“Not exactly. I was playing in the World Series of Poker. I’d just got knocked out of the tournament. A hit squad came to my hotel.”
“And I saved his life,” she added with a subtle smile.
Sean rolled his eyes. “I would have found a way out of there.”
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “With a line of armed men behind you and in front of you?”
Sean laughed again. “I coulda jumped through the window.”
“Down onto the street? And that window was at least three inches thick. You would have killed yourself just trying to get through it.”
He turned to their guests. “She did save my life.”
“You’re welcome,” Adriana said, her mouth hidden behind the coffee mug.
The two older men laughed as they finished shoveling the food into their mouths.
Silence pervaded the room for a minute before Sean’s phone suddenly started ringing. He glanced down at the screen. “It’s Tommy.” Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
“We have some more information on that coin of yours.”
“Awesome. Is it okay if I put you on speaker phone?”
“Sure.”
Sean set the phone on the counter and pressed the speaker button. “Okay, you’re on.”
Tommy took his cue and began. “So, it took quite a bit of digging, but we were able to find out some interesting information about the face on the coin and on Francis Jackson. Tara and Alex stayed here until one in the morning working on it.”
“And they’re already back to work, aren’t they?” Sean asked, already sure he knew the answer.
“Yep. I can’t keep them away. Anyhow, the face on the coin was harder to figure out. We ran it through every piece of facial recognition software we could find. It took a few hours, but we’re pretty confident we have a match. Have you ever heard of a Danish warrior named Holger Danske?”
Sean thought for a second and then shook his head and glanced at the other three people in the room. They all did the same. “Nope. None of us have ever heard of him.”
“I figured. He’s not a prominent player in world history. Holger Danske is more of a local legend in Denmark, particularly the area surrounding Copenhagen.”
No one said anything, so Tommy went on. “As the story goes, several hundred years ago, there was a great Viking king who roamed Scandinavia, pillaging, warring, and basically wreaking havoc.”
“Doing what Vikings did,” Sean added.
“Right. As a result, the king amassed a vast number of enemies. When he returned home from his travels and decided to settle down, the people he’d pissed off began to come for him. The Swedes were the most persistent and constantly invaded Zealand. That’s the Danish island where Copenhagen is located.” He wasn’t sure whether or not his audience knew that. “Anyway, the king sent out his mightiest warrior, a general who had led some of his foreign campaigns, to meet the threats.”
“And that general was Holger Danske,” Sean interrupted.
“Right again. Holger was, apparently, the Viking equivalent to Goliath, minus the debilitating gigantism. The legends say he was a massive man, and unmatched on the battlefield. Long story short, Holger defeated the enemies of Denmark every time he faced them.”
Coop and Charlie listened intensely at the breakfast table, as did Adriana.
When Tommy paused, she spoke up. “That’s a lovely bedtime story, Tommy. But what does any of that have to do with the coin Coop showed Charlie?”
“Glad you asked. I’m getting to that. After sorting through the myths and legends, it’s hard to find any definitive ending to the tale of Holger Danske. Truthfully, most people don’t give the story any credence and pass it off as fantasy. We did find one interesting piece that might give us a clue as to the reason behind the coin’s existence.
“When Holger had reached a ripe old age, he knew he would soon go to his eternal rest. The problem was that he had established such a reputation with the Danes that they had come to believe he was immortal. Even the king had declared Holger was sent by the gods.”
“He was basically their version of Hercules,” Sean cut in.
“Exactly,” Tommy said. “And this must have gone to Holger’s head. He didn’t want the reputation he’d built to come undone by dying, so he did the only thing he could think of. He ran away. Before he did, he planted the seed that he was going to sleep and would only return when Denmark needed him again.”
“Sounds like a comic book story line,” Charlie grunted.
“Indeed. But then it gets deeper. Holger believed that there were lands far to the west — lands that he’d heard other Vikings talk about. It was his wish to see those lands before he returned to Denmark to die.”
Sean’s curiosity picked up. He’d heard stories of Vikings visiting North America long before Columbus was born. There had even been some evidence of their presence from as far northeast as Newfoundland to the American Midwest. “Ah. Any idea where he may have gone? Any relation to the rune stones that were found here in the U.S.?”
“Maybe,” Tommy sounded uncertain. “The story trails off after that. All we know is that Holger disappeared and was never seen or heard from again.”
Something was bothering Coop at this point. A piece of the story didn’t quite fit. “I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Browning Cooper. I’m the owner of the coin. Who is the source of this story?”
“Great question, Mr. Cooper,” Tommy answered. “The tale was handed down by Holger’s second in command, a captain in his army. He was a man by the name of Asmund. We believe that he created the coin. On top of that, from the accounts we could find, it seems there are probably more than one of them. It seems that Holger’s captain created the coins as a way for Holger to find his way back to Denmark when he awoke from his slumber.”
“So there is more than one coin?” Sean asked. He glanced over at Coop and Charlie, waiting for the answer.
“Yep. It was tricky to find any definitive information since we really are dealing with legends and myths at this point. According to the tale passed down by Asmund or someone close to him, he helped Holger leave before he died, to protect his reputation. Asmund alone knew the location of Holger’s final resting place.” Tommy took a deep breath after relaying the information.
Silence sank into the kitchen as the four soaked in the details.
“You said you were able to find something on Francis Jackson too?” Sean asked suddenly, trying to get the conversation back on track.
“Right. Glad you reminded me. This entire thing is quite the rabbit hole. It seems Francis Jackson found the first of Asmund’s breadcrumbs.”
Chapter 10
Before falling into a semistate of sleep during the night, Petrov made a phone call to Paris. This time, however, it wasn’t to Dufort. He preferred not to allow his employer to know everything he was doing. Wealthy men, men of privilege, didn’t understand the subtle blend of art and science behind his skill set.
The phone only rang twice before a tired French voice picked up on the other end. “What do you want?” The man on the line was clearly irritated and tired. Petrov knew that would be the case, given that it was four in the morning, Paris time.
“I need you to find out all you can about an American in the picture I’m about to send you, along with any of his associates.”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Petrov imagined the man groggily grabbing a pen and a notepad to jot down the request.
“Anything else?” the voice rasped through the earpiece.
“I need it immediately.”
“In hurry, eh? Very well. I will call you back shortly.”
Petrov’s research guy was top notch. He’d found the man through the intelligence underworld. Alain had worked for the French Central Directorate of Interior Intelligence. After being charged with various crimes, none of which could be proven, Alain had gone rogue, selling his talents to various people who needed information — and had the money to pay for it.