by Rob Jones
Lea pulled Martha’s small ring box from her pocket and gently pushed the lid open as she slid the box across the table.
Javier stared down into the little ring box. His face straightened and for a few tense moments Lea was scared she had somehow lost the precious artefact, but then a broad grin appeared on the tanned face of the Spanish millionaire and he began to nod his head with unmitigated pleasure.
“I see you have in your possession exactly what Sir Richard described.” He carefully picked up the small invisible bead and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Its strange, watery appearance sparkled for a moment, yet Hawke could only see the indentations made by the bead as it pressed into Javier’s fingers and pushed the blood away from the surface of his fingertips. The object itself was gone from the world.
“What do you think?” Hawke asked. “Is it the same as the ones you have in your collection?”
Javier replaced the bead and clipped the lid shut. “It is exactly the same, yes.”
“Can we see the others?” Hawke asked.
“You may see them, yes. As you know, under the terms of Sir Richard’s agreement this small and mysterious piece of ancient history is the price of admission.” Javier smiled and slid the box into his pocket.
The Spaniard rose from the table and clapped his hands together. “Please, my friends… if you’ll follow me I will show you the collection.” He lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “Not the public collection, you understand, but the private pieces that only the family see.”
He led them away from the grand hall and down a long corridor lined with oil paintings of his predecessors. He stopped at one particularly sombre gentleman wearing a black and red slashed doublet stitched with gold thread. A rakish reticello lace collar framed a vaguely arrogant face, and topping it all off was a broadrimmed black felt hat replete with a turquoise ostrich plume pointing into the vermillion oils of the background.
“Bet he knew his way around a galleon,” Lea said.
“Or a bordello,” Scarlet whispered from the back of the party.
Javier stopped and looked proudly at the painting. “This is Francisco de la Cosa, my ninth great-grandfather. He was the man who started our family dynasty back in the middle of the seventeenth century.”
“He was a treasure hunter?” Victoria said, admiringly.
Scarlet stepped forward. “Someone say treasure?”
Javier looked confused. “No… not really. Francisco was a merchant who made his wealth importing gold and silver from the new world, and also cocoa beans, not to mention ivory and pepper from Africa. He was a very successful man and definitely not a treasure hunter.” As he spoke he beamed with pride and then turned to Scarlet and lowered his voice. “And as far as I know, he never visited any bordellos.”
Hawke gave Scarlet a disapproving glance as Javier started off once again down the corridor. They turned a corner and began to ascend a narrow stairwell that was built into a tower on the northeast corner of the castillo. “What you are about to see is only available to the family, and even then only my immediate relatives. I hope you realize that this is a great privilege, afforded only by the fact you have brought me this bead.”
At the top of the stairwell Javier stopped before a heavy wooden door and took a large iron key from his pocket. He put the key in the lock and looked at each of them in turn. “And even with the bead it still took the incredible persuasive capability of Sir Richard to get you this far.”
He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.
Inside was darkness, but then he flicked an old light switch and several naked low-watt light bulbs came to life and cast a greasy, orange light over the room. It smelled of dust and neglect.
Hawke followed Javier inside and the others joined him in single file. The room was not impressive but instead redolent of an unused loft filled with family junk. Three narrow windows were shuttered up and several large wooden tea and coffee chests were stacked haphazardly along the far wall.
“So this is where the magic happens?” Scarlet said.
This time, Javier ignored her comment and moved to one of the coffee chests. “In here is what you seek.”
He patiently opened the lid and pulled an old hessian sack off the top of the contents. “As you will see – or not in this case – the item you desire to see is most impressive.”
He moved what looked like an old blunderbuss out of the way and pulled a cloak from the chest, holding it up to them. From their perspective it looked like a simple garment made from some kind of coarse linen, but then Javier draped the cloak over his shoulder. Hawke could hardly believe what he was looking at when the Spaniard disappeared from view leaving only the bottom of his legs visible.
“Oh wow,” Ryan said, making no attempt to hide his amazement. “I have got to get myself one of those babies.”
Scarlet gave him a disapproving look. “I dread to think what you would do with it.”
“Impressive, no?” Javier said with pride. “As you see, I have only a fragment, but it is still a remarkable thing!”
Hawke studied the cloak without making comment. Javier was still visible to him but in a strange, distorted way. Somehow, Hawke was able to look right through the Spaniard and see the shuttered windows and the tea chests on the far wall, and yet he was still conscious that someone was in front of him.
“It’s like you’re surrounded by ripples or something,” Lea said.
“Exactamente!” Javier cried out. “You see, the beads somehow bend the light around themselves without creating any kind of shadow. They are remarkable… magical! I can tell you my brothers and I had much fun with this cloak when we were children playing here in the castle.”
“This is… outstanding!” Gunnar said, taking step closer. “This must be Sigurd’s cloak!”
Victoria stared in awe. “This is crazy.”
Ryan nodded his head to show his agreement. “But it’s not as crazy as it looks. I was reading about this on the plane from Iceland. Modern science has developed a device known as a Rochester Cloak which uses a clever arrangement of lenses to bend the light around an object so that the person viewing the object simply can’t see it.”
Scarlet sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Hawke asked.
“Wherever there’s a Ryan, there’s a but ten seconds later.”
Ryan smirked. “But… the big elephant in the room is that the Rochester Cloak is not only brand new technology but it isn’t anywhere near as effective as what we’re all looking at right now. This is just the craziest blend of old and new tech I’ve ever seen! I mean, look at it – on the one hand we have an old garment made of what looks like animal skin and a very crude linen, and on the other hand we have a cloaking technology frankly decades ahead of current level of scientific knowledge.”
Javier slipped off the cloak and handed it to Lea.
“What are these strange markings on the inside?”
Javier shook his head. “I don’t know – my father told me they were Runic script but I don’t think so. I had them studied by experts and no one knows.”
“We’ll see about that,” Gunnar said taking a closer look.
“Well?” Lea asked.
“I can’t read this line here… it is similar to the Runic script in your father’s research but different somehow, but this bit is simple…” Gunnar said, suppressing a smile. “It says ‘Sigurd’. This is the Tarnkappe and that means…”
“It was more than a myth,” Hawke said. “It means Thor’s tomb and maybe even Valhalla were real.”
Ryan stepped forward and photographed the strange markings. He emailed it back to Alex without delay and then slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Scarlet looked at them both. “And that means gold, right?”
“And what’s this?” Ryan said, ignoring her.
“What have you found?” Hawke asked.
Ryan peered into the chest and whistled low and long. “Something t
hat might have just changed everything.”
CHAPTER TEN
Hawke and the others watched as Ryan pulled a piece of wood from the chest. It resembled a solid hardwood like oak or ash, and had been smoothed by the passing of countless centuries.
Javier shrugged his shoulders. “Just an old stick.”
Ryan gave him a look of disbelief and examined the wood.
“Are you for real? This is no stick!”
“Of course it is!”
Scarlet lowered her voice. “This guy’s a real Basque-et case…”
“Oh please,” Lea said.
“What is it, mate?” Hawke said, ignoring them.
“Remember what Gunnar read in Lea’s dad’s research notes? Well to me this looks like an axe handle that’s been split in two down the vertical axis – look here how it has the ridges at the top – this is where the blade would have gone, and this here…” his voice trailed away as he peered more closely at the handle.
“What do you see, Ry?” Lea said.
“It’s probably the most precious thing in this entire castle.”
Javier looked bemused and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just an old piece of wood, as I say – a stick, a common piece of wood dumped up here by my father no doubt!”
“It’s hardly a piece of wood,” Ryan said, astonished. “If I’m right, and let’s face it I’m never wrong… then what we have here is the missing half of one of the most famous battle-axes in the world – the axe of Baldr!”
Gunnar’s eyes widened like saucers. “This is incredible! When I read the reference in the notes I never believed we would really find it.”
Hawke turned to the Icelandic scholar. “Didn’t you say the other half was in Sweden?
“It’s currently in Stockholm,” Ryan said as he ran his fingertips over a series of strange lines carved into the handle. “And these here…”
“What?” Lea said. “Those scratches?”
“I don’t think they’re scratches.”
“The inscription mentioned in the research!” Gunnar said
“Right,” Ryan continued. “If this is what I think it is, then these markings will correspond perfectly to similar scratch marks on the fragment of the axe in Stockholm, thereby completing the inscription. This is massive!”
“So where was the Stockholm half found?” Victoria asked.
Ryan turned to face them, his face unusually serious. “The axe handle in Stockholm was found at an archaeological dig in the Temple at Uppsala – Thor’s temple, right Gunnar?”
The Icelandic scholar nodded enthusiastically.
“Is that good?” Hawke asked expectantly.
Ryan shook his head “Not particularly. Everyone knows there was a center of Norse religious activity at Uppsala.”
“I don’t,” Lea said with a shoulder shrug.
“All right then, everyone who finished school knows.”
“Hey! I was dangled out the side of a freaking A380 for this team! I nearly got sucked into a bloody jet engine for this team and you’re making fun of my education!”
Gunnar cleared his throat. “Actually the temple was located at Gamla Uppsala, which means old Uppsala. Gamla is the Swedish word for old, which is why Stockholm’s old town is called Gamla stan.”
“But they only ever found half of it there?” Hawke asked.
Gunnar nodded. “Yes. The axe in Stockholm is very famous, of course – but now with this new information from your father’s research it puts a completely different complexion on it. Imagine if this really could lead us to the location of Thor’s tomb – hidden for millennia!”
“But I thought Adam of Bremen said that was in Uppsala?” Lea asked, confused.
“Keep up, Lea,” Ryan said. “Remember that our chronicler chap called Adamus Bremensis, or Adam of Bremen, wrote a handy description of the temple back in the eleventh century. That’s a real place – where the axe of Baldr was found.”
“As Gunnar here just said, darling,” Scarlet muttered.
Ryan continued. “There have been many successful archaeological digs there and they’ve found various wooden structures and evidence of ritual sacrifice as well. Adam describes it in some detail right down to how it was ‘decked in gold’ and that Thor, Wotan and Frikko all had thrones in it.”
“I’m liking the bit about ‘decked in gold’, Ryan,” Scarlet said. “Tell me more.”
“It’s a real place all right but the problem is our old one – what Adam of Bremen was describing and what these excavations have dug up is the temple of Uppsala. It’s a religious center, like the modern equivalent of a church, but what we’re looking for, and what the cryptic message on this axe handle is certainly alluding to is Thor’s tomb – they’re two entirely different things.”
“Is Thor’s tomb not Valhalla?” Lea asked.
Ryan shook his head. “Doubtful. Valhalla is where Thor would have gone after his death. His tomb would be wherever he fell in battle.”
“But how can Thor have a tomb” Victoria asked quietly. “He was a mythological figure, wasn’t he? I’m still having trouble with all of this.”
The others shared a look before Ryan spoke. “No, in a nutshell, he wasn’t mythological – or at least we don’t think so. We’ve seen proof of the existence – or at least manifestation – of other gods on earth, like Poseidon, Lei Gong the Chinese thunder god and even Osiris. As for Thor – we have no evidence yet but that’s kind of what we’re doing now. Sorry to have to break it to you like this.”
Victoria was silent for a long time and the others gave her time to process the information. “What do you mean, evidence?” she said at last.
“It’s a long story but just take our word for it,” Lea said with a smile.
“Want a drink?” Scarlet said. “I seem to recall a stash of Rioja down there that’s simply begging to be plundered, if that’s okay with you, Javier?”
Javier nodded and shrugged his shoulders.
“I think I might, yes…” Victoria said, her voice trailing away.
“So we’re one step closer to Thor’s tomb,” Hawke said.
Javier sighed deeply. “If what you say is true, then I must come with you!”
“We need to know where we’re going first,” Scarlet said.
Hawke sighed. “We’ll need the other half of the axe for that, Cairo.”
“So we’re off to Stockholm?” Gunnar said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I have a good friend there – she’ll make us very welcome!” As he spoke, Ryan handed him the handle for him to have a closer study.
“Are there pictures of the axe handle in Stockholm on the internet?” Lea asked. “We could just use those and save a shed load of time.”
Ryan shook his head “Nice try but it’s no good. There are a couple of pictures but the scratch marks on it are just too weak to be read properly. We’re going to need to see the real thing.”
Victoria slumped down on a chest. “I’m seeing now that Nate wasn’t mad after all – but if he was right and Thor was real, wouldn’t that mean his hammer was also real? If it really is some kind of Tesla coil thing, it sounds awfully dangerous to me.”
Gunnar looked anxious as he weighed the axe handle fragment in his hands.
Ryan shook his head in wonder. “Yes, very dangerous, but this is…”
“A mystery sent by God, young man,” Javier said with reverence.
“Or,’ Ryan countered, “You could argue that…”
His words were cut short by the sound of a terrific explosion emanating from somewhere far beneath them in the bottom of the castillo.
“What on earth was that?” Javier asked, his face a picture of confusion and fear.
“Sounds like we have company,” Hawke said, unsurprised.
Scarlet nodded. “I agree – but how did they know we, or that,” she said, indicating the cloak in Lea’s hands, “were here?”
“Presuming they’re looking for the cloak,” Lea said. “Could be the axe t
hey’re after. It’s front and center in Dad’s research after all and they have the flash-drive.”
A second explosion and this time they felt the entire tower shake beneath their feet.
“All questions for later,’ Hawke said, cocking his SIG. “Now it’s time for action.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Zhang Xiaoli, known to the Chinese Ministry of State Security as Agent Dragonfly, and to the Western intelligence agencies as Lexi Zhang, watched the man enter the bar. Obscured behind a pair of Gucci sunglasses and slumped down in her seat in order to use the menu for cover, she was in no danger of being seen by the man unless she wanted to be seen.
She lit a cigarette and sucked in the smoke. The curve of her lips formed a soft cushion around the tip of the filter and she winced as she drew the smoke down. She hated filtered cigarettes. Passing over the cellulose acetate of the filter imparted a slightly plastic quality to the taste of the smoke, but they were all she could find. No matter, it was time for business.
Having decided the man was alone, she sauntered across the room and stood beside him at the bar. She looked at him casually out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing a dishevelled linen jacket and had a slightly crumpled Panama hat at a jaunty angle on his head. Soft, purple bags around his eyes told her he still wasn’t sleeping at night without the assistance of his faithful Ambitropin.
“I’ll have another rum,” she said to the barman coolly, and turned to the man beside her. “What will you have, Señor Arocha?”
Arocha looked at her with tired eyes and barely any movement of the head. He was a year from retirement in the Cuban Dirección de Inteligencia. What Arocha didn’t know about the region wasn’t worth knowing, and it just so happened he was in debt to Lexi Zhang.
“I’ll have a beer,” he said flatly.
They waited in silence as the barman organized their drinks. It was a little before sunset and the atmosphere of the small bar was relaxed but even with the gentle whir of the wooden ceiling fans above their heads the humidity wasn’t pulling any punches. Lexi wondered how long this was going to take. The thing about Miguel Arocha was you never could tell what sort of mood he was in and how generous he was feeling.
