Drake gripped Ben tightly around the shoulders and said: “Fantastic stuff. Keep it up and I’ll get you a new climbing frame. Now let’s go.”
It was a standing joke. Whenever their spirits needed lifting, Ben harangued Drake about his age and Drake made fun of Ben’s youth. Friendly rivalry.
Ben sniffed. “Who the hell’s up there?”
Drake was looking up at the loft and its secret door. No one had poked anything out of there yet.
“Germans.”
“Eh? Like World War Two Bridge over the River Kwai Germans?”
“I think those were Japanese. And no, I don’t think these are anything like World War Two Germans.”
They were already at the rear of the neighbour’s garden. They ducked through the hedge and pushed out through a dummy section of fencing Drake had crafted during one of the Swift’s annual holidays.
Straight out onto a busy street.
Directly opposite a taxi rank.
Drake walked towards the waiting cars with murder in his mind. His soldier’s insight had resurfaced. Like Mickey Rourke, like Kylie, like Hawaii-Five-O… it had just been lying dormant, waiting for the right time to make its glorious comeback.
He was sure the only way to protect the two of them was to get the bad guy first.
THREE
The flight into Charles De Gaulle touched down just after 9 AM that same morning. Drake and Ben landed with nothing but the rucksack and a few of its original contents. New clothes were on their backs, new mobiles prepped. The I-pad was charged. Most of the cash was gone — spent on transport. Weapons had been ditched as soon as Drake decided their destination.
During the flight, Drake had brought Ben up to date with all things German and Viking, and had asked him to help with the research. Ben’s sarcastic comment was: “Bang-bang goes my degree.”
Drake approved of the attitude. The family guy hadn’t cracked, thank God.
They exited the airport into a cold Paris drizzle. Ben found a taxi and waved at it with a guide book he’d bought. Once they were inside he said: “Umm… Rue… Croix? Hotel opposite the Louvre?”
The taxi shot off, driven by a man whose face betrayed that he was driven by nothing. The hotel, when it appeared forty minutes later, was refreshingly atypical for Paris. There was a large lobby, lifts that could accommodate more than one person, and several corridors of rooms.
Before they booked in, Drake used the cash machine in the lobby to withdraw the rest of his money — about five hundred Euros. Ben frowned, but Drake reassured him with a wink. He knew what his smart friend was thinking about.
Electronic surveillance and money trails.
He paid for one room by credit card and then acquired the room opposite with cash. Once upstairs, they both entered the ‘cash’ room and Drake set up surveillance.
“Our chance to kill a few birds with one stone,” he said, watching Ben scout the room with a critical eye.
“Eh?”
“We see how good they are. If they come soon they’re good, and probably trouble. If they don’t, well, it’s important to know that too. And you get a chance to break out your new toy.”
Ben switched on the I-pad. “It’s definitely happening today, at six?”
“It’s an educated guess.” Drake sighed. “But it fits the few facts we know.”
“Hmm, well step aside, Crusty…” Ben made a show of cracking his fingers. His confidence shone now that he was assisting rather than being rescued, but then he’d never been an ‘action’ guy. More the type of person identified by his first name, or by a nickname — mostly Blakey — never dynamic enough to earn that last name moniker.
Drake fixed his eye to the peep-hole. “The longer they take,” he murmured. “The better our chances.”
It didn’t take long. Whilst Ben was tapping away on the I-pad, Drake saw half a dozen big guys gather outside the door opposite. The lock was picked and the room invaded. Thirty seconds later the team reappeared, looked around angrily and dispersed.
Drake set his jaw.
Ben said. “This is really interesting, Matt. It’s believed there are actually nine pieces of Odin scattered throughout the world. The Shield is one, the Horse another. I never knew that.”
Drake barely heard him. He wracked his brain. They were in trouble here.
Without a word he backed away from the door and tapped a number into his mobile. Almost immediately the call was answered.
“Yes?”
“This is Drake.”
“I’m shocked. Long time, pal.”
“I know.”
“Always knew you’d call.”
“Not what you think, Wells. I need something.”
“Of course you do. Tell me about Mai.”
Damn. Wells was testing him with something only he would know. Problem was, Mai was an old flame from their down-time in Thailand before he was married to Alyson — and even Ben shouldn’t hear those sordid details.
“Second name — Shiranu. Location — Phuket. Type — umm…exotic…”
Ben’s ears were twitching. Drake read it in his body language as clearly as he could read a politician’s lie. The open mouth was the clue…
Drake could almost hear the laughter in Wells’ voice. “Exotic? That the best you can do?”
“At the moment — yes.”
“Someone there?”
“Very much.”
“Gotcha. OK, pal, whatcha want?”
“I need the truth, Wells. I need the raw intel that the news and the internet aren’t allowed to broadcast. About Odin’s Shield being stolen. About the Germans who stole it. Especially the Germans. Real SAS intel. I need to know what’s actually happening, mate, not the public drip-feed.”
“You in trouble?”
“Immense.” You don’t lie to your Commander, former or not.
“Need a hand?”
“Not yet.”
“You earned a hand, Drake. Just say the word and the SAS are yours.”
“I will.”
“OK. Give me a few. And by the way — you still telling yourself you were plain old SAS?”
Drake hesitated. The term ‘plain old SAS’ shouldn’t even exist. “It’s an acceptable term of explanation, that’s all.”
Drake disconnected. Asking his former Commander for help hadn’t been easy, but Ben’s safety overrode all sense of pride. He checked the peep-hole once more, got an eyeful of empty corridor, and then went to sit next to Ben.
“Nine Pieces of Odin, you say? What the hell does that mean?”
Ben clicked quickly away from his band’s Facebook page, muttering that they had two new friend requests, which now made seventeen.
He studied Drake for a moment. “So you’re an ex-SAS captain and a cassette tape fanatic. That’s odd, mate, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Concentrate, Ben. What have you got?”
“Well… I’m following the trail of this Nine Pieces of Odin. It seems that nine is a special number in Norse mythology. Odin was self-crucified on something called the World Tree for nine days and nine nights, fasting, with a spear in his side just like Jesus Christ, and many years before Jesus. This is real stuff, Matt. Real scholars catalogued this. It might even be the story that inspired the tale of Jesus Christ. There are nine Pieces of Odin. The Spear is a third Piece, and is linked to the World Tree, though I can’t find any references as to its location. The Tree’s legendary location is in Sweden. A place called Upsalla.”