Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  “The F.B.I. is asking for your help in their nation-wide manhunt for the man believed to have kidnapped, and murdered Jenkins.”

  A composite-sketch popped onto the screen, baring a reasonable resemblance to Thor Odinsson, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses.

  “If you have seen this man, you are urged to call your local officials. He is described as a white male, in his late twenties, between six-three and six-six, with brown hair. He was wearing a dark-gray suit, and driving a late-model, dark-blue Ford Crown Victoria. Do not approach him. He is believed to be armed, and extremely dangerous. We will have more coverage of this story, tonight at six.

  In other news: No one has yet claimed the 342 million dollar jackpot in Saturday’s Big Money drawing…

  LeMay averted his eyes in disgust. The winning ticket was sold in the same carryout where he plays all the time. God fucked him over that day! First he walks out of his apartment to find he has a flat. Then he rips his pant leg changing the flat, leaving not enough time to stop for a ticket after changing his suit. If it had been my ticket, I’d be in the Bahamas right now; telling the F.B.I. and Interpol to go fuck themselves!

  Tilde Heitman stared at LeMay. “You said something about Odinsson never leaving a body,” she said flatly. “Or is he being framed for this murder as well?”

  Welcome to the party! “Could you put a splash of vodka in my juice, please,” he called to the waitress.

  “You got it, Honey,” she replied, smiling.

  “You remember me saying how Odinsson’s gonna fuck your mind up?” LeMay met Tilde’s icy stare with a smile.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “Consider this foreplay,” he said. Suddenly the female Agent didn’t look so well. LeMay nearly laughed. “Get used to that sick feeling,” he said, smiling. “Things are only going to get worse from here.”

  LeMay’s cell phone rang; the number on the screen belonging to Bob Keith, a Portland agent. “LeMay,” he said, placing it to his ear. “It didn’t take you long to call.”

  “You know?” Keith said. “Good. We’re gonna get the bastard this time! You on your way to Portland?”

  “I’m here already, with an Interpol agent.”

  “Interpol?!” Keith whistled. “Sounds like the bastard has the world pissed-off at him this time.”

  Martin LeMay stared into Tilde Heitman’s eyes. “Something like that.”

  “How soon can you get to the office?” Keith asked.

  LeMay studied Tilde’s features, noting the worry-lines that were beginning at the corners of her eyes. “Maybe an hour.”

  “Great! See ya then.”

  “Bob, I need a favor.” LeMay cleared his throat. “You know what today is… Don’t pick up Odinsson till the morning.”

  There was a long pause before Keith answered. “I suppose he’s not going anywhere soon.”

  “Thanks, Bob, I owe you one.”

  There was a chuckle on the other end of the phone. “You owe more than one, old man.”

  LeMay slipped the phone back into his pocket, then ran fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh.

  Tilde raised an eyebrow. If she didn’t stop that, he’d have to … do something. “Why not have Odinsson picked up immediately?”

  LeMay looked at her, searching her eyes. She really didn’t know. “Today is the tenth anniversary of Chelsea Gillard’s death… Even the Devil deserves time to grieve.”

  Forget calling off work. I should’ve taken a vacation… a very long vacation!

  Chapter 8

  Blood trickled from Thor’s lower lip as he hit the punching bag with tremendous force. The small split stung, but it was nothing compared to the aches his muscles were going through. His arms and legs felt like lead as he alternated between punches, elbow strikes, and kicks.

  Mikki did her best to keep the bag still, while shouting encouragements like: “My mother hit harder than that.” and “Is that all you’ve got, Pussy?” She always did have the elegant grace of a lady.

  He had been right about the men Bryndis had chosen for this morning’s “exercise”. They never admitted to being mercenaries, but they never denied it either. The way they fought spoke volumes about their ability to take a life, if not their willingness to do so. Thor had no idea where Bryndis had found these men, but she had obviously been very careful in choosing them. The entire session been calm, almost relaxed, and even jovial at times. The men fought with zeal, but there were no egos involved, and when they lost, there were no hard feelings, just the thrill of an exciting workout.

  The four men stood off to the side now, watching him intensely and rubbing sore spots that would be bruised. They laughed among themselves, theorizing at which of them would have been killed first. They could not agree on that, but the consensus was the big man built like a bulldozer would be the last to fall.

  They were wrong, of course. The bulldozer was their strongest link, and would have been eliminated immediately… had this been more than just a sparring match.

  In between punches, Thor wiped the blood from his chin, laughing at the crimson smear along his forearm. He had easily taken his opponents one and two at a time. Three had been a little difficult. Four at once, things got interesting… With all those fists and feet coming from every direction, it was inevitable that he would have gotten hit. But a split lip? My smile is my best feature.

  It was a small victory on the part of the mercenaries, though; they all lost in the end.

  Thor would never admit it to Bryndis, but this was exactly what he needed: a chance to let his mind rest and his body react on instinct alone. This morning, he had been a wild animal set free. Well… a semi-wild animal, anyway. Thor had refrained from taking a killing or maiming shot more than forty times – and he was sure the four men returned the favor numerous times as well, especially toward the end – but it was good to know all his hard training had paid off.

  Sweat poured from Thor’s body, flinging with each strike. The small pools on the floor were making the waxed hardwood as slippery as an ice rink; making it nearly impossible to keep sure footing. His shorts – the only thing he wore – were soaked with sweat, and sagged under the strain of the added weight. His vision was beginning to blur as he became more and more dehydrated, but he refused to stop. He was so close now.

  His right foot connected with the bag with such force, Mikki nearly lost her balance. She grinned, gripped the bag tightly, and put her shoulder to it, bracing for the next strike.

  Thor continued, unleashing a wave of violent strikes.

  Left elbow, right elbow, right knee, left punch; they came quick and furious, thudding against the bag, the last lifting Mikki off the floor. The heels of her bare feet thudded hard on the wooden floorboards, and her eyes grew wide form surprise.

  The four men stopped joking amongst themselves. Mikki fell silent as she eyed Thor warily and gripped the bag tighter. Bryndis stepped closer, her eyes flickered to Iona, and the sultry brunette dashed from the room.

  Less than two minutes later, Thor’s blows grew weaker, and shaky. He was finding it difficult to stand, let alone punch or kick. His right hand swung, but hit nothing. He tried to raise his left arm, but the damned thing would not budge. His shoulders slumped, and he fell to one knee. The room spun as darkness closed in.

  This was it. This is what he had been waiting for…

  Thor was walking down a trail in Macleay Park. He knew this place well, every trail and every tree. He and Chelsea would sneak away to these woods to get away from everyone. Sometimes for an overnight stay, if they had talked so long that it grew too dark and dangerous to try to find the way out. They were young, not stupid.

  The sun was shining through the leaves, creating patterns of light on the ground that danced as a breeze blew. The air was cool, with musty scents of decaying leaves and damp earth. Birds flew from tree to tree, screeching and whistling as he passed them. A small gray squirrel bounded from the brush, stared at him a second, and disappeared into a thi
cket.

  The trail he walked was easy to follow… if you knew what to look for. If not, you could walk right past it a thousand times, and never realize it. Just ask Bryndis.

  Thor reached the small clearing with the fallen log and rough lean-to for the rainy days. It was nothing much to speak of, but it was the safest place on Earth. He and Chelsea had shared secrets here; things no one else would ever learn. Thor had learned of Chelsea’s crush on Bobby Morris on that moss-covered log. It was also the place where Chelsea gave him his first kiss by a girl. His twelve-year-old-eyes nearly pooped out of his head, when she sprang that on him and said, “There! Now that that’s out of the way, I’ve got something to tell you.”

  Thor never understood why Bobby Morris never liked Chelsea, other than the buck-toothed idiot was a complete fool. And a blind one at that! Chelsea was a nice girl, and very pretty… Not that Thor ever looked at her that way; she was his best friend, after all, and best friends definitely do not lust after each other, no matter how pretty the friend happened to be!

  Chelsea was there on the far end of the clearing, feeding tiny bits of something Thor could not make out to a chipmunk. She always had a fondness for the creatures of the forest. Thor remembered going hungry a number of times, all because Chelsea had fed their lunch to the animals. He would get angry with her, then Chelsea would smile, and Thor could not remember why he had been angry in the first place. She had that effect on everyone they knew. I’ve missed you, soooo much!

  She was wearing her favorite jeans, an old tee shirt, and the leather jacket he had gotten her for no other reason than she liked it. She had on the pair of boots she had stolen on a dare from a shop in the Pearl District – she never discovered they had been paid for the day before. Or that Thor paid more than enough for anything she walked out with. How could you tell your best friend, they weren’t as cool and dangerous as they thought?

  The sunlight brought out the red highlights of Chelsea’s hair, and made her eyes seem more blue than normal. It also made the tiny freckles on her nose more noticeable. She hated that, but Thor always liked it, just as much as he liked to tease her about her freckles; it was the one thing he had to make things even for all the fun she had at his expense.

  Chelsea had not seen him yet, she was too busy with her new friend to notice anything. The little creature would get her undivided attention until either the morsel or the chipmunk was gone.

  Thor stood a moment, just happy to be near her. From where he was, he could smell the lavender soap she used. It was the faintest hint, but he could smell it… could he not?

  Chelsea looked up and smiled at him. That smile could stop a hungry bear in its tracks, and turn it into a playful cub at her feet.

  Thor tried to go to her, but his feet would not move. It was as if they were stuck in concrete. He struggled to free himself, to no avail. Terror gripped his heart like a vice. He was so close. Just a few more feet and he could touch her, hold her in his arms… and keep her safe.

  Thor pulled at his legs with both hands, but they still did not move. Dear Gods, why? Why let him get so close, then not let him embrace her?

  Chelsea laughed. Even now, in his moment of panic, it sounded like the most beautiful sound in the world. “You always were a silly thing,” she said, then blew him a kiss. She turned, and started up the path away from him. She began to whistle a tune Thor did not recognize as she strode away.

  “Wait!” Thor shouted. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Chelsea!”

  “Thor,” a voice called from beyond the trees. “Thor…”

  Thor turned to see Bryndis. What was she doing here? How did she find this place?

  He blinked several times, sweat stinging his eyes to the point of tears. Yes, it had to be the sweat making his eyes well-up.

  The sun was shining, but he was nowhere near the park; it was flooding in through the windows and open doors of the weight room. Bryndis held him under one arm. He did not remember falling to his knees. The four men looked on – it was difficult to tell if that was concern in their eyes, or amusement. Mikki came up, placing a hand under his other arm, then she and Bryndis helped him to his feet.

  Iona rushed into the room, a large class in hand, and thrust it to his lips. The smell told Thor it was the vile concoction Bryndis made. Thor drank half the glass before needing to take a breath. The taste was like swallowing cool vomit, but it worked wonders.

  Thor turned his head to Bryndis. “I saw Chelsea,” he said in a low voice.

  “I know,” Bryndis said, her eyes scanning his face. She checked his pulse under his left ear, then pulled back his eyelids to peer at the whites. She must not have liked what she saw; she shook her head with a disgusted grunt.

  Thor took the glass from Iona, noticing the tear trailing down her check. Why was she crying? He downed the rest of the liquid, and Iona took the glass and hurried away; most likely to fetch more of that disgusting swill.

  “You’re, probably, the hardest man I’ve ever met,” the bulldozer said, making his way to Thor. The other men nodded. There was something familiar about the big man. Maybe the way he spoke just reminded Thor of his father. “Son, take a little advice from someone that’s been… around.”

  Thor nodded. Damn, but his head hurt, and it was difficult to focus.

  “Very hard things get brittle over time,” the big man said. “Then it doesn’t take much to make them shatter.”

  Thor eyed the man. It had been concern in his eyes. Damned if Bryndis could not pick them. “That sounds like good advice …”

  “Steve,” the man said, smiling. Thor doubted it was his real name, but that was “Steve’s” business.

  “Thank you, Steve,” Thor said, thrusting out a shaky hand. The big man grasped it firmly and nodded. “And thank you,” he said with a smile to the other three. “It’s been a most enjoyable morning.”

  Thor was right about Iona; she came back with another glass, thrusting it into is sweaty hand. She had wiped the tears from her cheeks, but her eyes were red, and she had a worried look. Why had she been crying?

  Woman can be such strange creatures!

  Thor forced himself to empty the glass. He shuddered at the taste, but the first glassful was making him feel better already. If Bryndis could do anything to make it taste less like a mouthful of hangover-vomit, she could market it as the best sports drink on the planet!

  “I’m okay,” Thor said. Bryndis and Mikki let go of him, but stayed close. “Thank you,” he said to Iona, with a smile.

  Iona shot him an angry look. “Fool man!” her hands flashed angrily before she stomped away.

  What did I do now!

  “Would you gentlemen care to join us for lunch?” Thor asked. “We have a French chef that’s going all-out to prove she’s worth keeping onboard.”

  Steve shook his head. “Thank you, but no – though it’s greatly appreciated. We need to get going. Your pilot has offered to take us to Tacoma – if we could get out of here in time for her to make it back for lunch.”

  “And we better get a move on,” Else shouted from the doorway, “if I’m to have any chance of making it back in time!”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” Steve said. He turned to Thor. “If you ever want to do this again, it would be my pleasure.” He pointed to Bryndis. “Your friend knows how to get a hold of me. If I don’t see you again, remember what I said about being too hard.”

  “I will,” Thor said, shaking Steve’s hand one last time.

  The men left quickly, but not quick enough for Else, as she repeatedly let them know.

  “You really okay, Sugah?” Mikki asked. Her brow furrowed as she scanned his face.

  Thor scraped his tongue across the edges of his front teeth. “I really feel the need to brush my teeth, and gargle about a gallon of mouthwash.”

  “You’ll live!” Bryndis snapped. “Though I don’t know why I trouble to keep you alive. As hard as you push yourself, it seems, living is the last thing on your mind.” She wiped
the blood from his lip, her eyes showing a lot of satisfaction when he winced at the pain.

  “If you need to be beaten into a coma, so you can visit Chelsea for a while,” Mikki said. “All you have to do is ask. I’d be happy to oblige, Sugah.”

  Thor laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Mikki took the glass from his hand, and placed it on his head. She smiled slyly, then jumped into the air, spinning two full rotations before landing. It happened in the blink of an eye, surprising Thor. Mikki’s feet barely touched the floor before she began a series of backflips, stopping at the doorway. She curtsied with a smile, placing the glass on the floor in front of her. “You do that,” she said, then sent the glass sliding across the smooth mahogany floor like a shuffleboard puck with her foot. It came to rest two inches from Thor’s left foot, without so much a slight wobble.

  He stared at the glass a moment, then smiled. He looked to the doorway to tell Mikki he never felt her snatch it from the top of his head, but she was gone. “She’s been practicing,” he said to Bryndis. He grabbed the glass, and headed toward the kitchen. Bryndis must have known he still felt a little woozy; she kept at his side step for step.

  “She’s trying to impress you,” the Icelandic woman said. “She sees you push yourself, so she pushes herself. Before the shit hit the fan – as you put it so eloquently – Mikki was the best there was. I think she needs to hear you tell her, now and then, that she still has it.”

  “She’s still got it,” Thor corrected her.

  “That’s what I said.” Her eyes flashed a warning. She spoke three languages fluently, and hated to be corrected on any of them.

  “I can do that,” Thor said. He took a few more steps, then asked: “Why was Iona crying?”

  Bryndis stopped, and he turned to see her staring at him blankly. “If you really don’t know,” she said, her voice as cold as the polar ice caps, “then she was right. You are a fool man.” She shook her head, then walked away.

  Women! If Thor lived to be a thousand, he would never understand any of them.