by K. T. Tomb
Francis led the way back to a narrow passageway near the slide. He pressed against a shaded rock and a slight rumbling announced the rock wall was moving, opening up a stone staircase similar to the one that had taken the American trio to the hidden room of Ragnorok’s Chosen. Phoe followed Francis up the stairs, with Peter and Jonathan close behind her, and soon they re-emerged in the secret room with the laptop stations. But everything inside had since been destroyed. A small fire burned in a crate filled with manuals, folders, and what looked like ancient leather bound books, or journals.
“No! All of our hard work! How could he do this?” Francis cried.
They all helped Francis try to put out the fire.
“Who’s ‘he’?” asked Peter.
“It must be Jeremy....He must have made it back here somehow, or had his gang take care of it,” said Francis, despondently. “He has worked so hard on trying to find what you all say you seek. I thought he would be grateful for the help, but he must want the power of Mjölnir for himself only!”
“You said there is stuff hidden upstairs...let’s go—”
“It will do no good,” he said, interrupting Phoe. “If he destroyed what is here, surely he has either destroyed or taken what is hidden upstairs.”
Phoe pulled Peter aside. “I think we can use him. We should take him with us. Besides, it’s not like we have anything else we can take from here.”
“Do you understand what you’re saying? Adding another member to this team may not be such a great idea, Phoe,” said Peter.
“He speaks English and he has a great understanding of what we’re looking for and where we could find it, if it exists,” she countered, trying to keep her voice down since she was getting angry. “Plus, he may truly know what Riddick knows.”
Peter shook his head. “Phoe. How will we be able to afford....”
“Leave that to me, Peter,” she whispered.
“You’re the boss,” he agreed, reluctantly.
“Francis. I have a great idea,” said Phoe, sauntering over to where Francis stood, mourning over what was left of his customized computer. “Why don’t you come with us on our quest? That way you can have an even bigger say, and share, in the recovery of the Hammer of Thor.”
Francis hesitated, though excitement danced in his eyes.
“Come on, Francis! You could be a big help! Pleeeeease!” she persisted.
Francis nodded thoughtfully, and a wide smile soon spread across his face. “Okay, I will do it. I will help you find Mjölnir.
Chapter Nineteen
Phoe, Peter, Jonathan, and now Francis prepared to climb into the rental.
“So, Francis, you’re really into Thor, aren’t you?” asked Phoe.
He looked at her suspiciously. “Yes, I am. I thought we made that clear.”
“Oh, we did. I was just wondering why you are drawn to him.”
He hesitated, then shrugged and said, “I think it would be the fact that he’s incredibly strong and righteous, even without his hammer.”
Phoe’s demeanor changed, and she pushed Francis up against the car with her right arm jammed against his throat.
Peter and Jonathan were shocked and tried to separate her from him. But she waved them off.
“All right, asshole,” Phoe said,. “You don’t really know much about Thor, do you?”
Francis panicked. “What? Of course I do!”
“First of all,” she sneered. “Thor received his awesome strength from the belt he wore. Second, he had rage problems and a tremendous ego. I believe you’re infatuated with the comic book version and not the mythological figure. Your geekiness is showing.”
Francis began to sweat noticeably. “What do you want from me?”
“Riddick didn’t teach you geeks anything about Thor, did he?” Phoe demanded.
“Well, no, but....”
“He wasn’t interested in Ragnarok’s Chosen to be part of his new Nazi army and I don’t believe he wanted to find Thor’s Hammer,” she continued.
“I never said we were Nazis!” Francis protested.
“He didn’t bother to teach you anything, because there was something that you had access to that he wanted. What is it, Francis? Think!”
Francis began to hyperventilate. “Jeremy would never betray the Chosen!”
“Just how stupid are you? A guy old enough to be your father comes up from out of the blue and tells you that he’s into your little gaming geeks group?”
“Please stop calling us that.”
“Think about it, Francis. You have to have some common sense in that brain of yours.”
Francis looked disappointed, perhaps realizing that Phoe was right. “Let me go. I’ll tell you what you want to know! I swear it!”
She removed her arm from his throat.
“Maybe there is something,” he confessed. “When Jeremy first contacted the Chosen, he was interested in our research into underground caverns and sacred meeting places of worshippers. We have found evidence that some underground statues erected to Thor may still exist. He was particularly interested in one legendary underground labyrinth rumored to be real among the Norse god believers.”
“Everything you told him about it, you’re going to tell us. Now.”
“What if you betray us the way he did?”
“We’re on the opposing side of Riddick. I think we’ve established that fact already. But even if we did betray you, you’ve already given the information to someone who has. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.”
“Fritzlar, Germany,” said Francis.
Phoe urged him to go on.
“Fritzlar, Germany, is where the Thor’s Oak tree is...or was. It was destroyed a long time ago, I think in the year 723. They call it Thor’s Oak because that was the type of oak tree that has been hit by lightning the most. The funny thing about that city is that it’s also the birthplace of the German Empire.”
Phoe and Peter exchanged knowing looks.
“Thank you, Francis,” she said, “but you won’t be needed to come with us after all.”
“What? You just take my information and we get nothing in return?”
Phoe took out her cell phone while staring at Francis. After motioning for him to remain silent, she dialed a number.
“Why hello, Phoe. How goes the search?”
“Abnormally well, Simon. We’re on our way to Fritzlar, Germany.”
“I’ll bet you’ll appreciate the slightly warmer temperatures there.”
“I didn’t call to talk about the weather. Since you’re going media blitz happy concerning the expedition, I need you to recognize Ragnarok’s Chosen located in Hammerfest, Norway. Without them, we wouldn’t be going to Fritzlar.”
“Interesting. So, you want to share credit with this group?”
“Francis Agnor will be sending all of the names in the Chosen, so I would like an honorable mention for them, please.”
“Oh, I get it. Of course, Phoe. I will be expecting the email and will make sure to give credit where credit is due. You, of course, will get more of the credit since you work directly for me.”
“Of course....Thank you, Simon. Talk to you soon.”
She closed the cell phone and took a piece of paper and a pen from her fanny pack. After writing down Simon’s email address and her own, she gave it to Francis.
“Here are mine and my client’s email addresses. Go ahead and send all of the names in your group so each of you will get credit for helping us.”
Almost in tears, Francis eagerly took the paper from Phoe.
“Thank you all. I will get to that right away. Are you really going to try to find the Hammer of Thor?”
She smiled as she and Peter joined Jonathan in the car. “If you believe it exists, then you have to believe that I will find it.”
“I don’t know if I believe it really exists...or not.”
“That’s okay,” she replied, sliding the rest of the way into the front passenger seat. “We will send you an ema
il when we do!”
Chapter Twenty
Once back in Oslo, and after boarding the jet, Peter kept looking over at Phoe admiringly.
“What is it, Peter? Is my make-up running?” she teased.
“No, Phoe. You look great....I just can’t believe how fast you think on your feet sometimes. I was extremely impressed on how you pegged Francis as a lying sack of shit.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Hopefully, you’ll still think that once we’re back in Germany on the hunt.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” he said, opening his laptop, apparently ready to catch up on the latest sports news back in the States.
As for her, she found the hum of the jet engines revving up especially soothing. We are on our way! She leaned back in her seat and debated on turning on her laptop or not. When she gave in to the urge, after the plane was back in the air, her casual internet search for Jeremy Riddick became more intense...and more frustrating.”
“Help,” she mouthed to Jonathan, who reluctantly came over to her. “Have you tried different spellings of Jeremy and Riddick?”
“Not yet.”
“Being that he is affiliated with Nazism, he probably won’t be using his real name, either in real life, or on the Internet. You also want to look for known alliances....How about you use my computer?”
She vacated her seat, and he huffed as he sat down, but started typing.
“Why do you hate me? Is it because I screwed up with the Head of Olmec?”
She cast him a perturbed look that was as playful as his words.
“I don’t hate you, Jonathan. At least not any more.”
“I know...but you were really upset about not getting the Head of Olmec.”
“I’m upset with myself more so, Jonathan. I allowed myself to be put in that situation.”
“You pushed me into the water when you knew I couldn’t swim.”
“You had a life jacket on for Christ’s sake!. I knew you would float!” She laughed.
“You’re evil,” he said impishly. “Here you go.”
She looked at the screen over his shoulder. Jeremy Riddick A.K.A. Jerome Riddick and Jeremy Reddick. Born: 1967 in Bismarck, North Dakota. Father: Arnie Riddick currently in prison for manslaughter/leader of Aryan Brotherhood sect in prison. Mother: Margaret killed by Arnie in crime of passion. No known next of kin.
Phoe was shocked. “An American, huh? Is there any other information?”
“That’s all the access I could get,” he said. “I hit a couple of walls that could be a problem. His name may be linked to some federal activity that I couldn’t get information about. This guy is big-time bad.”
* * *
Jonathan returned to his seat, feeling relieved that Phoe hadn’t lost her damned mind again. As soon as he had restored his laptop from sleep mode, he decided to visit the Kessler Industries website. A huge animated picture of Mjölnir dominated the upper third of the page, spinning around before flying off. He laughed to himself, realizing his control freak father had spared no expense to exploit the expedition. What is Dad hoping to accomplish?
An entire section of the website was now devoted to the quest. Scanning page after page detailed the mythos of Thor, and even what some scientists believe the Mjölnir is made of. When Jonathan reached the last page, he was surprised to see pictures and a biography of Phoe. His father had listed her name as ‘T. Phoenix’. Her store, Simple Treasures, was mentioned as well. In fact, the site included several pictures of store items currently for sale, a picture of her assistant, Charlotte, along with the hours of operation and location in Taos, New Mexico and a small map with driving directions.
Next, he turned his search to Fritzlar, Germany, concentrating on places that might be of interest to someone like Jeremy Riddick. Such as Nazi museums and the last-known location of the Thor Oak tree, which was removed in 723. After half an hour of searching the Internet, Jonathan relaxed, stretching his fingers. That’s when he noticed a search result for a pub he had passed several times in his initial search, because it didn’t seem important. Now it did. An establishment called Die Bruderschaft, which translated to English meant ‘The Brotherhood’. What better place to find members of the Aryan Brotherhood?
Chpter Twenty One
Just before noon, the jet landed at Kassel-Calden Airport.
Phoe, Peter, and Jonathan loaded up their gear. Greeted by a cold breeze, Phoe was pleased that a rental car was waiting for them, as had been the case in Frankfurt. She zipped up her coat to her neck while jogging to the Toyota Camry. A bit small for our needs, but what the hell, it’s free.
This time, she got in the driver’s side and Peter took shotgun. Jonathan mentioned feeling a little cramped inside the back, but when neither Phoe nor Peter respond, he let the matter die.
“You must have this all mapped out, Phoe,” quipped Peter. “I’m glad to see the initiative...ready to assume the lead, finally?”
She returned his jab with a condescending look. “Actually, I have no clue where to begin, but I figured if we started just hitting places, we can cover a lot of ground before midnight. We’ll still find what we need quicker than we would with you at the helm!”
“Excuse me, Ms. Phoenix,” said Jonathan from the back seat. It sounded more like a squeak than an actual human voice coming from the back seat. He held up some pages he’d printed out on the plane.
“Well, Jonathan, if you have an idea, I’d love to hear it. Please call me Phoe, by the way.”
“Well, okay, Phoe.” She could see his shy smile through the rearview mirror, sending a pang of guilt into her heart. Gotta work on the charm, Phoe baby. “I was doing some research while you and Mr. Kellerman rested. I believe the best place to start is a bar called Die Bruderschaft. The English translation means ‘The Brotherhood’. From what I gathered, mostly from local police reports, it’s the perfect place for someone like Jeremy to go.”
Phoe smiled slyly at Peter. “The Brotherhood, it is.”
Peter asked to see the papers and Jonathan handed them to him.
“I printed out the map, nearby landmarks, and I think everything else we need.”
“Thank you, Jonathan. See, Peter, he’s not useless.”
Peter looked shocked at her comment, and his face turned beet red as Jonathan leaned forward.
“Do you think I’m useless, Mr. Kellerman?”
Peter glared at her, as if shocked he had just been thrown under the bus. Her naughty grin was intended to remind him that she had yet to forgive him for taking the Head of Olmec.
“All right, Phoe, let’s get this out in the open....Turn right at the next stop sign then go straight for about two miles....Okay, I got the Head of Olmec fair and square, and I’m really quite tired of hearing about it all the time. I’m sorry, but it is what it is! Tell me why you can’t let it go!”
She ignored him until she turned right at the stop sign. “That was the first artifact I actually had a chance of getting.”
“What about the copies of all of the artifacts that you sell? Didn’t you obtain them from the original artifacts?”
“Of course I did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t look as authentic as they do. The Head of Olmec was...was going to be the first artifact that I would ever have been able to call mine.”
An uncomfortable silence fell upon the car.
“It’s just that Olmec was special,” she continued. “I have gone out on quests before, but that one was different.”
“What about Simon Kessler? Didn’t he fund the expedition? Wasn’t he disappointed that you didn’t bring the head back to him?” asked Peter, not near as agitated as before.
“Yes, but there was a stipulation to our agreement. Simon wanted to take it on tour for a year. He said he would have me travel with it, accompanied by a documentary of me explaining what I had to go through to bring it back to the States. He told me that after a year of promoting the hell out of Olmec, he would give it to me.” Her voice trembled.
Peter
eyed her disbelievingly. “The Head of Olmec? You really believe he would just hand it over like a bag of potato chips?” He mouthed a sorry to Kessler’s kid in the back seat.
“Pretty much,” said Phoe. “I mean, the notoriety and everything would be cool, but I desired owning a genuine important artifact above all else. I’m not greedy like some people...I just wanted one. The Head of Olmec is an amazing piece with an incredible history. I didn’t even care about the recognition, really. It would have brought a lot of people to Simple Treasures, though. Would’ve....”
Jonathan leaned forward to where he peered at them both. “I don’t think you have to worry about that much longer, Phoe.”
Chapter Twenty Two
The Camry pulled up to Die Bruderschaft at 9:45 p.m.
The parking lot was sparsely populated, and the building itself seemed older than most of the buildings in the area. A weathered, blue neon sign of two hands in a brotherly handshake hung over the doorway. One exterior wall of the bar was covered with graffiti.
“What a charming neighborhood,” commented Phoe, after parking a block away.
The three get out and casually approach the bar. Phoe felt like a thousand eyes were staring at her from the darkened homes and businesses along both sides of the street. She could tell that Peter felt the same thing, while Jonathan seemed oblivious.
“This bar will probably be host to all kinds of seedy characters,” Peter warned.
“Then you should feel right at home,” she said. “If not, I’ll protect you.”
They all chuckled, which felt good to her...to cut the growing uneasiness.
“Don’t be so sure of yourself on this one, Phoe,” Peter chided, playfully “You might find yourself needing me to protect you!”
They walked up the front steps and entered the bar. The beat of heavy metal music filled the air. And the odor of people who rarely bathe assaulted their nostrils. Only Peter looked like he might not hurl. But politeness seemed like the smartest approach among the room full of frowning, suspicious faces.