Valhalla Gold

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Hawke strained his eyes in the darkness to see Marcus Deprez. The little train that took people around the tunnel was obviously at another stage of the ride, so Hawke and Scarlet climbed down onto the tracks and began to move forward on foot, passing beneath an enormous red love heart which served as the start of the ride.

“Where the hell is the bastard?”

A bright muzzle-flash in the darkness ahead and the sound of a bullet smacking into the wooden panels behind him was his answer.

Scarlet ducked for cover. “You had to ask, didn’t you?”

Suddenly a faint red glow emanated from bulbs hidden somewhere above them and they caught a glimpse of Deprez as he rounded a bend and slipped out of sight further ahead in the tunnel.

“There he is!” Hawke said.

They moved ahead and found themselves in a long tunnel of moulded plastic designed to look like they were in a cave deep underground. As they progressed, fairytale music began to play. Designed to be cute, it took on a sinister and eerie feel under the circumstances.

Further along now, they passed little models of Animatronic elves waving cheerily at them from a landscape of miniature waterfalls and fairy lights.

“This place is giving me the creeps,” Scarlet said. “Tunnel of Terror, more like.”

“Just be grateful he never ran into the Fun House,” Hawke said.

Now they passed another Animatronic scene of tiny people making brightly-colored cakes in a little kitchen. The figurines spoke to each other in Swedish, and canned laughter ensued, but their amazement was shattered by the sound of another gunshot.

The bullet traced past them and blew the head off one of the smiling elves, reducing it to a cloud of dust. The headless elf continued to wave happily as Hawke fired back. He heard a moan of pain.

“I think you got him!”

They heard another gunshot, but this time it was followed by the unmistakable sound of people screaming. Hawke and Scarlet knew those screams meant their man had caught up with the ride and was trying to clear the tunnel.

They reached the exit of the tunnel which was now a chaotic space of terrified people and confused park security. One look at Hawke and Scarlet and their guns sent another wave of fear through the crowd, but they had no time to explain. Looking over the people they saw Deprez limping away from the ride and heading toward the edge of the park. Hawke had obviously hit him in the leg.

The wounded Belgian moved past a small fountain before turning and firing blindly in their direction. The bullets could have hit anyone, including a number of children, but luckily they missed and struck the metal support struts of the rollercoaster. Another eruption of fear convulsed through the day-trippers and they scrambled in a dozen directions looking for cover.

Deprez cursed and returned to his escape, going as fast as his limp would allow. With the axe handle in his other hand he resembled a caveman as he tried to drag himself to the safety of the shadows.

“He’s not going on that thing, is he?” Scarlet pointed to the Skräcken, an inverted roller coaster from which people were strapped into their seats and dangled beneath the rail. “Did his parents not love him enough as a kid, or what?”

“No, I don’t think so — to either question… I think he’s heading in there because it’s on the outside of the park and the easiest way out.” Hawke pointed to the House of Horrors.

“You’ve got to be joking!”

“No — and there he goes!”

They reached the House of Horrors, a building designed to look like a broken-down, haunted house. It was on the southern edge of the park overlooking a number of boats moored at Waldemarsviken, a small bay off the coast of Djurgården and the smaller island of Beckholmen to the west.

Scarlet looked at Hawke. “Not scared are you?”

Hawke gave her a look but made no reply.

Ordinarily the experience would have been a busy affair with people enjoying the horror, but after Deprez’s intervention with his gun, the ride was now deserted as the people scrambled and cowered outside, waiting nervously for the police to show up.

Hawke and Scarlet moved into yet more darkness, only this time cheery elves and cake shops had been replaced with mannequins covered in blood and decapitated heads hanging from meat hooks.

A burst of gunfire emanated from the top of a stairwell and they gave chase, knowing they were closing in on a badly injured man. He would be even more deranged and irrational than usual.

The sound of heavily reverbed moaning and screams filled the house, booming from speakers tucked away out of sight. All of it was designed to terrify those who had entered the House of Horrors, but Marcus Deprez was providing enough terror all on his own.

With Hawke in the lead, gun raised and ready to fire, they moved down the stairs and drew closer to their target. This part of the horror experience was designed to look like some kind of abandoned asylum, with white tiled walls smeared in blood. Most of it was the fake, theatrical kind, but Hawke realized halfway down the steps that some of it was real and had been left by the wounded Deprez as he’d limped down the steps.

In the basement of the house now, they were surrounded by more scenes of horror and the noise of the screams and moans over the sound system seemed louder now. It would have unsettled most people, but Hawke and Scarlet weren’t most people so they pushed on undeterred.

Suddenly the dark space was filled with bright daylight as Deprez smashed open a fire door and staggered out the back of the building. Hawke and Scarlet squinted as their eyes adjusted to the surprise change in light levels, but were soon after their man.

They found themselves in a narrow side street running parallel to the east side of the amusement park. It was a green, leafy space with a few cars parked here and there, and the rain had relented now to the same light drizzle they had experienced when they had arrived at the history museum.

“Where did he go?” Scarlet asked, searching both ends of the street.

“Judging from the blood, I’d say that way.” Hawke pointed at the south end of the street toward the boats moored in Waldemarsviken marina. Splashes of blood were smeared here and there on the concrete leading down toward the water.

They ran to the end of the street and quickly reached the waterline. Following the blood, they realized that Deprez had gone aboard what looked like some kind of tourist paddle boat.

“Quick!” Hawke said. “He’s cut the mooring ropes!”

The boat’s engines started up and it began to move forward in the sound. Hawke and Scarlet jumped from the jetty to the boat’s wooden stern and were welcomed aboard by a burst of gunfire from Deprez’s pistol.

They dived for cover and then returned fire at the wounded man blasting the wheelhouse windows to shards. Deprez dodged the bullets and fired back blindly like a man possessed, but he was caught like a trapped pig and he knew it. Whatever plans he thought he had of escaping off the island on a boat had gone badly wrong and now it was time to pay for the error in judgement.

In a panic now, the Belgian fired a shot through the front window of the wheelhouse and clambered away from his pursuers toward the front of the boat.

Hawke and Scarlet drove him forward with their superior firepower until he had run out of space and had nowhere to run.

“Get back!” he screamed at them, waving his gun.

“Just drop the weapon, Deprez!” Hawke shouted, his gun aimed at the Belgian’s head. “You can’t take us both down before one of us takes you out and you know it.”

“Do as he says,” Scarlet said. “The last time I shot someone on the bow of a boat it was the President of the United States so don’t think I’d think twice about wasting a round on little crap like you.”

Deprez tossed his gun to the ground but pulled a knife and held the blade to the axe handle. “Come any closer and I’ll cut these precious carvings off the handle, then no one finds the tomb!”

Scarlet glanced at Hawke, but the Englishman didn’t bat an eyelid. “Put the axe down, Deprez. I’ll kill you before you can move that blade an inch.”

Deprez called his bluff, and pushed the blade into the handle, but Hawke was true to his word, firing at the man’s chest. He struck him in the heart and sent him staggering backwards with a look of confused terror spreading across his face.

He tottered backwards over the rail at the stem of the bow, his arms flailing wildly in a last vain attempt to save his life, but it was too late.

Scarlet raised her gun and fired at him, striking him dead-center in the forehead and powering him over the boat into the dark water of the sound. He landed with a tremendous splash and began to float away from the shore.

“Where did you learn to shoot a moving target like that, Cairo?” Hawke said, strolling to the starboard side aft lazarette. He picked up a mooring hook and walked back to the bow.

“In a fairground,’ she said with a wink as Hawke pulled the floating axe handle through the water toward the boat. A few yards beyond it, Marcus Deprez’s body bobbed up and down in the wake of a long, glass-roofed sightseeing boat. Some of the people aboard pointed in horror at the corpse and others whipped out their phones to film the scene as Scarlet proudly extended her middle finger at them, accompanied by a polite smile and bow of the head.

Hawke rolled his eyes as he manipulated the hook in the water, dragging the ancient relic closer to the paddle boat. “We’ve got to get back to the others,” he said, finally hefting the ancient axe handle from the water. “Ryan needs to get to work on this thing — presuming he’s all right that is.”

As he finished speaking he looked up to see Deprez’s corpse getting sucked into the blades at the back of the tourist boat. A terrible grinding sound ensued and then the water turned a deep crimson color as it filled with the dead man’s blood.

“That’s for Vincent and Ryan,” Hawke said without emotion, and then turned to leave.