by P. W. Child
If she could get the coveted vial she was searching for, the contents would afford her The Vision of Kvasir, whereby she would be shown where on earth the entrance to Valhalla was. This would be her first step toward her plan of domination. What she knew about Alchemy in the old context, the vial contained a potion that was not a mere hallucinogen, like that used for vision quests. Unlike Peyote and Ayahuasca, this compound would show the consumer of the contents strictly what information it held locked. As if by magic, the vial liquid held chemicals which, when bonded with the brain’s receptors, would send the drinker into a trance where they will be shown the road to Valhalla, where it was situated on the earth today.
Now, all she had to do was wait for her men to discover the piece that held the vial.
“I’m not a complete monster,” she said to herself in the large room with concrete columns under her father’s manor.
After putting on surgical gloves, she carefully took the first artifact and placed it in the cabinet x-ray system to be scanned for any contents. She was alone in the vast laboratory-meets-storage facility.
The place looked like a parking garage for chemistry nerds: lined from wall to wall with chemistry sets, beakers and Bunsen burners. In the middle of the room, upon four large wooden tables gathered there, the stolen relics from the British Museum and the other hoards looted without any alarm from store rooms in the Isle of Man and North Umbria University were set out for scanning. It was hard to determine what the steel objects may have held inside and some of the relics had to be taken apart for scrutiny. This vial and its substance were more important than any tool or ornament made by hands long turned to dust.
In the deserted corner of the concrete room, someone was leering from the shadows.
Chapter 9
Sam joined Nina in the living area.
“Ah, Dr. Gould, you have not forgotten what good taste I have in liquor. Thank you,” Sam smiled whimsically as she passed him his tumbler filled a quarter of the way with the rich amber liquid dancing from side to side as he sat down on the couch. Nina did not hide her curious investigation of Sam’s new look. Her big dark eyes darted over his longer locks and she cocked her head to check his deliberate stubble. She scoffed blankly and he could not tell if it was a good verdict or not.
“You had better drink up, laddie. Tonight we are keeping company with…well, who knows. She is a delightful woman, I must say, but her jewelry is just too uncanny,” Nina said as she drank down the entire contents of her wine glass. “God, I could do with some vodka tonight.”
“What makes you so certain she had something to do with the robbery? Maybe she has a friend who custom designs jewelry or something. You know, there is a Viking revival going on all over the world now. TV shows and music have turned that way on some channels and I see a lot of bikers with tattoos representing Norse Mythology and Viking Lore. Maybe she is just being ‘in’,” Sam said, electing to play Devil’s Advocate, just to make sure the rapidly inebriating Nina did not go off half-cocked on an innocent fashion victim.
“Sam, I got this rare book from a collector, uh, trader of obscure books, right? So, when he saw Val sitting at my table in Costa, he refused to join us. Before he left – briskly, I’ll have you know – he told me to watch the company I keep,” she spelled it out, leaning closer to Sam to reiterate the impact of the old man’s words. “I mean, the man could not take his eyes off Val all the time he was in there. He looked like he had seen a ghost…like he recognized her,” Nina explained.
Sam winced at the burn of the alcohol he swallowed and lifted the tumbler to look at the beautiful warm color against the fire. “Maybe he knows her. An ex. A friend of his daughter who pissed him off. You never know, Nina. You can’t just assume shit about someone, even if they wear stolen necklaces…”
“Neck ring. It was a neck ring.”
“…neck rings and have a bad rep with book dealers,” he finished.
Outside they heard the pulsing idling of a Harley Davidson Roadster. Nina’s eyes widened and she stared at Sam, “They’re here.”
“Nope, just her,” he answered, peeping from the window above the driveway.
“Oh good. Just her. You can wrestle her if she gets hostile,” Nina said in a lighter mood as she went to open the front door.
Sam was sitting with a fresh tumbler of intoxication in his hand when Val came through the door, Nina in tail with her helmet.
“Val, Sam,” Nina introduced them. “Just sit anywhere. I got us some wine. You do drink wine, right?” she asked urgently. Sam could clearly tell that she was playing down her intelligence to mask her intentions and it almost made him chuckle.
“I’d rather have some of that malt your friend is having, if I may be so forward. I don’t really drink wine and beer is for teenagers,” she winked at Sam. He smiled in return, very impressed with her personality, which almost surpassed her hair style in clout.
“Your hubby, Val?” Nina interrupted the blossoming amicability of two obviously naughty natures.
Val proceeded to tell them briefly about the brawl at the bar and just a little bit about her husband being a boxer for most of his life. “…so he couldn’t make it tonight.”
“Damn, what happened to the Turk?” Sam grinned, sitting forward with his elbows propped on his knees.
“Don’t know, but I think he is out a few thousand Euros,” she sniggered. Sam liked her right away, just as Nina had. The petite pretty historian looked for the neck ring on Val, but she was not wearing it. Disappointed, she listened to Sam and Val make fun of the Turk and his brother who had the cheek to scrap with Scots, not to mention Scandinavian-Scottish bikers like her Gunnar.
Perhaps she should just come out and ask? Her thoughts ran rampant between Val’s villainous pursuits and the extent of her suspicion. Then Nina’s pondering turned to memory, how Val raced after her with her shopping bag and how she joked and laughed so easily. Not one to be naïve in thinking that sweet natured people could not be influenced by desperation or greed, she was at crossroads with herself on what to do next concerning her new friend. Since Val was not wearing the brass neck ring, she would have no conversation piece on which to base her inquiries. Now what?
She could not run the risk of revealing her profession solely to get information and perhaps Val if she was indeed involved. Briefly, the thought of using Sam to seduce her flashed through Nina’s mind, but two things wiped that idea – she remembered that Val was happily married and that she was not at all too comfortable pimping Sam out to anyone. Her feelings toward him were odd and erratic. She was possessive of a man she did not own and it made her feel very out of her depth, but she could never admit such a thing. What she did not expect, in all her inner debating, was that Val was far more forward than she was. The shapely biker turned her attention to Nina and bluntly asked, “So, Nina, why did you invite me here tonight?”
Sam looked at Nina from behind Val’s shoulder. Nina’s eyes met his and then Val’s. She was at a loss for words. Unprepared for a reply, she bought time with a question.
“What kind of question is that? I thought we’d get on great and I invited you for a bit of a piss-up, Val,” Nina smiled nervously, but she concealed it rather well.
Val’s eyes smiled, but her voice was dead serious when she looked Nina in the eye and sang, “You want to know who I am, don’t you?”
Sam gripped his tumbler. That moment they feared just materialized. Nina perked up. If all else failed, she would become her usual feisty self.
“Who are you, then, Val?” she winked and smiled, playing on her suggestion that she was tipsy.
“Well,” Val started like a beauty queen answering a quiz question, “I know I am not who you think I am.”
Silence. Nina frowned, feigning her clear cut understanding of Val’s admirable vigilance.
“Who…” Nina looked at Sam as she slowly addressed Val, “…do I think you are?”
With tense anticipation Sam and Nina waited for the bomb
to drop.
“You think I flog stolen antiques, don’t you?” Val smiled, but Nina could not understand that she thought it was funny. “I remember you being so taken with my neck piece and I bet you invited me here to strike a deal. I bet you asked me to come so that we can have a little off the shelf antique hush-hush sale, right? Well,” she laughed as she slammed her hand lightly on Nina’s knee, “the only thing I can sell you off the board is a few J’s.”
Nina stared at her, confounded. Still laughing, Val added, “Weed, silly.”
Sam scoffed into his glass with a huge smile, knowing Nina would have his balls for laughing at her misjudgment. Little did he know that Nina just found her in. She could work with this little misunderstanding.
“Aw,” she laughed awkwardly and threw her head back, “I was really set on one of those neck pieces. At the very least, you have to tell me where you bought it. It is to die for.” Sam was immensely impressed with her quick thinking, her opportunism and her not too shabby acting skills.
“Listen, I tell you what, I have noticed that you have an affinity for ancient relics and tombs and all that stuff. How about we go have a look at the new exhibit they have at the National Museum of Scotland tomorrow? It’s on me. We’ll make a day of it,” Val suggested excitedly and chugged the last of her current helping of alcohol.
“Aye! Sounds aces!” Sam cheered. He poured wine for Nina and two tumblers of amber for Val and himself. Nina looked astonished. When Val looked at the wall art Purdue had in the hallway, she gave Sam an exasperated look of reprimand. He just waved her off and smiled.
“Go with it,” he whispered, and walked past her to join Val in a bit of impressionism analysis.
Nina stood in front of the massive window that looked out over Edinburgh. Visions of the family heirloom kept flashing through her mind. There had to be more to it than just that. And with the recent robberies, where the burglars picked precisely the same era of artifact at every institution, it was all too obvious. Wracking her brain, she tried to think of a way to trick Val into admitting or revealing involvement. Nina so desperately had to know why. What was their incentive for stealing mediocre pieces that had been in the museums for decades already?
“Val?” she said inadvertently, feeling so frustrated at her unanswered questions that she spoke with authority.
“Yes, love?” Val smiled and joined her in the room.
“You say that piece is a family heirloom? Which family member gave it to you?” she asked mildly, keeping it conversational.
“Oh, my mother gave it to me. Apparently it belonged to a very important family member of ours who lived lifetimes before me, so I thought it was a great honor, you know, for it to be passed on to me,” Val explained, sipping her whisky.
“If I may ask, Val, what do you do for a living?” Sam asked from the doorway, using his boyish charm to coax her.
“I do security consulting,” Val said, her words falling on Sam and Nina like anvils. They exchanged brief glances, their looks giving a resounding ‘Bingo!’ at her answer. That was it! That was the click in the combination lock of their prying. Nina fought a victorious smile.
A security consultant would be the perfect inside man, woman, person and Val was the link. She was the one making sure that the museum alarm system, CCTV streams and radio contact went ape-shit whenever the robbers came onto the premises. This is how she came to own the Lochar Moss Torc and the other lesser notable items she carelessly boasted on her person in town. Now it made sense.
Now, Nina knew, she and Sam could not only do something about the reckless endangerment of lives, but also stomp out the destruction and pillaging of world cultural treasures. As a historian, she was passionate about the protection of folk heritage and the preservation of ancient vestiges.
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to let any lowlife asshole somewhere get away with destroying the last bit of rich civilization we have left in this plastic world!” Nina hissed when she closed the door, watching the brake lights of the bike fade into the distance of the night.
“I have a strange feeling about all of this, Nina” Sam said, still skeptical of the absolute blame Nina directed at Val.
“Oh God, please. Not again, Sam. For fucks sake, have you lost your edge? Can’t you put two and two together? It’s right there in front of us!” she shrieked. That furious temper flared again as it always did when she smelled injustice.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong!” Sam snapped back and took her by her upper arms to get her attention. “All I am saying is just go with it. Let’s go see what the day holds. She’ll be with us all the time and you can spend it all snooping about the details of her profession. Maybe she doesn’t even know that she is aiding a smarter party,” he argued.
“Sam, she is wearing the fucking relics! The loot is around her neck. Christ, how much more proof do you need? Have you lost your edge from all the…the fucking therapy and shit that you have been using to cower from what you used to be so good at…?” Nina screamed. Sam’s glimmering dark eyes fell hard into hers. She stopped immediately, mute with regret. Nina gasped and watched her friend’s mouth fall open in defeat. His dimples had faded, his lips no longer smiling and she could have sworn she saw the glisten of tears on the onyx of his stare.
“Oh my god, Sam, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as he calmly walked away to where his jacket was lying on the couch. “Sam! Please, forgive me. I’m a bitch. I…Sam stop!” she followed closely, her hair lashing as she gestured in apology. “Sam, I just miss you the way you used to be. I’m also tired of being scared and having my ass in a sling, but this is what we do! This is who we are now. When we met I was a desperate academic who got no respect and you were a shit hot journalist who lost the love of his life! That is who we were, Sam! And…and look how far we have come. Now you go and fuck it all up by being all…all fuzzy and safe. Jesus, a few years back you would have leaned into Val right there and then about who she was. You would have tracked her to see where she went to expose what she is up to and bring this fucking problem to the ground with a crash!”
He ignored her and threw his tumbler into the hearth, shattering it, releasing the fumes of cask matured malt into the flames. She had never seen Sam angry, not like this. His wild black hair stood out from the frame of his handsome face, his wet mahogany eyes smoldering under his perfectly formed eyebrows.
“Well, you seem to be fueled enough for both of us, Nina!” he yelled at her for the first time. His deep voice was alien to her, but she dared not back down. “Good luck with your single-handed apprehension of the culprits! You certainly don’t need a cowering ex-shit hot journalist to have your back. We all know how swimmingly you survive without me…”
“Listen to me!” she shouted, her desperate tone to change his mind. “I hate to see you lose your spark. You have lost your passion, that recklessness you swing so easily. I have missed you, Sam! God, I have missed you so much and I want you back! I WANT YOU BACK!” Now she pleaded.
“You want me back. What a joke!” he laughed out loud, but his laughter was brutal and cold as he stared her down with a steely leer, drenched in disdain. He was fed-up feeling for her, aching for her, wondering when she is going to exile him again when she needed him gone and being only too grateful when she asked him back.
“You are too busy fucking Dave Purdue to even notice that I exist! Until you need me, of course. Then you call. I’m just your back-up, your sidekick when your boyfriend throws you into the fire for his own gain without giving a shit! That’s me!” he spat the words at her.
“That is not true! You are my best friend, Sam, and I miss you when we are apart for so long!” she still tried, but Sam would not hear it. He headed for the door. She screamed from the couch, her voice withering in defeat and tempestuous fury. “I’m only fucking Purdue to steal the Spear of Destiny! I don’t love him! I love…”
Sam turned at the door and faced her, but Nina had gone mute.
“You what?” he asked, a
stonished. Nina was not sure if he meant the cut off sentence or the objective of her relationship with Dave Purdue. She chose the safer secret.
“I am trying to find the Spear. He has it and he is going to use it for something despicable just to impress those pricks of the Black Sun. You know what that relic is capable of!” she rambled as he walked towards her, his dark stare burning into her, fixed on her agitated expression.
Nina’s chest heaved heavily in her upset, but she stood her ground. She never backed down, not for anyone, but she knew her hurtful words were uncalled for. Without a doubt, she was at fault for saying those things to him and she would do anything to keep him from leaving Wrichtishousis right then, from leaving her.
“Sam, I’m so sorry. I was a bitch who threw a tantrum, but I swear to God, I did not mean…” she said softly, but he interrupted her.
“You are a bitch, Nina. That is what I liked about you since the day we met. Now you want to steal the Spear from your boyfriend? You know that he will break up with you for that, right? Are you going to miss me then?” he lashed out and he loved it.
“Yes, I always miss you.”
It is all she said and she said it with such sincerity, her tone now low, sounding utterly vanquished. Her palms were on her thighs and her body quivering, but she never broke her gaze from his flaring stare. Without warning, Sam gathered Nina’s small body up into his powerful embrace and locked his lips deeply over hers in a passionate kiss that slowed the world they were in and stopped time entirely.
Chapter 10
It was a mild and pleasant day in Tomar. The picturesque Portuguese town was alive with activity. Some tourists sauntered about the Castle with too much technology and too little appreciation for the ancient fortress. From where it stood against the clear blue sky, it leered over the brush covered falling hillside to where below the Praça da República evened out the terrain and introduced civilization at the foot of the hill. Bordering the stretching platform of square grey and white paving of the Republic Square, stood the pale Town Hall. Its double arch entrance formed the only shade against the front face battered by the sun and reflecting its blinding whiteness.