Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The afternoon rain rattled off the windows of the Guardian’s main office as Amanda worked at her cubicle on a story for the Tuesday paper. The sound was a soothing reminder of home, and a distraction from the weird power fluxes afflicting the other computers in the office. There were also ads playing on TV. They didn’t come from either of the two candidates, but from secretive organizations that supported them financially. One of the satellite feeds transitioned from a presidential campaign ad to a report detailing the latest behind the “new energy from across the pond”: CV-220.
When Amanda first heard about this new alternative energy source, it sounded like a hoax. Something that an avant-garde performance group like the Yes Men would have made up. The following day brought rumors that British automakers like Vauxhall were secretly creating plans for an engine that can be run solely on CV-220 (or Bluetannia as the blogosphere dubbed it), hoping to release it in time for the Summer Olympics. There were numerous protests that followed from government officials in OPEC member nations who called the new source “Western propaganda.”
All of that along with a half-dozen other thoughts buzzed through Amanda’s mind as the young American woman typed up a follow-up story on the No-Confidence threat to the Prime Minister from high ranking Labour MPs in Parliament. Hidden amongst the announcement of what the blogosphere dubbed Bluetannia was the story that the process had hit a snag thanks to the work of a mysterious Northern MP. As she finished the second to last paragraph, another power surge hit the office, briefly warping the display. It lasted a few seconds, though it still caused Amanda to grit her teeth in the hopes that it wouldn’t destroy his work. She let out a sigh of relief ten seconds later when the surge ended and his column was proved intact.
“The boss wants to see you, mate.” Amanda turned around and saw Jar’Ed standing just outside her cubicle with a stoic look on his face.
“What does she want?” Amanda asked.
“You’re getting your first big assignment,” Jar’Ed replied. “Though I can’t tell you what it is.”
Amanda nodded timidly and followed behind. Maybe Brigid wants me to go undercover to learn more about Lugh’s plan, she thought. She followed Jar’Ed into Brigid’s office. Brigid was at her desk, looking over a stack of papers scattered there. Ghede stood next to her, looking over at Amanda as she passed by a large metal barrel three and a half feet tall a couple of steps from her desk pressed against the bookcase. It was scrawled with drawings of what appeared to him like Gaelic drawings from her father’s old textbooks all around the outside of the barrel.
“You wanted to see me, Cap’n?” Amanda inquired, stopping just in front of her desk.
Brigid looked, smiling. She stood and pointed him to the chair at the right of her desk. “Have a seat please.”
The young woman nodded and slowly sat. “We have a task for you, Ms. Duncan,” Brigid said, sliding one of the folders on her desk toward Amanda. “There is an informant we want you to speak to.”
“What about the No Confidence story?” Amanda asked, placing her hand atop of the folder.
“There are plenty of other people who can finish that piece.” Brigid tapped the dossier. “You are uniquely suited to take this mission on.”
Amanda picked it up and looked inside. On top there was a photograph of two guys, a skinny brunette and a huskier blonde, on a street corner talking to each other. It was a scene that could have been ripped from an old crime movie. “Who’s the big blonde guy?” she asked.
“He is called Kahrter,” Brigid explained, walking around the oak desk. “He is one of the best sources this newspaper has. He outdates a good many of the Editorial staff in terms of time spent on this planet. Anything you wish to know from politics to science and the law, he can provide you with ease. If you are in need of classified government documents, he can procure these without a problem.”
“He looks like something straight out of a Neil Gaiman novel,” Amanda quipped. Ghede and Brigid looked at her soberly so he continued. “So, what information do you want me to get from this Kahrter guy?”
“We need to know all he knows about the CV-220, outside of the official story,” she replied, standing next to Amanda. “Particularly where exactly in Colchester this mine is located and what the energy source is capable of doing. I also want to know if there are any potential dangers that the media have yet to catch on to.”
“Why don’t you send Ghede instead,” Amanda asked. “She's the one with years of experience talking to people in government. I think she'd be more adept at getting that type of information out.”
“That is because those in power do not hold a great fondness for me.” Ghede interjected with a growl.
“A sentiment Kahrter shares if I am not mistaken,” Brigid uttered, flashing a brief half-smile at Ghede before returning to Amanda. “There is also another reason. It is because you are human.”
Amanda held back a chuckle, confused by the explanation. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“He has a soft spot for humans,” Ghede elaborated. “Which is quite rare in ogres, given their general distrust and hatred of your kind.”
“He’s an ogre?” Amanda uttered in surprise, placing the folder on her lap. “I didn’t know they came in three-piece suits.”
“Ogres are a rather fashionable species believe it or not,” Ghede said in a somewhat respective tone. “Many of them are actually respected stalwarts in the fashion industry, though Kahrter’s associates and business dealings are considerably less…glitzy.”
“So, where can I find him?” Amanda asked Brigid.
“He owns a dive bar on Elgar Street called Y Crug.” Brigid walked past Amanda back to the chair and sat down. “It is frequented by a large amount of sailors and other unmentionables.”
“That’s a pretty fancy name for a dive bar,” said Amanda.
“I can assure you, Ms. Duncan,” said Ghede, “there is very little about Y Crug that can be considered ‘fancy.’”
Amanda silently gulped. She stood up and placed the manila folder under her arm. “I should have the info ready for you before the end of Tuesday.”
“Good, good.” Brigid went back to editing a couple of stories on her desk, ignoring the woman as she left.
A few moments later, Brigid looked up from her work at Ghede. “What is it?” the Gaelic goddess asked her long-time compatriot.
“There’s something in that young woman's mind,” Ghede replied, gazing at the office door. “Something she’s holding back from us.”
“It is probably a coping mechanism to preserve her sanity,” Brigid said, calmly standing up and walking two steps to the side of her desk. “Perfectly logical given everything we have thrown her way.”
“It’s something much more than that, mon homme,” Ghede said, stepping away from the barrel toward Brigid. “Something dark and ominous inside her that she doesn’t want to share.”
Brigid considered her co-worker’s ominous words. “Then we should let her say it on her own terms. The last thing we need is to put undue pressure on the lass.”
“Is that why you sent Amanda out to talk to Kahrter?” Ghede fired back.
“She needs to learn about the more unseemly parts of this life. That it is not all powers and battles.” Brigid sat back down and returned to her unfinished desk work. “Without that knowledge, Ms. Duncan will not last past the summer.”
***
Amanda’s Dodge Charger settled to a stop across from the Y Crug. The outside was every bit as ugly as Ghede had suggested. There was an assortment of large, muscular men in fisherman outfits congregated around the entrance doors along with other types of “undesirable” people going in and out. Graffiti adorned the outer walls, and a couple of the windows were damaged, covered only by slabs of plywood. Even with the glare of the sun and the pleasant aroma emanating from the Thames, it still looked like a place destined to be shut down by the Food Standards Agency.
Stepping from her car Amanda whispered “Default!”, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach as the car reverted to its cell phone form. If there was ever a time when his gift of charm could pop up, she thought as he crossed to the entrance, now would be the time.
The fishermen were debating sea conditions. “Hello,” said Amanda, her voice breaking. No response. She tried again. “Hello, gentlemen.”
One of the fishermen stopped talking and lowered his watermelon sized head down toward Amanda. “Who the ’ell are you, pipsqueak?” he growled in a thick Cockney accent.
The ball of nerves grew wilder in Amanda’s stomach as she looked up at the figure's green and black eyes. “My name is Amanda Duncan. I—”
Before the young woman could finish, the fisherman pushed Amanda back with one hand. The force was strong enough to send her crashing into a row of garbage cans. Thank you rapid healing, she thought standing up out of the metal and plastic bins. “I’m with the Guardian,” Amanda said, clutching her lower back. “I was sent here to speak to Kahrter.”
The fisherman scoffed at Amanda and turned his back to his mates. “Bridgy’s standards must ’ave gottin down the shittah dis century!” He chuckled. A few moments later, the fisherman turned back around to face Amanda. He looked into Amanda’s eyes for a couple seconds and started laughing. “If ya dihn’t figger out by now, I’ahm an ogre too. So stop tryna summon that persuasion crap atme! Who are ya- Gremlin, fairy, some type’a mutant troll?”
“Human.” Amanda drew a breath.
The group immediately went silent. “Must be somethin’ big if she’s senin outta human ta see’im,” the group of fishermen parted, clearing a path to the door. “He’s in back next to the stage.”
Inside there was a fog of cigarette smoke hovering around the ceiling. The tables in the dining area were weathered and scarred by the cruel passage of time. The bar was filled with an assortment of regular liquors she had heard of as well as others she didn’t know existed. Mead, for one. The few patrons seated inside were as ugly and physically imposing as the group of ogres were outside. He felt their eyes on him.
When Amanda's eyes adjusted to the gloom and the haze, she saw one table that stood out from the rest in the dark gray bar. The tabletop was clean and smooth with a fine silk covering. The seating was a finely stitched leather couch sculpted in a half circle, with its back against the wall, the perfect tableau of a table at a fancy restaurant.
Seated on the outer edge of the couch was Kahrter. He drank from a glass of cognac that was dwarfed by his massive hand, with a refinement that matched his manicured hair and specially tailored Anderson & Shepard suit and tie. To Amanda he looked more like a drug Kingpin than a common “mythical” ogre.
“So you are the new human Brigid hired.” Kahrter took a sip of the Cognac and placed it on the table top. He then moved over to provide room for Amanda to sit. “It's nice to finally meet you. My sympathies about your father. ‘Twas a good man!”
Amanda sat down and cleared her throat. “H—How did you know my father died? Or that I work for Brigid?” She asked, stopping a few inches beside Kahrter as he sniffed his neck.
Kahrter took a couple of extra sniffs around Amanda’s face and chest. “She is adept at hiring humans with strength and a good heart. Losing one’s father certainly brings both qualities out in you humans,” he stopped sniffing at her chest and looked up into Amanda’s eyes. “I also sense something more. Something I haven’t seen in a creature in centuries.”
Amanda shuddered in discomfort, mildly chuckled and turned his head away. Kahrter leaned back in his chair and took a few extra moments to examine her, focusing on the young human’s body language. He smiled a little half grin.
“You’re a Páistí." the ogre chuckled. "By the gods...this is a most delightful treat!”
“What do you know about the Páistí?” Amanda tilted her head to the side.
“Only what I’ve heard through the whispers of my fellow ogres and the scribbles of your Tall Tales,” Kahrter grinned. “That they were the human offspring of the gods who protected humanity for centuries from evils both great and small.”
“What happened to them?” Amanda asked, intrigued by the tale.
“I thought that Brigid would’ve filled you in on the full origin of the children of Avalon.”
“I got most of it, yeah,” Amanda replied. “But there are always part you’re afraid about asking in the heat of the moment. I figured, given how clever you are, that…maybe you would know.”
“You want to know if some of the Páistí died in battle, don’t you?” Amanda nodded. Kahrter sighed solemnly. “I can’t tell you about that, I’m sorry.”
“Why not, Kahrter,” Amanda fired back. "I thought you were the great fount of information in the whole of Europe. At least that's how Brigid framed you."
“Because if I told you what really happened to them, you would leave on the next plane home to America,” he replied. “And given the stakes in play, it would surely be a death sentence for the planet.”
Amanda leaned back in her chair. She took a couple of moments to come to grips with the news. “What do you know about CV-220?” Amanda asked, leaning forward in an attempt to steer the conversation back to business.
“Ah, rue Bluetannia,” Kahrter chuckled, leaning back against the leather cushions with a squeak. “What is it that you and the red-haired goddess want to know?”
“Where is the mine?”
“It’s on a former military base north of Colchester called Gerry Arthur,” the ogre said. “Everyone knows that.”
“Does it exist?” Amanda inquired further.
“Of course it exists,” Kahrter fired back effortlessly. “My dear, what you should be asking is whether or not this new energy is of your world.”
Kahrter lifted one hand and signaled toward the kitchen. In walked a statuesque brunette in a white dress wearing a bartender’s apron and carrying an envelope of papers. She stopped inches away from the table and handed the packet over to Kahrter.
“Thank you, my darling.” Kahrter said with a smile. His big green saucer eyes followed her as she sauntered back the way she had come.
“I can see why you’re a fan of humans,” said Amanda with an impressed uptick in her voice.
“You should see my male contingent,” Kahrter laughed loudly, flashing a smile before placing the envelope on the table between them.
Amanda examined it for a moment. “What’s this?”
“A few photos my men took a short while ago on the same plot of land Gerry Arthur currently sits on,” Kahrter replied. “Right around where the discovery of your Bluetannia was allegedly made.”
“How much do you charge for information like this?” Amanda asked, placing her arm on the table. “Maybe there’s some deal for protection we can work out till the story hits the press.”
“Look who has suddenly risen to the role of mother chieftain,” Kahrter looked on at the human, amused at the display. “Ms. Duncan, I make plenty of money through my various investments and business interests. As for protection, well…you have seen my operation as well as the associates standing outside. Protection is hardly a worry for me.”
“So, what is it you do want for this?”
“I would love to have Emma Stone’s phone number.” Kahrter chuckled. “Other than that, little Páistí, I desire nothing from you. Consider it a loyal customer discount!”
“Well, umm…thank you.” Amanda nodded, removing the photographs from the envelope. The images detailed step by step what had happened somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
The first photograph showed a group of gentlemen stepping out of the back of a van which contained excavation equipment. The next photograph showed the same group pulling excavation equipment from the back of the van. The group then was shown standing a few feet away in a circle, apparently waiting for someone. The next three photographs showed each of them trying to keep upright as the ground shook.
“This makes no sense,” Amanda remarked gazing down at the photos. “What do a bunch of teens in street clothes have to do with the Bluetannia?”
“You’re thinking too much like a human,” Kahrter replied, tapping the stack of photos twice with one of his meaty fingers. “The answer is always hidden in the details.”
Amanda flipped over the last photo in the stack. In the middle of the shot, she saw every member of the group looking up at a man in a bright white toga soaring out of a hole in the ground. The first thought she had was how similar it looked to the images of Lugh coming out of the crater in Chelsea. The only difference was that he held a swirling ball of light in his right hand.
“Who’s the guy in the toga?” Amanda asked, mesmerized by that one detail.
“That, my little friend, is Charon,” Kahrter said leaning towards Amanda. “Better known as the real creator of Bluetannia.”
“Who’s Charon?” Amanda asked, a lump forming in her throat. "I know he's from Greek mythology, but the details...a little fuzzy at the moment."
Kahrter wrapped his hand around his Cognac glass. “He’s Hades’ right hand man. He’s every bit as powerful as Lugh. He is also very crafty, brilliant, and very much a smarmy asshole! Whenever he arrives on Earth, a calamitous event follows shortly after.”
“What do you mean?”
“You remember the Black Plague,” Kahrter said, clearing his throat. Amanda nodded. “The genocides of the Jewish and Armenian people during the 20th century? The Dark Ages? Essentially every war ever fought in human history?”
With each example, Amanda nodded affirmatively. “So, we’re talking basically world ending situation here.” He said nervously.
“Indeed, my young friend.”
Amanda gulped audibly in fear, taking in all she had learned. “I think I'm gonna need a drink now.”
Kahrter grinned, offering his snifter. “Go right ahead.”
As if she was stuck in the Sahara, Amanda took a large swig from the glass. She coughed as it filtered down her throat. She took a couple of deep breaths a moment later and continued. “So, if this Charon guy is evil, and he created the Bluetannia, that must mean it is by association dangerous right?”
“I have no idea,” Kahrter admitted. “The magic on display in that photograph is something even I have not seen before. The only way to be sure would be to get a sample and test it.”
Amanda sighed, leaning back on the booth and thinking. “How the hell are we gonna do that?”
“Go to the source. Gerry Arthur herself,” Kahrter finished the liquor left in his glass and slid his way out of the seat. “And on that note, I must bid you adieu. I have a meeting in ten minutes I must attend to.”
“How can we get that sample out of there without getting caught?” Amanda rose to her feet. “That place must have a large amount of security guarding it.”
“I’m sure your boss will come up with a suitable plan of attack, Ms. Duncan,” Kahrter replied, looming over the table. “Maybe utilizing the rainstorm currently in the bar that you summoned as we chatted.”
Amanda looked to see a perfectly formed set of cumulonimbus clouds dumping rain on the bartop. She walked over to the centralized storm, gazing at the clouds for a couple of moments as her face and the upper half of his clothes were drenched with rain water. “Wow!” she uttered, wiping the water off of his face.
Kahrter laughed briefly moment before turning away. Amanda turned her gaze back to Kahrter and hustled to pull on Kahrter’s coat sleeve. “There’s one thing I wanted to ask before you left, Mr. Kahrter.”
Kahrter looked down and tugged his coast sleeve from Amanda’s hand before skimming droplets of water from it. “What is it?”
“What do you think we should do if it turns out Charon and Lugh are working together?”
Kahrter took a deep breath and sighed. “That, Ms. Duncan...is a good question. One that, I have a
hunch, can probably only be answered by good fortune and luck.”