by K. T. Tomb
“Maybe no one’s home,” said Peter, stating the obvious.
Suddenly, the double-click pump of a shotgun resounded from the other side of the door. Surprised, Peter grabbed Phoe and carried her to the grass next to the walk as a loud blast blew a hole in the door. Jonathan cowered to his knees after nearly getting hit by shotgun pellets and flying debris. All three scurried for cover as the front door opened.
An old woman ambled on to the porch holding the rifle that had obliterated much of her door. Jonathan began to whimper when she aimed at the bush he hid behind, but before he could rise and get himself killed, Peter rushed from the other side and knocked the woman to the porch. He wrestled the gun away while she screamed at him in German while pummeling him with her fists.
Meanwhile, Phoe decided to take her chances with a side window. She badly frightened an old man sitting by a desk facing the window. They both screamed, and Phoe ran back to the front door where Peter was trying to restrain the old woman without hurting her.
“Jonathan? Where the hell are you?”
“I’m over here.”
“Where...what in the hell? Quit hiding and get your ass over here and start translating before we all end up shot!”
“Okay...but—”
“Grow a couple and get over here, now!”
Jonathan crept up to the porch while Phoe used universally understood hand movements to assure the elderly couple that they were not there to hurt them. The woman started to calm down, but the man took off running.
“Follow me, Jonathan—you better keep up!”
“I’m trying!”
Good...seeing some anger there. Maybe, just maybe the little Kessler boy will come through....
The smell of burnt cinnamon filled her nostrils as she chased the old guy down a hallway. Along the way, she noticed knick-knacks and pictures from a long-ago era. Several pictures were of old Army buddies playing around as they posed, and each had red armbands on their left arms.
The old man ran into a bedroom. Phoe realized that it could turn into a life or death struggle if he retrieved a weapon, like a Luger or another shotgun from the room, and caution would’ve been logical. But her instincts told her to bust into the room. The door, fortunately, was unlocked.
Badly frightened, the old man was on his knees before a bed, and his hands were behind his head.
Is he surrendering?
“Talk to him, Jonathan!”
“Okay...but give me a moment....“
From there, it made little sense to her. Gibberish, which embarrassed her since all she knew how to speak was English. She would have to seriously improve in her understanding and use of other languages. Otherwise, she should give up this side of the business and stick to minding her little store in Taos, she realized.
Jonathan mentioned the English phrase ‘Hammer of Thor’, and the old man’s expression changed from fear to recognition. He shook his head and replied to Jonathan’s question in German.
“I think he can help us,” Jonathan reported to her, smiling with obvious pride for his success. “He is familiar with what you seek, and ready to talk.”
Chapter Ten
Mr. and Mrs. Rietz sat on a flowered loveseat from yesteryear. Peter and Phoe stood nearby along with Jonathan. As it turned out, Dieter could speak a little English. Gerda, meanwhile, was fairly fluent.
“Please forgive Dieter. He has little experience with Americans. Please tell me about Thor again. I have not laughed like this in a long time.” She kept her shotgun next to her. But at least she was smiling.
“Mrs. Rietz. I’m glad I was able to amuse you. I did my research and have found out that you are an expert in the swastika being linked to the mythological God of Thunder.” Her smile faded.
“You are serious about looking for Thor’s Hammer? So, this is not an ordinary inquiry about the Nazis?”
Phoe nodded.
“Well, at least this is different than usual, which makes it intriguing at least. But, I hope I don’t disappoint you with not much more than anyone can Google for these days. The swastika has evolved from the Swastik. Most prefer to call the former the Swastik to keep the two separate. Surely you already know the Swastik has been around for thousands of years. Used most frequently as an ancient religious symbol by the Greeks, it was relied on as a good luck symbol. Didn’t bring us much luck in World War II.” She chuckled.
“What about the connection to Thor?” asked Phoe, trying to remain patient. Older people rattled off facts at a slower pace than she liked, but she tried picturing Gerda as her paternal grandmother, with whom she had a close bond up until she’d died three years earlier.
She looked at Phoe with curiosity. “Why Thor? Why not pursue the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus?”
“Because this connection goes further than the basic information you’ve shared,” said Phoe, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “The Greeks influenced the Vikings, who unabashedly took the Swastik and associated it with their god, Thor. Maybe the Norwegians thought they could get one up on the Greeks, who had no counterpart for Thor.”
Everyone laughed, including Dieter, once Gerda explained the joke to him in German.
“Well, Ms. Phoe, perhaps both cultures were just as devoted to their gods,” said Gerda. But the interesting thing about the Vikings is they took it a step further, creating a secret society based on a magical and metaphysical link between the Swastik and the God of Thunder.”
She grew serious and leaned forward on the loveseat.
“What I’m about to tell you, few people know. You came to the right person. Tell no one you received this information from me. There is a dangerous society you need to be aware of: Ragnarok’s Chosen.”
Peter regarded her suspiciously. “Ragnarok? The Norse equivalent to our Armageddon?”
“Yes. I found out by accident while Dieter was in the military. When he first told me, I passed it off as a fairy tale, told by men who needed a distraction from the horrors of war. You won’t find this information on any of your Internet searches.”
Phoe took it in, debating whether this would be the next clue to follow up on. It appeared Peter was doing the same.
“Where do we find this Ragnarok’s Chosen?” asked Phoe.
“I do not know,” said Gerda. “I have told you all I know. That will be three hundred dollars.”
“What? Three hundred dollars! For a story that may or may not be true?” Phoe was suddenly livid. The nerve!
“You sneak around outside without invitation, and now I have a door to replace,” said Gerda. “Unless you would like me to call our local bailiff to help settle this.”
“No, three hundred is fine,” said Peter, mouthing to Phoe, at least it’s not in euros. He pulled out his wallet and handed her three Benjamin Franklins.
Gerda checked the bills against the light to see if they were genuine. She nodded approvingly.
“Thank you for your visit. Good luck to you all and be safe out there.”
Chapter Eleven
The three Americans were quiet during the picturesque drive down the mountainside. Phoe didn’t know what to say to Peter or Jonathan. Knowing she owed Peter three hundred bucks, she decided to use her hotline to call Simon Kessler.
“Hello, Phoe. Will you be leaving Germany soon?”
“We’re driving to Frankfurt now. I have a question concerning the credit card. Can I get a pin number to extract cash?”
“Why would you need cash?”
“I didn’t consider the fact we might have to bribe people for information. Luckily, Peter had the cash for the Rietz couple.”
“I hadn’t thought of that possibility,” he confessed “Use the code twelve-thirty at any ATM....So, what do you know?”
“There’s a secret organization called Ragnarok’s Chosen, and it’s apparently connected to the Swastik and Thor.”
“Interesting. Any clue on where to find them?”
“No. Not yet. But we’re working on it.”
>
“Did she provide any solid proof of this secret society?”
“No, she did not,” said Phoe, beginning to feel like she had made a mistake
“Did you get a receipt for the three hundred dollars?”
Shit! “No. We didn’t get that either.”
“Then you won’t get reimbursed if you pay Peter. I thought you understood how this works.”
“Yes. I do.” She looked at Peter, who suddenly frowned—apparently in response to her frustrated look. She smiled weakly.
“Where are you headed now, Phoe?” Simon asked.
“We’re going to Norway.”
“Sounds like you are on the right track....Excellent! Keep up the good work”
She put the phone back inside her fanny pack and sighed.
“What did Simon say about the money?” asked Peter.
She drew in a deep breath. “Looks like you’re screwed as far as reimbursing your money goes. I’m sorry.”
Chapter Twelve
Phoe, Peter, and Jonathan reboarded the plane, soon to be headed to Norway.
Though the journey was still a nebulous one, they were getting closer to Mjölnir. At least Phoe felt that way, and she could tell her male counterparts felt the same way.
“Phoe, I’m glad you asked me to join you on this,” said Peter, once the pilot had received her instructions to head to Norway, and had filed the necessary flight plan information with the control tower at Frankfurt Airport. “Admittedly, at first I really thought this was a wild goose chase. But, even if we don’t find exactly what you’re seeking, I am quite intrigued where this will lead. And, believe me—I want to believe the Hammer of Thor is a real thing. So count on me to stick by you through thick and thin—wherever our journey takes us.”
She looked at him, training her gaze on his eyes...trying to avoid their hypnotic quality. There was no discernible bullshit there.
“Let’s see what you think once we reach our next destination,” she said, smiling coyly. “What’s the good word, Jonathan?”
Jonathan had been furiously typing on his laptop in quest of her assignment to dig up everything he could about Ragnarok’s Chosen.
“I found exactly seven online RPG sites that have groups with the name Ragnarok’s Chosen. I can cross-match the groups with the members who are into Thor or the swastika...or both. Gamers like to brag about stuff they’re into, especially when it pertains to the game. This includes character names or weapons of choice. I, myself, preferred to use a Wand of Destruction with my Nineteenth-level Chaotic Evil Elf Magic-User.”
Phoe fought to remain patient with the younger Kessler’s penchant for talking over people’s heads. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Jonathan, but could you please stick to the things that pertain to our mission?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry...I will try to do better as I tell you what I found. I cross-referenced all of the cities that the gamers live in, even considering that some of them may have lied about who they are and where they are for security purposes. Then I did a little hacking into a system I know pretty well, which cross-referenced the games and found out where they really live and who they really are. I have three groups that could be great candidates for the secret society you’re looking for.”
Phoe grinned, thanking herself for giving the guy a chance to do his thing unfettered by her criticisms. “Great job Jonathan! How come you never told me that you were this computer savvy?”
“You never asked.”
He had a point.
“Okay, Here’s what I want you to do,” she said. “Of the three groups you have chiseled the list down to, I’d like the one that has the most inconsistencies between the fabrications and the truth.”
“That sound’s easy enough, but if I may ask....Why?”
“Because gentlemen, the gamer group who has lied the most about who they are, will obviously be the one that has the most to hide.”
Her grin widened to a playful smile, and Peter smiled as well, while Jonathan’s face turned red from embarrassment.
“Done, Ms. Phoenix,” said Jonathan. “ Here’s the list that stands out with the most inconsistencies in their profiles.” He turned the laptop to where she could see the screen. “It’s rare that all of the gamers are in the same place, let alone the same city. But these are. All of this group’s members are in Hammerfest, Norway.”
Phoe tried not to look surprised. “I probably should see if we can get a rental car booked now for our arrival in Oslo.”
“Already on it for you,” said Jonathan, smiling more confidently, then his face fell. “Sheesh, Hammerfest is over 800 miles to the north, almost to the very top of Norway.”
“Glad we’ve got warm coats,” said Peter, chuckling while tipping his latest drink toward Phoe and Jonathan. “Sounds like we’ll need ‘em.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jonathan’s discovery seemed to infect the entire aircraft with excitement. Better yet, in Phoe’s mind, they’d spawned further noteworthy discoveries.
“Ms. Phoenix and Mr. Kellerman...you won’t believe what else I’ve uncovered about Hammerfest,” he advised. “The German navy used the city’s harbor as a base during the war, which is kind of like what that old lady named Gerda talked about. But the entire city was destroyed by the Germans except for a burial chapel, that still stands today, from what the pictures show. The rest of the city was rebuilt, of course. Kinda like the story of—”
“A mythical Phoenix?” Phoe interrupted, playfully.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “It’s so cool. Just like a phoenix rising from the ashes!”
Peter was watching news feeds on his laptop, and looked up to acknowledge the joke. But then his smile faded as his eyes grew wide.
“Holy shit! ...Phoe you better have a look at this.”
He turned his laptop toward her, and at first she didn’t see what had him so riled up about the business site. But just below a line about the DOW plunging for the third straight day, was a small headline.
Billionaire Simon Kessler Announces Search to Find Mythical Hammer of Thor.
The story went on to describe an interview with Simon Kessler, discussing his deployment of a specialized team of investigators to locate and retrieve the item long thought to be metaphorical only. The text concluded with a line that Mr. Kessler expected to have something astonishing to share in the next two weeks, and perhaps sooner.
The report contained a link to other attendant articles, including a video announcement on YouTube. The trio silently observed the video....
“Good morning. My name is Simon Kessler. Most of you know me as a risk taker and entrepreneur. I am also a charitable man with over fourteen million dollars in donations to worthwhile charities in 2013 alone. I am also a sane man. I have in my hands a certified statement from Dr. Kathryn Klein, who is the foremost authority on mental illness. In it, she states that I am perfectly mentally fit and show absolutely no signs of either the beginning of or any advanced mental illness. Most of you know that I do not, in any way, take lightly anything I become involved with. I always research all projects before I dive in. Those of you who have negative opinions about me surely cannot argue my thoroughness in any and all discoveries pertaining to my whims and projects.”
Phoe practically held her breath, and it appeared Peter and Jonathan were similarly mesmerized. Her heart sank at the details, and she prayed fervently he wouldn’t say anything to make her feel any more foolish for agreeing to take on this assignment.
“I guarantee that what I am about to tell you is no whim. Some will scoff. Some will laugh. Some will call me insane. Eventually, you all will believe as I do. I am involved with something that, when proven, will change the course of history. When proven, this will also change the worldview of what is true versus what is mere mythology.”
“Oh, shit...here it comes,” she murmured.
“I, Simon Kessler, being of sound mind and body...am funding an expedition to find something that has been assumed
to be nonexistent. My team is following a trail of breadcrumbs across Europe as we speak, a trail that will soon likely lead them to the Hammer of Thor!”
The stream of online viewers’ reactions are mixed, but most are less than complimentary. Many of these are laced with enough four-letter words to make her and her companions blush, judging from Peter’s and Jonathan’s uncomfortable reactions.
The only comment at all kind was the deadpanned reaction in the plane coming from the younger Kessler:
“Way to go, Dad.”
Chapter Fourteen
The jet arrived safely in Oslo.
Jonathan was the first to unbuckle his seat belt, looking around at Phoe and Peter with childlike excitement. But, unlike in Germany, they would have to go inside the terminal to get their rental. And, the confirmation of a suitable SUV took longer than anticipated, and the details weren’t finalized until just before arriving at the airport.
By now everyone was quite tired and arrangements had also been made to stay at the Rica Hotel Hammerfest, which seemed like a good idea since it was near the heart of the city.
“Jonathan, you do have the addresses of Ragnarok’s Chosen, right?” asked Phoe, as they stepped onto the tarmac from the plane. The late afternoon sun felt good...not too hot, and much warmer than Peter had led her to believe.
Jonathan nodded.
“Good, then let’s move out.”
She led the way to the terminal, walking briskly since her hunger was beginning to burn. Her mood that was often acerbic to the wrong responses, or questions, would move into a more dangerous mode for Peter and Jonathan if she didn’t eat something soon.
Phoe’s special cell phone rang as they approached the Avis desk. Despite her better judgment, she reluctantly answered it.
“What do you think, Phoe? I know you saw my announcement,” said Simon Kessler, sounding proud.
