogs in the street to save that bitch Toshana!”
Nina’s heart pounded. “Sam,” she whimpered.
“Sam Cleave, the hero. You must be really special, Dr. Gould,” Ayer smiled as the strokes of the shoe brush coughed rhythmically under his motions. “That very woman he saved from us? He is going to betray her trust in cold blood to trade her for you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet, isn’t it? How long have you been banging him, luv?” Gille teased, but Nina did not appreciate his humor. She summarily backhanded him across the face. He did not even budge, but his face instantly wore proof of her rage. Red welts formed where the back of her right hand had connected, and a trickle of blood appeared under his nose, decorating his pursing mouth. Gille’s eyes were wide with anger, but Ayer’s words dissuaded him from doing anything about it.
“You did ask for it, brother,” the leader chuckled as Gille wiped his face, painting his fat cheek with scarlet. “Go get cleaned up.” Ayer looked at Nina. Her face was distorted in defeat, her whole body quivering in anger and her dark eyes were shimmering with tears. “I cannot tell you why yet, Dr. Gould, but you are very fortunate that we are not allowed to leave even a bruise on you. It would compromise our deal. And that is why you are being treated so well, unharmed, and fed.”
“I see,” she said softly. “May I ask one more thing?”
“Of course, Dr. Gould. Anything,” he replied. He set his shoes neatly together on a toolbox and waited for her to speak.
“That awful smell,” she sniffed, wiping roughly at her teary eyes. “What is it?”
He looked up, sighing. “Why do you insist on knowing about the bad things, Nina? Can’t you just wait and keep busy until you’re delivered?”
“It’s a bit hard to ignore,” she said, frowning. “Doesn’t it make you lads sick to the stomach to breathe in that stench?”
“You get used to it, I suppose,” he admitted. “Not something to be proud of, certainly. We all have homes all over Europe, North Africa, and Scandinavia, but when things go wrong within our sect, like the loss of the crown from its monstrance, then we come down here and congregate so that the problem can be solved, you see? We don’t always live on take away fish & chips, Dr. Gould, nor shower in cement bathrooms with no hot water.”
He walked towards her, ushering her with his arm. Ayer led Nina by his hand on her back, softly steering her down the main hallway of the colossal dystopian bunker that reminded her of an abandoned Russian reactor. Their conversation echoed like hymns as they strolled. “Normally we live in lavishness and comfort, so please do not think this is who we are.”
“Do you have normal occupations when you are — home?” she asked.
“Heavens, no,” he laughed. “Occasionally we take jobs consulting.”
“Consulting on?” she pried relentlessly, secretly amazed that Ayer allowed her to badger him with questions.