“Slippery little critter, aren’t you?” Dodge lunged across the room and with all his strength yanked the bureau forward. Drawers flew open, scattering notepaper, ink pots, pens and other writing materials all over the floor. The snake reared and swayed hypnotically from side to side. A hollow hiss echoed around the room.
Clenching his teeth Dodge lashed at the creature with his poker. The snake writhed and jerked beneath this onslaught. He was determined to kill!
“Dodge, what are you doin’ man?” Miles’ roar of horror yanked him from his frenzy. He whirled around to face the four men who had rushed into the room. The hotel manager and two policemen flanked Miles. They were gaping at him like he was mad. Dodge was breathing hard. Disbelievingly he looked at the room and the mess he’d made of it.
“Miles? There was this bloody awful snake....” Dodge began, but as he regarded the puzzled expressions of the men, he tailed off and looked at the floor. The vile serpent had gone! “There was a snake!” he insisted. “It shot out of that bag right into my face!”
“Mr Danger, this is Sergeant Fletcher J Brock and Constable Barney Sloane. They’ve come to investigate the incident.” The hotel manager looked around the room in a daze.
“Dodge, what’re ye talking about?” Miles was really starting to tire of all these disturbances to his wedding night!
“There was a snake in the bag. I’d never seen anything like it!” Dodge looked at the brass poker in his hand, hoping it had left some blood behind, but the iron prod was clean.
“And where is this snake now sir?” Brock asked politely.
Dodge swept the room with his gaze again, actually hoping to spot it.”Uh, I don’t see it right now…” Dodge faltered. He was sure he’d smashed that damn snake into the carpet, but it had disappeared again!
“Sir … have you been drinking tonight?” Brock smiled at Dodge in a patronising manner.
“Not a lot!” Dodge protested. Compared to what Miles had imbibed, three tumblers of scotch was nothing!
“Like a fish, Sergeant Brock!” Miles declared. Dodge glared at his friend.
Brock simply nodded sagely. “Sir, may I suggest that put some trousers on before Constable Sloane becomes agitated and nicks you for indecent exposure!” Brock brought out a small black notebook and pencil. “And then you can tell me exactly what’s been going on here tonight.”
Smiling at Dodge, he licked the point of his pencil.
Chapter Two
Seven Runes
It was a dull, wet afternoon - perfect funeral weather. The drizzle had been falling from a slate grey sky all day. Dodge stood at the rear of a small huddled crowd, he felt uncomfortable about being here, but the family’s lawyer had insisted that he attend. The deceased, Marcus Kirkmuir, had had little family and fewer friends. Dodge scanned the small, sullen crowd huddled beneath their umbrellas. He spotted two shady-looking Chinese men dressed in long black coats and incongruous bowler hats standing some distance away, and wondered what they were doing here.
Another person caught his attention for an entirely different reason. An elegant young woman stood at the graveside. She was small and petite, but held herself with confidence and poise. She had long honey-blonde hair, a healthy complexion and strong features. As Dodge studied her she turned around and their gazes met. She had the most striking bright blue eyes. Quickly he looked down at the ground, embarrassed at being caught starting. When he dared to raise his eyes again, the woman was gazing sadly into the grave. A large man stood on her left, a paternal hand placed gently on her shoulder. He had a ruddy, weathered face framed with iron-grey mutton chops. His eyes also drooped with sorrow, but the lines around them suggested that he was usually a good-humoured soul.
Dodge had tried to answer the police’s questions. But the effects of the whisky, sudden plunge into icy water, seeing the man he’d just saved from drowning kill himself with an ornamental knife, and subsequent serpent attack, had all left him feeling ill. He had garbled his responses. But he did learn that until six months earlier, Marcus Kirkmuir been a rising star in the archaeology world. Then, for some inexplicable reason, his sanity went on a on a dramatic downward spiral. The turning point had come when Marcus and a group of colleagues made a significant archaeological find on the coast of New England. The nature of this discovery was never made public and many research team-members had since died in mysterious accidents or committed suicide.
Dodge would have liked to have seen the bag’s contents, but the snake had thwarted his efforts. The hallucinatory snake, he had grudgingly corrected himself. Brock had since removed the bag as evidence, but once the verdict of suicide was recorded, Kirkmuir’s personal effects passed on to his next of kin - the blonde woman at the graveside – his sister Susan Kirkmuir.
“You must be Mr Dodge Danger,” a deep, mellow voice brought Dodge out of his thoughts. He looked up at the man who had addressed him, the large man who had been comforting the deceased’s sister. He smiled warmly. “Thank you for coming sir. I am Sir Henry Cuthbert McEld, the family lawyer. I telephoned you yesterday. I was wondering whether you’d care to join myself and Miss Kirkmuir for supper.”
“I don’t know, Sir Henry. I don’t want to intrude...” Dodge began.
“Please call me Henry. Believe me, you wouldn’t be intruding. In fact you may be performing Miss Kirkmuir a great service.”
Dodge glanced across at the young woman - this time he met her gaze with confidence. The small crowd was already dissipating. Dodge noted, with interest, that the two Chinese men had backed away from the grave, but were still watching from the edge of the cemetery.
“Yeah, sure Henry, I’d be delighted to join you for supper.”
“Excellent!” the lawyer beamed, then turned to the young woman and nodded his head. She smiled, and Dodge thought she looked relieved. “We’ll go to my offices. I already have a buffet prepared.”
Dodge put down his coffee cup and glanced across the table at Susan. Throughout the meal the conversation had mainly been between McEld and Dodge. The young woman had occasionally contributed, but spent most of her time studying Dodge.
“So, what’s the real reason behind this meeting?” Leaning back on his chair, Dodge directed this question towards Susan.
“We just wanted to thank you personally for trying to save poor Marcus’ life,” Henry began.
“Did you see what was in my brother’s bag, Mr Danger?” Susan interrupted suddenly.
“To be honest, Miss Kirkmuir, I didn’t get the opportunity!”
“I see. Henry, will you get the artefacts for Mr Danger to examine?” Susan smiled at Henry. “I believe you have some expertise in the field of history Mr. Danger. Perhaps you could look at the objects that my brother had and give us your professional opinion?”
Henry got up and went through into an adjoining room.
“I’ll have a look, but I’m not promising anything,” Dodge answered mildly.
Henry returned into the boardroom and sat down. He passed a black velvet cloth to Dodge.
“Please Mr. Danger, take a look and tell us what you think.” Henry lit his pipe as Dodge gently unwrapped the cloth from a handful of grey stones. Dodge counted seven in all. They had been polished smooth, and each had a different marking carved on one side. This carving had been accentuated with red paint, or something resembling paint, but natural aging had started to wear the colouring away. Dodge brought out his glasses. As he continued to examine the stones he became aware of Susan and Henry watching him intently.
“These are Norse runes,” he announced, looking up. “I’m not an expert on Norse history or mythology, but I recognize three of these symbols. This one is the ancient symbol for dog or possibly wolf. I think, and I hasten to add that I’m really not sure, that this is the symbol for the god Loki. And this one … could be the symbol for death.” He faced Susan. “I’m sorry but I don’t know what the other four mean. I could find out - My colleague Twice Weekly at Wells College knows more about Norse legends than I eve
r will.”
“Mr. Danger, these were found in a cave on the coast of New England,” Henry told him. “They have been dated to around eight hundred A.D. If they are genuine, this means that that North American continent wasn’t discovered by Christopher Columbus, but by the Vikings six hundred years prior!” Henry stared at Dodge, expecting some form of academic outburst.
But Dodge surprised him. “It’s more than feasible, Henry,” he responded mildly. After all, the Vikings reached Iceland, Greenland, colonised much of Russia and were proficient sailors and explorers.” Dodge leaned back in his chair. “It was probably only a matter of time before something was found to reinforce this theory.”
“My brother was badly affected by these runestones, Mr Danger!” Susan exclaimed. “He thought they were an ancient warning ... or something else!” Susan’s gaze darted to Henry before she looked back at Dodge.
“What do you mean ‘something else’?” Dodge insisted.
“There is an ancient Norse legend that Marcus was particularly fond of retelling. Have you heard of Fenris?” Henry asked him.
“Yeah, he’s the mighty wolf who will herald Ragnarok - the twilight of the gods and the end of the world.”
“Exactly. Now the legend says that Loki fathered three monstrous children and attempted to hide them from his fellow gods. However these children were voracious and grew too enormous to be kept concealed. Odin cast one of the children, an enormous serpent, into the sea and there it grew so big that it encircled the entire world. He sent Loki’s daughter, Hel, into the lower nine worlds of the dead. However, he decided to treat Fenris the wolf with kindness, and brought it to Asgard. The wolf continued to grow in strength, size and ferocity. Odin started to worry that it would destroy Asgard, so he gave the dwarfs from the lower kingdoms the task of weaving a magical rope to bind it. The gods tricked the wolf into allowing itself to be tethered to a magical boulder with this rope, and they plunged a sword into his jaws to cease his howls of anger and protestation. The legend states that one day Fenris will break from his bonds and gallop forth, bringing the apocalypse with him!” Henry tapped the spent tobacco from his pipe and gazed at Dodge portentously. “Marcus thought that these runes were a physical manifestation of the mythical rope, and the runes a magical spell with which the Vikings had kept the evil force imprisoned.”
“Before he died, my brother had started to believe that he and his colleagues had unleashed Ragnarok!” Susan added.
“That sounds doubtful, Miss Kirkmuir.” Dodge looked at her, surprised at the withering look that she threw him.
“I know it sounds doubtful,” she retorted, “however I would like to validate my brother’s contribution to this discovery. Out of the sixteen people involved with the expedition, eight are now dead. Killed in horrific accidents or by their own hands. Out of the others five have vanished without a trace! Only three are left and in good health – three!”
She took a sip of water to calm herself. “All I want is your help to either prove or disprove the authenticity of the find. Now, will you help me Mr Danger? I am fully aware of your reputation as an archaeologist, pilot and all-round adventurer.”
Dodge and Susan looked at each other, holding each others’ gaze. After a few moments Dodge broke into a lopsided grin.
“Sure I’ll help you. I’m interested in checking out the discovery site myself anyway.”
“Thank you, Mr Danger.” Susan smiled and Dodge realized just how beautiful she actually was.
“Splendid! I’ll go and break open a bottle of brandy!” Henry grinned, “And then, Mr. Danger, you can tell us all about your various exploits!”
“Forgive Henry’s exuberance, Mr Danger. He can get a little carried away at times.”
“It’s fine, and please - call me Dodge.”
Suddenly the doorbell rang. From the next room Dodge heard Henry cursing under his breath.
“I’ll be with you two in a minute! I’ll just get rid of whoever’s out there.” he called.
“I am terribly sorry about your brother, Miss Kirkmuir. He caught me off guard,” Dodge told Susan.
She merely shook her head and smiled sadly. “I don’t blame you Mr … Dodge. Marcus was always highly strung. We never got on that well. And please, I’d like you to call me Susan.”
“Fine - Susan.” Dodge examined the runes again. Henry re-entered the room with a bemused expression on his face. “The strangest thing just happened ... a Chinese fellow just threw whisky all over me and then ran off!”
Without warning the window smashed and a ball of fire roared straight towards Henry. He gaped at Dodge with wide eyes.
And then he exploded in a column of flame!
Henry’s scream tore through the office. The smell of burning flesh made Dodge gag as he rushed forward with a large rug in his arms. In one motion he dived on the burning lawyer and wrapped the thick material around the flames. He heard the window smash again and turned, expecting to see another fireball. Instead, a powerful Chinese man in a black sash loomed in the gap. Dodge had no time to deal with this interloper. He had to try and save Henry’s life. However Susan was free to pick up a coat-stand and rush at the intruder. With an angry scream she jammed the stand’s base into the man’s guts and pushed him back towards the window. Dodge looked down at Henry. He had managed to put the fire out, but shock and pain had proven to be too much for the unfortunate man. He stared at the ceiling with glassy, lifeless eyes.
The intruder kicked at the coat-stand, splintering the wood. Susan’s expression changed as her weapon became shorter and more useless with each kick. In response the intruder’s face grew more smug. Then Susan smiled sweetly and bounced the remnants of the coat stand off of her assailant’s nose. The sudden surprise of this blow sent the Chinese man staggering back towards the window. He glared at her, his confidence replaced by rage, and whipped out a wicked-looking three-pronged dagger. An evil sneer warping his lips, he started towards her. Dodge darted across the room and grabbed the end of the long table where only a few minutes earlier they had eaten. He shoved the table towards the assassin, aided by the highly polished wooden floor and castors on the table-legs. The Chinese intruder gaped in surprise at the piece of furniture that was hurtling towards him. With lightning reflexes he took a standing jump. To Dodge’s amazement the intruder landed on the tabletop as it clattered to a halt against the office wall. Susan grabbed the tablecloth and gave it a hearty yank. The assassin lost his balance and fell backwards. Dodge took advantage of the situation to haul the end of the table off the ground. The intruder yelped in fear as he slid down the table and fell out the window.
His scream ended three seconds later in a dull thud and the blare of car-horns.
Dodge peered out of the window. Across the street three more Chinese men were reloading hand-held, dragon-shaped cannons.
“Oh shit!” Dodge turned to see Susan kneeling beside Henry’s body. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Susan, we have to get out of here now!”
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “What about Henry?”
“No time!” Dodge snatched up the runes that had been strewn across the floor during the attack and hauled Susan from the boardroom into the office. He heard the guns fire. They dived to the floor just as three fiery missiles came roaring through the remains of the window. The flames engulfed the room, an inferno blossoming in seconds. Dodge rolled onto his back and slammed the door shut with his feet.
“Susan, are you okay? Because we really have to get out of here!”
She nodded and they scrambled to their feet. Behind them the door was already beginning to splinter and crack under the extreme heat. The glass window half way up the door shattered and flames began to spread around the doorframe. Dodge and Susan ran from the office into the stairwell.
A large man also wearing a black sash rushed towards them, brandishing a short length of bamboo over his head and roaring a fierce battle-cry. Dodge spun round to face him, and with a sigh of res
ignation, pushed Susan to his left and casually stepped to his right. The attacking thug’s momentum sent him hurtling through the gap into the reception area of the burning office. Dodge slammed the door closed behind him. They continued their escape down three twisting flights of stairs.
“I think we’re safe-” Dodge broke off as a huge weight smashed into his back. He staggered forward, but managed to jab his elbow back. He felt it connect with someone’s ribs. To his satisfaction that someone grunted in pain. However his feeling of victory was very short-lived. A strong hand nimbly gripped his elbow and squeezed the exposed nerve inside. A searing line of pain shot up into Dodge’s neck. The hand then released his elbow and four hard rabbit punches found his kidneys. Dodge sank to his knees, winded and in serious pain. His right arm felt paralysed. Suddenly the weight lifted from his back. A blur of black clothing appeared before him and a hard kick connected with his chest. Dodge fell onto his back and tried to squint up at his attacker. He was surprised to see a small, delicate looking man in the same sashed uniform.
As Dodge started to his feet, the attacker slapped him back down with a fast, accurate chop. Dodge slid around, his head spinning. From the top of the stairs he could hear Henry’s office consumed by the inferno. It wouldn’t take long for the fire to spread down here.
He and Susan had to escape or die!
His adversary raised a foot and kicked at Dodge’s head. Galvanised by the need to flee, Dodge’s reflexes kicked in and he swung his own leg round, knocking the Chinese man’s foot away. The assassin tumbled forward and crashed to his knees. Dodge punched him in the nose with a satisfying crack of breaking bone. The acrid smell of smoke drifted down the stairs. As Dodge scrambled to his feet to grab Susan, he felt another hard kick connect with the small of his back. He slammed into the wall, the impact driving the wind out of him. Dodge groaned in pain.
Jesus, what kind of vitamins are these guys on? he thought. He just keeps on coming! A hard hand slammed down on his left shoulder and he slumped onto his knees. A second kick connected with the back of his head, smashing his face back into the wall.
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