by K. T. Tomb
“What I’m about to tell you, few people know. Tell no one else about this.” She glanced at each of the guests in her home and waited for them to acknowledge her warning before she continued. “There is a dangerous society you need to be aware of: Ragnarok’s Chosen.”
Peter regarded her with one eye closed. “Ragnarok? The Norse equivalent to Armageddon?”
“Yes.” She nodded toward her husband. “We found out by accident while Dieter was in the navy. 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 while they were in some remote port. 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 wish I didn’t know what I do know or had, at the very least, been able to keep my mouth shut about it so people like you don’t show up here every so often asking questions.”
“You must have followed up on what you were told or something,” Phoe protested.
“No, I just blabbed about it too much. 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!
“I caught the three of you sneaking 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, we will settle for three hundred dollars.”
“No, three hundred is fine,” said Peter, mouthing to Phoe, at least it’s not in Euros. He pulled out his wallet and handed over three Benjamin Franklins.
Gerda checked the bills against the light to see if they were genuine. She nodded her approval and stuffed them into the pocket of her apron.
“Thank you for your visit. Good luck to you all and be safe out there.”
Chapter Eleven
The three of them were quiet during the picturesque drive back 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.” She didn’t really know that, but it was all she had to report.
“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, wondering how Simon knew that the person who had provided the information to them was a she. Besides believing that Gerda had been a huge mistake, she wasn’t feeling good about the fact that Simon knew too damned much about what was going on. She glanced over her shoulder at Jonathan with suspicion, something which was completely forgotten as Simon asked his next question.
“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 worked.”
“Yes. I do.” She looked at Peter, whose expression turned to a frown—apparently in response to her frustrated look. She attempted a weak smile.
“Where are you headed now, Phoe?” Simon asked.
“We’re going to Norway.” Which is probably where I should have started in the first place, she told herself.
“Sounds like you are on the right track... Excellent! Keep up the good work.”
She put the phone back in 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 boarded the plane, which was being prepped for their flight to Norway.
Though the journey was still a nebulous one, and what Gerda Reitz had told them might have been a complete scam, they were getting closer to Mjölnir. At least Phoe felt that way, and she sensed the same in her male counterparts as well.
“Phoe, I’m glad you asked me to join you on this,” said Peter, once the pilot had received 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, while trying to avoid their hypnotic quality. Was he mocking her? Was he about to completely shatter her expectations with some cruel joke? There was no discernible bullshit there.
“Let’s see what you think once we reach our next destination,” she said, smiling coyly. “You got anything, Jonathan?”
Since he was an extra piece of baggage that she couldn’t get rid of, Phoe had decided to make him useful. Jonathan had been furiously typing on his laptop in quest of her assignment to dig up anything and 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? We’re not really after fantasy and gaming here, you know.”
Even as she said it, she wasn’t fully convinced that there was anything real about their quest.
He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry... I will try to do better. 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 type of secret society you’re looking for.”
Phoe grinned. She wasn’t sure how she could connect a group of gamers to an ancient, secret society, but it was a start. The only start they had, actually, and she thanked herself for giving the guy a chance to do what he knew how to do 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 sounds 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 into 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 for our arrival in Oslo.”
“Already on it for you,” said Jonathan, with a confident smile, 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. Of course, it could all be a bunch of pimply-faced kids with some make-believe gaming club. They might have lots of theories, but very little in the way of solid facts; still, it was the best they had to go on and one should never underestimate what a nerd can come up with.
“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. The entire city was destroyed by the Germans except for a burial chapel, which 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!”
“Just like,” she responded.
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.
“There’s something else you will be glad to know—”
“Holy shit! Phoe you better have a look at this.”
He turned his laptop toward her. 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 was mixed, but most were less than complimentary. Many of them were laced with enough four-letter words to make her and her companions blush, judging from Peter’s and Jonathan’s uncomfortable reactions.
The only kind comment of any 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. Unlike in Germany, they would have to go inside the terminal to get their rental. The confirmation of a suitable SUV took longer than anticipated, and the details weren’t finalized until just before arriving at the airport.
After the overnight flight to Germany and the drive from Frankfurt up to Fulda, everyone was quite tired. Arrangements had also been made to stay at the Grand Hotel Oslo, which meant that they could all get a decent night’s sleep in a decent bed before the trip to Hammerfest.
“Jonathan, have you come up with some addresses of Ragnarok’s Chosen?” 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 get moving then.”
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.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do something like that?” she snapped.
“I didn’t realize that I was subject to your scrutiny.”
“Do you have even the slightest clue as to what you did by announcing to the entire world that we’re going to find the Hammer of Thor?”
“That’s not exactly what I said, Phoe. I said that my team has set out to find it,” he countered. “Do you want to know the most interesting part of peoples’ interpretations of my announcements? People still hear and see what they want to, my dear. They will comprehend what they want, since that’s how all of us digest the world around us. Just like your assumption, I can’t figure out where you’re going. I always know your next move.”
Her blood started to boil. “Thanks to your need to be in the spotlight, we will now have to be much more discreet heading north to Hammerfest.”
Silence for a moment. “Your identities remain secret,” he said, coolly. “So, unless you spill the beans about who you are and what you seek, no one will know exactly what you’re up to. I suggest you don’t put yourself in another pickle, like what happened in Germany earlier today. Could be worse next time.”
“As long as you can keep your Howard Hughes newsbreaks to a minimum like he would do, we won’t have to worry about a ‘worse next time,’” she shot back.
“Touché,” he said. “You must admit that this quest has raised the excitement level in your rather humdrum existence. I suggest you loosen up and continue on the wonderful path you have carved out for your team. Dare to live a little, Phoe. And, truly, this is your team.”
Silence from both. Phoe couldn’t wait for the call to end. Obviously, this was her team, her responsibility, her paycheck.
&n
bsp; “Hey, when am I gonna get—”
The line cut to a dial tone. She put the phone away, and stepped up to the counter. At least the rental agent was nice and respectful.
Getting the rental wasn’t as difficult as making the arrangements for it. With the keys in her hand, Phoe made a second request. “Can you recommend a restaurant nearby our hotel?”
“What price range are you considering?” the agent asked.
“Price range is not a concern,” Phoe returned. Dare to live a little, Phoe. She repeated Simon’s words in her head.
“I recommend the Arakataka then,” the agent smiled. “One of a kind experience.”
“Thank you,” Phoe responded, answering her smile.
“Enjoy your time in Oslo,” the agent said as she turned away.
Without pausing even a moment to allow the others to catch up, Phoe strode out into the rental lot to the proper row and space where the RAV4 was waiting. She could feel Peter’s eyes burning through her back, assuming that he would be driving, but she ignored him and went straight to the driver’s side door, opened it and got into the seat.
She listened to the sound of their luggage and Peter’s attempt at speaking to the attendant who had followed them, pushing their baggage on a cart with a smug grin on her face. She glanced over at Peter as he got in on the passenger’s side and noted that he didn’t seem phased. Waste of effort.
She didn’t dwell on the situation for very long. She was ready to eat and she programmed the address of the restaurant into the GPS.
“Aren’t we going to the hotel first?” Peter asked.
