Laura gripped Acton’s arm. “So, what does this mean?”
Reading shook his head. “It means, thanks once again to me, that your asses have been saved, and you’re free to go.”
Acton threw his arms around Laura, giving her a hard hug, then rose to give Reading an exaggerated kiss.
The big man held up a finger. “Don’t you dare.”
Acton grinned then stepped aside. “Laura, kiss the man.”
Reading grunted. “Now that’s more like it.”
63 |
Karlsson Residence Stockholm, Sweden
“How do I look?”
Acton regarded Karlsson for a moment, his face bandaged, several stitches in sight. “You won’t be winning any beauty contests, that’s for sure.”
Karlsson groaned. “There goes my post-retirement plans, then.” He patted his wife’s hand. “I guess you’re the beauty in the family now.”
“Beauty and the beast, darling.”
Karlsson laughed then moaned in pain. “Okay, nobody make me laugh. It hurts too much.”
Elsa Andersson poured him a glass of water, and was about to help him take a sip when she hesitated, looking at Mira uncertainly. She held out the cup for her.
Mira shook her head. “You go ahead, dear.”
Elsa smiled then positioned the straw for Karlsson, who took a few drags.
“Thanks.”
Elsa stepped back then turned to Acton and Laura. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused. If only I hadn’t fainted, you could have explained everything to me.”
Acton felt his collar for the pin that had been his constant companion. “I’m afraid it would have only made things worse. We weren’t allowed to tell anyone what was going on, and we were under constant surveillance.”
Mira shuddered. “That pin they gave me. I felt like a prisoner in my own home.”
Karlsson squeezed her hand. “We’re all safe now, that’s what’s important. It’s just too bad the ring was lost.”
Acton frowned, the pickup at the front desk confirmed, and Al-Jubeir long gone, apparently no longer assigned to the embassy. “In today’s climate, it ultimately might have been returned regardless. If we’re to believe the sheik’s story, then the ring will be returned to its rightful owners. In the end, I guess I don’t have too much of a problem with that.”
“And what of Fatima?” asked Elsa. “What becomes of her?”
Karlsson shook his head. “It sounded to me like her family didn’t want her remains, so I guess she stays with us.”
Laura sighed. “Such a tragic story. I just wish I knew what happened. She faked her suicide to be with the man she loved, somehow married him, was buried with him, and had the ring on that her groom from her arranged marriage gave her. There are so many missing pieces to the puzzle.”
Acton agreed. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll ever know what happened to Prince Magnus and his wife, Fatima.”
64 |
Sigtuna, Roden 989 AD
“Why?” cried Fatima. “I said I’d go back.”
Rafiq stared down at his sister, his heart breaking at the sorrow on her face, yet burning at the situation her deeds had forced him into. “My lie has compounded the dishonor to our family. No one will believe she didn’t willingly participate in your deception, because she faked her suicide. I told the lie in the hopes that the sheik would blame you, Magnus, instead of my family. And he did. He sent me on this mission, likely knowing full well that I would fail. And his price for failure was clear. My life. Blood must be spilled to save his honor, and that blood must be either mine, or Fatima’s.”
He reached out for his sister and she took his hand in hers, clasping it to her lips. His voice cracked. “I cannot bear to see you suffer for our greed.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. “It wasn’t a good match. Not for you, my sister, not for you. For us? Yes. But not for you.” He stepped back, pulling his hand away, then with a flourish, freed himself of his cloak, his hand returning to the hilt of his sword. “I’m afraid we must fight, Viking, to the death. But I swear this to you, my friend, that should I be victorious, I will never let my sister marry that man.”
Magnus bowed. “And should I be victorious, I will have word sent that you fought valiantly, and with honor worthy of your family’s reputation. And I will honor your sister by loving her as no man has ever loved a woman.”
Rafiq drew his sword. Magnus held his arms out, shouting at those gathered to back off, quickly explaining what was happening, for no one here spoke Arabic, and Rafiq had chosen not to speak in Norse for fear those gathered might not be as reasonable as Magnus.
Though clearly not happy about it, those gathered backed away several paces, and Rafiq turned toward those on his ship. “This is a fight to the death, between this man and me, and no one else. Should I be victorious, we shall leave in peace together with my sister. Should I not, then you will leave in peace, without her, and report to the sheik that I died fighting for his honor.”
His men all bowed their heads, and he returned the honor before turning back to face Magnus, a man he suspected would be a formidable opponent. Magnus drew his sword, and the two circled, Fatima sobbing at the sidelines, held by an older woman Rafiq wondered might be her future mother-in-law, judging by the concern on her face.
He also wondered if Magnus believed he was facing a simple trader, one with no experience with the sword, one who would be easy to defeat. If he was laboring under that assumption, he was about to be surprised, for Rafiq had been training with the sword since he was old enough to hold one.
Though he had never drawn blood.
“Please, Rafiq, stop this madness!”
Rafiq’s eyes darted toward his sister for a brief moment as he and Magnus warily circled each other, each sizing up the other, searching for any weaknesses, any tells.
Magnus lunged, a tentative, probing exploration, merely designed to garner more information. Rafiq parried it easily and with enough of a flourish to reveal he was no novice. Magnus nodded, as if to acknowledge the fact.
Another thrust, another parry, repeated several times, the crowd gathered gasping with each exchange, a chant building, urging Magnus to victory.
“Please, stop this!”
Magnus stole a glance at the sobbing Fatima, then turned back to face Rafiq, staring him in the eyes.
And Rafiq knew what was about to happen.
He swung from the side, a long arc steadily approaching his opponent’s stomach, a blow so deliberately obvious it should have been easily parried. The entire crowd of experienced warriors halted their chant, gasping as Magnus raised his sword over his head, gripped tightly with both hands, exposing his midriff.
Rafiq, on instinct, almost halted his swing, but didn’t, knowing his opponent’s desire.
You’re a better man than I, Prince Magnus.
He cried out in shame as he sliced open the belly of the bravest man he had ever encountered, a man who had willingly sacrificed himself not only for love, but for the future of his people, and for a family from a foreign land that barely knew him.
He sacrificed himself to restore the honor to both houses, to restore the peace between their people, and to allow his sister to live out her days in peace, with her new family, and not married to the man who had killed her brother.
You are a far better man than I.
“No!” cried his sister, surging toward Magnus, her arms outstretched.
And to his horror, directly into the path of his still swinging blade.
Her cry was cut off and she collapsed into his arms as he dropped his sword, his shame, his dishonor, complete.
“Fatima, no!” he cried as he held her tight, her flowing blood soaking his robes, the warmth it provided in these frigid lands a disturbing comfort.
“My love!” gasped Magnus, holding out his hand, his own blood staining the ground as those witness to this horrendous outcome inched forward.
“Magnus!” moaned his sister. And
though he wanted to be the one to comfort her in her final moments, Rafiq knew it was no longer his place. He carried her over to Magnus, laying her weakening body by his side, and placed her arm across her lover’s chest as with his last ounce of strength he wrapped his arms around her.
“I love you.”
Her smile was weak, yet the most content Rafiq had ever witnessed. “And I love you.”
Rafiq dropped to his knees, his tears flowing freely, and he placed a hand on his sister, another on Magnus, and prayed to Allah for both their souls, and despite being so different, that Allah grant them both entrance into Paradise, so they could enjoy the rest of their days together, away from the shame all of their actions, including his, had brought into their lives.
“I’m sorry, my sister. And my brother. I never meant for any of this to happen. Please find it in your hearts to forgive me for the lie I told, a lie meant only to benefit my selfish, greedy self, to preserve a future I never deserved, not at the expense of my little sister.”
Fatima reached out for his hand and squeezed it briefly. “I forgive you.”
And with that, she sighed her last breath, and Magnus cried out, his anguish fading into silence, the only sound left the waves on the shore, and his own pounding heart.
Rafiq reached under his robes, retrieving the ring given him by the sheik, and gripped it tightly in his hand before placing it gently on his sister’s finger. He leaned over and kissed her on her forehead, then pushed to his feet, a broken man, a shattered brother, a shadow of his former self, with no will left to live.
A man came through the crowd, his eyes red and burning. He knelt by Magnus and gripped his hand for a moment, before rising to face Rafiq.
“Does this satisfy your family’s honor?” asked the man in Norse.
Rafiq bowed, his tears continuing to flow freely, though his voice steady. “I’m ashamed to say it does.” He gestured at Magnus. “Your son?”
The man nodded as the woman who had been comforting Fatima finally broke free of those holding her back, throwing herself over both the bodies, as if she had lost not only a son this day, but a daughter, and the knowledge that in such a brief time with his sister, that this woman had already embraced her, had already accepted her into her family, crushed him. How could these people, who he knew so little about, who never knew his sister, care more for her happiness than he had?
“Your son…” He had to stop. He drew a breath. “Your son was a good man. A far better man than I. He fought valiantly for honor, for his people, and for love. I shall pray for him.”
The man bowed his head. “And I shall pray for her. Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Then we are family.”
Rafiq stared at the man. “We are?”
“I already blessed their union. As far as I’m concerned, they are married, and will be honored as such, and buried as such.”
Rafiq collapsed to his knees, his shoulders slumping as he was racked with sobs. He stared up at the man, anguish written on both their faces. “I am so sorry for what I have done. I shouldn’t have told the lie I did. If I hadn’t, they would both be alive, and I would be back home, with my family. We would have survived somehow, we would have gotten past the shame of what she had done.” His head dropped. “I told myself that what I did was for my family, but it wasn’t. It was for me.”
“Family is everything.”
“It is.” He drew a deep breath, raising his head and meeting the painful gaze of the old man. “My life is already forfeit. If I return alive, I will be forced to lie once again to save my life, and should it be saved by further treachery, Allah Himself will condemn me on my day of judgment.” His fists clenched, his fingernails tearing into his flesh, as his eyes burned. “But if I die here today, on the battlefield, I won’t be forced to dishonor myself once more, and my family’s debt to the sheik will be paid.”
The man stepped closer, now directly in front of him. “I understand.”
Rafiq stared up at him. “Please, rid me of my burden, and avenge your son.”
“As you wish.”
The man stepped back, drawing his sword, and Rafiq closed his eyes as the blade whipped through the air, severing his head from his shoulders, and restoring the honor of not only his family, but that of Magnus’ as well.
THE END
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Most people know about the tragic events that took place on October 2nd, 2018. Jamal Khashoggi entered the Saudi consulate in Istanbul, and was murdered in cold blood, with a ridiculously unbelievable series of lies spun that dumbfounded the world in their idiocy.
While the idea for this book came to me several years ago with the announcement of the discovery of the very ring featured in this book, the challenging aspect was figuring out how to link the past to the present. What I was blocked by was how I could believably have someone today, a thousand years later, care that a ring had been found, beyond it being yet another example of Islamic fundamentalists behaving badly.
Enter the Saudi regime itself.
For them to do what they did in Istanbul, proved that pretty much anything was possible with these people. It suddenly became completely believable that they could act on behalf of someone, fabulously overreact to the situation, then think they could get away with it.
If the events of late 2018 had been a work of fiction, I doubt anyone would have believed it. And now, thanks to those sad events, this work of fiction becomes plausible.
The ring is real, and the kidnapping from the embassy has been proven plausible. I hope you enjoyed the tale woven in these pages tying them together.
And one more quick note. The couple having the conversation about the Cornish game hen? That would have been my wife and I. She won’t eat Cornish game hen or turkey for that matter. In her culture, if the chicken (because they’re all chickens) is too big or too small, there’s something wrong with it.
So, we eat ham for Christmas here.
And I’ll never say what was whispered in my ear.
As usual, there are people to thank. My dad for all the research, Ian Kennedy for some “blowin’ shit up” help, Susan “Miss Boss” Turnbull for a grammar save, Fred Newton for some NASCAR info, Brent Richards for some terminology help, Sue Bucksey (she was the first of several on Facebook to provide an answer!) for some Queen’s English help, Sue Bucksey again via Facebook for Sherrie’s spicy description of the Thunder from Downunder, and, as usual, my wife, daughter, and mother, as well as the proofing and launch teams.
To those who have not already done so, please visit my website at www.jrobertkennedy.com then sign up for the Insider’s Club to be notified of new book releases. Your email address will never be shared or sold, and you’ll only receive the occasional email from me, as I don’t have time to spam you!
Thank you once again for reading.
JAMES ACTON WILL RETURN!
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The Viking Deception Page 20