by P. W. Child
“What the fuck?” his words came muffled inside his helmet as the two bikes simply tailed him by a few inches on each side, but making no effort in overtaking him. Jan knew trouble when he saw it and he slowed down a little to test them. At the sight of his brake lights, they slowed down and he knew that bad things were happening. The best thing to do on the deserted, dark road after midnight would be to outrun them. There was no other choice, really, so he geared back and pumped the throttle. His machine jumped forward and he leaned forward to get less resistance from the wind. At 200km per hour, he prayed to the gods that there were no cars or sharp turns ahead. Jan had never before taken this particular road. He checked his mirrors and watched their headlights grow smaller behind him.
“Whoo-hoo!” he screamed inside the helmet, almost fogging up the inside with his breath. His Honda screamed down the road past Danderhall and he knew he had to evade them while h was ahead. Seeing a turn-off to his right, Jan slowed down and turned into The Wisp, a narrow road bordering the residential area of Danderhall. He passed a few houses and now he found himself uncertain as to whether he would park somewhere and wait it out – or to speed ahead and hope to lose his tails. Adrenaline urged the spooked biker to get to his brethren as soon as possible, no matter what, or who, was chasing him. Common sense told him to employ patience and wait. In the deserted part of The Wisp, past the slumbering houses with the dark windows, there was enough brush to hide him. Surely his hunters would not spend all night combing the bushes and trees over a few miles to find him. It was the most viable choice.
He sped up again, making sure to read the signs in the road so that he would not get lost by this detour.
Behind him, they appeared again in the distance. His heart sank, but he was well ahead of them. It would be easy to outrun them before they could ever catch up from the turn-off far behind him, because the fog that rolled across the lay of the land now formed a convenient shroud between him and them. Clouding their vision of him was a blessing he saw as a chance to make his break. The thoughts of broth and brotherhood now left him and took a step back for his concerns of survival. He pushed through the mist, the road barely visible because of the white obscurity. It was dangerous to ride like this, but Jan had greater danger in pursuit. He reckoned it was the two strangely static bikers at the bar, but he had no idea what they would want from him, or better yet, why they did not do their worst in the parking area already.
Jan was wide awake now. He did not recall ever being this vigilant in his entire life, not even when he was involved in a gun running gang 15 years before in Lebanon. His eyes stretched, as if it would aid his vision in the thickness of the fog in the road. In the mirrors, he could not see the other lights anymore and it lent him some comfort, but he had learned many times before not to take such solace for granted before he was safely within his own camp. As he passed the lonely pastures and glanced in quick successions toward the eerie black shapes of the bushes that flanked the road, he felt a small measure of relief for his escape. As he put more distance between them, Jan began to speculate on their motive.
A jerk jolted his head violently and he caught his breath for a moment. Under him, his machine choked, jerking and stalling. It lost power at an alarming rate, no matter what he attempted to remedy the situation. A few seconds later it chugged and was drained completely of its life. Rattling to a halt, the Honda shuddered and Jan immediately realized that his fuel line was tampered with. Either that or his fuel was syphoned. He rolled onto the shoulder of the road and pushed his dead horse into the brush as not to be detected.
There was a deathly silence that made his ears hiss as he removed his helmet. The icy cold wind brushed over his ginger hair and gripped the back of his neck in a frightful grasp. He could hear the night gust wail through the trees and it stirred the rusted old signage of a nearby building site. How melancholic! Jan felt his heart pound wildly. He was terrified of the dark, even more of being stranded in it. He had no light apart from a Zippo, which was useless in this wind.
“That’s just fucking great!” he exclaimed in the heavy darkness, where the moon occasionally peeked through the dark clouds just long enough to reveal his desolation to him. Maybe if he talked out loud, it would scare off whatever denizens of the dark thought him to be prey. They would think he was confident. They would think of him as tough and unperturbed by his predicament. This he convinced himself of in a childlike effort to ignore his impending terror. He plucked his cell phone from his jacket and called Alex, but his friend’s phone was on voicemail.
“Alex, when you get this, call me. I’m just outside Danderhall and my bike broke down. Oh, and I have someone following me. I think I lost them, but still. I don’t like this shit one bit, mate,” he spoke through the disturbance of the wind in his microphone. “Just…call me when you get this, man.” Then Jan tried one of his other brothers, ecstatic that this time he got a ring tone. After a long wait, he answered, but as Jan replied, his phone lost signal and the call was cut off.
“Jeee-zus!” he cried out, threatening to crush his phone with his tightening grip.
The low rumble of an engine haunted the oblivion of mist around him. It was coming down the road, but he could discern that it was not the sound of motorcycles. The hum was that of a car. Jan contemplated flagging the car for help, but he knew nobody would be daft enough to stop here in the midnight fog for a stranger appearing from the dark side of the road with his arms outstretched.
From the curtain of white fog, two spots grew bigger on approach, growing brighter as it pierced the creeping ghost mist on the ground. The car slowed down some distance before it reached him, staying hidden. Somewhere away, the engine idled, the sound deafening as it echoed through the almost silent night. It was driving very slowly, progressing gradually toward where Jan was. At once, it occurred to him: the occupants were looking for something. The vehicle moved too slowly for driving and too fast for a turn-off or parking.
‘My god, they must be looking for me!’ the thought penetrated his fear receptors and he fell to his knees in the long grass just as the car came into view, right next to him. Its straight six purred like a baby predator as it crept past him. Jan gasped. It was the car from the bar, the one with the three silhouettes next to the arguing couple’s.
A scrawny, bald man had his head outside his rolled down window, scrutinizing the surroundings. They had almost past Jan when his cell phone suddenly lit up. Alex called back.
“There he is!” the man shouted, and within seconds two others jumped from the car to apprehend the unfortunate motorcyclist. Jan could not do much to fend them off. His switchblade had no effect on the giant brute who accompanied the thin bald man with the fidgety hands, who stood twitching his fingers as Jan was subdued.
“Get him in the car, Gunter,” he smirked. “I wanted the one in the hospital, but since he was discharged, we’d have to make do with one of the pawns.”
Chapter 12
Thursday – 11.40am
Val walked through the busy Chambers Street, late, as always. Even by her standards, she was late and that was saying something. By the time she walked into The Tower, the restaurant was filled with people and she had to take her time to locate Sam and Nina by a far window, looking out over the city streets below. She cringed a little when she saw their empty plates, denoting that they had elected to order in her absence and had subsequently already dined, waiting for her to arrive.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, you two,” she panted when she reached the table.
“No worries. The alcohol here is excellent. Just wish I could afford a glass so I could judge for myself,” Sam jested as he stood up to pull Val’s chair out for her.
“Don’t listen to him, Val,” Nina said, raising her eyebrow at Sam, “as always, I am buying.”
Val snickered.
“Yeah, it pays to be the millionaire’s pet,” Sam winked, and this time Nina smiled, sincerely amused.
“What are you having?” Nina asked, p
assing Val a menu.
“Oh, I’m not hungry, thanks Nina. I’ll have a brandy, though,” Val smiled, and shook her head at Sam’s cheerful support in the form of a yelp that had her laughing in an instant.
“Behave yourself, Cleave,” Nina said as she hailed a waiter and pointed to her pick on the menu, “Three, please.”
She looked at Val, staring out the window. Nina wished she knew what her new acquaintance was thinking. Her eyes ran along the biker lady’s neck line and fingers, noticing no exotic or rare jewelry today. It was odd. She knew Val always wore something antique.
“Excuse me, I have to go to the Boys Room, ladies,” Sam smiled charmingly and left for the men’s restroom.
“He is really handsome,” Val remarked as she watched Sam walk away. “Not my type, but darling for a girl like you.”
Nina gave her a good hard look. “Not wearing that beautiful piece today?”
“Oh you,” Val smiled, tapping the back of Nina’s hand bashfully. “Remind me to get you something similar from Christmas.”
‘I bet you could get me the chest piece Nefertiti wore to her first shindig, right?’ Nina thought as she cocked her head to the side, unable to reply readily. Again, Val seemed distracted momentarily by the street below, as if she was looking for something.
“What is wrong?” Nina asked.
“When are we going to see the exhibition?” Val asked without looking at the beautiful historian. Nina’s eyes flared at the question. Once more, Val was making it so obvious that she was eager to study the inside of a museum where another Viking collection was kept. There was no doubt in Nina’s mind that Val was not just there to see the exhibit. She had every intention to keep her eye on the biker, to not leave her side for a second.
“Soon,” Nina replied, as the drinks were placed.
“Good. I cannot stay too long. My husband is a menace. He needs adult supervision at all times,” Val laughed nervously. Something was up and Nina had a keen nose for it.
“Has he healed up?” Nina asked, playing the feigning game again.
“Oh, yes…yes,” Val nodded and took a swig of her drink, “he is doing fine, thanks for asking.”
Nina tried not to smile at the predictable behavior of the enigmatic woman. All she knew was that she was about to unveil something monumental, something that was going to make the news all over the world and she was going to be responsible, along with Sam, for exposing the culprits.
“Mrs. Joutsen?” a female voice cut the suspense.
“Yes?” Val said, surprised.
“There is a call for you in the manager’s office. It is apparently quite urgent,” the assistant manageress said.
“I see,” Val replied, reluctant to get up, frowning at Nina with a shrug. “Only my husband knows I am here,” she told Nina as she stood up, looking very uncomfortable. “He would call me on my cell, wouldn’t he?” she asked no-one in particular. Val ran her open hands down her thighs, wiping the perspiration on her jeans and then she eyed the lady who summoned her walking toward the office.
Nina frowned at Val’s hesitation. She was right, Nina thought, it was too suspicious. The woman’s husband would not have called her on the landline of the establishment. And if he did, why? Val took her purse and excused herself. As Sam came back, he passed her with a quizzical expression and looked at Nina to explain, but she only shrugged.
“Marital bliss,” Sam motioned with his head toward the manager’s office entrance after Nina told him about the phone call. Nina giggled briefly but he could see that she was worried, a look of anticipation on her face. Nina’s nails chimed against the glass she was hugging with her palms. Deep in thought, she tapped her fingertips rhythmically.
Suddenly, a few men seated by the window jumped up and pointed down to the street outside. A commotion followed from the surrounding tables as well as one by one, people in the booths came running to the window to see what was happening, including Sam and Nina.
From the building next to The Tower, three individuals dressed in black jeans, black T-shirts and baseball hats raced out into the street toward three waiting motorcycles across from the building entrance.
“My god, Sam!” Nina cried, “They are robbing the museum!”
Val was nowhere to be seen. She was absent from the manager’s office.
“Stay here, Nina,” Sam shouted as he made for the door, “I don’t want you to get hurt!”
“Sam!” she yelled back at him, at first protesting, but then she realized the immediate danger and decided to rather ask the manageress about the phone call Val received. Sam raced out of the restaurant.
The bikes bolted down Chambers Street, swinging as they barely missed pedestrians. The robbers thundered their way to the junction at South Bridge. When Sam got to the museum, the security staff stopped him outside, preventing him from getting in while they waited for the police to arrive. He watched the three Ducatis round the corner and disappear, leaving only the sound of their speeding engines within earshot until that too, vanished in the distance.
“What did they steal?” Sam asked.
“As far as we can tell they did not get away with much,” one of the security guards panted. He placed his hands on his hips and caught his breath. “We stopped them from getting to the new exhibit, of course, but they got the chess pieces. Bastards.”
“The chess pieces?” Sam asked casually, hoping the guard would get lost in conversation and yield practical information.
“Aye. The Lewis chess pieces. Bastards got all eleven of ‘em. Gone. Kaput.” The guard shook his head as he stared down the street where they made their escape, as if he wished they would come back.
The police arrived at the scene and the entire building was evacuated, just in case there were more robbers in other areas of the National Museum of Scotland.
“Lewis chess pieces. Lewis. Lewis,” Sam repeated over and over as he made his way back to The Tower to meet Nina and ask her what significance they held before he forgot the name.
“Lewis. Lewis,” he came up the stairs to the restaurant, reciting the name in fear of forgetting it.
Nina was standing by the window, looking out over the street. She was elated to see that Sam had not been hurt and they sat down once more.
“What did I tell you?” she asked calmly, gloating through a sense of defeat for not thwarting the robbery after all. “Val disappears and BOOM!” For a long while, she pierced Sam’s eyes with her look of self-assurance. He said nothing. She was right, he had to concede.
“Lewis,” he said simply.
“What?”
“Lewis. Ring a bell? Lewis chess pieces?” he asked, feeling a little stupid for not knowing what they were. As if he did not feel inadequate enough by having to admit that Nina was probably correct in her assumptions of Val, he now had to feel like an illiterate fool in the Great and All-Knowing Historian’s playground.
Nina’s face sank in astonishment, knowing what they were and their significance. Now she knew why Val would go after them. Impatient and extremely curious, Sam urged, “Well? Are you going to tell me?”
“The Lewis chess pieces were discovered in the bay of Uig, so they also take the name, Uig chessmen. I think they were found on the Isle of Lewis in the early 1800’s. A full chess set carved in walrus ivory from, shit, the 12th century?” she asked herself, looking up at the ceiling to organize her thoughts.
“Alright, so why would Val have such a hard-on for them?” Sam asked.
“I’m not sure. They are presumably Viking related. It is debated that they originate from Trondheim, because the Outer Hebrides were ruled by Norway, like a lot of other Scottish isles. But…” she pursed her lips in thought, recalling what she knew about the artifacts, “…there was opposition from some lads from Iceland who claimed that the chess pieces came from Iceland.” Nina shrugged, “That’s as much as I know about them. That’s all they stole?”
“Apparently they would have gotten into other exhibitions, had it
not been for the swift response of the security team of the National Museum of Scotland,” he announced majestically.
“What the hell would Val want with the chess pieces?” Nina pondered out loud, but Sam promptly hushed her, looking past her at someone.
“What?” she asked.
“Just shut up and wait. Keep your thoughts inside your pretty little head,” Sam smiled and winked, speaking in a remarkably low tone. Before Nina could question him, Val sat down next to her. Nina could almost not conceal her surprise.
“Hey! Where have you been? We want to get some dessert,” she lied confidently.
“I had to go to the Ladies restroom after I completed the phone call. It was Gunnar,” she smiled awkwardly, but she looked a lot calmer than before. Nina and Sam exchanged looks.
“What is all the hullabaloo about out here?” Val asked innocently. Sam noticed Nina’s dampened scoff and shook his head surreptitiously at her.
“The Museum got robbed right in front of us, would you believe,” Nina answered coldly, abandoning any hint to subtlety. Her dark eyes nailed Val’s for a moment, but the biker woman just turned to look out the window to the gathering crowd and police presence down in the street.
“Now we won’t be able to see the exhibit?” she asked in a tone of mild disappointment. “I was really looking forward to seeing that.”
“There will be a next time, I’m sure,” Sam said plainly and looked at the fiery stare of Nina, her patience waning rapidly. He could see that she was set on just saying it, sooner or later. Still, she held her tongue for now, as Val sat down. She kept looking toward the manager’s office, much like an unfaithful wife’s paranoia when meeting her lover in a public place. Nina turned to see what she was looking at.
“What is the matter, Val?” she asked sharply.
“Nothing,” Val replied with an unconvincing smile. “Oh my god, I have to stop drinking these,” she said as she lifted the bottled water, her second bottle, “I have to pee again.” Her tone was playful as she rolled her eyes and stood up, but Nina was not letting her out of her sight again.
