Phoenix Quest Adventures: First Three Novels

by K. T. Tomb

  Jason smirked and left a copy of the contract with her, and Phoe gave it to Charlotte for safekeeping. He also handed her a cell phone.

  “Keep this with you at all times, Ms. Phoenix. It’s a direct line to Mr. Kessler. He wants updates on your progress at every step of the way, regardless of whether it seems significant, or not.”

  “Do you know what the job is that your employer is paying me to do?” she asked, wondering how deeply Jason was involved with Kessler’s enterprises.

  “As far as the contract is concerned, you’re not getting paid, per se,” he advised. “There are certain things that I not only do not wish to be privy to, but are none of my business. Sorry.”

  “A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

  Phoe realized not everyone associated with Kessler is going to know her assignment. Still, she intended to make a game out of it. The worst thing would be her being viewed as a laughingstock. She didn’t want to be seen as the woman that got conned into searching for an artifact that didn’t exist. Kessler was going down with her if that happened. Damn straight.

  Chapter Seven

  With her bags packed, all she had to do was wait for Peter Kellerman.

  Unsure what to wear, she decided to start her journey in black jeans and a black sweater, with a black T-shirt underneath, in case she started to burn up. She also wore a fanny pack to carry her essentials.

  When the clock approached ten-thirty, Phoe began drumming her fingers loudly on an end table. The tea Charlotte made wasn’t enough to keep her irritation from rising.

  “He’s doing this to me on purpose, Char. I can’t believe his nerve, standing me up like this!”

  “Like he has ever been on time before,” commented Charlotte. “He still has half an hour before the car will be here for you. Have you tried calling him?”

  “You know I didn’t call him!” she fumed. “You think I should call him?”

  As the time crept toward 10:40 a.m., Phoe glared at the clock, as if that would magically bring Peter to her door.

  “Phoe, dear,” Charlotte asked, gently, after arriving with another cup of tea. “What is the worst part of Mr. Kellerman not showing up in time?”

  “If and when I go down in history as the fool who went after an artifact that doesn’t exist, I want someone else to drag down with me. Peter is perfect for the part.”

  “Well at least you’re not being selfish, dear,” Charlotte deadpanned.

  When ten-forty-five arrived, Phoe decided to go on without the man who had her property in his possession. She worked out several scenarios where she’d be able to trick Peter into giving her the Head of Olmec. She could never forget the heartlessness he had shown when he put her in a no-win situation. She should’ve left Jonathan Kessler to his own devices. Maybe he would have survived the pickle he was in....But, in truth, maybe he wouldn’t have. In the depth of her soul she knew if the situation had played out a hundred different ways and Jonathan was in danger, she would’ve still gone back to save him and lost the artifact she coveted.

  10:55 a.m. Phoe gathered her bags without saying a word. She hugged Charlotte, exchanged goodbyes and then she trudged outside. The limousine was already waiting for her, just as the lawyer promised. She took a deep breath as the driver exited the car and rushed over to grab her bags. She watched him set them inside the trunk and then opened the back passenger door, motioning for her to climb inside. She smiled politely, only to have it fade when she saw Peter sitting next to the wet bar. Sitting with a glass of Scotch on the rocks in his hand.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she seethed.

  He regarded her quietly, wearing a smug look of supreme satisfaction. The very look that had always infuriated Phoe. He smiled as he poured her a drink and then handed it to her. “Appletini slightly cool, correct? Oh, and I was invited. By you, I believe.”

  “Ooh, I knew you’d say that! You know what I mean! What are you doing in here?”

  “I got here early and had a wonderful talk with Bob. Did you know he’s from Colorado?”

  “Who the hell is Bob?”

  “Our driver, of course. He showed me this magnificent automobile and then guided me to my favorite part.”

  “The wet bar.”

  “Yes, indeed, my dear Phoe. The wet bar.”

  Dressed in khaki shorts with a matching shirt, his mountain-climbing boots with black socks were a fashion disaster. But, he would be the one most comfortable that day, and she wished she had dressed less constrictively.

  Phoe took a sip from her drink, thinking to herself how this skill of Peter’s promised a nice back up vocation, should things ever go south for him in the ancient relic recovery biz. She made herself comfortable in the seat facing Peter’s. Glaring at him.

  “You need a passport for where we’re going.”

  Peter smiled. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace that we need a passport for.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing that I updated it recently. I have it with me. Thank you for your concern.”

  The rest of the ride to Taos Regional Airport was a quiet one for the most part. Phoe preferred to think about the first stop, which would be Germany because of what the swastika represents to some people: a symbol of Thor’s lightning. The earliest swastika was found in what is now known as Mezine, Ukraine, around 10,000 B.C. If that proves fruitless, India and Iran were next on the list, where other forms of the swastika originated.

  What if the swastika is a dead end? Is this the right way to go?

  She had never been in this kind of a dilemma before. Then again, she had never chased a fable before. She looked over at Peter, to find him intently studying her. As if he knew the right answer.

  “You look frustrated, Phoe.”

  “What? What are you talking about? No. Why did you say that?” Sounding frustrated, she could feel her face flush. With all of the destination possibilities and everything else pertaining to the Thor mythology, she couldn’t keep her thoughts straight. But, she could never admit this. At least not to him.

  “I assume you brought me along for more than just my good looks,” he said, eyeing her compassionately. “Maybe I can help. I know this may seem like a daunting task, but we can work through this together. Even if you don’t see it yet, I’m in this with you.”

  Curiosity was waiting to bust out of him from all sides. She could tell that much, but she still worried about losing control of the expedition. Tell him too much and watch Peter take over. It had happened before....But, in this case where she only had incomplete ideas on where to go and how to start, it increasingly felt like a better idea to let him in, share ideas, and get this thing on a smooth course.

  “Okay....There’s something you should know about this trip.”

  His smile was the last thing she expected to see. A look of worry or surprise, maybe. But not his trademark smile.

  “You have no clue where to start, do you?”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “Sometimes...but is that such a bad thing? If you don’t mind, may I say something?”

  Phoe nodded tentatively.

  “Think about the quest, first of all. Does this Kessler hate you in any way?”

  She wasn’t expecting that.

  “Not that I know of. I mean, he doesn’t like the fact I came back empty-handed from the Olmec expedition.”

  “That was for him? Oh. Sorry.”

  Not sorry enough to give it back, huh?

  “I’m sure that he has more to keep him occupied than to have me running around the world on his dime for revenge.” I liked that response, since I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Kessler.

  “You’re probably right. Well then, the next logical question is, how would sending you on a quest for a mythological Norse god’s weapon benefit him?”

  “He’s a billionaire. He’s obviously got money to burn on chasing a fantasy.”

  “I’m serious, Phoe. Just stating the facts he
re. Simon Kessler is a billionaire industrialist with certain eccentricities. He has asked you to find an object that only comic book enthusiasts believe might exist.”

  “True...but you and I know that if the Mjölnir actually existed, it would change Norse mythology as we know it. What did people think of Troy before Heinrich Schliemann came along? Just like the mythical Trojan Horse and Helen, all of a sudden, scholars would move the Norse gods into the history books. It could rewrite history!”

  Peter’s left eyebrow rose slightly, and his sky blue eyes were aglow with excitement.

  “Hmmm...maybe there is something to this. I guess we will find out soon enough, although Iran might be a better choice. Too bad Americans are hated there right now....Maybe India, if Germany turns out to be bone dry.”

  The limo parked next to a private jet near a hangar. Peter and Phoe exited the vehicle while the limo driver loaded their luggage onto the jet. Simon Kessler stood at the base of the stairs. “G150” was painted on the tail wing and “Kessler Enterprises” with his logo covered the side. Peter nodded approvingly, while Phoe fought to not let the fact she was in awe slip through. Not in Kessler’s presence.

  Kessler waited for them to approach and extended his right hand to Peter.

  “So, Mr. Kellerman...have you ever been on a private jet before?”

  “I haven’t accumulated the funds to start thinking about flying on anything other than first class, Mr. Kessler.” Peter chuckled, and Phoe could almost see his infectious charm ooze toward her employer.

  “Good answer, Peter,” said Kessler, chuckling along with him. “Please, call me Simon.”

  Seeking to avoid being caught up in the overdose of testosterone, Phoe sought to get a peek inside the jet from where they stood.

  “It’s a Gulfstream G150. Built more for luxury than speed, but there’s plenty of that when needed,” said Kessler, watching Phoe’s fascination.

  “Good to know,” said Peter.”

  “Yes, she is a beauty. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  “We won’t.”

  “I was talking about Phoe. The plane can be replaced.”

  Phoe whirled around to see Kessler was watching her, while Peter nodded thoughtfully.

  “I’ll protect her with my very life,” said Peter, turning his attention to the plane.

  “Good. See that you do.”

  The two men watched Phoe board the jet. But a moment later, she ran back down the stairs and headed for the limo.

  “No! Hell no!” shouted Kessler as he pursued her to the car. “What’s the matter? You agreed and signed the contract!”

  * * *

  Phoe leaned her back against the limo with her arms crossed. Ignoring Simon Kessler, she pointed to the top of the stairs, motioning for Peter to go take a look. He trotted up the stairs and stepped through the open door. It looked quite nice, plush—definitely a rich guy’s cushy ride. At one of the tables and regarding him from an overstuffed leather chair was the guy who screwed up Phoe’s last trip.

  “Hello, Peter,” said Jonathan Kessler. “How nice to see you again...you cheating asshole!”

  Chapter Eight

  Phoe glared at Simon Kessler, not buying a damned thing he said as he tried to explain why his son is on the jet.

  “Phoe. I know you believe that Jonathan may have been responsible for slowing you down the last time,” he said, pleading for her to reconsider her resignation. “I understand that the very sight of him causes you pain. But you have to understand that I need someone other than the pilot to stay with the jet while you and Peter are out and about finding Thor’s Hammer.”

  She made no effort to hide her questioning look.

  “He is not joining you on your quest.”

  Her expression softened...slightly. “Do you give me your word?”

  “Absolutely. I give my word that you are under no obligation whatsoever to have my son tag along while you find my hammer.”

  “We’ll see,” she grumbled. “But any more unpleasant surprises and I quit!”

  A smart, highly successful businessman, he nodded courteously. She hated the look in his eye, though, that spoke to enjoyment of the victory he just won. Like the extra tug-of-war over Jonathan’s presence was a nice little bonus. Still, she allowed Kessler to steer her up the stairs to board the plane.

  A female flight attendant dressed in a dark blue vest covering a red button-down shirt greeted her when she stepped inside the main cabin. Why of course! Phoe thought to herself, noting the young woman’s ruffled mini-skirt and Hollywood smile.

  “Can I get you a beverage or a menu before we take off?”

  “No, thank you...” Phoe’s comment trailed off as she took in the plane’s opulent interior.

  “If you need anything on our trip to Germany, just ask,” said the stewardess. “We will stop briefly in New York before continuing on to Frankfurt.”

  “Well, okay,” she said, looking for Peter.

  He motioned for her to join him at one of the seats with a laptop connected. Once she buckled herself in, she was delighted to find that she didn’t need to wait to be airborne before accessing the plane’s WiFi system. Peter had already started the expedition’s research about swastika history, and she joined him, focusing exclusively on how the ancient symbol pertained to Thor.

  After the flight attendant’s safety announcements, the pilot added his advisory over the intercom. It marked the true start of their journey, and the moment wasn’t lost on Phoe. For better or for worse, the search for Thor’s Hammer had officially begun.

  Chapter Nine

  5:30 a.m. Frankfurt, Germany

  “Phoe. We’re here.”

  She looked up to see Peter standing over her, yawning. Disoriented, she glanced around the cabin, expecting to see her familiar bedroom and find that everything so far had all been just a dream.

  “I don’t know how you could have missed Captain Sampras’ final announcement. You must have been really tired. You’ve been zoned out for hours.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just after five-thirty, Frankfurt time. Set your watch and let’s get going. There’s a rental car waiting outside for us.”

  Phoe checked her fanny pack, grabbed her coat, and prepared to leave the plane. Two customs officers were checking Jonathan’s and Peter’s passports. She got hers out and went through the security checkpoint.

  After everyone checked into the country, Peter got into the driver’s side of the Jeep waiting for them. Jonathan started to get in the front passenger seat when Phoe stopped him.

  “Listen, you little freak! I don’t care whose son you are! You’re not getting a chance to screw this up!”

  The doughy-faced kid with a perpetual cowlick on the top of his thick head of dark red hair looked as if his mother just scolded him. Phoe realized she had been a queen-sized bitch to him, often, since first meeting him. For a moment, she hated herself for being so gruff with him...but the Olmec relic screw-up made it damned near impossible not to see rivers of red.

  “Peter doesn’t know how to speak German,” he said shyly. “I do.”

  Phoe looked at Peter, pleadingly. “You don’t know German?”

  “Neither do you, so what’s your point?” He replied, smiling smugly.

  She turned back to Jonathan. “You really speak German?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay...You can go with us, even though your dad promised you would stay in the plane. Get in the back and don’t speak unless I tell you to speak. Are we clear?”

  His dull blue eyes came alive and he climbed into the back seat. Once Phoe was situated, Peter started the engine and set the GPS for Fulda.

  The countryside provided gorgeous views as they made their way to the Rhön and Vogelsberg mountains. An hour passed moving into the higher elevations, until they reached the city of Fulda in Hessen, Germany. The architecture from centuries completed a breathtaking scene against the backdrop of the picturesque German mountains. Wit
h its charming gondolas, the Fulda River flowing through the city was reminiscent of Venice, and the air carried a slight chill. Phoe was thankful they didn’t make the trek in winter.

  “We’re looking for Dieter Rietz,” Phoe advised while finding it hard to focus on the task at hand. The city was almost too easy to fall in love with, having a siren affect on them all.

  “Do you have an address?” Peter asked, gawking at the scenery, and more than once almost driving off the road.

  “No. Just directions. For some reason, there is no address registered,” she said. “I double-checked it on the flight and couldn’t find anything besides the directions.”

  The cell phone given to her by the elder Kessler rang inside her fanny pack.

  “Hello, Phoe.” It was Simon. “It seems you have made your first stop. Germany is a beautiful country, is it not? I actually drove through Fulda in the fall once. Beautiful, but cold as hell.”

  “Yes, we’re here.”

  “Give me a call when you’re done in Germany. Have fun, but remember why you’re there.”

  “That’s why I have you to remind me, Simon. Thanks.”

  She hung up the phone, wondering about the distinct feeling she had of the senior Kessler doing more than just checking up on them. He was acting more like a virtual guide, with obvious access to their whereabouts. She shivered.

  Before long, the directions led them to turn off the main road and onto a long driveway leading to a small house surrounded by tall pines and holly bushes. Phoe made a mental note that there wasn’t a mailbox. They stopped the vehicle just short of the house. All three got out to investigate, zipping up their coats.

  They casually walked up to the front door. When Phoe noticed an embroidered “Geh weg!” wicker welcome mat, she asked Jonathan to translate it.

  “It means ‘go away’. Looks like no one wants us here.”

  “Like that’s ever stopped me before,” she huffed. But, when no one responded after five minutes of various patterns of knocking, she changed her tune.