Valhalla Gold

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After Scarlet rang off, Eden was in shock about the news of Gunnar’s death. He had known him for many years and couldn’t believe what had happened. He felt a wave of hatred rise in him but knew how thoughts of vengeance clouded judgement, so put it out of his mind to concentrate on the mission. Revenge could come later.

In the meantime, he looked at the images of the cloak they had sent. Losing the cloak to the enemy was a major blow, but something told him the axe handle might be of more use. Either way, he agreed with Hawke that whoever the assailants were they must have used information on Lea’s stolen flash-drive to get the location of the Castillo de la Cosa. That meant Lea’s father had known a lot more about all of this than they did, but now wasn’t the time to go down that particular rabbit hole.

Now was the time to get Alex and Ryan working together on Gunnar Jónsson’s notebook, which luckily he’d lent to Ryan before his murder. Now the Icelandic scholar was dead, there was no way to decode the Runic script on the axe handle unless they cracked the code themselves. They had little to go on — the Icelandic scrawl in the notebooks and Gunnar’s translation of the symbols on the cloak as ‘Sigurd’ — but Eden knew this was enough for Alex to get started on.

They put Ryan’s pictures of Gunnar’s notebook and the cloak up on the plasma screen in the main room alongside the original script written by Lea’s father. It was projected with almost cinematic scale and impressiveness.

“So what do you think?” Eden asked the young American woman. “Gunnar told us this part says ‘Sigurd’, but the rest is down to us, and by us, I mean you.”

Alex squinted at the images and tipped her head to one side as she lost herself in the study of the strange, scratchy lines. “It’s going to be tough, for sure, but I think I can use what’s been translated so far by Gunnar to try and translate the script — which seems more like some kind of Pre-Runic system to me.”

“Which is exactly what Mr Bale said.”

“Right… and he’s not often wrong.”

“Annoying but true,” Eden said with a rare smile.

Alex returned the smile but it quickly faded when she immersed herself back in the study of the script. “I’m going to need some time to crack this little baby, Rich.” She looked more closely at the images of Gunnar’s notebook. “It’s so unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

“It’s vital we decode them, Alex. When the team catch up with that axe handle and join it to the one in Sweden the inscriptions could lead us to Thor’s tomb. Why these maniacs are so desperate to get into that tomb we don’t know, but we need to beat them to it.”

“Got it, but looking at this…” She took a step forward and pointed at a couple of places along the strange markings. “I’m just saying these notes are all over the place and look like they’re missing important elements… and while the script is obviously similar to Runic it obviously isn’t, so that’s another big deal right there. I wish Ryan had had time to get a picture of the axe as well. Damn it!”

“All right — well get started with what we have for now. In the meantime I have a call to make to Diego Velasco and then hopefully I’ll have something to give the team.”

“Who’s he?”

“An old friend of mine.”

“You think he can help us with what’s going on?”

“I’ve no doubt of it. He’s the Spanish Minister of the Interior.”

Half an hour later, Hawke disconnected the call and turned to Lea and Scarlet. Eden had just called him back with the information he’d gleaned from his conversation with Diego Velasco. Now, the three of them were in a hotel room in San Sebastián on the northern coast of Spain. Ryan, who had argued strongly in favour of making the truck driver take them all the way to Biarritz, was with Victoria downstairs in the bar. After the deaths of Gunnar and Javier the English archaeologist had decided it was time for a strong drink or three.

“And?” Scarlet said impatiently.

Hawke looked at her. “Turns out Rich just happens to be old fishing buddies with the Spanish Minister of the Interior.”

“Oh sure, I met Diego once,” Lea said matter-of-factly. “Funny guy after a few sherries.”

Hawke looked at her for a few seconds, speechless, and then continued. “Anyway, according to this Diego bloke, the man we’re after could well be an individual named Álvaro Sala. He’s an Andorran national with a past that’s proving very difficult to shine any light on, but the good news is that the French and Spanish authorities have been watching him for some time in connection with some pretty serious drugs trafficking.”

“So how does this help us?” Lea said.

“It helps us because they just happen to know where his little hidey hole is — he’s the fortuitous owner of a château in the Andorran Pyrenees. It would certainly explain how he was able to mobilize men to assault Javier’s castle so fast.”

“So we’re off to Andorra?” Scarlet said.

“Looks that way, but there’s one more thing. Apparently one of Sala’s associates is a creature named Marcus Deprez. He’s a convicted serial killer who escaped from a high security prison on the outskirts of Brussels. He’s a nasty piece of work so keep an eye out for him.”

“I’m worried about Victoria,” Lea said. “Things look like they’re going to get nasty and I’m not sure she’s up to it.”

“Not much we can do about it though,” Scarlet said. “Poor little rosebud.”

“Maybe,” Hawke said, frowning. “Anyway, we need to make a call to Reaper. He’s lives near here, right Cairo?”

Scarlet nodded. “Sure, Marseille.”

“Great then get on the blower. We’ve only got half an hour until our date with some rotors.”

“Eden’s organized a chopper?” Scarlet asked.

Hawke nodded.

Lea looked at him. “What’s wrong with the jet?”

“Andorra la Vella hasn’t got an airport.”

Courtesy of Eden’s connection with the Spanish Interior Minister and a bribe which the senior politician had described to Lea as “greasier than usual” they had managed to get hold of an Aérospatiale Puma which Diego Velasco had personally ordered to fly to them from its base in Zaragoza over the border into Andorra. It was with them around an hour later and they took off into the east immediately.

With a cruising speed of two hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, the twin-engined transport chopper didn’t take long to leave Spanish airspace and head toward Andorra along the French side of the Pyrenees. After battling their way through his wife Monique, their call to Vincent Reno in Marseille had been a success and he had arranged to meet them at the coordinates in Andorra. He knew the area well from rock-climbing and his knowledge of Smets would be invaluable, not to mention the extra muscle he could deliver.

They flew back into Spain for a brief time at Bagnères-de-Luchon before finally crossing into the landlocked principality of Andorra at Os de Civís. Hawke gazed down at the world’s sixth smallest country — a tiny microstate no more than fifteen miles across at its widest point whose most famous export was tobacco.

He had tried to catch some sleep on the short flight to refresh himself and rebuild some energy — he’d taken a slow whisky after take off and even asked Ryan to give him some facts about Andorra, but nothing had worked and he had remained wide-eyed all the way.

The four tonne helicopter now flew over Andorra la Vella — it was the country’s capital but with a population of just over twenty thousand people it was no more than a large town by most British or American standards. It was night now, but the lights lining its ancient, winding streets far below offered a glimpse of a different kind of lifestyle — slower and more peaceful. Ryan’s statistic about its people having one of the world’s greatest longevities surfaced in his mind, proving not only that a diet of Mediterranean vegetables and red wine was good for you, but also that some of Ryan’s waffle always got through in the end.

They knew from Velasco’s surveillance that Sala’s château was situated in the mountain range to the north of the capital, on the northern slopes of the Pic de Casamanya, a mountain just under ten thousand feet in altitude. From the basic schematics Velasco was able to provide to them, it looked like an impressive structure, built by a French count in the eleventh century on the site of a much more ancient fortification.

Its location was strategic — constructed with the specific goal of regulating access to the valley leading to Andorra la Vella and monitoring all those travelling between the capital and France. Ryan relayed these facts with fascination but all Hawke heard was trouble — specifically how hard it would be to storm such a place, even with a modern weapon of war like the Puma.

Not long after these thoughts, he was jolted back to reality by the chopper rapidly descending into a narrow valley and the pilot telling them through the headsets that they were approaching the target destination.

“Right, this is the plan,” Hawke said, getting straight down to business. “Me, Lea, Scarlet and Vincent are going to storm the château, retrieve the flash-drive, the cloak and axe, and then do whatever damage we can to Sala and his goons. Ryan and Victoria are staying with the chopper when it goes down to El Serrat.”

“Sounds fine with me,” Victoria said. “I don’t think I’d be much good with a submachine gun.”

Scarlet looked at her sceptically. “I don’t think I’d trust you with a spud gun, darling, never mind a submachine gun. Mind you… if it came down to you or Mr University Challenge here I think you’d get my vote.”

“Hey!” Ryan said, but enjoying the reference. “You’re only jealous because going to the University of Hard Shags doesn’t qualify you for entry to that extremely prestigious game show.”

“Oh please, is that the best you can come up with?” Scarlet said as the Puma touched down. Outside the window they saw the silhouette of Vincent Reno standing isolated on the mountainside. Marseille was closer to Andorra than San Sebastián and he had arrived well before them.

“At this point in time, yes,” Ryan replied. “But I can do better with preparation. I have so much to work with after all.”

Hawke shared a grin with Lea as the team readied their weapons and jumped out of the chopper one by one. Despite the month, the high altitude had chilled the night and their breath was visible as they ran out from under the downdraft of the rotors and made their way toward Vincent. He was standing on a goat track leading to the château.

With instructions to wait in the town of El Serrat, the Puma turned and flew away down the valley. The reverberations of its four mighty blades faded into eerie echoes and the chopper vanished from sight.

“Bonsoir, mes amis!” Vincent said, cigarette hanging off his bottom lip. The moonlight caught the silver stubble on his chin, but his shaved head was hidden beneath a black beanie hat. He glanced at his watch. “I thought perhaps you had decided to do some sight-seeing first.”

“Funny,” Hawke said, but grateful to see his old friend.

They shook hands and Vincent turned his attention to the château. “All quiet here so far.”

“Then let’s get our stuff back!” Hawke said.

“And see if those bastards have got any Scotch up there,” Scarlet added, a look of genuine concern on her face.

Lea frowned. “Seriously guys… if these really are the same people behind the attacks in Ireland, and maybe even Dad’s murder, then we have to be careful. There’s something about these men I just have a very bad feeling about. I don’t think the man behind this is the same as the others.”

“What are you talking about?” Hawke asked, glancing from Lea to the château perched on the cliffs high above them. Slowly the clouds broke to reveal a full moon hovering ominously above one of the turrets.

Lea shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know. It was just something about the way they acted in Ireland when they caught me at the cottage, and again on the yacht in Florida. Maybe it’s just because the whole connection it all has with my father is freaking me out, but it’s something I can’t shake off.”

Hawke nodded and ignored Scarlet’s eye-rolling behind Lea’s back. “I understand, but you have to put that out of your mind now. This is a simple retrieval mission…”

“Joe’s right,” Vincent said. “Don’t let them steal your focus.”

Hawke turned and pointed up at the château. “We’re going to get your Dad’s research away from them so they can’t use it and maybe get some answers, all right?”

Scarlet shouldered her gun and began marching up the track. “Like to the question — where is the drinks cabinet?” she called out over her shoulder.

Hawke, Lea and Vincent caught up with her and made their way toward the base of the château. From this high up they were able to look down at the valley below all the way to El Serrat.

Hawke considered the awesome mountain vista and saw the advantages to the location at once, and not just for the original French counts. The place was perfectly situated for any search of the Basque region, which is exactly why the mysterious Álvaro Sala must have chosen it as his headquarters, but now it was time to break that particular party up.

Ahead of them was a gatehouse. Hawke studied it and frowned. His mind began to fill with various strategies they could use to storm the building.

“What’s the problem?” Scarlet asked.

“I was just thinking about what sort of charge we’d need to get through those gates. They look pretty substantial.”

“We don’t need any bloody explosives when we have this,” Scarlet said, holding up her fist.