by Rob Jones
“I’m coming, Mama.”
“You are a good girl, Xiaoli.”
Lexi bit her lip and cut the call. She slipped the phone back in her pocket, sighed and closed her eyes. She started to make plans to fly home to China but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of men shouting at the other end of the corridor.
It was Piet Jansen and he was with two armed security guards.
“Out of my way!” he boomed. “There was no call from my boss. Who’s behind this?” The Dutch Europol agent raced over to the two-way mirror and gasped in horror when he saw the carnage inside the interrogation room. Before he could speak, the door opened and Hawke stepped out. Lea, Ryan and Reaper were right behind him.
“Ah, Mr Jansen – the prisoner’s all yours,” Hawke said, and then leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “You might want to rethink using De Jong as an official lawyer – the man’s as drunk as a Russian sailor.”
Jansen scowled at Hawke, but the Englishman’s conscience was clear. Thanks to the interrogation they now knew what they had suspected all along: not only was Giancarlo Zito working for someone else but that person was none other than Dirk Kruger.
Jansen and the Dutch authorities could worry about Marco Maroni later on, and as for De Jong – that was nothing a couple of headache tablets wouldn’t sort out. He was already focussing on tracking the South African arms dealer down. They all had a desire to see Kruger caught and brought to justice, but Hawke could see from Ryan’s eyes that he wanted more.
“So what now?” Lea said.
Hawke’s reply was immediate. “We need to speak with this Dr Kloos, and fast.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Amsterdam
After they parked up a hired Suburban in the city center, Dr Kloos was not hard to find. He worked out of an office in the Centrum district not far from the city’s main railway station, and when he came to the door he was already expecting them.
“I thought you said there were eight of you?” he asked.
“One of our colleagues was called away to China,” Lea said. “Family emergency.”
Kloos studied their faces, stepped back and ushered them inside. “I was surprised when I got your phone call, Miss Donovan,” he said, showing them into his office and offering some seats. “Very pleasantly surprised, in fact – but also concerned.”
“We understand. Learning about how these men need you to translate the manuscript must have been unsettling,” Lea said.
Kloos looked at her with watery eyes. He was a tired man, but he looked like something had breathed new life to him. “Indeed. When I saw the museum in Boston had put the Book of Gold up on their website I could hardly believe it. I have spent my life researching this subject. Now you tell me that this Kruger has worked with a man named Giancarlo Zito to steal it, but that they had unknowingly snatched only parts one and two.”
“Correct.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “Then they kidnapped you to obtain the other part?”
“Correct again.”
“This is a worrying development. The symbols etched into the full manuscript are a treasure trail leading to something of legendary historical importance and power. If these men are as dangerous as you say, then what they seek will only make them even more so.”
“Then we share your concerns, Dr Kloos,” Lea said. “We managed to get the Book of Gold back, but we know Zito scanned the entire thing. For all we know they’ve found another translator and they’re already well on their way to finding what they’re searching for.”
Kloos looked at her and gave a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t be sure about that, Miss Donovan.”
The team fixed their eyes on the doddery old professor. Each of them felt the same wave of hope. “What do you mean by that?” Scarlet said.
Kloos smiled. “Kruger and Zito only have nine-tenths of the story.”
“What do you mean?” Hawke asked him.
He closed his eyes as he considered a response; the old man’s chiming clock gently marked the passing of their lives with a solemn ticking sound. “Wait here.”
He swivelled in the leather chair and got to his feet. Stepping across his office he opened a small safe and pulled a metal box from it. Placing it on his desk, he then searched his pockets for a key. He opened the box and gently drew out a single piece of paper in an acid-free folder. “This is kept at room temperature at all times, and is never exposed to light.”
“What is it?”
He beamed with professional pride. “This is the other piece of the puzzle.”
Scarlet made no secret of her frustration and sighed rudely. “An explanation would be nice.”
Kloos held up the paper. “You are looking at a page from the third and final section of the Book of Gold. It’s an essential part of the manuscript, but was separated from the main text centuries ago. Without this there is no way Kruger can find the relic he’s hunting for, just as there was no way I have ever been able to locate it without the rest of the manuscript that is now in your possession.”
“Wait,” Lea said, indicating the ragged piece of paper. “That’s really part of the Gold Book?”
Kloos smiled. “Certainly. I located it in a private collection in England nearly thirty years ago, and for the intervening three decades it has mocked me by only giving part of the location of the relic. Now we can put these pages together and work out the precise place where the treasure has lain for countless centuries.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Ryan said.
“And the best part is that Kruger and Zito have no idea they don’t have all the manuscript, right?” Lea said.
“Almost certainly,” Kloos said. “Now, let me return it to its rightful place with the rest of the manuscript and we’ll see the symbols when they’re put together with one another.”
Kloos opened the manuscript to the end and inserted his own piece of paper, carefully lining it up in various ways until finally he gasped with joy.
“What is it?” Lea said.
“I think we have something here!” Kloos said. “Something that will lead us straight to the relic.”
Kim sighed and crossed her arms. “Hey, I have a question: what sort of goddam relic are we talking about here?”
Hawke smiled. “That was my next question – professor?”
Kloos furrowed his brow. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Christ on a giraffe unicycle,” Scarlet said. “Does it sound like we know?”
“She means, please tell us,” Reaper said.
“The relic Kruger and Zito are searching for is the Sword of Fire.”
Hawke shared a knowing glance with Lea. He turned back to Kloos and fixed his eyes on him. “Tell us about this sword.”
Kloos bit his lip while he considered his next words. “Little is known about the sword; this is the first thing to understand about it. Like many ancient Celtic legends the myths surrounding it simply vanish into the mists of time. What my research has revealed is that the sword has very special properties.”
“What sort of properties?”
“In the ancient times they called them magical, but today we might not like to use that word. The sword was called Dyrnwyn, and there are many translations for this, including White Hilt, but I use the Sword of Fire. References to the sword are scarce, but most agree on two basic facts – first, its ownership by Rhydderch Hael, one of the rulers of an ancient British kingdom called Alt Clut in the far north of England and southern Scotland.”
“And the other?” Lea asked.
Kloos paused a beat. “The magical properties I mentioned a moment ago. Most of the ancient writings describe that the sword becomes enveloped in a bright, blue fire when it is loosened from its sheath. If a man of honor uses the sword he will be given great power, but if a dishonorable man tries to wield it the fire will turn on him and burn him to death.”
“Some of this sounds like the legend surrounding King Arthur,” Ryan said.
> Kloos nodded vehemently. “Yes, and both legends are from the same Celtic background, of course. Some have linked the Sword of Fire to Excalibur through a North Welsh prince named Owain Ddanwyn. It’s probably because he was a King of part of Gwynedd in the Fifth Century.”
“What’s the link?” Kim asked.
“The link is that some have argued that Owain Ddanwyn may even have been King Arthur. Both were from the same region and lived during the same time, and legends state that both were murdered by their own grandsons. Both men are also linked to the ancient Roman settlement of Viroconium, or Wroxeter as it’s called today, a village in Shropshire. Once, it was the fourth largest city in Roman Britain.”
“Do you think Ddanwyn was Arthur?” Lea asked.
Kloos shrugged his shoulders. “I want to believe it, but there is no evidence to suggest that Dyrnwyn is Excalibur. In all honesty the legends surrounding the Sword of Fire describe it as much more powerful than Excalibur.”
“So if it’s so much more powerful,” Scarlet said, “why has no one ever heard of it?”
Kloos gave a cautious, knowing smile. “There are many things in this world we are not supposed to know about. Dyrnwyn is one of them; an ancient weapon from a time long forgotten.”
He paused again and looked at them with uncertainty. “Some call Dyrnwyn the Black Sword because of its terrible power. It was lost to history during the reign of Rhudda, a notorious giant who ruled over Snowdonia. Rhudda is heavily connected to Arthurian legend, so even though Rhydderch lived in the Old North, in northern England, the last the sword was seen was in Snowdonia. This is where Arthur killed Rhudda with Excalibur, after all. Arthur had the giant buried in the mountains, and today we call that burial ground Yr Wyddfa, or Mount Snowdon.”
“So that’s where we’re going?” Kim asked.
Kloose frowned and studied the manuscript again. “No, I don’t think so. If my translation is right then it looks like the sword is further to the south in the sub-kingdom of Meirionnydd, in the south of Gwynedd.” He paused again removed his glasses and then rubbed his eyes before returning to the faded symbols. “This says that the Sword of Fire slew another giant – Idris Fawr.”
Hawke sighed. “Eh?”
“Idris Fawr was another giant and he ruled Meirionnydd in the Fifth Century, exactly when Arthur, Ddanwyn and the Sword of Fire were in action.”
“So you have another location?”
Kloos nodded and pulled an old map out of his drawer. “It means the last place the sword was ever used – or seen – was on the slopes of Cadair Idris. It’s a mountain in Meirionnydd and it means Idris’s Chair in Welsh. The giant would sit on the top of the mountain and study the stars. It’s a very important and magical mountain in ancient Welsh legends. This confirms what I was thinking about its location being further south. There is no way Kruger can know this without seeing this page, no matter who is translating it.”
“And you definitely think this is where the sword is today?” Ryan said.
Kloos nodded, but reluctantly. “I think so,” he said, pointing to a specific slope on the map. “It says that particular mountain peaks can be seen from the location, and that leaves only this place here. It also seems to hint that the son of Arianrhod will reveal where the Sword of Fire is located, and also something about the heavens lighting the way.”
Ryan nodded. “I translated the piece about Arianrhod in Ireland, but it was only a partial translation because at the time Zito had the rest.”
A new wave of excitement flashed over the professor’s face. “Also of note here is a reference to the old legend about staying the night on the mountain. I think this must be done to pinpoint the final location.”
Scarlet sighed. “Christ, more ancient gods and legends...”
“What legend?” Kim asked.
“It states that whoever spends the night on Cadair Idris will either become a poet or a madman. They must witness dawn from the peak to fulfil the legend. The text here indicates that this is essential to finding the location of the sword.”
“Sounds like we’re on our way to Wales,” Lea said.
“Whoop-de-doo,” Scarlet said. She sidled up to Kloos and touched his arm. “Are you certain this mountain isn’t actually in St. Lucia or somewhere like that?”
The Dutch academic narrowed his eyes and looked at her with confusion. “I don’t understand – the mountain is in...”
“We know where the mountain is, Dr Kloos,” Lea said. “Please ignore our colleague. That’s what we try and do.”
*
Kloos locked his townhouse and they stepped out into Prinsengracht. Birds sang in the trees and a boat full of happy tourists chugged down the canal opposite his front door. He glanced at his watch. “If we hurry, we can get the next train from the Central Station to Schiphol. We can be in Wales in a couple of hours.”
They made their way along the street en route to the station. A light drizzle had started to fall but the city was still busy with people going about their business. Hawke had visited the city many years ago with Liz. They had strolled along the canals together and shared a long weekend before promising to return one day.
Her murder meant that would never happen. He felt the anger rise in him once more: killing the bastard who had ordered her death had almost closed the book, but the trigger man, Alfredo Lazaro, was still out there somewhere. As far as Hawke was concerned, the Cuban hit man had given up his right to live after he’d murdered his wife, and he had vowed to hunt him down, but so far not even the ECHO machine had managed to find so much as a trace of him. It was as if since the murder he had turned into a ghost.
He quelled the range inside his heart by glancing over at Lea. She was talking quietly to Dr Kloos and Kim Taylor as they walked along the cobblestones beside the canal on the way to the station. As he watched her smiling and laughing, all the world started to make sense again, and he realized he was holding the box containing the engagement ring. He had put his hand in his pocket without even knowing it and was now turning the small box over in his fingers.
It was time to put the past behind him. Lazaro could wait. He knew in his heart that it was time to move on, and that meant popping the question. The thought of it made him more nervous than the idea of going into battle, but he’d done it before so he could do it again. He made up his mind to ask Lea to marry him as soon as the mission was over and prayed she would say yes.
As they approached the station, Hawke was on edge. Everywhere he looked he saw innocent people – men, women and children enjoying their day. He was always concerned when members of the public got dragged into the battlefield that the ECHO team spent their lives fighting on and this was no exception.
“We should just be in time to get the next train,” Kloos said, tapping his watch.
A man beside him was now telling off his daughter in the bustle of the crowd and she was crying in response. With one eye on them, Hawke scanned the crowd for potential problems; the man in a badly-fitting business suit leaning against the station wall, the two men standing just inside the station’s entrance... the woman with the briefcase who seemed to be monitoring the crowd.
It happened fast. The man with the crying child had been walking beside Hawke toward the station, but now he leaned into the Englishman and started to speak. “Hand Kloos over or this girl dies.”
Hawke was stunned. He looked at the man’s face and saw he meant business, and more than that, he now gently lifted the magazine to reveal a semi-automatic Colt beneath it. With calm, steady hands he was pointing it into the girl’s back.
Hawke’s mind raced. When Maroni had told him that they’d identified Kloos as being able to translate the document he knew Kruger would send men after him, but not this way. From what he had seen so far of Zito’s men he’d expected an all-out attack, not something as depraved as using a kidnapped child as a bargaining chip.
“Make a fuss and she’s dead,” the man repeated.
The others caught on to
what was happening, and Devlin fronted up to the man, but Hawke pulled him away and pointed at the magazine. “M1911,” he said. “Aimed at the kid.”
“Toscano,” Lea said. “I recognize him from the island.”
Before anyone said another word, a second man slipped out of the crowd behind them and dragged Kloos away from the ECHO team, and then they were gone, both men, Kloos and the crying girl. “The other one’s called Bruno,” Lea said. “I think maybe they’re brothers but I’m not sure.”
Hawke watched them as they pulled Kloos and the girl deep into the crowd and headed toward the station.
“What the hell are we going to do?” Kim said.
“They’re using the crowd for cover,” said Scarlet.
Hawke pulled the Glock from his pocket. “Not for long they’re not.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tiger turned the cards and revealed Four of a Kind. He raised his eyes to Pig to see his reaction but the older man was a veteran of poker and simply folded his hand with a weary sigh. “That’s the third hand in a row that I have won,” he said. “Perhaps you should consider retiring not only from the Ministry but also from the poker circuit.”
“Maybe you are right,” Pig said, and then looked over Tiger’s shoulder, causing the younger man to twist in his chair. He saw Monkey sitting beside Mrs Zhang. He was running the tip of his switchblade up her inner thigh, but the duct tape over her mouth kept her screams silent to the rest of the world. Mr Zhang was sitting on the floor with a bag over his head and his hands tied behind his back.
“Stop that,” Tiger said. His words were mild, but his tone was sharp and left no room for misunderstanding.
Monkey held the knife in place for a moment, staring into the eyes of his leader as if to judge the man’s mettle. Without taking his eyes off Tiger, Monkey pushed the button on the ivory handle and the blade snapped back inside with a metallic click. Mrs Zhang jumped with fear.