The Celtic Serpent

by S. Robertson

  In the cacophony of words one of the women could be heard in a raised voice saying, “What an opportunity! This could be a new career.” Another remarked, “The pay is terrific. Just think what we could do with $5,000 smackers.” Another, in a lower voice, asked, “Do you think we need a lawyer?” The question went unanswered. Kari-Ann felt uneasy. “His eyes and those long bony tapping fingers bother me,” she said to herself. But when the rest of her friends agreed to proceed, she acquiesced.

  Tony joined the women to await their decision.

  Kari-Ann spoke for the group. “It’s agreed. We’re interested. What’s next?”

  “I’m delighted,” said Tony with a smarmy grin. “I’ll come back tomorrow evening, same time, with contracts.” To stifle any complications he went on, “Now these are relatively small roles so you won’t need the cost of a lawyer. Tomorrow, I’ll clarify, in writing, your roles, confirm the payment, and give you a few screening dates.” After shaking their hands to seal the agreement he turned and left the bar.

  The following evening, true to his word, he arrived with four worthless contracts. The women were delighted to be assured they would be in a critical scene, the time assessed on the number of possible retakes. Tony assured them “The time might be even less if it’s an easy run.” The simplicity and lucrative rewards seemed almost too good to be true. Once signatures were obtained and copies distributed, Tony responded with, “Congratulations! Let’s seal this with drinks.” He signaled the waiter to the table.

  Sipping his drink slowly he complimented himself and, showing no outward signs of his underlying disdain for these women, he contemplated, “How dumb can you get. Not one asked the title of the movie, the name of the production company, what previous movies I produced, or even who the stars are. They’re either so dense or so totally self-absorbed that being conned never occurred to them. It’s fortunate that everyone isn’t as gullible or this country could be sold to the best salesman with deep pockets. As for me, I’m doing fine. I’ve gained their confidence and can now make my next move.”

  Later, as the foursome prepared to leave, Tony asked, “I wonder, Kari-Ann if I might talk to you alone about another matter.”

  Unguarded after a few drinks and warming to Tony, Kari-Ann looked at her watch and replied, “Sure it’s still early.”

  Tony escorted her to a different table, for two, in the corner and began. “Kari-Ann, I wonder if you might be interested in a small speaking role?”

  Kari-Ann, flattered, hesitated, and finally responded, “I’m not sure. I’ve never been in a stage production even in high school.”

  Reassuring her, he replied, “There’s nothing to it. I’ll coach you. You’re a shoe-in for this role of an international fashion model who the leading actor chats with while waiting for his girl friend. You’ll have two to three lines. This might open doors to something else. It’s happened before. I’ll pay you an additional $15,000 giving you $20,000 for two days work. That’s a pretty good deal. What do you say?”

  The extra money registered. Kari Ann mulled over the offer, focusing on the positives, “Finally, I’ll get some recognition for my looks. In addition, you never know. Look at the global response to that older UK female singer. She’s raking in millions now. This could be my ticket to a new life and freedom from dull Morgan. Imagine me a star.” Flashing camera lights whirled in her imagination. After a few minutes she replied, “Sure, why not.” Relaxing, she continued. “Will I have to sign another contract?”

  “Yes,” replied Tony now seizing the opening, “I’ll bring another contract tomorrow night or better still, I could drop it off at your home.”

  “No!” snapped Kari-Ann, startled at the possible conflict this might mean to the annoying surveillance on Morgan. “I’ll meet you here. My place is not good for meetings right now,” providing no further explanation.

  Unruffled by the turndown, Tony continued, “No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow evening here about eight.” Almost as an afterthought, as he rose to leave he added, “I hear your husband is a well known historian. I have some material in this movie which could use his expertise. I’ll not only add an extra $5,000 to your contract for getting him interested but I’ll pay him handsomely as a part-time movie advisor. What do you think?”

  Kari-Ann didn’t recall her husband’s occupation had ever been discussed at Rosie’s. But, nevertheless, she was adamant Morgan would have no place in her new life and replied abruptly, “My husband’s too busy. I’m sure he has no interest in the movie business.” Seeing the frustrated look on Tony’s face, and not wanting to upset her movie debut, she became more conciliatory, “How about you give me your business card and I’ll present the offer to Morgan. Don’t expect much but I’ll try.”

  Tony weighed his words carefully and casually responded, “No problem. You can tell me tomorrow night when we sign your second contract whether he’s the least bit interested. It’s a big city. If it’s not for him, I’ll look elsewhere.”

  Thinking of his offer, Kari-Ann interjected, “Will I get the $5,000 for trying?”

  Antonino-Tony gritted his teeth, but replied with a broad grin, “Sure Kari-Ann, why not.” Annoyed at her blatant greed, he contemplated, “What the hell, there’s no actual money involved. This dimwit may be able to convince her academic partner to accept this scam. Better still, she might even entice him to come tomorrow night to chat about it. Then I’ll make my move on Morgan.”

  Kari-Ann left the bar troubled, wondering how she was going to reignite her relationship with Morgan without making him suspicious. “I deserve this break,” she surmised as she gunned the car engine. “I have to please Tony, he’s my ticket to a glamorous life.”

  * * *

  Boston: The Weston Estate

  After a short flight from Charlottetown to Halifax, Angi and Vette boarded the 8:35am Air Canada flight to Montreal where they would transfer to another Air Canada flight scheduled to arrive in Boston at 12:48pm. Storing their hand luggage in the upper bins, they buckled in to begin their trip to the United States. To prevent unwanted questions at Customs in transporting an antique, Angi had removed the medallion from its container and stored it with her regular jewelry in the blue travel pouch which nestled in a pocket of her nylon handbag.

  As Vette settled, she asked “By the way, Angi, how well do you know this guy, Wolfram?”

  “Not well. I met him once when I was fifteen. He arrived on the Island with his grandmother to visit Gran. They stayed one day. As a teenager I didn’t give it much thought. My recollection is that he was pleasant, about ten years older than me, and I think, he said he was a policeman.”

  “That’s pretty slim. If true, I’d be happy with a few extra police on this caper. It’s the mounting unknowns and the appearance of a criminal element that rattles me.”

  Angi continued, “Gran had so many people coming and going at the B&B that two more on a short summer stay didn’t really stand out. Now that you ask I am beginning to recall some bits and pieces. Wolfram was tall, with jet black hair, a quiet manner and he asked a lot of questions. He was interested in my Celtic harp, an instrument he wasn’t familiar with. We talked quite a bit about music. I sensed that he knew more but he never divulged whether he played an instrument. His grandmother was tall, elegantly dressed and spoke with a Boston accent. My recollection is that Wolfram didn’t have an accent. That’s it. With so little, I just hope I can recognize him when we land.”

  “So do I,” replied Vette. “So far your description could fit thousands of men in their late thirties.”

  Wolfram arrived at Terminal E at Logan’s International Airport heading straight for the Arrivals Hall. He checked his watch. “The Air Canada flight should have landed by now, but I’ve got plenty of time, they’ll be held up getting through the Passport and Customs ritual.” He zeroed in on a comfortable chair with a clear view of the exit gate. “For a Monday this place is hopping.”

  “I wonder how much she’s changed in ten years.”
He began to recall that summer on Prince Edward Island. Out of the blue his grandmother insisted she had to visit her friend in Canada, a relationship that perplexed him because this Gordon woman had no family or business connection. Now he knew why.

  Just after they arrived at Nellie’s B&B, a slim teenage girl, in worn blue jeans and a faded T-shirt returned from running. With flushed cheeks she gave a quick greeting, “Hi, you must be the Americans Gran was expecting.” His first impression was that she was bright, rather pretty, and definitely different. “I remember that long platinum braid down her back which was instantly forgotten when she removed her sunglasses to reveal a pair of spellbinding emerald green eyes. She acquiesced easily to her grandmother’s request to give me a tour of the city while the elders talked.”

  “Angi spoke glowingly of her beloved town as we walked around the Charlottetown harbor and zig-zagged through quaint streets with Victorian houses and stone built churches. The city reminded me of New England. I can’t remember if I even mentioned that I was a policeman. In the process of a couple of hours I learned she was born in New York but grew up in Canada. She liked school, loved running and enjoyed playing a Celtic harp, an instrument I never heard of. Back then, she was on the verge of entering university to pursue her nursing career in Halifax, a major city in another province. I later heard from my grandmother that she graduated, and became an Emergency Room Director in some teaching hospital. All that aside, she’s arriving today following the tragic death of her grandmother, aware of the professional hit on the assailant and caught up in a web, as we all are, of some ancient mystery with a dangerous assassin on the loose.”

  When Angi gave Tyloar and Gracelyn Harrison’s name and address as her contact in Boston, their Passport and Customs process suddenly changed. “Apparently, the Harrisons are well known,” she thought. “I’m grateful for that.”

  Wolfram spotted her blond hair as she entered the Hall. He noted she stood three to four inches above her companion who was about five foot three. Momentarily, his sight fell on the second woman. Angi provided few details on her travelling companion when they made arrangements for her trip. “I thought it might be another nurse but that’s no nurse,” Wolfram said to himself. “That disciplined gaze and surveillance attitude means she might be police………what’s the name again………..yah, the RCMP. Well, good on them! Someone else is growing uneasy over this medallion affair. I’ll be glad for some trained input. There are far too many amateurs, and some are elderly. I’ll leave it to Angi to reveal her companion’s credentials. They have only hand luggage, a sure sign they intend on a short stay.”

  Angi recognized Wolfram in the distance and waved. She then observed his labored walk as he headed their way. As he drew closer, she said to herself, “He’s certainly disciplined. The only symptom of pain is his clinched jaw and those steely blue eyes.” As he reached them, she spoke first, “Hi Wolfram, it’s been a long time since we toured Charlottetown. A lot has changed since then.”

  “Welcome, Angi,” said Wolfram with a firm hand shake. Then he continued. “My condolences, too bad your first visit to our fair city is under such circumstances.” Turning, he acknowledged her companion with, “This must be Vette, your friend.” A closer inspection confirmed his initial assessment.

  “Yes,” replied Angi, making no effort to provide any more information.

  Vette, while shaking his hand, stared past him giving the hall a rapid sweep, displaying visible agitation on their lingering.

  “I see you have little luggage, so let’s head right to my car which is parked nearby. There are some advantages to being disabled these days.” He led the way to the nearest entrance.

  Vette wasn’t happy with the speed of their departure from the airport terminal. She kept reassuring herself that likely the assailant had yet to target Angi or Wolfram. “But that’s just fools thinking,” she said to herself. “He could be lingering in that crowd over there, calculating his next move. I’m still assuming it’s a man, these days it could just as easily be a woman with such ruthless instincts.”

  When they reached Wolfram’s blue Ford Taurus, Angi placed her bag with Vette in the back seat and joined Wolfram in the front.

  Unfamiliar with the city, Angi and Vette said little as Wolfram wove through the noonday traffic. After ten minutes he asked, certain Angi’s watch dog was fully aware of the growing storm. “Angi, can I talk freely about this case?”

  Without hesitation Angi, knowing what he meant, relied, “Certainly, Vette has been with me since my grandmother’s death.”

  “Well, in that case,” said Wolfram, “this afternoon I am returning to the airport to pick up two more Guardians; one from Australia, the other from New Zealand. They were contacted when you phoned to tell us your grandmother had been attacked. A decision was later made for them to travel to the USA when your grandmother died. These women, and my grandmother, keep mumbling something about the ‘coming times’. Angi, do you have any idea what that means?”

  “Sorry, Wolfram, I’m as much in the dark as you. Gran kept saying the same thing in hospital before she died. Perhaps these women can help us. I’m still struggling with how something that occurred in the 1600s could be relevant today. I suspect that Gran’s death triggered something and that this madman, whether he understands all the details or not, is willing to kill to possess something. As you can see I’m unclear about an awful lot and, at present, I’m still recovering from my grandmother’s sudden death.” She was not about to add the uncertainty over her own future.

  “Angi, I wish we had more time but unfortunately this case keeps growing more complex by the day. This evening we’ll pool our information, however deficient it might be. In the meantime, I’m going to drop you off where we will stay for the next week or so. I see you and Vette have planned a short stay.”

  Looking out the window Angi and Vette began to note the expensive district Wolfram had entered, and before they had time to comment, the car eased gently through stately stone pillars, one with 400 in expensive lettering. The single slate-colored driveway expanded into a circular parking area in front of an elegant three-storey Georgian Colonial mansion. The white trimmed windows stood out in stark contrast to the red brick facing. Four white pillars embraced the dark wooden front doors.

  A quiet gasp was heard from the back seat.

  “This is magnificent,” was all Angi could muster, feeling suddenly impoverished with the limited clothing in her hand luggage.

  Before they had time to ask, Wolfram explained, “This is not where I or my grandparents live. It was decided that a neutral location for this gathering might be prudent. So, George and Agnes Neiman, friends of the family, gave us permission to use their residence while they were off on a European trip. The place comes with many amenities including their own staff.”

  As the three approached the ornate wooden and crystal front entrance, the door opened and they were greeted by a casually dressed individual in a dark navy suit and white open neck shirt. “Welcome, these must be the Canadians.”

  Wolfram stepped forward to make the introductions. “Yes, Charles, this is Angi Talismann and Vette Gallant,” and turning to his two companions, “this is Charles, the butler.”

  “Again, welcome,” said Charles, “we’ve been expecting you. We’re here to do everything to make your stay in Boston comfortable.”

  Turning briefly to Wolfram, he gave a quick order, “Wolfram, you’re wanted in the kitchen.

  “Thanks Charles,” said Wolfram as he disappeared to the rear of the building.

  Once Wolfram was gone Charles turned to the women, saying, “I’ll be escorting you to your bedrooms. Once you are settled, just make your way to the poolside at the back of the house for sandwiches and refreshments.”

  The butler made no effort to take their carry-on bags but led them up the curved stairway to their second-floor rooms. As they ascended, both women inspected their picture-perfect environment. On the way Vette whispered to Angi, “The u
nexpected perks of this case are amazing.”

  Charles took Angi to her room first. As he opened the door she was greeted by an artistic blend of white, pink and green, everything selected with the utmost care and expense right down to the fresh flowers in the vase on the table next to the window. The broad windows provided a scenic view of the entrance gardens with a squint of water in the distance. “It’s like a magazine photo,” she thought, “a far cry from Gran’s practical B&B. I wonder if it’s as cozy,” as she gently placed her handbag and travel luggage on the nearest chair. Later she would discover that Vette had an adjacent bedroom in a yellow palette. Each bedroom came with an ensuite bathroom.

  As Angi unpacked she wondered if her sparse attire would fit the setting. “I’m glad I took extra blouses to go with these slacks and single skirt. It’ll have to do. Anyway, I’m only here to deliver this medallion to these older Guardians.” She took care to return the medallion to its proper case and securely placed it in a special compartment in her hand bag. She changed into relaxing clothes and went looking for the pool. Located at the back of the mansion near the tennis court, she found herself alone, and stretched out on a lounge chair to wait. “Time for some Vitamin D, the flights tired me. The side effects of this illness seem relentless.”