The Sword of Fire

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lea Donovan tipped up the potted hydrangea under her brother’s kitchen window and slid out the back door key. Finn had left it there when they had arranged for her to collect the box of personal effects the Haven Bay Nursing Home had sent. He was on holiday with his wife and kids, and didn’t give a damn about any box of junk left by some little old lady no one had ever heard of. Besides — the box was addressed to Lea and that was just fine with him.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” she said, turning the key in the lock and pushing open the kitchen door.

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together,” Hawke said. “We’re a team… a family, and we’re all here with you.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He and Kim had met them in Dublin Airport an hour ago after their flight from Boston less than twenty minutes before her flight from London. She was glad he was here at her side, but even having Joe Hawke beside her hadn’t taken away the nerves she felt when she thought about the mysterious box that was waiting for her on the dining rom table.

She walked into the house and was met with various pictures of her brother and his young family — but not one picture of her. As if he had read her mind, Hawke put his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s have a look at this box and get out of here. We still have that manuscript to track down.”

“Sure,” she said and gave him her best fake smile.

She felt sad, but then the rest of the team traipsed into the small Dublin semi and looked so out of place a genuine smile soon replaced the fake one. If Finn Bloody Donovan could see these guys huddled around in his kitchen he’d have a proper fit.

She turned her attention to the box on the table. It was just a normal, small packing box. She opened it up and was met by an array of old junk, just as Finn had described it — old, dog-eared paperbacks, some well-worn reading glasses and a plastic hearing aid. She searched through the box, growing more confused with each passing second. “Finn was right — this is all just crap.”

“Aren’t any fags in it, are there?” Ryan said, leaning in.

Scarlet Sloane, who had also met them at the airport, looked at Ryan in horror. “Scrounging cigarettes,” she said with disgust. “How very you.”

“You get off a plane from Vegas less than an hour ago and you’re already as obnoxious as ever,” Kim said. “No wonder Camacho stayed in the States.”

“I was not being obnoxious, and Jack’s on a mission for the CIA,” Scarlet said. “Besides, it doesn’t count if you insult the help.”

Ryan moved to give some back, but he was stopped by Lea gasping.

“What have you found?” Lexi said, taking an interest for the first time since they’d landed in Ireland. “If it’s the Mona Lisa we can all retire.”

“It’s not the Mona Lisa,” Lea said, her voice almost trembling with shock. “It’s this.”

She pulled a sleek, but dusty golden idol from the box and held it up for the rest of the team to see. It was the same dimensions as the other idols they had seen, with the same intricate, seven-pointed star shape in the base and an identical inverted ziggurat receding inside the bottom of it.

A long, tense silence was broken by Scarlet: “Jesus Holy Christ on a Brontosaurus.”

Hawke frowned as he studied the idol. “What the hell?”

Lea looked almost distraught. “What’s going on, Joe? What the hell is all this about?”

Scarlet snapped her fingers. “Nerd needed! Code red emergency! Ryan, get that skinny little arse over here right now or I’m going to beat it with a Runic cursing pole.”

Ryan scowled at her as he walked to the table. “I’m impressed you’ve heard of one, to be honest.”

Scarlet tipped her head and blew him a kiss.

“Any ideas?” Hawke said.

“Looks like Tinia to me,” Ryan said.

“And now in English, boy.”

He turned to face her. “Tinia is a primordial god of the ancient Etruscan religion. A sky god… a chief deity of that belief system as a matter of fact.”

“Isn’t that what you said about the other idols?” Lexi asked.

He nodded. “It is, yes. The idol of Tanit that we found in Mexico was one of the chief deities of the Carthage civilization, which we now know included Atlantis, and the one of Bórr we found in Valhalla was at the top of the divinity tree for Norse culture as well.”

“So this is yet another golden idol of a head god,” Hawke said.

“Seems that way,” said Ryan.

“And covered in more of these sodding symbols,” Lea said.

Kim ran a hand through her hair and stared at the team with a confused expression on her face. “Please, will someone remind me how statues from so many different places can all have the same carvings on them?”

“Ryan, you’re up again,” Scarlet said.

“Our current, working hypothesis is that the symbols belong to some kind of parent culture, but it’s controversial.”

“Hey! I know what it is!” Scarlet said, jabbing Ryan in the arm.

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“I know what’s different about you — you’re not wearing glasses!”

“You only just noticed that?” Ryan said, offended.

“Well, yeah.”

“Some witness you’d make,” Ryan said. “Yes, your honor — the thief was definitely wearing glasses…”

“Sorry, but I just don’t spend that long looking at you, boy. I only noticed because right about now you’d be pushing them up the bridge of your nose — doing that Ryan Thing you’re always doing.”

“It’s contacts from now on,” Ryan said firmly.

Hawke smiled, but the truth was he hadn’t noticed either. Ryan Bale losing the glasses was just an outward sign of the way he was changing on the inside. To Hawke, these changes could go either way — they could strengthen him or break him.

“You know what I need right about now?” Scarlet asked.

Ryan smirked “Half an hour with Jack Camacho, a bottle of Good ol’ Sailor vodka and some Italian lounge music?”

“Piss off, Bale,” she said. “But yes, I do need one of those and it’s not Jackie boy or the cheesy listening. I want a drink.”

“What’s new?” Lexi said.

“It helps settle my nerves and concentrate the mind,” Scarlet said. “You should try some — it might improve your personality.”

“That’s fighting talk, Cairo,” Lexi said.

“Seriously though,” Ryan said. “How was Vegas?”

Scarlet pulled out her phone and showed them all a picture of her and Camacho with their arms around each other’s shoulders outside the Mandalay Bay Casino.

“Looks great,” Ryan said.

Scarlet sighed. “And Jack’s still there, the lucky bastard.”

“Say, I hope Camacho’s all right,” Kim said. “Vegas is a tough town — guns, knives, drugs, smuggling, punishment beatings, blackmail…”

“But enough about Cairo,” Ryan said. “Tell us about the Mafia.”

“Hey!” Lexi said, slapping his arm. “ I was going to make that joke!”

“You gotta get to the punchline faster than that to beat a wit as razor-sharp as mine,” he said.

“So what about that drink, darling?” Scarlet repeated. “I was being serious.”

“Over there,” said Lea, pointing her chin in the direction of a wooden cabinet on the opposite wall.

Scarlet rummaged through it for a few seconds before hauling a half-empty bottle of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey over and plonking it on the table. “Anyone else?”

“Any glasses?” Ryan said.

“Nope,” Scarlet said. “Stop being such a girl.”

“Glasses in the kitchen, Ry. Don’t bother bringing one for me.”

“Anything else in there?” Hawke said.

Scarlet shook her head. “No, just some warm cans of Heineken.”

“I was talking about the box.”

Scarlet winked. “I knew that, sugarcube.”

Lea shook her head. “No, just bits and bobs… wait — there’s something under one of the flaps down at the bottom.”

“What is it?” Hawke asked.

She sighed, long and deep. “It’s a letter.”

Scarlet leaned in. “A letter?”

“Nothing wrong with your hearing, that’s for sure,” Kim said.

Lea pulled a cream envelope out of the pile of Maggie’s knick knacks and stared at it for a few moments. “It’s addressed to me — look.”

She held the envelope up and written on the front in blue ink were the words: For Lea Donovan.

Now Ryan leaned in for a closer look. “Are you sure? The handwriting is so weak and trembly I can hardly read it.”

“It says her name clear enough,” Hawke said. He was looking at her now, and she saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes.

“So get the thing open!” Lexi said. “The letter inside that envelope could tell us where the Mona Lisa is!”

“Sorry, but am I missing something here?” Kim asked. “I thought the Mona Lisa was in the Louvre.”

“It is in the Louvre,” Lea said. “This is Lexi’s way of trying to be funny.”

“But you know what I mean, right guys?” Lexi protested. “The contents of that letter could be truly mind-blowing. She had one of the idols!”

“Remember, these people are Lea’s family, Lexi,” Hawke said. “This isn’t just another treasure hunt, all right?”

“It’s fine, Joe,” Lea said, stuffing the cream envelope inside her jacket pocket. “I’ll read it later. I need time to process this.” She pointed at the idol. “And the truth is I’m terrified about what might be in the letter.”

“Whatever’s going on, we’re going to get to the bottom of it,” Hawke said. “Did you speak with Lund about finding out who was behind the Boston raid?”

She nodded. “He’s looking into it.” Her phone rang, and she pulled it from her pocket to see a short text message.

“Who is it?” Hawke said. “Lund?”

“No. It’s Danny. Danny Devlin.”

“Ah.” He knew who Devlin was. He had heard plenty of good and bad stories about him — the good ones mostly from Lea and the bad ones from Richard Eden. Lea had contacted him when they found out Camacho was unavailable for the mission with the hope he could provide another pair of hands. “What does he say?”

Ryan smirked. “He says that if the guy he’s replacing has got third degree carpet burns on his arse he’s not teaming up with Cairo Sloane under any circumstances.”

“Stop talking bullshit,” Scarlet said. “They weren’t on his arse.”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Kim said.

Lea sighed. “He says he’s ready to go as soon as we pick him up.”

“And where is he?”

“Flynn’s on Harry Street.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Scarlet said.