The Norse Directive (21 page)

Tommy was puzzled, but the answer came to him before Sean said it. “He wants to send us a message.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Adriana’s mind was running now too. “What could be so important that he would kill one of his own men to try to keep us from pursuing it?”

“Must be pretty valuable,” Alex said from the wall near the doorway. He flipped on the overhead fluorescent lights, bathing the room in a sterile glow.

His comment was an obvious conclusion, but anything’s value depends on how much someone wants it, a fact Sean knew well. Dufort’s actions proved that whatever secrets the legend of Holger Danske held, he was willing to go to extreme lengths to possess them.

“Tara,” Sean spoke up, taking the subject on a slight detour, “were you and Alex able to dig up anything new with the Holger Danske story?”

She shut off the spotlights mounted on the desk and removed her protective gloves. “Not much,” she said, pulling up a stool at a computer station directly behind where she’d been working. “But the story is certainly interesting.”

Sean made his way back to the group and listened closely as she relayed the tale.

“It took quite a bit of digging, as you put it, to find this little tidbit.” She tapped on the keyboard a few times and motioned for Alex to plug the camera into the USB. After he’d done what she asked, she clicked the mouse a few times and then spun around while the computer automatically imported the images.

“There is a poem involving Holger, or Ogier le Danois, as he is referred to in the writing. The poem is actually French. It’s called
The Song of Roland
. As the story goes, he was the son of the Danish king Gudfred, a major enemy of Charlemagne, the medieval king who laid the foundations for modern France. The problem with this story is that Gudfred didn’t have a son name Ogier or Holger, nothing close to that.”

“So who was he then?” Tommy wondered out loud.

Tara went on. “As best we can figure, he was likely one of Gudfred’s Viking knights. According to some of the Danish historical archives, there was a Danish knight that served under Charlemagne for a time, most likely during the king’s campaign in Spain. How long he may have served exactly, we don’t know. But we do know that at some point, the knight fell out of favor with Charlemagne and ended up having to fight his way out of the country. It’s rumored that he killed one of Charlemagne’s sons in the process.”

A question stuck out in Sean’s mind. “Why did Holger go to Charlemagne in the first place? If he and Gudfred were rivals, it would seem the last thing he would do is send Holger to serve under his enemy’s banner.”

“We thought the same thing,” Alex said. “At some point in the tenuous relationship, there was a time of peace. Charlemagne held out an olive branch to his nemesis and offered a truce. In exchange, Gudfred offered his mightiest warrior.”

“Something still doesn’t add up,” Adriana interrupted. “Even if there were a cease fire, you never give the enemy your biggest weapon. No matter how much you want to convey trust.”

“Right,” Tara agreed. “Which means there had to be an underlying reason as to why Gudfred would send Holger to Charlemagne.”

“He had a vast treasure,” Tommy offered. “They’re still recovering some of the relics, artwork, and gold that disappeared over the last twelve hundred years.”

“It would have to be something more important than money,” Sean corrected. “The Danish coffers of the time were doing just fine.”

“Well,” Tara said and then paused for a second, “there was something else that Charlemagne was rumored to have in his possession.” She waited until everyone was staring anxiously at her. “Please keep in mind that I already know what the claims are in regards to this particular item. Alex and I discussed it at length. But the truth is that even though many people say they have the authentic one, it is extremely difficult to validate.”

The other four in the room stared at her with a “spit it out, already” expression.

“The Holy Lance,” Alex blurted out.

“Alex, I was just about to say that,” Tara chastised him.

“You were taking too long.”

“Yeah! Because it’s just a tad crazy that we are telling them we believe that the Holy Lance isn’t in Vatican City or any other sacred place, and that all the people who claim to have it are really just charlatans peddling relics.”

“To be fair,” Sean quipped, “you never actually called anyone a charlatan.”

“No,” Tara agreed. “But some people take those things very seriously.”

“We’re aware,” Tommy said.

Adriana cut in again. “So you are saying that the real reason Holger Danske went to serve in Charlemagne’s court was so he could steal the lance that pierced Christ’s side?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Alex defended. “During the coronation of Charlemagne as king of the Lombards, the accounts tell us that he grasped the shaft of the spear. That is a fairly well-known part of the story. What’s interesting about this is the word that was used to describe Charlemagne’s action. It was translated into English and many other languages as
grasp
or
take hold
, but looking back on the records of the event, the word that was used had another meaning. This other translation suggests that Charlemagne
took
the lance
.
”

Tommy stopped her right there. “Wait. You mean he stole it?”

“We’re not entirely sure, but it looks that way. There are records from the Lombard historian, Paul the Deacon, that say there were several instances the lance was seen tucked away in Charlemagne’s throne room. Though he didn’t have it in his possession at all times, the accounts suggest that he might have showed it off when he needed to assert his power.”

Alex interrupted, “Basically like a kid showing off their new bike to a friend.”

“Or an enemy,” Tara corrected. “The Holy Lance is one of the most prized relics in the Christian world. Many rulers, including some of the early popes, believed that it held special powers. Some thought that it was a weapon handed down by God that would redeem mankind. Others believed that the blood of Christ is what gave the weapon its supernatural power. Either way, that spear has been one of the most coveted items in history, right behind the slightly better known Holy Grail and the Ark of the Covenant.”

The three older members of the group were impressed. Tommy commended them. “I have to say, that’s an intriguing story.”

Sean agreed. “Something like that would be pretty intimidating, holding the spear of destiny like that.”

“Right. The question is,” Tommy considered his words for a second, “did Holger Danske get his hands on it? And if he did, how did he escape, where did he go, and what did he do with the lance?”

Alex frowned. “That part we don’t know. But now it seems like we have a good place to start.”

There was still something troubling Sean. “You know, this all seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a man that most of the history books don’t recognize as being real. Holger Danske is just an old fairy tale to most Danes. It seems a little odd that if he did something as incredible for his home country as stealing the Holy Lance, he would have been recognized for it in some way. Instead, it’s like they wanted him to disappear.”

“Which makes sense,” Adriana continued for him. “Think about it. Charlemagne’s power covered all of western Europe by the time he was crowned emperor in AD 800. Holger would most likely have had to disappear completely to stay safe. Once he had the lance, his mission for King Gudfred was complete, but he could never return home to Denmark. With the help of his trusted friend, Asmund, he vanished forever.”

Sean nodded. “Good point. And if Charlemagne really did steal the lance, there’s no way he could make a public claim about it. He would have to try to recover it in secret.”

“That would be a tough operation to keep quiet,” Alex said.

Tommy had been thinking for a few minutes and finally posed a question to the group. “So we think we know what we’re looking for. And we think we know where to look next. But what about the guys chasing us? Why do they want the lance? It would be nearly impossible to sell something like that, even on the black market. No way they could keep that a secret for very long.”

It was a good question. And no one had an answer right away.

Tara did have another question though. “What did you say the name was of the man that’s after you? Not the underlings, the guy in charge.”

“Jim said his name is Gerard Dufort. Apparently, he’s bad news.”

Tara ran a quick check online but could only find the things Dufort was comfortable with the public at large knowing.

Sean knew she wouldn’t find much on the Internet. Which was why he had someone better he could talk to for this kind of situation.

Atlanta

Sean made the phone call once he, Tommy, and Adriana were back in the car and headed to the hospital. Tommy was busy making flight arrangements to Copenhagen while Adriana drove the car. She shook her head and passed Sean a wry smile.

“What?” he asked as Emily’s phone rang in his earpiece.

“You boys and your phones,” she answered in a dry tone, staring straight ahead with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Before Sean could defend himself, his longtime friend Emily Starks answered. “What can I do for you this time, Mr. Wyatt?” she answered in a sarcastic tone.

“Nice to hear your voice again, too, Em.”

“Cut the BS, Sean.”

True
, he thought. Emily Starks wasn’t one for too much chitchat. She liked to get to the point, which put her and Sean on the same playing field most of the time. It was one of several reasons they made such a great team when he worked with her at Axis, and why she desperately tried to get him to stay when he decided to retire.

“I need information on someone.”

A short snicker came through from the other end. “Funny. The last guy you wanted information on ended up dead. That wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Sean said. “I’m pretty sure it’s the guy I need info on now.”

“Oh?” She sounded intrigued. “Who’s the next dead guy?”

“Hilarious,” Sean shook his head as Adriana steered the car down another street. The white sides of the hospital appeared on the horizon, beyond the huge oaks and smaller buildings intermingling on the outlying area of the campus. “His name is Gerard Dufort. Frenchman. I think he lives in Paris. I hear he’s pretty ruthless. Also hear he has quite a bit of money.”

“Quite a bit would be an understatement,” Emily cut him off. “Dufort’s wealth is in the billions. He inherited a huge sum when his parents died. Some speculated he was the one that caused the accident. No one will ever know for sure. Too much time has passed now.”

“Wait,” Sean stopped her. “You know this guy?”

Emily sighed. “I
am
in the intelligence community, you know. Yes, I know who Dufort is. We’ve had our eyes on him for a while. He runs one of the largest human trafficking rings in Europe, maybe even in the world. The sex slaves he sells come from around the globe and from all walks of life. We have an agent watching him, but she hasn’t checked in today. I’m worried something’s up.”

“You don’t think he got wind of what she was doing, do you?”

“Not sure. We’re checking on it now. If I don’t hear from her by two o’clock this afternoon, I’m going over there to have a look around for myself.”

This last piece caught Sean off guard. “You’re in Paris right now?”

“Yeah. We have a team in place, ready to take down Dufort. But we can’t go in until we have concrete evidence on him. Up until now, everything we’ve got won’t hold up.”

Sean didn’t like the idea of Emily going into the lion’s den all alone, but he also knew she would have a backup plan. If she had a team in place and they knew she was going in to take a look around, Dufort wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her. If she failed to return, her team would tear down the building.

He decided to pry a little further. “What else can you tell me about Dufort?”

“Well,” she paused for a moment, “he’s a fairly prominent member of the Parisian community. He engages with many charitable organizations, probably to keep eyes off his darker exploits. Of course, hobnobbing with those wealthy elite types might be another way he networks for more business.”

“Ironic.”

“For sure. He is also a member of an extremely private collectors club.”

Sean’s face curled slightly. “Collectors club? Like vintage race cars or something?”

“No,” Emily corrected. “The kinds of things that you and your boy, Tommy, dig up all the time. They’re into ancient artifacts, relics, and pieces that should be in museums. Usually, they buy things from treasure hunters on the black market. Sometimes they get them from legitimate auctions. I guess you could say that Dufort’s club is kind of the IAA’s competitor. Whoever has the rarest and the most expensive items is held in the highest regard. It’s like some kind of fraternity where whoever has the best collection is the most powerful. The whole thing sounds kind of strange to me.”

Adriana eased the SUV into a parking spot and shifted it into park while Sean finished his conversation.

It was Emily’s turn to ask a question. “Why all the interest in Dufort?”

“I’m helping an old friend with a treasure hunt,” he oversimplified the answer. “I guess Dufort is looking for the same thing we’re looking for, except he’s sent some of his henchmen to stop us.”

“Oh.” The pieces started to come together. “That’s why you wanted to know about Petrov.”

“Right.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore, but Dufort will have others you
will
have to be ready for. He has a lot of people working for him, and many of them are just as dangerous as Petrov, if not more so.”

“Awesome,” Sean responded sarcastically. “I look forward to meeting them.”

“Be careful, Sean. Dufort doesn’t play fair.”

“None of them ever do, Em. Thanks for the info. You be careful too. Let me know what you find out.”

“Will do.”

Sean ended the call and found Tommy and Adriana staring at him, waiting for answers. “I’ll explain everything on the way in.”