by Sam Clarke
Knut stiffened. ‘You did what?’
‘I promised,’ confirmed my father unperturbed. ‘And you know that a promise cannot—’
‘I’m totally aware of what a promise entails,’ said Knut, smashing the cup on its saucer. The expensive looking china produced a refined clink of protest. ‘Noah, leave us.’
I made to stand, but my father stopped me. ‘If it’s about the map, he should stay.’
‘He was about to leave. Unlike you, he can do as he’s told,’ said my grandfather frostily. He then turned towards me. ‘Please, Noah, sit. Since your father is being so obstructive, we’ll have a nice talk about the weather.’
My father didn’t take kindly to the wry comment. ‘You, of all people, cannot accuse me of—’
‘I’d love to talk about the weather,’ said Viggo, topping up Knut’s cup. ‘Nassau is very humid, but the sea and the sand certainly make up for it. Having said that, I really do miss those nice, crisp Swedish winter days. I also miss my horse, he’s an Arabian.’
His remarks were, as usual, the embodiment of idiocy, but served their purpose and prevented my father and Knut from exchanging harsh words. Gunnar and Moshe returned and reported to their boss. ‘Everything’s in order, sir. We have swept your cabin and all communal areas for bugging devices. The ship is clear. For health and safety reasons, I would advise caution when entering Magnus’s cabin.’
My father was very slightly embarrassed, but stoically held Knut’s scolding gaze.
‘Sir,’ continued Gunnar, ‘we cannot guarantee any privacy above deck. I would suggest holding any sensitive conversations in a more secure environment. If you can let us know in advance which room you are going to use, we’ll take the necessary precautions.’
‘Very well.’ Knut stood up. ‘We’ll meet in the main lounge in one hour. Magnus, bring the map.’
Moshe escorted Knut downstairs and Gunnar walked straight up to Viggo. ‘Who did you hire to make my bed? A trained monkey?’
CHAPTER 21
The carbon fibre kayak glided over the crystal-clear waters. To keep me out of Knut’s way, Viggo had taken me on a surprise trip. When we were far enough from Valhalla, we took turns diving in. Viggo was an excellent swimmer – he had been part of his high-school’s swim squad and still trained every day before breakfast. ‘I’m a mermaid-dude,’ he said, diving under the kayak and emerging at the other side. ‘I can stay under for a long time. All I have to do is learn to sing and then I’ll woo the ladies with my melodic voice.’
I laughed, my gaze fell on his cross tattoo. It was a smallish design, three by three centimetres, and the colouring was still bright. ‘Where did you get your inking done?’ I asked with a certain aplomb, not that I had ever set foot in a tattoo parlour.
‘In Cyprus, during a holiday.’
‘Did it hurt?’
‘Dude, imagine a hedgehog rolling back and forth on your shoulder, he finally leaves, you breathe a sigh of relief, and the hedgehog comes back and rolls some more!’
‘How did you choose the design?’ I asked between chuckles.
His head bobbed among the waves. ‘It sounds crazy, but I didn’t choose it. It chose me.’
I raised my eyebrows, only Viggo could have a mystical experience in a tattoo parlour. ‘My father has the exact same design,’ I said, struggling not to imply too much.
An inscrutable expression came over him. He kept on bobbing up and down and managed to shrug his shoulders while treading water. ‘Isn’t that a funny coincidence?’ His simplistic answer deserved an applause. He swam closer and held onto the side of the kayak. ‘Can you keep a secret?’
I leaned over, optimistically hoping that he would shed some light on the curious case of double-inking. I overbalanced and nearly capsized. He pushed me back and prevented me from falling in the water. ‘Hope texted,’ he said. A grin spread over his face. ‘She’s free tomorrow evening. I know the timing sucks, with Knut being here and everything, but I really hope I can get the night off. I could take her somewhere romantic, like that buffet we went to the other night. I have a discount coupon, we can get twenty percent off if we go early. I may need to bring my own candle, though, I didn’t see any when we went,’ he added pensively.
His ideas on how to make a girl feel special certainly didn’t conform to the usual standards. I wasn’t an expert on romantic dinners, but I was pretty sure that cheap buffets aimed at the tourist trade didn’t qualify as such. He heaved himself onto the kayak. ‘You can’t say anything to Isabelle. I stole the coupon from one of her magazines. I know you two are, ahem, close, but we can keep dude stuff between us, right?’
I don’t know how girls do it, but you speak of them and they appear out of nowhere. Isabelle was steering a jet ski in our direction. She expertly carved the water and parked next to our wobbly kayak. She was distressed, agitated, and hadn’t even bothered wearing a life-vest. ‘Guys, I overheard the most incredible conversation between Magnus and Knut,’ she panted.
Viggo hooked the jet ski with his arm to keep it close. ‘You shouldn’t eavesdrop.’
‘It wasn’t intentional.’ For a change, she sounded sincere. ‘They were fighting and—’
Viggo dismissed her protests with a wave of his hand. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll have to tell your father.’
‘But—’
‘Make space,’ he said, climbing on the jet ski and getting hold of the handlebar. ‘I’m taking you back to Valhalla. Dude, are you OK to start rowing on your own? I’ll come back for you.’
‘Yeah, sure.’
I was so stunned by his overreaction that I forgot to check how far we’d come. Isabelle eavesdropping wasn’t big news, but each time Knut was involved, everything got blown out of proportion. ‘Hold me tight,’ he said to Isabelle, positioning his thumb on the green button that would start the jet ski. His command went unanswered, she was spellbound by his trapezius muscle. Viggo pushed his hair back. In preparation for Knut’s visit he had given himself a DIY haircut. The difference was barely noticeable, it was only slightly shorter. Isabelle pushed her nose closer to the trapezius muscle, then turned in my direction and pointed to the nape of his neck. His self-inflicted haircut had uncovered a minuscule tattoo. I could just about make it out: MCXIX. I blinked, I wasn’t dreaming, it was definitely there. Viggo, completely unaware that his neck was generating so much interest, was growing impatient. ‘C’mon Isabelle, hold me tight.’
She clumsily wrapped her arms around his torso. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Unless you want to fly off this thing, you’ll have to hold me a hell of a lot tighter. Pretend I’m your boyfriend.’
She probably did it on regular basis! She tightened her embrace and they disappeared into the distance. I followed their foam trail, unable to put the matching tattoos out of my head.
CHAPTER 22
Viggo did not come back for me. I reached Valhalla, completely wiped out, and shouted for someone to help. Ariel leaned over the gunwale. ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou Romeo,’ he droned, without a hint of passion, before lowering the rope ladder. I secured the kayak to one of the purpose-built hooks and climbed towards my bald and burly Juliet.
Viggo jogged towards me and handed me a towel. ‘Sorry I didn’t come back for you, Magnus needed me.’
I gestured towards Isabelle sulking on the gunwale. ‘Is she OK?’
He gave me a noncommittal shrug. On a scale of one to ten, his current interest in her plight was minus twenty. ‘Miguel dealt with her, it turned out she was exaggerating as usual and hadn’t heard much. You should probably change into dry clothes, the map meeting starts in fifteen minutes and Knut doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’
‘Am I invited?’ I asked, dumbfounded. ‘Did Knut say so?’
He winked and smiled. Without giving sulking Isabelle a second thought, I dived into the shower and rinsed the salt off my skin. Five minutes later, my hair barely dry, I was standing outside the main lounge. Gunnar ran a metal detector over me and cleared me to
enter. Aside from my father and Isabelle, who wasn’t supposed to attend anyway, everyone was already there, including Knut. Pathetic as it sounds, I was chuffed when he nodded in my direction.
The near-religious silence was shattered by a concert of angry beeps coming from the corridor. Viggo and Miguel stifled smiles. Outside, Gunnar had the nerve to ask my father if he had anything metallic on him. Knut exhaled and spoke loudly enough for Gunnar to hear him. ‘I take it Magnus has graced us with his presence?’
‘Affirmative, sir, but he’s covered in metallic objects,’ came the proficient reply.
‘Objects!’ My father snorted. ‘They’re bracelets.’
‘In my opinion they do not constitute a threat, sir,’ advised Gunnar. ‘Should he remove them all or would you rather start your meeting on time?’
Knut sighed with resignation. ‘If he has the scroll, let him through.’
My father entered with the plastic container where we usually kept the breakfast biscuits. It was packed with surgical gloves, magnifying glasses and crumbs. The tube with the Nuestra Señora map was tucked under his arm. He threw the gloves in Knut’s direction. My grandfather shook some crumbs off and slipped them on. The rimless reading glasses went from his breast pocket to his nose. He unrolled the map.
‘Tell me everything,’ he demanded, without taking his eyes off the scroll. My father complied, but conveniently failed to mention the shooting in downtown Nassau or the fact that we were aboard Valhalla when the Russians came. The played-down version of the burglary didn’t sit well with Knut. ‘Get Gunnar to run the facial recognition software on the images of the burglars,’ he said. ‘I want to know if they are linked to Dragomirov.’
I knew better than to ask for clarifications. My father must have gone out on a limb to have me present and I wanted to see how these meetings played out before making any contributions.
Knut kept on studying the image. ‘There isn’t much detail. Are you positive about the dating?’
‘My team is one hundred percent reliable,’ said Miguel.
‘And are there absolutely no leads on the pages in Arabic mentioned by the monks?’ asked Knut.
My father shook his head. ‘Not unless we find out who these Russians are and go after them, but it will involve risks.’
He threw a nervous glance in my direction.
‘If the facial recognition software identifies them, we will go after the Russians. I want those pages.’ Knut focused on my father and Miguel. ‘If we get a lead, you will have to find a secure location for your children, preferably in a European boarding school, or I will be forced to assign the task to another team.’
‘But we found the map!’ protested my father. ‘And I promised Noah we’d work on it together.’
Knut shot him a silencing look. ‘I’m aware of that, but tracking the Russians with minors in tow would be too dangerous. I won’t allow it.’
‘Then you’d better take me off the project,’ said my father defiantly. ‘I’m staying with Noah.’
Knut clasped his hands. ‘Even if it means missing out on the twelfth ring?’
My father’s resolve melted like an ice-cube in the sun. ‘You never said this was about the twelfth ring.’
‘I have reason to believe that the map may lead to it,’ said Knut, removing his reading glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘The ring’s last sighting was recorded in 1318, when the owner boarded a ship from Valencia to Cyprus. Unfortunately, the ship never made it to its destination and vanished somewhere along the way, most likely at the bottom of the sea.’
‘I’ve heard the story a million times,’ said my father dismissively. ‘But unless you know something I don’t, I can’t see a connection with our map.’
A fleeting smile crossed Knut’s thin lips. ‘I do know something you don’t, Magnus: the ship was called Nuestra Señora.’ He paused for effect and went in for the kill. ‘And I also know that the ring’s owner happened to be fluent in Arabic. In all likelihood, he’s the author of the missing pages.’
My father lit up like a Christmas tree. This was the type of adventure he lived for. Our eyes met and his expression changed to a downcast one: I was in his way.
‘What’s so special about this ring?’ I asked, breaking my silence. If I was being traded for a medieval trinket, I wanted to know what it was.
All eyes were on Knut. He took a while to answer. ‘It is an extremely rare medieval piece. Only a handful were forged. It entitles the bearer to certain…’ he hesitated, looking for a vague enough word, ‘certain rights. It’s part of a set of twelve and I happen to have the other pieces. I cannot go into specifics, but it would be disastrous if the twelfth ring ended up in the wrong hands.’
‘What rights—?’
He cut me off. ‘Magnus, the Russians have the Arabic pages, but not the map, correct?’
‘Correct.’
‘Could they have acquired a copy?’ continued Knut, making notes on a legal pad.
‘I can’t see how. The original is still in our possession.’
‘Did they ever refer to the ring in the security footage?’
‘No, but very few people know about it. I would work under the assumption that they’re after the map for other reasons.’
‘You’re becoming complacent,’ said Knut, sternly. ‘It is a grave error.’
My father dropped his gaze. Knut made a few more notes and put the pen down. ‘Until we hear from Gunnar, the meeting is adjourned. Dismissed.’
CHAPTER 23
Gunnar’s military computer came in a sturdy case that could withstand an overweight T-rex on a sugar rush stomping on it. I tried to picture Gunnar on a sugar rush and scared myself to death. Viggo handed him a memory stick with the pictures of Yuri and Vladimir. Gunnar uploaded the files and selected a number of databases from a list. I managed to read Interpol, but the screen changed before I could make out any of the others. An emerald green progress bar appeared in the middle of the screen, moving slower than a drowsy snail. ‘It will take a while,’ barked Gunnar the genius. ‘Lock the control room when you leave.’
Viggo failed to answer, too busy licking his fingertips and running them along his eyebrows to smooth them down. This ape-like grooming routine was a sure sign that Hope was on her way. I was also looking forward to seeing her, the meeting had left me pretty unsettled and I yearned for a diversion. If my father decided to go after this mysterious ring, I would be shipped off to a boarding school until mum’s return. I doubted she would leave her newly-acquired fiancée behind and come back to London to make me feel better. It suddenly hit me that their marriage could make my life ten times worse. What if Jean-Claude and I didn’t get along? What if they decided to have a baby? I paled at the thought.
‘Dude, you look a bit off colour. I heard of these Peruvian vampire mosquitos that drain humans of their blood. Do you have any bites?’
Viggo’s improbable diagnosis forced me to focus on the present. ‘I have a lot on my mind. What time is Hope coming?’
He stretched and yawned. I envied his near-constant state of relaxation. ‘Two hours.’
He began rummaging through the desk drawers. ‘What are you after?’ I asked.
‘Sticky tape. To wrap Hope’s gift. If Gunnar’s evil machine doesn’t come up with anything, my date tomorrow could be going ahead.’
‘What did you get her?’
He frowned, as if I was a hopeless imbecile. ‘The Mexican cardigan, dude! The one Brother Cristobal gave us.’
This was going to be a killer date: cheap buffet, bring-your-own-candle, stolen coupon and a moth-infested cardigan. Viggo kept on digging for the sticky tape and, in my humble opinion, for his own grave. I wanted to tell him, but felt utterly underqualified. My only catastrophic date so far consisted of a movie and burger with Emily Lunn – she had brought her sister along and I ended up paying for both. Financially and romantically it had been a total disaster. And the movie had been a major letdown too. ‘I’d better find Isabell
e,’ I said. ‘We need to get cracking on our Norway project.’
Viggo made a face. He still believed that we fancied each other and didn’t relish the idea of the two of us spending time alone. ‘Dude, I’ll have to come and check on you. Take it as a friendly warning.’
‘There’s no need,’ I said, aware that she’d rather die than succumb to my charms, ‘but if you have to, we’ll be in my cabin.’
‘Make sure you leave the door open,’ he cautioned. ‘I know you mean well, but love and hormones work in mysterious ways.’
#
The Scandinavia map was stretched across my desk; Isabelle’s attention was lost in the freezing Norwegian waters. I waved my hand in front of her face. ‘Earth to Isabelle, can you hear me?’
She threw a furtive glance at the empty corridor. ‘We need somewhere private.’
I paled, the impossible had happened! Fed up with Viggo’s lack of interest, she was focussing her attentions on me. ‘You’re a very nice girl,’ I began, exceptionally awkwardly. She arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows. Had I been too stingy with words? I nervously wet my lips and mustered all my courage, ready for my first ever performance of letting someone so good-looking down gently. ‘You’re very pretty and, sometimes, I quite… like you but… not that way.’
At least I didn’t think so, I honestly wasn’t too sure anymore.
‘Oh-my-God,’ she said disdainfully, ‘it’s contagious. You’re officially as moronic as Viggo, but only half as good-looking.’
I wasn’t sure how to react. All in all, being half as good-looking as Viggo wasn’t too bad, in fact, it was nearly a compliment. Isabelle, who had never before come so close to admitting that she found him attractive, regretted her slip up. ‘It was meant as a joke, of course,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ I agreed, reinforcing her theory that my intelligence was below average.
Satisfied by my dumbness, she carried on. ‘I mean it, Noah, we’ve got to talk. It’s important.’ She shut the door, pulled her chair closer to mine and put her hand on my wrist. I didn’t pull away and felt a bit guilty for enjoying her touch. ‘The conversation I heard between Magnus and Knut was about you. And they also talked about a secret organisation they’re part of.’