Tomb of Odin

Chapter 13

Helsinki was freezing. Purdue, Nina, and Sam arrived just before midnight and started looking for a suitable guest house close to the railway station. In the morning they were going to take a rental car to seek out the relic dealer who sold the arcane cross to Purdue. On the faded provenance they could hardly make out anything of importance, apart from the date 1939 and some illegible numbers written in two rows, one above the other. It was filled out in iron ink in bad lettering conveying information in the same language Nina could not identify before. Jari’s address was scribbled on the back, so they knew where to start looking.

But for tonight they were famished and sought out some low-profile accommodation that would be inconspicuous should any of their old acquaintances think to find them. Although they felt paranoid for thinking like this, they knew full well that such worry was perfectly founded where it concerned the enemies they have made in the past few years.

“So the Hilton is a no,” Sam lamented.

“Aye, anyone could find us there,” Nina said as they waited for Purdue to procure their transportation at Green Wheels Car Rentals. They would not be using the usual Avis or Hertz branches, just in case.

“I’m fucking freezing up here. You know, we think Britain is cold — and places like Germany and the Czech Republic — but not until you go farther north do you realize that hell always has more faces than you thought you knew,” Sam sniffed, hugging himself as the wind bit his cheeks.

“And it’s not even full winter yet,” Nina exacerbated it a little deliberately, standing strategically behind her companion to evade most of the punishment.

“Thank you, Nina, for that,” he coughed, shaking like a reed.

“Hey, this is nothing compared to the Himalayas,” she remarked. “The last time I was there with Neville… I cannot recall ever being that cold.”

“Mongolia? That was bloody insane,” Sam rejoined as Purdue came skipping across the narrow one-way street that led to the parking bays.

“Come, friends!” he challenged the din of the wind. “Our chariot awaits.”

In the sedan it was wonderfully temperate and the green lights from the dashboard and radio display brought Nina to a tranquil state. After the last week she had to endure she was happy for the small recess between the flight and the next travel stretch, wherever it might lead. She sat in the back while Sam rode shotgun and Purdue took the wheel. They were talking about football, the Highland games, beer draughts, and cats; everything but the looming business they were in Finland for.

It was lovely, she thought, to see the two men she had relationships with to be so amicable. By the words of both in confidence she knew that they were in furious competition for her affection, but that was the beauty of the male gender. Unlike females, men could be in harsh contrast and engage in open combat over something until the matter became outdated for the time. Then opponents and foes could go out for a beer as if nothing was ever amiss, saving their bouts for the next round announced by the bell.

“Sampo,” Purdue said. “I think it’s the perfect guest house for tonight. Apparently the kitchen is open 24 hours too. The place is not too small, so they have revolving staff working shifts. Got to love the Finns.”

“Never been here, actually, but these people reportedly invented the sauna and that puts them on the first page of my Little Book of Awesome,” Sam smiled, looking out the window at the passing streetlights on the main road.

The radio reception was crystal clear and the silence that accompanied the breaks in songs lulled Nina to a peaceful sleep in the backseat. Purdue and Sam’s conversation was even-toned and relaxed, only aiding her tranquility as they traveled over the smooth road through the black of night.

Sam suddenly frowned, “Why would this artist only leave some of the chain inside the cross?”

“How do you mean?” Purdue asked. “I suppose he did not want anyone to find his gold.”

“No, I mean, why would he not have used it through his life? If I had such a ransom in my possession I would use it to enhance my life, to be rich. I would not hide it from the world. Do you think he stole it?” Sam asked. He could not help but employ his journalistic cynicism like a bloodhound. It was part of his efficacy as investigative journalist to think beyond the obvious and assume the worst, because, well, that was usually where the truth lay.

“Maybe he did steal it,” Purdue reckoned. “It is quite logical to think so, considering the clandestine treatment of it, not to mention the fact that he seems to have remained nameless, faceless, except to Jari.”

“The only thing that throws me off is the markings of Odin. As far as I know Odin is Norse, not Finnish. Is there a Finnish version of him?” Sam asked.

Purdue raised an eyebrow and gestured toward his coat pocket, “Get my tablet and have a look.” Sam pulled the tiny gadget from Purdue’s coat pocket.

“Jesus, how do you operate this thing? I need a pilot’s license just to make it expand,” he scowled, clumsily imitating Purdue’s swift movements in order to drag the unique technology into a larger-size device. After a few muffled cuss words, the contraption obeyed Sam’s attempts, while Purdue smiled quietly in amusement.

“Ukko is the Finnish version of Odin, Purdue,” Sam reported, looking more impressed as he went. “But hear this, he also exhibits properties of the Norse god… Thor.”

Sam paused dramatically, waiting for Purdue to affirm the information.

“Very interesting,” he told Sam, “that Odin’s symbols would be on the chain when the Fins have their own Allfather. I wager the reasons for that would be deliberate, in fact, I venture that there must be something in Odin that Ukko does not possess. And that directly pertains to the chain.”

“From what I see here the only difference is that Ukko had no Nazi followers. The Finns were hardly Aryan in the eyes of the Third Reich. I bet you that is where the significance lays. Nazi connections, not mythology,” Sam hypothesized.

“How is your mind still so clear at this time of night, on top of jet-lag conditions, Sam?” Purdue mused, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Inflight vodka,” Sam answered, putting away the tablet in Purdue’s coat.

“I just hope you remember all that tomorrow when we start to figure out the blank spots, old boy, because my brain is running on autopilot,” Purdue warned.

The sign next to the road came into view just as the GPS told Purdue to turn off into Tuusula, a suburb of Helsinki where the Sampo Guest House was located. Purdue looked in the rearview mirror. Nina was sleeping soundly and he dreaded having to rouse her once they arrived.

“Tuusula,” Sam read the sign out loud.

“Jari lives somewhere in this neighborhood,” Purdue clarified, “so we’ll have less of a commute in the morning when we look him up.”

“Ah, clever,” Sam nodded, turning in his seat to look back. He reached out his hand to touch Nina’s knee, but then he thought better of it. The ordeal she had survived was not one that would just relent and he was sure she would be startled by his touch.

“Nina,” he said firmly as Purdue found his way to the guest house and pulled in to announce their arrival at the intercom fixed to the gate walls. She did not respond, so Sam tried again. The ice cold air flushed through the vehicle like the hand of death when Purdue opened his window to speak.

“Purdue, party of three. I called earlier from the airport?” Purdue said loudly into the speaker.

The combination of frigid air assaulting her and Purdue’s loud voice over the humming engine woke Nina instantly. She opened her eyes and looked right into Sam’s. It was almost magical, emerging gently from a warm, dreamless sleep and waking to see those spellbinding, dark brown eyes glisten with affection.

Nina smiled, and Sam reciprocated.

“I thought you were dead,” he joked.

“Actually it was the first while I have had to enjoy the fact that I wasn’t,” she replied, looking around to see where they were. “Are we here?”

“Aye, I hope they have coffee, or whisky,” Sam grinned, rubbing his hands together as Purdue closed his window.

The massive gate opened steadily in the beam of the car’s headlights, letting the foreigners in for the night. Out of the shadows, where the driveway and garden lights could not reach, stationary cars peeked out from among well-tended brushes and hedges. Behind them, immersed in darkness, the tall trees hissed in the angry wind.

Nina looked up at the large sign to her right as she exited the car into the cruel talons of the cold.

“Sampo,” she mouthed with a timid voice. She could not help but have a feeling of apprehension at the sight of the slanted letters. At first she could not figure why she would be uneasy about a place she had never been to, but then it dawned on her that the sign closely represented the signage at the Himalayan lodge. With a weary sigh she grabbed her bags and followed Purdue and Sam to the reception area.

The following morning was overcast, but mild. Sam took a hot shower to wake him up after a midnight meal and four glasses of Finlandia in the company of the owner’s brother and his wife. He was going to meet Nina and Purdue in the lobby. From there they would be off to Jari’s house, unannounced. Purdue knew he could use Sam in this instance, for once for what he was known. According to the plan the three of them would call on Jari under the pretense of being an investigative journalist and his colleagues.

Sam would hopefully be able to interview Jari and determine who the sculptor was, so that they could find his connection to the Odinist Nazism displayed on the chain. Perhaps, Sam hoped, he could even learn what the golden chain was for — provided Purdue’s Finnish peddler even knew about it. Maybe it was not a good idea to mention the extra gold he sold to Purdue at a loss.

“Ready?” Purdue asked, when Sam sauntered into the lobby, looking less than exhilarated.

“You just don’t learn, do you?” Nina smiled.

“Hey, I have my gear set up convincingly and I have my questions prepared,” Sam defended his condition, “so I’ll thank you not to question my professionalism.”

“Convincingly, you say?” Purdue asked as they headed for the car. “I’ll have you know that this subterfuge is not entirely that. You are, after all, there to get information and if the opportunity presents itself, you are there to gather footage of anything pertinent, my friend. Don’t write off the authenticity of your deceit just yet.”

“You almost lost me there for a bit. Semantics can be effective, but please reserve it for less-fatigued brains,” Nina playfully slapped Purdue on the arm.

Dark green, lush trees consumed the small street in Gustavelund that snaked in the direction of Lake Tuusula. This time Purdue opted for the backseat, claiming that he needed the trip duration to check his emails and calibrate a new device he had designed especially for this mini-expedition. Sam was driving

“Here, number eight,” Nina announced, and Sam stopped the car reluctantly.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

“Aye,” she answered, double checking the post for the number she had on the address.

Nina scrutinized their surroundings and Sam looked perplexed. Purdue did not look up, embroiled in what he had on his tablet’s screen.

“Are we there?” he asked them without looking up.

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

“Why?” the billionaire mumbled.

“Because there is no house here…” Nina said.

Purdue looked up and confusion shifted his face.

“There’s nothing.”