The Spear of Destiny (7 page)

  “Understood.”

  “Now tell me what happened with the police.”

Dennis told his boss everything that happened as far as he could remember.

  “Have you told anyone else?”

  “Apart from Natalie. No.”

  “Good. You can tell Dixon everything you’ve just told me.”

  “Ok.”

Rogerson studied his journalist for a moment.

  “How are you Pete?”

  “How am I?”

  “Yes how are you? It’s a simple enough question. You’ve been through a lot lately. The affair with Von Werner and the sarcophagus, that maniac Russian….”

  “Ukranian.”

  “What?”

  “Danilov was from Chernobyl. Chernobyl is in the Ukraine.”

  “Well it was Russia once. Look the thing is you barely got over that and then this happens. I just want to make sure my number one journalist is holding his own.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good. And how is Natalie?”

  “She’s great. No she’s terrific. Apart from….” Dennis stopped.

  “Apart from what?”

Dennis wished he hadn’t mentioned it.

  “She met me from the police station and slapped me for ’playing the hero’ as she called it.”

  Rogerson laughed.

  “Slapped you!”

  “Yeah. She had a bit of a go at me.”

  “But you’re ok now. Both of you.”

  “Yeah. We’re fine. I don’t know why I did it.”

  “Well she’s right. You could have got yourself killed. I guess that’s why you’re the best storyteller I have. You know, always being part of the action. Getting that first hand experience.”

  “Something like that,” Dennis replied.

  “Well that’s it for now. Let me know if there is anything else you can think of that may be relevant to a story, any story in the last 72 hours.”

  Dennis got up to leave. At the door he stopped.

  “Thanks Tom.”

  “For what?”

  “For caring.”

  “I might be your boss Pete but I’m also your friend. Grab Dixon as soon as he gets in!” Rogerson shouted as Dennis closed the door.

  He made his way slowly back to his desk. There was another yellow post it note stuck to his computer screen. Before he even read it he saw that it was Becky’s handwriting and the message ended in a kiss. An ’x’ with a horizontal line either side. 

  “For fuck’s sake,” Dennis said quietly, “This is a form of sexual harrassment.”

  He looked across at her. She was talking to another girl, Ruby, a journalist, but every time she agreed with something Ruby said she nodded then glanced his way. It wasn’t that he was shy or afraid of beautiful women, he’d had his fair share of them, it was just that this one looked like she could get him into trouble. Trouble with Natalie and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. He couldn’t imagine life without the beautiful archaeologist now. Their relationship over the months had blossomed into something he’d never had before. He’d been in love before of course, many times. Been hurt many times. Did the hurting. He thought about his girlfriend now and his pulse raced like it always did about her. He glanced at his clock. 10am. She’ll be here in a few hours. He noticed Becky finish her conversation with Ruby and start heading his way.

  “Oh shit.”

Then he saw James Dixon breeze into the office.

  “Hey James,” Dennis called across the floor.

Dixon placed his briefcase down by his desk and looked up as Dennis reached him.

  “Well. Well. Well. If it isn’t the man of the moment.”

Dennis pulled up a chair as Dixon sat.

  “What’s up Pete?”

  “Rogerson wants us to work together this morning. I’ve got to tell you all about what happened on Fri….”

  Dixon bent his neck around Dennis’ shoulder at Becky’s disappearing figure as she entered Rogerson’s office.

  “Was that Becky I just saw in that short skirt.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you mean yeah! She’s the hottest babe that’s ever worked here.”

  “Yeah I know.”

  “And you’re telling me you wouldn’t.”

  “No I wouldn’t.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Look mate between you and me she’s a bloody nightmare.”

  “Nightmare?”

  “Well a distraction then. I think she’s interested in me. Either that or she’s just a tease.”

  “If she was interested in me I wouldn’t hesitate mate. I’d be in there so quick….Oh shit she’s coming over.”

Dennis turned, saw her and grimaced. He kept his back to her.

  “Oh Peter I was coming to tell you that Mr Dixon was here but I see you’ve found him.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Morning James,” she said walking off while biting the end of her pencil. Dixon just nodded and waited until she was out of earshot.

  “Fuck me! Damn. I wish I was you.”

  “No. You really don’t. Look, come on forget about her. Let’s get started.”

Dennis flipped open Dixon’s laptop.

  “I need to know what you’ve done so far.”

Dixon tore his eyes away from the brunette and opened his documents on his laptop.

  “Okay Pete. This was done Friday night.

The two journalists settled down to read the computer screen.

  “Ahem!”

They looked up. Natalie was standing there. A large paper bag in one hand, two cartons of coffee in the other.

  “Oh hi!”

  “Did you forget.”

  “What? Oh no! I….what’s the time?” he looked at his watch. It was just after twelve, “No. I’m….of course not. We were just working hard and I lost track of time. This is James.”

  “Hi James.”

  “Hi,” Dixon replied, then spun in his swivel chair to get something from behind, “Another one Pete?” he said quietly.

  Dennis looked at Natalie who raised her hands slightly.

  “Oh yeah. Right.”

Dennis got up and put the chair he’d borrowed back. He led Natalie towards his desk.

  “What did he mean another one?”

  “What? Oh I’ve no idea,” Dennis replied quickly, avoiding the question.

  “You look nice.”

  “Thank you,” Natalie replied.

  “Who let you in?”

  “A new girl. I don’t know her name. Pretty. Brunette.”

  “Oh her.”

  “Very short skirt.”

  “Has she? I didn’t notice.”

  “She seems nice,” Natalie said smiling as he pulled up a chair for her.

  “I don’t really have much to do with her,” he replied. Then his eyes grew wide at his waste bin. The most recent post it note was on top of the rubbish. The kiss plainly visible. Dennis nudged the bin in under his desk and out of sight.

  “Peter you’re acting very strange.”

  “Am I? Oh no! Just got a lot on at the moment.” He gestured at the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

  “What you asked for. Chicken salad.”

  “Thanks babe,” he said, unwrapping his baguette. Natalie bit into her sandwich then dabbed at the corners of her mouth.

  “Yes she’s very pretty. I’m surprised you’ve never mentioned her. What does she do here?”

  “Her? Not a lot.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Um. Becky I think. Something like that,” Dennis replied taking another bite.

  “I’ll bet all the boys in the office like her.”

  “Yeah I expect so.”

  “Including you.”

Dennis ignored her and took another mouthful.

  “Peter.”

  “What?”

  “I said, including you.”

  “Not really.”

  “Oh come on. She is gorgeous.”

  “I suppose she is. I don’t have much contact with her,” Dennis lied, “She’s Rogerson’s p.a.”

  “Great legs,” Natalie said, watching Becky strutt around the office, “I love those shoes.”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “Red stilleto’s. Four inch heels.”

Dennis peered over the partition of his desk.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “And you’re telling me you’ve never noticed her before.”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re lying.”

Dennis had to stop himself from choking.

  “Well you can look but no touching. They are lovely shoes.”

Dennis rolled his eyes and reached into his jeans back pocket, took out his wallet, took out his credit card and handed it to her.

  “You know the pin number.”

  “What’s this for?”

  “Get yourself some new shoes. My treat.”

Natalie’s face lit up.

  “Thanks darling. I’ve seen a pair I like in Harrods.”

His smile vanished.

  “Ouch.”

  “You’ll love them. They’re very high heels.”

  “Yeah and a very high price too I suspect. While you’re there why don’t you pick some wine for tonight.”

  “Good idea.”

Natalie finished her sandwich and coffee and got up to put her coat on.

  “Are you off.”

  “Yes I’ve got a few things to do. Thanks for the shoes.”

Dennis showed her out. On the stairs they passed a man in a brown suit who nodded in friendly fashion at them as they passed.

  “Gruss Gott!”

Taken by surprise Dennis managed a quick, “Good afternoon.”

  He and Natalie stopped to look back at the lone figure who rounded the bend in the stairs and disappeared from sight.

  “What was that? German?” she asked.

  “No I think it’s a more common general greeting in Austria. Though I believe most Germans have adopted it.”

  “Peter I’ve got a strange feeling about this.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. He wouldn’t have gotten past security. I expect he’s probably an Austrian journalist reporting on Friday’s events.”

  “I know. You’re right. I just….after what happened to us before….I would quite happily never hear an accent like that again.”

They reached the ground floor where the security desk was.

  “Hey George,” Dennis called out to the guard behind the desk, “Who was that guy in the brown suit?”

  “I don’t know man,” George replied in his heavy West Indian accent, “I’ve just come back from my break. Gus checked him in.”

  “What’s it say on the log?”

  “Well it looks like Gus didn’t bother to enter a name. Should I go after him.”

Dennis thought about it. Gus, the other security guard, had been employed by the publishers for seventeen years and as far as Dennis knew, the man was sound.

  “No leave it. He must have been given clearance. I’ll ask Gus if I see him.”

  “Sure thing man.”

Dennis led Natalie outside. They talked for a minute and then he kissed her goodbye. She turned back once and he watched until he couldn’t see her anymore. Lost in amongst the other pedestrians. Dennis returned to the office and sat next to Dixon again.

  “Sorry James. Where were we?”

Rogerson’s door flew open.

  “Pete come in here please.”

  “For fuck’s sake. Now what!”

As Dennis got closer to his editor’s office he saw the man in the brown suit rise out of a chair. The stranger waited until Rogerson closed the door before he extended his hand.

  “Mr Dennis I am inspector Thomas Bauer of the Austrian Criminal Intelligence Service or if you wish Interpol. I am an Austrian police officer based in Vienna where I work and report to the minister of the interior.”

Dennis shook the hand.

  “How do you do.”

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Rogerson said. He closed the door quietly behind him.

  “Your boss thought it would be better if we talked in here. I would appreciate it Mr Dennis if you didn’t discuss what I’m going to say to you outside of this room. I am, of course, investigating the theft of one of my country’s greatest treasures. A theft which has caused much embarrassment to my government.”

  “Look I already told the police everything I know.”

  “Yes you spoke with a chief inspector Jones did you not.”

Dennis nodded.

  “The Metropolitan police are only interested in the gun crime committed  and though they assure me they are investigating the theft of the ’Spear of Destiny’ I assure you they are not.”

  “I don’t see what I can do to help.”

Bauer reached into his jacket and took out a large manila envelope. He took out a photograph and passed it to Dennis.

  “The spear of destiny,” Dennis said, studying the picture.

  “Not quite.”

  “What?”

  “That photograph was taken yesterday.”

  “Then you’ve got it back.”

  “No Mr Dennis. The one stolen on Friday was a fake.”

  Dennis raised his eyebrows.

  “A fake. Then the real one is safe.”

  “No not exactly. The real one was stolen a month ago.”

  “From where? The Schatzkammer.”

  “Yes Mr Dennis. The schatzkammer.”

  “How come this is the first anyone has heard of it. News of that nature would have made headlines.”

  “No. The Austrian government managed to keep it quiet. As I said it is of great embarrassment. Three security guards died trying to protect the real one.”

  “So if the real one was stolen why would someone steal a fake. Be prepared to kill for a fake.”

  Bauer took another photograph from the envelope and passed it to Dennis.

  “Do you know this man?” 

Dennis looked straight into the eyes of count Otto Brest von Werner.

  “Yes I know him. He was, that is to say, we were involved in an incident three months ago in which he took my partner and I hostage. He was killed.”

  “Mr Dennis Von Werner is very much alive.”

  “Impossible. I saw them pluck his body from the sea.”

Another photograph. This one was black and white and grainy. Dennis looked at a hooded figure, terribly disfigured, but there was no mistaking the eyes.

  “Von Werner,” Dennis said quietly.

  “Yes. This photograph was captured by CCTV. He was sitting in the lead range rover outside the British museum. This photograph was obtained when the spear was passed to him through the window. Dennis stared at the photograph open mouthed.

  “He was in prison in Tunisia. His private army broke him out on a routine journey from hospital. Several Tunisian military and police were killed. Until Friday his whereabouts was unknown. We suspect he’s behind the Vienna spear being stolen.”

  “How did he, they, get him out of Tunisia?”

  “Helicopters took him to Carthage where he escaped on his own yacht.”