The Celtic Serpent

by S. Robertson

  Inquisitively, Jock asked, “Angi, what did he mean by the Lords of Anu?”

  “I haven’t a clue. It hasn’t come to mind for years. Perhaps I’ll look it up on the Internet.”

  “So, this is what the thief was after?” asked Stuart. “It’s expensive enough but it needs to be properly assessed.”

  “While this certainly looks valuable,” replied Angi, “I expect no one except Mr. Aucoin, my grandmother and me even knew it was here. I was never allowed to take it out of my grandmother’s trunk. No, this is not what the thief was after.”

  Angi then went to her grandmother’s bedside table and picked up a small knitting needle resting under a doily. She inserted a pointed end into a small, almost invisible, hole in the trunk lid. A faint click was heard, and a secret panel slid open to reveal a small box-like item wrapped in a purple velvet bag. Angi removed it from its secret chamber, undid the cord tie and pulled out a gold and silver engraved box. Taking it to her grandmother’s bureau, she pressed a small leaver on the side which opened the lid to reveal a piece of antique jewelry. Angi picked up the golden medallion and chain and displayed it to the four men.

  Jock examined the item carefully. “I’m no expert on antique jewelry but this certainly looks old. The center stone is most unusual. The amethyst is lovely. My wife always said the amethyst had something to do with psychic powers. It would be interesting to know what the other stones might have been; they likely fit into the empty sockets. Angi, is this really what the thief was after? It’s rather innocuous. Does it have a story?”

  “What I know is rather limited, I’m afraid. When I was twenty-one, Gran showed me this medallion and tried to get me interested in its history, but, I paid scant attention. I do remember something about the missing gems. The gems had been deliberately removed centuries ago in the British Isles and scattered among a number of Irish/Scots/Welsh families. As there are eight gem slots, I expect there were eight families, the Gordons being one. A number of the original eight families immigrated to North America so that the medallion could not be assembled until, the ‘coming times’. In the hospital, Gran kept mumbling the ‘coming times’ had arrived. I’ve no idea what that means. Through the centuries each Guardian kept in touch with two other Guardians. I have the names of the two Guardians Gran contacted each year, usually at Christmas. In hospital, her last request was for me to phone these two women. I called them early this morning and will need to contact them again now that Gran has died.”

  “What did they say when you called?” asked Stuart.

  “Both kept repeating the same ‘coming times’ phrase. Obviously something has begun. They would not say anything more over the telephone except that I could be in grave danger. The Irish woman kept mumbling something about the medallion having magical powers but nothing specific. Another interesting feature of this secret, is that the medallion was to be mainly guarded by women, as they were the least likely to be traced in a masculine world. How’s that for seventeenth century feminism.”

  “I know you are hesitant in giving out their names, Angi, but in light of recent events they may also be in danger.” said Stuart.

  Angi hesitated, “I will ask these women about releasing their names when I call about my grandmother’s death and, if they agree, you can notify the Boston and Cork, Ireland police departments on what has happened here. Is that OK for now?”

  “Fine, Angi. We will at least get the police onto this before there are any further problems.” Stuart was not entirely happy with this arrangement but at least he now knew the motive. “Well, the medallion’s magical powers seem rather tame at present?” said Stuart as he examined the piece of jewelry, “but, your safety is a definite concern,” as he glanced quickly at Jock.

  Ignoring the safety issue, Angi went on, “According to Gran, the medallion only becomes activated when all the gems are in place. Considering there has been over three hundred years since these gems were scattered, there is likely little possibility of finding them at this point.”

  Alex, who was now quietly examining the medallion and storage box, asked “May be that’s not as impossible as you think. If these Guardians have been contacting each other for centuries, they may still have a living network. Whatever this secret is, great care has been given to the design of this storage box. It looks French, maybe 1600s, and of a very costly craftsmanship. Someone went to a great deal of effort to protect something for centuries. It deserves our attention. It’s your heritage, Angi, we can only advise you.”

  “Well, gentlemen,” said Stuart looking around, “I need not stress enough the need for silence on this matter. The value of these two items, the golden harp and the medallion, is sufficient to attract any number of treasure seekers and criminals. Although our deceased thief was certainly not the brains behind this attack, he knew precisely what he was after. He was likely the pawn of a more dangerous predator. Someone definitely knows more than we do about this medallion, and that bothers me. In the meantime, Angi, I advise you to get these two items out of this house. Alex and I will make arrangements with the Royal Bank for a special safety box and we will settle this matter today if you agree.”

  Angi nodded her head in agreement.

  Then, hesitating, Stuart glanced at Jock and continued. “In light of so many uncertainties, I suggest you have a body guard for the next few weeks until we can get a better handle on this whole matter. Angi, you could be the next target.”

  The idea of a nursemaid irritated Angi, and she responded, “I don’t need a body guard. For heaven’s sake, this is Charlottetown. The city police have been making extra rounds. That should be enough.”

  Stuart pressed his point. “Angi, this man had international connections and such sophisticated criminals have few scruples if they’re after something of value. I insist on the body guard because you will be alone in this house when Dave and James return to Montague tomorrow. This body guard, a female, will be inconspicuous. You might introduce her as one of your nursing colleagues.”

  Reconsidering the practical reality of the situation, Angi’s next response was more conciliatory. “Perhaps you’re right. Under the circumstances being alone would not be good. I’d like the company as the days ahead could be difficult. The way my grandmother was attacked has rattled me even if I am trying to ignore it. So, when should I expect my so-called body guard?”

  Before Stuart had time to respond, the sound of a motorcycle roared into place near the front of the house. “There she is now,” said Stuart. “Let’s go down and meet her.”

  Angi returned the two valuable items to their respective bags placed them back in her grandmother’s trunk, and locked it. The party of five returned to the front room to greet their new arrival.

  Dave opened the front door and in stepped a slightly built female dressed in black leather from head to toe, sporting a tousled pink and green cropped hair cut and numerous tattoos. “Hi all, I got here as quickly as I could. Slade Gallant reporting for duty,” she said with a broad smile as she nodded a special greeting to Stuart.

  Angi stared in disbelief. “You must be kidding. Inconspicuous, it will be extremely difficult to pass Slade off as another nurse.”

  “No problem, my dear,” replied Slade, undaunted by the negative reaction. “Miracles can happen. Today’s undercover cops have the latest training in theatrical make-up. We are experts at disguise. Give me a washroom. You’ll be amazed at what a few chemicals and soap and water can do. I need to look like a nurse, heh, well, that’s what it’ll be.” Angi pointed to the downstairs washroom. Slade disappeared clutching a small leather bag.

  Stuart called after Slade, “I’ll make sure the motorbike is stored at headquarters. You and Angi can use Nellie’s Toyota parked in the driveway.” Without waiting for the transformation, Stuart headed for the front door, “Alex and I are off Angi. We will be back in a couple of hours.” Sensing Angi’s uncertainty over the new arrival he continued “You’ll be glad to have Slade. She’s one of the best. Her
father and I trained together many years ago.” When he reached his car he phoned Conrad to arrange an immediate meeting. He knew that the police in Boston and Cork had to be notified.

  Jock stayed, briefly discussing with Angi the arrangements for the transfer of her grandmother to a local funeral home. As he was about to depart Angi stated, “I’ll contact Margo, she can help me with the arrangements.”

  Within the hour Slade reappeared. Angi and Dave stood in disbelief. It was an entire transformation. Her hair was now auburn, the tattoos gone and she was dressed in casual slakes and a sweat shirt embellished with a sassy pink bear.

  Angi couldn’t believe her eyes. “How did you get rid of all those tattoos?”

  Slade smiled as she replied, “These days we have removable tattoos. Mind you, they are not easily removed but with the right chemical mixture they do come off. I’m likely poisoning myself. Now, you will have to fill me in on what kind of nurse I’m supposed to be. Before that, I’m starving. I’ve not stopped since I left Halifax hours ago. Stuart really convinced my dad this was urgent.”

  “How were you able to get off duty?” asked Dave, thinking, “I wonder who’s footing the bill. Normally, it’s a rare situation for police protection of this caliber. I’ll not press the matter; Angi has enough on her plate.”

  Slade, choosing her words carefully, replied, “Actually, I’m on a sort of leave…... between assignments……..” she let the sentence drift with few details.

  Quickly changing the conversation, Dave replied. “Did I hear you say you were hungry? The Kirk women have been dropping off food all morning. There’s plenty to eat. Angi, you decide on the menu while I make the coffee.” Looking at the strained look on Angi’s face, he shifted gear and asked. “Never mind, Slade and I will take care of the eats. Is there any chance, Angi, your grandmother kept some liquor in the house? This has been a rough day.”

  Angi, feeling the stress of recent events and a strange feeling her world was being altered by forces outside of her control, replied in a quiet voice, “Gran has some sherry in the dining room cupboard.” For the first time since she arrived home a wave of nausea swept over her and she eased herself into a kitchen chair.

  “I’ll find it,” said Dave as he moved towards the dining room.

  At that moment James arrived, heading straight to Dave for an update.

  In the kitchen, Angi asked Slade. “I do hope you have another name than Slade?”

  “Oh yah,” replied Slade. That’s my working name. My family calls me Vette, short for Yvette. Will that do?”

  “Better,” smiled Angi. “Vette Gallant it is. I will introduce you as a Halifax nurse working with a special unit caring for the mentally ill and drug addicts. How’s that for a cover?”

  “Perfect! It fits my recent work. If asked, I’ll soften the details. Stuart gave me some briefing over the phone and you and Dave can fill me in on today’s happenings. After some food, I’ll find a suitable downstairs place to sleep, and all my needs will be met.”

  Angi liked this practical, exuberant, stranger. “It’ll be good to have someone guarding my back,” she thought, “I have enough on my plate.”

  Within minutes sherry was made available for everyone. While Dave, James and Vette proceeded to get some lunch ready, Angi slipped into the living room, choosing a soft chair a distance from the kitchen. The kitchen voices drifted into the distance as she pondered the happy memories of this old house. The house seemed empty; her grandmother’s spirit was gone. Tears blocked her vision as the impact of the emptiness engulfed her. “I’m the last of this family line,” she thought. “My illness means there will likely be no descendants. Perhaps its best, Gran never knew. Life certainly has its surprises. My comfortable life as a nurse has been turned upside down. I am now facing two life-threatening possibilities, a major illness and an international killer after an ancient medallion which I know little about but am one of its Guardians.” Her thoughts were interrupted by Dave’s call from the kitchen that lunch was ready. Angi picked up her sherry glass, let the liquid slip down her throat, and headed towards the life-filled voices. “It is good to have such people around at such times; a blessing of strangers.”

  * * *

  United States: Boston Police Station

  The cold reality of a predator targeting one’s family registered when Wolfram learned of the attack on Nellie Gordon. Antonino had reached North America. He was after the medallion and its gemstones and had few scruples in how he obtained them. Wolfram sent out calls to former law enforcement colleagues to get a bead on this phantom. Days passed. The urgency of the information escalated at an unrelated meeting at the Boston Police Station. Wolfram was there to discuss an upcoming fraud case with global tentacles.

  He sat uncomfortably in the waiting area outside the Deputy Superintendent’s office. The activities and sounds of the police station were familiar, too familiar. A part of his soul was still held in its spell. “What was it,” he thought, “the sense of duty or the clear purpose, perhaps both?” He stood for a few minutes, started walking, trying to find some comfort. Frustrated, he thought, “It hardly matters what I do. This leg hurts if I sit or stand for any length of time. I’m cursed. If I don’t exercise I can hardly move. When I do exercise I get this throbbing pain. I have to blank it out.”

  At that moment the door opened and Gus, in his usual boisterous manner ushered him into his office with, “Its good to see you again, my boy, and glad you’re getting about. That leg’s still a problem but you seem pretty much on the mend.”

  “Well, almost sir. Still a lot of rehab ahead but it’s improving,” said Wolfram, wanting to bypass the topic. He made a bee line for the most comfortable chair in the room, which he soon discovered provided little comfort to his aching limb.

  Gus Ferguson, a man nearing retirement, positioned himself into his oversized leather chair, and retrieved the case file in the midst of a stack of papers. At that moment, his secretary barged into the room to announce there was an urgent call from Atlantic Canada. Turning to Wolfram, Gus said, “This should be brief,” then to his secretary, “I’ll take this one and then hold my calls for the next hour.”

  Wolfram had known Gus for over ten years. As he waited he thought to himself, “I’ve missed the old codger, growl and all. He’ll be hard to replace. Years of pulling the force, kicking and screaming, into the electronic age and routing out the deadwood came with a hefty price. He’s aged in the past year. While some griped about Gus’s management style, I discovered he had an unequaled understanding of law enforcement politics and dealing with complex cases. In several instances his mentorship proved invaluable. I suppose he felt bad that my accident occurred while I was on duty and within days of leaving. Whatever the reason, I’m the winner.”

  Gus picked up the receiver with a cheery, “Hello how’s the Maritimes? I’ve a cousin near Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. Haven’t seen him in years………. Oh, you are calling from Prince Edward Island………Never been there. Heard it’s a lovely place. …… What can I do for you, Conrad? Two deaths! Nellie Gordon, a prominent citizen of your community, how’d she die?”

  Alarmed at hearing Nellie’s name, Wolfram squirmed. “She’s dead!” He knew of the assault from his grandmother. “That certainly screws my theory of it being a random car accident in Dublin. A God-damned storm is heading this way.”

  Gus continued talking, “I see……The assailant was from where? .......... Wanted by Interpol, you say? What was he doing in Canada? ............ What? Gus noted Wolfram’s unease and knew it wasn’t entirely due to his injuries. While concentrating on the call he now began to observe Wolfram. “He was killed, in your jail, by a suspected hired killer. Now that’s a nasty twist……… Poisoned, heh?”

  Wolfram felt a cold chill. His thoughts raced, “My God, three deaths in so many days! This Antonino is lethal. The dead jail bird was likely the Dublin driver. Antonino avoids soiling his own hands. What in God’s name are we dealing with? This man has power
ful contacts to arrange a hit like that. I’m sorry I ever heard of this damn medallion. It will be the death of us all. Morgan’s the next target and it’s just a matter of time before he zeros in on the rest of us.”

  The international call went on, “That’s an expensive send off for a petty thief wouldn’t you say? Do you have any idea of the motive or who’s behind this? No? ………. So, why are you calling?”

  Gus kept watching Wolfram. Startled by the news from Conrad, Gus asked, “What name did you say?” ………….He stared at Wolfram repeating the name out loud……... “Gracelyn Harrison. I certainly do know her,” the emphasis falling on the ‘do’. “You think she may be the next target? Not on my patch.”

  Wolfram knew his grandmother’s name could only have come from Angi and she would not have revealed it without permission from his grandmother. His thoughts began to race. “Obviously, ‘the coming times’, whatever the hell that meant, had raised the curtain of silence. The Guardians knew they were now potential targets. If Antonino was able to get to one or more of the Guardians, he could possibly unravel the whole chain.”

  Wolfram knew the call was about to end as Gus said, “Conrad, be assured that I will definitely look into this. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll get back to you if I learn anything more.” He dropped the receiver into its cradle and stared at Wolfram, “OK, my boy, to hell with the fraud case, talk to me! I get irritated when one of our noted citizens becomes a target of some international killer. You know more? Start talking!”