Tomb of Odin

Chapter 32

“Paddy is on his way here,” Nina smiled.

“Who is Paddy, if I may inquire?” Thomas asked in his heavy accent.

“The man who had your precious generator all this time, my friend,” Sam revealed. “But being in possession of it almost killed his wife and him.”

“According to his wife, Thomas, the very woman you have told us about in Stockholm, now has the generator,” Nina informed Thomas. He shook his head in defeat, looking utterly vexed.

“Do you know where Hilda Kreuz is?” Sam asked him.

“I do. I was Beinta Dock’s bodyguard and have been at their headquarters many times,” he said. “Why?”

“Well, if you can tell our friend where to go to… um… find her,” Nina said enticingly, “our friend could perhaps reward you with what he takes off her, something you have been trying to get your hands on?”

Thomas looked sobered, his fire renewed. What was probably the closest thing to a smirk he could muster, Thomas affirmed, “It is a deal. Oh God, is it a deal!”

Nina called Paddy at his home and gave Thomas the phone, where he disclosed pivotal information and locations.

“Special Agent Patrick Smith, you need to handle the device with a specific and special procedure.” Thomas said over the phone. “A box of fish fingers? Bist du verrückt?” he bellowed in astonished shock. “Nein, nein. You have to handle it like this. Write this down, bitte.”

Nina and Purdue chuckled.

“It makes you think, doesn’t it?” he contemplated.

“What? she smiled.

“Look at this man who threatened you, tried to kill you, now your ally, helping our ally against a common enemy of them both — the two strangers conversing on the phone right now,” Purdue smiled.

“It does make you think,” Sam chipped in, passing them each some local beer he picked up in Uppsala when he went to get food. “There is no such thing as friend or foe. If anything in the world is not just black or white, it is the fact that disagreement, opposition, or loyalty is never certain. Anyone has the capacity, circumstances permitting—”

“Understanding permitting,” Nina added.

“Aye, that too, to be anyone’s friend. War and discord is relative, subjective to the circumstances, their reasons and their objectives. Once the dynamics change, once the reasons and needs change, so do the relationships among people.”

“Precisely what I was going to say, Sam,” Purdue nodded enthusiastically, raising his beer, “but you said it better, more eloquently, as any celebrated writer would.”

“Two men on opposite sides of a religious war, sworn enemies for that purpose, could very well side as comrades at the mention of a football team or a band they admire,” Purdue said. “Look at this — a Nazi officer helping a British officer to destroy a common enemy.”

Thomas felt his way back toward where they were sitting on the ancient stone wall fence, having completed his call with Special Agent Patrick Smith.

“Christ, I feel bad about blinding him now,” Sam admitted. Nina took his hand and laid her head affectionately against his chest.

“You had to, or else we’d all be dead, Sam,” she comforted him.

“Right,” Thomas announced, “the British Secret Intelligence Service is closing in on Stockholm and a Frau Lancashire there apparently promised to return my device to me.”

“Aye, that’s Paddy for ya,” Sam smiled. “Have a beer, Thomas.”

“And we should hasten,” Purdue said, “I want to get into the church before nightfall. With this incessant rain the skies are already too dark to see properly.”

Thomas frowned, “Feels terrible not to see properly, doesn’t it?”

Sam choked on his beer, but Nina lightly tapped her hand on his leg to soothe his guilty conscience.

“Mr. Purdue, please don’t do this. This is not the way to wisdom. It is a certain way to war. Diplomacy means nothing with the people you are seeking to disturb, I assure you. They are not human. They have no capacity for mercy.”

“They are a myth,” Purdue said indifferently.

Thomas roared in frustration. “Look at me. I am a product of what they can achieve with a mere man! I have inhuman strength, and my aging is retarded by ten years to one. I shall not even deign to enter into wits with you to prove my point!”

“You misunderstand, Thomas, I have to know if Agartha exists and I can only do that if I go into that church,” Purdue said. “I have plenty of gold, and money to buy more. I promise you, my intent is not to look for treasures.”

“What is the point of knowing it exists and not trying to utilize it for your own gain?” the giant pressed Purdue.

“The technology they have could revolutionize the way the world runs, Thomas,” Purdue argued, but the German monster only grew more impatient with Purdue’s hardheadedness.

“Do you not understand? Their technology is for the subjugation of humankind, Purdue! It is developed with vril, tapped from the inverse and inexhaustible energy of the black sun itself!” Thomas explained with a rapidly waning fuse. “Not only can humankind not fathom the superior technology of the gods below, but humans could never wield this kind of power without destroying everything. And by opening that door you will give them reason to unleash their intent and power over this entire planet.”

“According to theory, that is exactly what they plan to do — to take over the world and destroy us ‘lower’ life forms,” Nina mentioned.

“Yes, but they are still preparing for it. There is no need for you three to make that happen two hundred, maybe three hundred, years too early!” Thomas pleaded. His pearled eyes darted profusely up and down, left and right from his disappointment.

Silence prevailed for a few minutes as they all finished their meals and beers, all clearly pondering the facts set out in the argument. All they heard was the sound of thunder far in the distance while the fresh cool rain washed away all the dust from the leaves, bark, and stones. At once Sam, Nina, and Purdue saw the world’s beauty in the rain showers of Old Uppsala, seat of ancient Norse gods and Scandinavian kings, people of old, of wisdom, and with respect for their creation.

When they walked into the lovely, modest little church, they found that they were alone there.

“No tourists like to come here in the rain,” said an old vicar with a difficult Swedish mumble. “They all want to see the Domkyrka in Uppsala instead.”

“Oh, no, we prefer the less-elaborate buildings,” Nina smiled.

“Well then, welcome, Scotland,” he replied and went about his business of replacing some candles.

The old vicar had a pale complexion, and he wore black clothing, but he boasted laugh lines and small blue eyes that gave him a distinctly mischievous appearance. His long gray hair was tied back and stood out against the dark hue of his cloak. Much like Jari Koivusaari, his beard was braided down to his chest and he wore tiny spectacles that rested close to the tip of his nose.

As small as the church was, its interior was magnificent. Tall, arched ceilings ran together, their reinforced beams crossing in the middle. All the masonry and the roof inside consisted of cream and tan-colored stone inscribed with darker ornate vines and runes adorning the pillars and posts. Chandeliers hung suspended from the ceilings over the aisle, covered in tan carpeting that flowed toward the shrine of saints cast in gold. Above the shrine, suspended on wooden beams between the summit of the dome and the top of the walls, was the wooden crucifix with a golden statue of Jesus Christ.

Sam nudged Purdue again, like he did on the buried train in Poland. His eyes motioned to the back of the church, where two sets of wooden, double doors formed a lobby. The floor was of stone tiling and the walls at the entrance were slightly stained from age and wear. Behind the last pew in the church, Purdue saw what Sam was aiming at — only because he knew what to look for.

The Valknut was etched professionally into the far corner of the pew’s back rest, as was another on the opposite side. It was peculiar, because none of the other pews held such inscriptions. Casually Sam and Purdue strolled to the pew, admiring and discussing the architecture of the building while Nina was taking pictures of the saints on the shrine.

“Look, under this pew there is a distinct crack line all around the width and length of the thing. And…” Purdue showed Sam with a pointing finger, “the panels under the seat surface. See that?”

Sam took a closer look. In copper, there were hooks fixed at every few inches of the length of the wooden panels.

“How do people sit here? These hooks would wreak havoc on your calves where you sat… not to mention rip ladies’ hosiery,” Sam winked and grinned.

“I suppose nobody ever sits here, because it is not a pew,” Purdue remarked.

“The back side of the same panels also have copper hooks at the same intervals as those on your side, Purdue,” Sam reported.

“Sam, that is not copper,” Purdue said. “It is pure gold, dear lad.”

Purdue called Thomas nearer. The giant had the canvas sack over his shoulder. When he entered the church Sam pointed to the hooks without saying a word.

Purdue whispered, “Look Thomas, the Tomb of Odin, my friend!”

“How do we drape the chain on the hooks without the vicar noticing?” Sam whispered. “Nina?”

Suddenly there was a tremendous clattering of ceremonial goblets and trays toward the front of the church where the vicar was working. They all jumped with fright. Nina rushed to help the vicar, but he was not paying attention to the fallen objects at all.

He stared at Thomas in awe, his jaw dropped into a static state of disbelief. From his small eyes, silvery streaks of tears shimmered and he made a strange sound, between weeping and moaning.

“Vicar?” Nina said with concern.

“Odin, the one-eyed man-god has returned to the temple,” the vicar’s quivering voice proclaimed, echoing through the empty building.

“Oh, that is just my friend, Thomas,” she smiled serenely.

“No, my dear girl. He has one eye, the other blind, a mighty and powerful being above man but below the stars,” the old man explained. “You have come to return to your grave!”

“Oh, my God, what is happening?” Purdue shrugged, amazed at the developments unfolding. Thomas looked at Purdue and then examined the hooks.

In the front of the church, Nina was holding the old vicar steady as he began to collapse, murmuring in Swedish. Occasionally she could decipher the names of the Norse gods he spoke of as his voice wavered and faded in shock.

“Hurry, Purdue. If you want to open this doorway you’d better do it now,” Sam warned.

“Thomas, the chain please, sir,” Purdue ordered.

“Purdue,” Thomas lamented the billionaire’s decision.

“We are getting back your generator for your trouble, remember?” Purdue countered.

Reluctantly, Thomas helped Sam and Purdue hang the two parts of the golden chain on the hooks. Every time a link was placed over a hook a heavy click like the bolt of a giant safe would sound. One catch after the other, the Tomb of Odin was being unlocked.

The last link was in the hands of Dave Purdue. He cast a look up at the towering SS officer of a time long ago, contemplating his action. Purdue looked down.

The last barren hook beckoned.