The Valhalla Prophecy_A Novel

by Andy McDermott

  Kagan’s moment of doubt passed. ‘It must be done.’ He brought his gun back up – aiming at Nina. ‘Move aside.’

  She flinched, but held firm. ‘No. There has to be another way.’

  The Russian was unmoved. ‘I will shoot through you if I have to—’

  Eddie’s own gun snapped up, finding a target: Kagan’s head. ‘Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

  Kagan tensed, but held his position. ‘Chase, we have to do this. You know I am right!’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but hello! You’re pointing a fucking gun at my wife! I don’t care how right you are, I’ll fucking shoot you if you don’t—’

  The whole chamber shook at the piercing boom of an explosion.

  A couple of the golden shields on the roof broke loose and dropped to the ground with echoing clangs, clods of soil falling between the newly exposed beams. ‘Shit!’ said Eddie. ‘They’re in.’

  Shouts echoed through the tunnels outside – along with the muffled clamour of footsteps. ‘What do we do?’ Nina asked. She swept her torch around the walls. The wooden doors through which they had come were the only apparent exit.

  ‘If we give up and let them photograph the runes, they might let us go,’ Tova suggested fearfully.

  ‘Hoyt’s not going to offer us any deals.’ Eddie hustled to one of the tables near the doors and tipped it on to its side. The chainmail vests slid off and fell to the floor. He grabbed a couple and draped them over the thick old oak as extra protection. ‘He’s got no reason to let us live. Kagan, we’ll have to hold ’em off as long as we can. Have you got a spare magazine?’

  The Russian overturned another table. ‘One only.’

  ‘Make every shot count, then. Some of ’em got hit by the booby-trap – if they start running out of people, they might fall back.’ The noises from the tunnels grew louder; the intruders had spotted the broken roots and knew which way to go to follow their quarry. ‘Nina, you and Tova find cover and stay down.’

  ‘Wait, what about me?’ Berkeley quailed as the women crouched behind the wooden thrones.

  ‘They’re your friends, what are you worried about?’ Nina said.

  ‘Then maybe I should just walk out of here.’

  ‘Or maybe you should shut the fuck up and keep your head down,’ barked Eddie.

  ‘Or, yes, that.’ Berkeley scuttled to hide behind one of the benches.

  ‘Nina, put your light down and point it at the doors,’ the Englishman told her, doing the same with his own torch. The twin beams illuminated the entrance. They were not blindingly bright, but he hoped they would produce enough dazzle to confuse anyone entering the large room, even if only for a moment.

  He readied the Wildey. A moment was all he needed.

  Footsteps in the hallway outside. Low voices; the mercenaries had seen the light coming through the part-open doors. He knew from his own training what Hoyt and his men would be thinking. There was only one way in – but anyone taking it would be completely exposed. Would they try to reconnoitre first . . . or gamble on the shock tactics of a sudden frontal assault?

  The voices dropped to urgent whispers. One issued an impatient command. Eddie couldn’t make out the words, but knew who had spoken them: Hoyt. Whatever the mercenaries planned, they were about to do it. He watched intently for any movement through the gap.

  Someone shifted in the shadows. Not at the door, but several yards back down the barricaded passage. Eddie caught the faint gleam of gunmetal as a man brought up his P90 to shoot out the lights . . .

  The Englishman fired first, the Wildey’s retort like cannonfire. Tova shrieked and covered her ears. The man outside flew backwards with a thumb-sized hole in his sternum – and an exit wound the size of a clenched fist in his back. ‘Holy fuck!’ someone gasped.

  ‘Hoyt!’ Eddie shouted as the gunshot’s echoes faded. ‘That was your warning – pack up and fuck off.’

  A pause, then a humourless laugh came from the tunnel. ‘Chase, God damn. You’re like fuckin’ lung cancer – we think we’ve got rid of you, but then you pop back up and make life shit.’ He gave an order, but too quietly for Eddie to make out. ‘Y’know, we’ve had our differences, but we could reach a deal here. There’s a lot of money to be made.’

  ‘Go to hell,’ barked Kagan. ‘We will not let you find the source of the eitr. And your spy Slavin is dead.’

  More muttering. ‘Is that Kagan?’ said Hoyt. ‘It’s getting like a damn high school reunion around here. Although there’s someone who’ll never get to attend, ain’t there, Chase? A cute little German girl?’

  ‘Bastard,’ Eddie growled, before raising his voice. ‘We smashed the runes, Hoyt! You’ll never find the other eitr pit.’

  ‘I reckon I’d like to see that for myself.’

  ‘Stick your head round the door and have a look.’

  Hoyt did not reply at once, instead whispering to somebody. When he spoke again, Eddie was instantly on alert: there was anticipation in the American’s voice, even though he was trying to hide it. The mercenaries were about to make their move. ‘I think I’ll pass on that, Chase. But how about you—’

  He broke off as someone kicked open one of the doors. Eddie snapped the Wildey around, but the man had already jerked back behind the wall.

  A hand whipped into view, lobbing an object into the room. Eddie caught the briefest glimpse of something small and pale with a metal tube sticking from it as it flew overhead.

  A glimpse was all he needed. It was a chunk of plastic explosive, the tube a detonator. It weighed little more than thirty grams – but an ounce of explosive was more than enough.

  ‘Down, get down!’ he screamed, throwing himself flat as the bomb arced down—

  The detonation blasted a table apart and scattered discarded weapons and chainmail in all directions. Even prepared and protecting his senses as best he could, Eddie was still dazed.

  Kagan had been slightly slower to dive for cover. He paid the price, a sharp chunk of pulverised wood stabbing through his coat into his shoulder like a dagger. Further away, Berkeley howled as the blast slammed the bench against him. Even at the far end of the room, Nina and Tova were knocked down and left stunned. The sun compass skittered across the dais.

  Eddie forced his way through the pain and disorientation to open his eyes. He couldn’t see much – his torch had been sent spinning away, only dim outlines of the room’s furniture visible. The Wildey was still firmly in his right hand, however. He raised it and lifted his head—

  Men were rushing into the room, weapons up and ready.

  He swung his gun towards the pack, searching for Hoyt, but knew he was already too late. Bright lights pinned him. ‘Drop it, motherfucker!’ someone bellowed.

  Defeated, Eddie turned the gun upwards. But before he could release the Wildey, someone pulled it from his hand. Blinking in the glare, he looked up to see Hoyt smirking at him. ‘Nice gun,’ said the mercenary leader. ‘Get up. Move over there.’ He gestured towards the far end of the room.

  The injured Kagan was dragged to his feet, other mercenaries advancing through the chamber with their lights and guns aimed at Nina, Tova – and to Eddie’s surprise, Berkeley. The group was soon surrounded on the dais.

  ‘Search ’em,’ ordered Hoyt. As his men patted down the prisoners, the American pulled out the Wildey’s magazine and tossed it into the shadows, then racked the slide to eject the chambered round. It clinked on the stone floor. ‘They armed?’ he asked as he threw the gun away. The responses from the mercenaries were all in the negative.

  ‘What about the runes?’ said another man, also American. Eddie felt a sudden twinge of recognition. He knew the voice, even after eight years.

  Hoyt shone a light over the wall. ‘Looks like they tried to smash ’em.’

  ‘Let’s hope for their sakes that they didn’t destroy anything crucial.’ The mercenaries stepped apart to let the speaker on to the dais.

  Ivor Lock pulled down his hood, surveying the r
unes before turning to the prisoners. ‘Hello again, Chase.’

  27

  Eddie stared disdainfully at the new arrival. The passage of almost a decade had not changed Lock much; his hair and the goatee beard had greyed, and his face was fuller, but otherwise he was the same as in their last encounter. ‘Ivor Lock. Should’ve known. Hoyt doesn’t have the brains to do anything without you having your hand up his arse like a glove puppet.’

  Hoyt smirked – then punched the Englishman hard in the stomach. Even with the padding of his cold-weather clothing, the blow still made him double over. ‘Funny fucker.’

  Edie saw a glint of brass on the floor – the cartridge Hoyt had ejected from the Wildey. But he was pulled back upright before he could reach for it. Lock, meanwhile, had moved on to Kagan. ‘And you, working with him. The situation’s reversed from the last time we met, though. I’ve got you outnumbered. Mind you, from what I’ve heard, you’re pretty much the last man standing at Unit 201.’

  Kagan gave him an icy glare. ‘You have heard wrong.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. You think Slavin was our only source? Money talks, my friend. We may not have been able to get anyone into your inner circle, but we still know what’s going on. Shame about old Eisenhov, huh?’

  Kagan tried to rush him, but was yanked back by two mercenaries, one of whom twisted the wooden shard stuck in his shoulder. He gasped in agony.

  ‘Thought you’d have been fired after the enormous fuck-up you made of Vietnam,’ said Eddie, trying to draw attention back to himself. If they were to have any chance of escaping alive, he would need the Russian’s help.

  Lock’s mocking expression became harder as he turned back to Eddie. ‘I’ll admit, things were a little tough when I got back to Washington. But one failure doesn’t end a career; in fact, I’m doing better than ever. The BSA was spun off into the private sector at the end of the Bush presidency and became Xeniteq. I was appointed chief operations officer, and after a few years ended up as CEO. Turned out that once I was freed from the shackles of the public sector I had a talent for business. Who knew?’ A smug smirk. ‘Same work, same client – Uncle Sam – but a lot more money. And I never forgot about the potential of the eitr, so when the Valhalla Runestone was found,’ he glanced at Tova, ‘I realised we had a chance to pick up where we left off.’ He went to Berkeley. ‘Logan, you’re still in one piece.’

  ‘It was a close thing,’ said Berkeley, relieved. ‘I’m glad your men’s aim was good, though. When they threw that bomb into the room – well, if it had landed any closer, I could have been killed!’

  ‘You think they even knew where you were?’ said Nina. The thought had clearly not occurred to her former colleague.

  ‘Ignore her,’ said Lock. He shone his flashlight over the carved text on the wall. ‘Did you find anything out from the runes?’

  ‘I’d started a translation on my tablet. Unfortunately, this guy objected, rather strongly.’ Berkeley indicated the broken device on the floor, then glowered at Kagan.

  ‘You’re not kidding,’ said Hoyt, fingering the bullet impact in the stone.

  Lock took a closer look. ‘Damn it, there are some lines missing,’ he muttered. ‘Logan, had you translated this section?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Berkeley replied. ‘Dr Skilfinger had read it, though.’

  ‘Had she now?’ With a wolf-like smile, Lock faced the Swede. ‘Dr Skilfinger, if you would be so kind as to fill in the blanks?’

  Tova hesitated, looking to Nina for support before replying. ‘No. I know what you are looking for, and I will not help you find it.’

  Hoyt adopted a sarcastic tone. ‘Well, hey, guess that’s it. We’d better pack up and go home.’

  ‘But it’d be such a shame to have come all this way for nothing,’ said Lock. ‘All right, Dr Skilfinger, let me rephrase that. Tell me what the damaged section of the runes said . . .’ He reached into his coat, drawing out a handgun – which he pointed at Nina. ‘Or I’ll kill Dr Wilde.’

  Eddie lunged at him, only to be hauled roughly back by Hoyt and one of his men. The mercenary leader jammed his gun into the Englishman’s side. ‘Stay still, or you go before she does.’

  Lock gave the scuffle only the briefest glance before returning his attention to Tova. ‘Well? I’ll give you ten seconds to tell me, or I’ll shoot your friend – and don’t think I won’t do it. Chase here will confirm that for you.’

  ‘If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you,’ Eddie snarled.

  The American ignored him. ‘Ten seconds, Dr Skilfinger. Nine.’

  Berkeley finally broke through his bewilderment. ‘Wait – Ivor, what are you doing? You’re not, ha, you’re not really going to kill her, are you?’

  ‘I thought you’d be happy about that, Logan,’ Lock replied. ‘Seven. Six. Dr Skilfinger, tell me now.’

  ‘Tova, don’t tell him anything,’ said Nina, trying to suppress her rising fear.

  Lock thumbed back the pistol’s hammer. ‘I will kill her. Three, two, one—’

  ‘No, wait!’ Tova cried, close to panic. ‘It was part of the route to Helluland! I do not know exactly what those lines said, I did not read all the runes, but they lead to Helluland!’

  The gun remained locked on to Nina for a long moment. . . then was lowered. ‘Helluland,’ Lock repeated. ‘Where is that?’

  ‘It’s – it’s Baffin Island, in Canada,’ Berkeley replied, shocked. ‘But . . . Jesus, you really were going to shoot her! Ivor, what the hell?’

  Nina’s heart was still racing. ‘For God’s sake, Logan! Haven’t you figured it out yet? They’re the bad guys!’

  Berkeley shook his head in desperate denial. ‘No, no, they can’t be – they’re working for the US government!’

  ‘No, they’re working for themselves. They didn’t come to Valhalla out of any interest in Norse history – they came because they want to use eitr to make a biological weapon. You think they’d have brought along a private army just to make sure you didn’t get scooped in the International Journal of Archaeology?’

  He gaped like a fish before rounding on Lock. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, trying to recover some scrap of authority. ‘Ivor, what’s all this about? Is she telling the truth?’

  Lock regarded him with dismissive disdain. ‘As a matter of fact, yes. Is that going to be a problem for you, Logan?’

  It was clearly not the response Berkeley had been expecting. He looked in confusion between his patron and Nina. ‘Wait, you mean . . . you’re telling me the lair of the Midgard Serpent is real? Eitr actually exists?’

  ‘It does,’ said Kagan. ‘The Soviet Union discovered one of the pits. And for the past fifty years, Unit 201 has been trying to ensure that nobody makes that mistake again.’

  ‘Yes, it’s real,’ Lock told the astounded Berkeley. ‘And now it’s almost in our hands.’ He examined the runes once more. ‘So this is some sort of route guide, then? I’m sure that with the benefit of modern technology, we can skip a few steps and just work out where it ends. All we need is someone to translate it.’

  ‘Logan, don’t do it,’ Nina said. ‘These people are killers – and they’re trying to get their hands on something they can turn into a WMD. I’ve seen photos of what it does, and I wish I hadn’t. You can’t help them. You mustn’t.’ Her voice became more earnest. ‘I know we’ve never exactly got on – to be honest, I’ve always thought you’re kind of an asshole.’

  ‘My wife, the diplomat,’ Eddie muttered.

  ‘But,’ she went on, ‘I’ve never believed that you’re actually a bad person underneath it all. And I don’t think they do, either.’ She shot Lock and Hoyt a disparaging look. ‘Otherwise they wouldn’t have kept all this secret from you.’

  ‘The runes, Logan,’ said Lock. ‘Can you translate them or not?’

  ‘Of course I can translate them,’ said Berkeley, his old pride briefly resurfacing. ‘Given time and resources, it won’t be a problem. But the question really is: should I translate th
em?’

  ‘No, the question is: why wouldn’t you?’ said Lock, with a clear undercurrent of threat.

  Berkeley picked up on it loud and clear. ‘Because, well,’ he said with some hesitancy, ‘I didn’t hear any denials when Nina said you were planning to use the eitr to make a weapon of mass destruction.’ Lock’s expression darkened, but Berkeley pressed on. ‘So I’m starting to reach the conclusion that . . .’ He looked at the mercenaries around him, almost as if registering for the first time that they were armed. ‘That it might not be a good idea for me to do it. No offence,’ he hurriedly added.

  There was a lengthy silence – then, to everyone’s surprise, Lock shrugged, almost smiling. ‘That’s your decision, of course, Dr Berkeley. And I respect it.’

  Berkeley blinked. ‘You do? Oh. Well, good.’

  ‘I don’t agree with it, though. But it doesn’t matter, because now that we have her,’ he indicated Tova, ‘we don’t need you any more.’

  Hoyt grinned. ‘About time. Guy’s been a pain in the ass ever since we brought him aboard.’

  He gestured to two of his men, and before Berkeley realised what was happening, they had grabbed him by his arms and pulled him away from Lock. ‘What are you— Hey! Let me go, what the hell are you doing?’ the archaeologist protested.

  Lock ignored his squawks. ‘Someone photograph the runes,’ he said. One of the mercenaries opened a pack and took out a high-end digital SLR camera, then began to take pictures. ‘Dr Skilfinger, you’re going to translate them for us.’

  ‘I will not,’ she replied.

  ‘Yes, you will. Because we haven’t just got you – we’ve got Dr Wilde too. If you don’t do what I say, then . . .’ He made a boom sound.

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Nina told Tova. ‘We can’t—’

  She cried out as Lock backhanded the side of her face. ‘Shut up,’ he growled. ‘You talk too much – you’re as bad as your husband. Get them back to the trucks, we’re taking them with us.’