Arthur and the Fenris Wolf (14 page)

Loki was in a gallery adjacent to the Viking Room when the fire alarm went off.

That wasn't part of the plan, he thought to himself, going to see what was happening. He walked through the wreckage of Viking artefacts and looked out at the commotion on the balcony. He saw the large boy run across and save the little girl. And he saw Ash and Max.

‘I should have known,' he muttered to himself. ‘The gang's all here, interfering in my plans as usual.'

He went back through the room, kicking aside glass and rubble and priceless artefacts nonchalantly. He looked down at the still-unconscious Arthur, the pendant glowing brightly on his chest, still protecting the boy.

‘That's my cue to leave, Arthur,' he said, even though he knew the boy couldn't hear him. ‘I'm sure I'll see you soon. And when I do, you'll breathe your last breath.'

He turned and walked back out of the room. On the balcony Ash and Max and the others were gone and one sentry was helping another to his feet.

‘Time to go!' Loki shouted, his voice spreading further than should have been possible. All over the museum, the raiders tied the ends of their black sacks and prepared to leave.

Arthur's eyes fluttered open. There was a ringing in his ears. No – not in his ears. There was a ringing everywhere. An alarm was going off. Time for school, he thought, but then realised he was lying somewhere uncomfortable and wasn't at home in bed.

He sat up, confused. Then he saw the Viking shield on the floor next to him and it all came flooding back.

‘Loki!' he exclaimed to himself. He looked around and spotted the Trickster God on the balcony overlooking the main hall. He was wearing a long green coat now, like something a soldier would wear. As he watched, the god turned and strode down the main staircase.

Arthur pushed himself to his feet with all the strength he could muster. As he stood upright, his head spun and he stumbled backwards. He paused for a second, regaining his balance, his hand braced against the wall beside him. When he felt better, he walked carefully through the carnage Loki had left in the Viking Room. Glass and debris covered every surface.

The balcony area was empty and Arthur, as he looked down on to the room below, could see innocent bystanders evacuating the building through the main entrance below. He spotted Loki escaping in the other direction, through a Staff Only door, his green coat billowing behind him. Arthur ran down the stairs and headed for the door. As he passed through it, he noticed that the security keypad on the wall had been disabled by some kind of blast – a hand-shaped black mark was clear on its surface.

Loki was already halfway down the corridor when Arthur came through the door, striding along behind countless figures in black carrying sacks. There were filing cabinets on both sides of the corridor.

Loki and his gang of raiders turned a corner and Arthur sped up to keep up with them. He wasn't quite sure what he was planning to do, but he wanted to see what Loki's next move was going to be. He heard a door slam and rounded the corner to find himself suddenly face to face with the Father of Lies.

The corridor went on further but there was a door here, fitted with fire-safety glass. Loki was standing just beyond it, grinning and waving at Arthur as the raiders ran away behind him. Arthur tried to pull and push the door open but to no avail. It was tightly locked.

Still grinning, Loki mouthed, ‘See you soon,' and with a last wave he turned and followed his raiders. At the far end of the corridor was another door. One of them pulled it open and daylight streamed in. They stepped outside, bright sunlight swallowing them. Loki went last. And just like that, he was gone.

Arthur walked back down the corridor, shuffling his feet and feeling sorry for himself. Now that the adrenaline of the chase had worn off, his hip and head were both throbbing. He came back into the main exhibition hall and surveyed the damage. Most of the glass display units had been smashed and ransacked, while some had even been kicked over. There was no one left in the museum but him; all the raiders had escaped with Loki, and the hostages had run to freedom through the front doors, which were now ajar. He limped towards the main entrance slowly. Halfway through the hall, he came to a bronze chalice on the ground. Maybe it had been thrown aside or maybe it had fallen out of one of the raiders' sacks. Either way, he didn't like the thought of it just lying there on its side. He picked it up and gazed at the Celtic patterns and green enamel inlay. Reflected in the bronze he could see his face. He had a small cut on his forehead and was surprised to see a trickle of blood running down his cheek.

He stepped to one of the cabinets that was still standing. A few glass shards hung precariously in the frame. The shelves in the unit were totally bare. He placed the chalice on the centre shelf and stood back to admire it. It looked very lonely there all by itself.

By now his legs felt like jelly and he decided that it would be better for him to sit on the ground, careful to avoid any particularly sharp chunks of glass, before he fell over. He was still looking at the chalice when a Garda squad stormed through the front doors. He was too weary to look up at their faces but could hear the hustle as they burst through the anteroom and then into the main hall. One of them cut off the fire alarm. They were wearing riot gear – bullet-proof vests and helmets – and carrying Perspex shields. Most of them crowded around him, some with guns trained on him.

They shouted commands: orders to stand up, to name himself, to go with them. He ignored them all, still dazed and in his own little world. Eventually, one voice drowned out the others.

‘Stop!' it shouted. ‘Let me through!'

The Gardaí parted to let the man through. He held one hand out to Arthur.

‘Hello, Arthur,' he said. ‘Remember me?'

When Ash and the others had escaped through the emergency exit, they came out into what had become a bright January day, the sunlight almost blinding them. They emerged at the side of the building and had to walk through a narrow alley to reach the front and the other relieved hostages.

The Gardaí had arrived at this stage, as had countless members of the press. Photographers stood behind crash barriers, aiming their cameras, zooming in with telephoto lenses and straining to get a good picture of any of the distraught hostages. News reporters shouted questions to the Gardaí but got no answers in return. While a squad of Gardaí stormed the now-evacuated museum, a few others lined up the hostages to gather names and statements.

Cousin Maggie was thoroughly shaken by the ordeal and Max, who had recovered quickly once they'd escaped, was busy comforting her, rubbing her back and telling her repeatedly that it was all right, that they were safe. The young couple that Ex had saved ran straight to the nearest TV camera, recounting their tale in great detail. Ash kept her eyes fixed on the main entrance, hoping to see Arthur come out safely. The Lavender siblings, meanwhile, stayed very quiet. Ex appeared to be in his own world again, as silent as he was before. Ellie, however, seemed to be deep in thought.

‘Ash,' Ellie spoke up after a while, ‘can I ask you something?'

‘What is it?' Ash was standing with her arms wrapped around herself, tension written on her face.

‘Do you have any idea who those people could have been?' Ellie finished.

Ash did indeed have an idea, but it was a theory she didn't want to voice. Loki had to be involved. It would be too much of a coincidence for him not to be.

‘No,' she lied. ‘Not a clue.' Her expression told a different story, but before Ellie could question her further, Max exclaimed, ‘There's Arthur!' and pointed at the door. Ash followed the direction of his finger and gave a sigh of relief. Arthur was being led out of the museum by a man in a lilac shirt and tie. The man had shaved red hair and was tall with an athletic build. She vaguely recognised him but couldn't think from where.

‘Arthur!' she called out, waving to him. He spotted her and headed towards the group. The man in lilac followed.

Before Arthur could say a word, Ash embraced him tightly.

‘Was it Loki?' she whispered into his ear.

‘Yup,' he whispered back, then let her go and looked at the others. ‘Before anyone asks, I'm fine.'

‘He's probably a bit dazed,' the man said behind him. ‘He got knocked out, apparently.' He pointed at Ash. ‘You're Ashling, right? Ash?'

‘Uh … yeah …' she answered hesitantly.

‘This is the Garda who helped when Dad was attacked,' Arthur explained and it all came flooding back to her. When Loki had beaten Joe last October, this Garda had notified Arthur. He'd stayed on watch at the ward and even drove Arthur to and from the hospital.

‘Garda Morrissey, isn't it?' Ash said.

‘Actually, it's Detective Morrissey now,' the man said proudly. ‘Or, rather, Trainee Detective Morrissey. Are your parents here?'

‘No. We came with Cousin Maggie, my grandaunt.'

The detective wasn't phased by the odd naming of the aunt and turned to her. ‘I have some questions for Arthur here, Ma'am. Is that all right with you?'

Maggie, who was still dazed by the whole experience, just nodded her head.

‘Thank you. Shouldn't be long.' He put his hand on Arthur's shoulder and led him away.

Detective Morrissey brought Arthur into the back of a Garda van. The interior of the vehicle was decked out with computers and TV screens and machines that went blip. Surveillance equipment, Arthur realised, having seen similar kits on every cop movie he'd ever watched. One Garda was sitting at a panel reviewing the security-camera tapes of outside the museum. There was a small round desk in the centre of the van, which Detective Morrissey sat at. He indicated the chair opposite him and Arthur took it.

‘So here's what we know, Arthur,' Morrissey said. ‘At 2.21 exactly, the security cameras inside the museum suffered a malfunction. All of them shut off at once. At 2.22 exactly, a gang of raiders all dressed in black, numbering between twenty and thirty and armed with crossbows, blew out the glass roof, setting off the alarm, and abseiled into the building. After shutting off the alarm, they proceeded to loot the place. At 2.36, the fire alarm rang. A minute later, the hostages escaped through the front door. That's all we know so far. Maybe you can fill in some blanks since you were in there the longest?'

‘I told you,' he said. ‘I blacked out, woke up, stumbled downstairs and saw all the mess. And then …' Arthur hesitated. He liked Morrissey. The Garda had stayed in contact with them for a few weeks after Joe had regained consciousness and had retained an interest in their case. Arthur felt sorry for him because the case was never likely to be solved; or rather, because he could never tell him the truth of the matter. And now he was faced with the same dilemma. He didn't like not telling Morrissey the whole truth. But he also knew that no one in their right mind would believe his story about a Viking god breaking in to a museum to steal all those artefacts. In fact Arthur himself couldn't understand why Loki would do such a thing. Besides, if by any chance Morrissey did believe his story, then Arthur would only be getting him involved in a situation that could get him hurt or worse.

‘Go on,' Detective Morrissey prompted as Arthur paused, eager with anticipation, leaning forward in his chair.

‘Well,' Arthur continued, ‘when I saw the mess, I heard a noise behind me. I turned to see someone running through a Staff Only door. I didn't know what was happening, so I followed.' Arthur could feel the eyes of the other Garda on him now, too. ‘When I went through I saw a gang of people – all dressed in black and carrying sacks – running down the corridor through the fire door. It locked behind them so I couldn't get through. But I saw them go out the back.'

‘You shouldn't have followed them, Arthur – you could have been hurt. These guys clearly meant business. But since you did, can you show us where this all happened?'

‘Yeah,' Arthur said to Detective Morrissey, looking him straight in the eye. ‘I can.'

As they walked down the corridor, Arthur was in front, followed by Morrissey, a couple of senior detectives and a handful of Gardaí.

‘They came down here,' Arthur said as they went. ‘They were running pretty fast so I couldn't catch up with them.'

‘It's a good thing you didn't,' Detective Morrissey said. ‘These people were dangerous.'

They came to the locked door halfway down the passageway.

‘This is as far as I got,' Arthur said, then pointed through the glass to the shut door that led to the outside. ‘They went out through that door there.'

Detective Morrissey tried the inner fire door but it was still securely locked.

‘Can somebody open this for us?' he shouted back to the people following him. One of the museum security guards stepped forward, jangling a hefty set of keys. He put the right key into the lock and turned it with a click. They all pushed through, hurrying to the last door along the corridor of filing cabinets. Detective Morrissey ran in front, leaving Arthur trailing behind.

The trainee detective reached the door before anyone else. He swung it open. As before, sunlight streamed into the dim hallway.

‘What the–?' Arthur heard Morrissey utter, followed by excited chatter as everyone else saw what was awaiting them outside.

Arthur squeezed through the crowd to get a look for himself. There was a small yard with a few skips and recycling bins lined up against one wall. Cigarette butts littered the ground by the door; staff obviously used the area for smoking breaks. But what had caught all the Gardaí's attention was the sight of black costumes scattered on the ground: black Lycra overalls, surgical gloves and shiny onyx helmets. He recognised them instantly as the raiders' uniforms.

Detective Morrissey knelt down and gingerly picked up one of the helmets, studying his distorted reflection in it.

‘So either they were wearing these over their clothes, or we're looking for some naked raiders,' he said miserably.