CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Ten days till the Global Unveiling of Bluetannia: The harmonious guitar driven melodies of Gov’t Mule vibrated through the mostly barren interior of Y Crug, providing entertainment to the souls seated in the early afternoon munching on hamburgers and sipping from bowls of soup. At the bar, there were a group of mean looking men seated, drinking warm yellow and dark ales.
Kahrter stepped out of his office with his assistant Stephen nearby. He straightened his tie and made sure each button on his dress shirt was properly fastened. Stephen, a short, skinny young man with dark hair and spectacles, looked down at a selection of notes saved on his iPad as they walked across the dining area.
“Is everything ready for his arrival, Stephen?” Kahrter said.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Kahrter,” Stephen looked up from the iPad’s screen briefly to address him. “The drinks are on ice. The private table is ready and fully assembled. The kitchen is stocked with good food and drink. And the chef is ready to cook whatever meal Mr. Shayes’ heart desires.”
“Good, good,” Kahrter grinned, popping the knuckles of his right hand. “I don’t need to remind you of what is at stake with this meeting.”
“No, you do not,” the assistant replied. “Randolph Shayes is one of the richest men in Europe. A generous investment from him would go a long way toward curing our woes.”
“Indeed it would,” Kahrter said as they reached his table. “So, let’s make sure the man feels welcome here and get his money.”
“Shall I put the Cognac on ice for our distinguished guest?” Stephen asked.
“A splendid idea, Stephen,” said Kahrter. “If memory serves, we should still have a bottle of ’68 Rémy Martin in back.”
“I’ll put it out straight away.” Stephen turned around and headed back toward the kitchen.
Kahrter leaned on the hard cushion of the couch. He thought about the consequences he would suffer if his plea for money was unsuccessful and he had to close Y Crug. His fellow ogres would be able to transition seamlessly back to the docks, he thought. The same, he feared, could not be said of his human employees who would face a difficult time discussing who he really is to future bosses.
His train of thought was disrupted by the creak of the entrance doors opening. Kharter stood up and moved in front of the table in anticipation for Mr. Shayes to arrive. The man was tall, silver haired, wore round glasses and was dressed in a dark gray colored pinstriped suit. Though he looked very much like Mr. Shayes, Kahrter could sense something different about him.
“Mr. Kahrter,” said Mr. Shayes in a Liverpool accent. “I’m Randolph Shayes. We talked on the phone yesterday.”
“Of course,” Kahrter smiled, shaking the man’s hand. “Welcome to the Y Crug, Mr. Shayes. I hope you find my humble abode to your liking.”
The two of them let go a short time later, dropping their hands to their sides before sitting down across from one another. The esteemed businessman looked around at the bar’s dining area. “It does have an…intriguing rustic charm,” he remarked. “How long have you owned it, Mr. Kahrter?”
“Thirty-two years next month,” Kahrter replied. “I admit the old girl has seen better days.”
“Haven’t we all?” Mr. Shayes chuckled.
Kahrter chuckled too. “Anyhow, I mentioned my situation to you over the phone,” he said, clearing his throat. “We were hoping you would provide us with some money for renovations. With the economic boost from tourism that’ll come from the Olympics, I’m confident we could recoup your investment multiple times over.”
He listened intently at Kahrter’s proposal, nodding his head at intermittent times. “Before I put invest in any business, Mr. Kahrter,” said Shayes calmly. “I like to test out the wares of what they offer.”
“I was just about to offer you drinks,” Kahrter pointed toward the kitchen. “Are you a fan of Rémy Martin by any chance?”
“Of course, who doesn’t love good Cognac,” Mr. Shayes said. “What vintage?”
“A ‘73.” Kahrter replied, lowering his arm to his side. “From my personal collection, as a matter of fact.”
“Ah, a very good year,” Randolph leaned back on his side of the couch and smiled. “I graduated from university that year. It was also the year Liverpool won the Premier League.”
Kahrter’s gaze shifted to the kitchen area. He let out a high pitched whistle. Stephen emerged a short time later, holding a wooden serving tray topped by two crystal glasses of Rémy Martin Cognac. The interior of the tray was slightly dirtied from the spills of past drink glasses. He stopped before table and served their drinks.
“Thank you, Stephen.” said Kahrter, gripping his glass.
“Thank you as well, young lad,” Mr. Shayes echoed, quickly tipping his toward Stephen.
“The pleasure is mine gentlemen,” Stephen nodded to the both of them. He placed the tray underneath his arm and walked back inside the kitchen. “Enjoy!”
“Let us toast,” Kahrter raised his glass in the air. “To small business!”
“To better days to come,” Mr. Shayes echoed, raising his glass in kind. “Not just here, but for Great Britain herself!"
The two of the clinked their glasses gently and drank. Kahrter's jovial mood was distracted by a piercing screech. It sounded like microphone feedback from audio speakers, he thought. Kahrter paused for a quick moment in order to gather his thoughts.
Randolph looked over and noticed the slight tinge of pain in Kahrter’s eyes. “Something wrong, old man?”
“Oh no, not at all,” Kahrter replied as the ringing dissipated. “Just a minor headache.”
“Ah. Hopefully it is nothing serious,” Mr. Shayes glanced at the remaining amount of alcohol inside. “I must say the Cognac is quite excellent.”
“Thank you.”
“What amount are you seeking for these renovations, Mr. Kahrter?” asked Mr. Shayes as he placed the glass down.
“£100-200,000 should be sufficient.” Kahrter replied, taking another sip.
“200,000 quid,” Shayes pondered the request for a few seconds. “I can only hope that your culinary touch is worth such an offer, Mr. Kahrter.”
“One of the best in the nation in my opinion,” Kahrter whistled again to the kitchen. “Stephen!”
Stephen emerged from the kitchen once more in the same expeditious fashion as before. Underneath his arm, instead of a tray, was his iPad. “What will you gentlemen be having this afternoon?”
“I will have my usual: A hamburger, cooked medium rare,” Kahrter replied. “With a side of scalloped potatoes.”
Stephen entered the order. “And what about you, sir?” He shifted his gaze to Mr. Shayes.
“Do you do a Taglietelli bolognaise here,” Shayes queried. “I haven’t had one since I was working as a lad for an investment firm in Milan.”
“Not normally, no,” Stephen thought for a moment. He looked briefly at Karhter who nodded. “But I believe we can make an exception for you.”
“Excellent. I will have that, please.”
After typing the order, Stephen placed the tablet beneath his arm and smiled. “The server shall be out with your meals as quick as possible.”
Stephen turned around and walked back to the kitchen. Suddenly, the screeching noise returned. The noise was much louder than it was before. Karhter twitched again, clearing his left ear. “Are you sure you are alright, Mr. Kahrter?” Mr. Shayes asked with concern, taking a swig of Cognac.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Kahrter said confidently, lowering his hand back to his side. “It’s probably just allergies. Late Spring is especially unkind to me.”
Mr. Shayes took a sip, examining his host carefully. A silence settled between them for a period of time. Suddenly, the kitchen doors opened and the server stepped out. His white dress shirt was clean without a thread out of place. His dark slacks were wrinkle free with the appearance of being freshly pressed. He carried a fine silver tray that held both of the men’s meals. The young server stopped an inch away from the table, and handed each plate of food to them.
“Enjoy.” The server gently bowed, handing them both sets of silverware wrapped in napkins. He then turned around and walked back to the kitchen.
The two men opened the napkins and dug in to their meals. Kahrter examined his guest between bites, silently taking in any detail. Mr. Shayes glanced up and noticed the tall troll’s eyes looking him over as he continued to eat.
“Is there something on your mind?” he asked, placing his fork on the edge of his plate.
Kahrter shook his head, putting down his hamburger. “I was just going through a little to-do list of things in my head after the money starts coming in.”
“What makes you think I’ll invest here?” Mr. Shayes reached for his Cognac glass and took a sip.
“An educated hunch, I guess,” Kahrter smiled. “Given your prior investments, I just assumed you would want to be on the culinary forefront in London.”
Mr. Shayes leaned back against the leather upholstery and took a slightly longer swig. “We’ll see.”
As the music from the jukebox played in the background, the two of them stared each other down as they finished their meals, each one trying to anticipate the other’s next move. Kahrter glanced up from his plate, looking into Shayes’ eyes as he chewed the last few pieces of potato. He noticed a bright orange glint coming from Shayes’ retinas. It had the same intensity as a torch. Given his extensive knowledge of Hades, it didn’t take Kahrter long to decide what had bothered him earlier.
“It’s nice to see you again, Charon!” he proclaimed.
The two men stood up simultaneously, causing the table to flip over with relative ease. The plates and drink glasses smashed into pieces and spread across the tile floor, spraying chunks of food and broken plates around the immediate area as the remaining customers rushed out of the bar.
“What brings you to my humble little abode,” Kahrter asked, positioned in a defensive stance. “I thought you would be in Whitehall occupying the Prime Minister’s body.”
“I felt a need to address some loose ends,” Charon replied, dusting a few crumbs of food from his slacks. “You being chief among them.”
“What advantage do you have by aligning with Lugh,” Kahrter asked, stepping away from the upturned table. “It’s not like he’s special or has any unique entrée into Avalon that you can use.”
“You are correct. I gain nothing from the little demi-god,” Charon quickly straightened his suit coat. “The only unique trait we share is our thirst for power. Whether above or below.”
“You can’t do a thing to me, Charon,” said Kahrter boastfully. “If anyone harms me, Stephen will transmit everything I know about you and Lugh to every media outlet in Britain!”
“And this would scare me how,” Charon smiled, showing off the yellow and white teeth of his human host as he straightened out of his prior position. “Besides, I don’t need to harm you. Not when I have plenty of friends to do the job for me.”
Before Kahrter could respond, the sound of loud banging from the entrance doors startled him. “Bon voyage, filthy Ogre!” Charon exclaimed, seconds before exiting his human host which collapsed on the ground.
***
Kahrter turned and walked toward the doors. He could hear the sounds of police sirens coming from outside. Stephen came from the kitchen to look in the same direction as his boss. Before he could speak, he was hushed by Kahrter. An authoritative voice came over the bullhorn.
“Jahvid Kahrter, this is Chief Inspector Ashford of the Metropolitan Police,” the voice proclaimed. “You have been charged with racketeering and running an illegal gambling operation. Come out with your hands up!”
“It’s the Rozzers,” Kahrter said with raised eyebrow.
Stephen quickly walked over to Kahrter. “Do you want me to summon the rest of the staff out here, sir?” He asked.
Kahrter nodded. “I have a hunch that the proverbial Griffin excrement will soon hit the fan, my friend.”
Stephen quickly ran back inside the kitchen. “You have until the count of five,” said the Inspector. “One…”
Kahrter started to plan out every potential scenario in his head as he moved out to the farthest edge of the dining area. I wish I would have worked out more, he thought.
“Two…”
Stephen stepped through the swinging doors, trailed by the rest of the bar’s staff behind him in a line. Each one held a weapon in hand, ready to fight.
“Three…”
“Ready to go sir,” Stephen said. His arms to his side and his tablet firmly in hand.
“Four…”
Kahrter walked along the line, speaking to each person there. “The odds of us winning against these men are…well crap,” he said truthfully. He stopped in front of the last man and flashed a confident smile. “But I guarantee we won’t make it easy for them!”
“Five!”
The street side door shook violently. On the fourth try, the hinges shot out and the doors busted apart into dozens of pieces, revealing the front end of the battering ram that had done the damage. A sizable contingent of London’s finest charged inside dressed from head to toe in SWAT gear. The officers swarmed the dining and bar areas and started breaking up tables and chairs.
Chief Inspector Ashford was the last man to enter the fracas. Strength and determination glowed from him. He signaled his men to stand down. Kahrter did the same before his employees could take advantage of the lull.
“I apologize for my officers’ actions, Mr. Kahrter. I do not want a massive conflict like the business at the Guardian,” said Ashford sternly. “You and your employees can surrender yourselves and come with us peacefully.”
“Can you guarantee that my employees won’t be dragged through the legal system?” Kahrter asked.
The Inspector shook his head. “The possibility that they too were involved in your criminal enterprise is too great to grant them immunity. I’m sorry.”
Kahrter looked into the Inspector’s eyes, checking for the same orange spark he had seen in Shayes’ eyes. All he saw were the cold emerald colored eyes of a policeman. “No thanks officer,” he replied. “I’ll take my chances in the courts.”
“Suit yourself!” Ashford sighed. He turned back around to his fellow officers standing at the ready, signaling them to resume their fighting. Kahrter signaled his employees to do the same. As he turned back around, he was struck by an uppercut from Ashford, which sent him stumbling backward.
Kahrter looked at the man and smiled, rubbing his face. “Game on!”
As they started their one-on-one fight, the human employees weathered the initial flurry from the officers before trying to fight back, either with weapons or through hand-to-hand combat. Most of the blows the humans landed didn’t register damage through the policemen’s body armor. Some ogres barged inside a short time later to provide their associates assistance, but the officers were able to take them down with only slightly less resistance.
A couple of officers slowly approached Stephen near Kahrther’s office. Stephen glanced over and saw his iPad sitting on the counter with the cover closed. He rushed forward toward them and slid underneath the batons and grasping arms of the lawmen. He sprang up to his feet behind the second officer and quickly grabbed the tablet computer.
The two of them looked at each other and laughed. “What are you going to do,” the first officer said condescendingly as his colleague tried to contain his laughter. “Pin our photo up on Instagram?”
Stephen typed something in on the keyboard, shaking his head. He looked back up to the officers and grinned “Something much better than that.”
A couple of moments passed and nothing happened. The two officers resumed their march toward Stephen with one of the officers pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Suddenly, two pairs of metal ankle bracelets popped out of the hardwood floor, trapping them in place by their feet. They struggled to break out from their confines.
“What the hell is this?” The second officer cried, dropping his handcuffs.
Suddenly, the floor began to move in reverse, driving both men toward the empty area where the entrance doors were. The conveyor stopped just in front of the open doorway, and flung them out onto the street. He placed the computer under his arm and walked toward the doorway.
“I call it The Bouncer,” said Stephen proudly to the officers. “Tosses Rozzers and Boozers out alike!”
A group of officers charged the brave Stephen and drove him to the ground. He tried his best to fight the four of them off, but he was struck in the back of the head by a baton. The others pulled back, watching as Stephen crumpled to the floor along with his computer.
“Not so cocky now, eh?” said one of the officers.
Kahrter looked on with bruised and bloodied eyes as they marched Stephen along with the rest of his fighting force out in handcuffs. The distraction gave the exhausted Ashford enough of an opportunity to crack his opponent in the back with a bar stool. He expected the impact would have sent Kahrter crumpling to the ground for good. But the massive ogre merely stumbled around briefly and went down on one knee.
“Jesus,” said the Inspector, wiping sweat and blood off his face. “What kind of man are you?”
“I’m not a man, you bovine twat,” Kahrter replied, slowly getting back to his feet. “I’m an ogre!”
He rushed toward Ashford with every bit of energy he could muster. He raised his fist in the air and moved as if it were destined to connect to the Chief Inspector’s jaw. Suddenly, a faint whistle rushed out of nowhere and froze Kahrter in place.
Kahrter felt around his neck and plucked a five inch dart from where it struck. “What the hell is thaa—”
Before he could comprehend, two more darts struck his shoulder and the upper part of his chest. CI Ashford stepped back and observed with great amazement as Kahrter stumbled around woozily, but did not fall. He tried his best to resume his attack. A flurry of four more darts struck the remaining parts of his torso. The ogre swayed from side to side briefly before falling on the ground face first, shaking the entire area.
Ashford walked over and examined the behemoth. He went down on one knee and felt his chest. He could feel a heartbeat. “Okay, the target’s down,” he barked to the other officers still inside. “Let’s wrap this up.”
CI Ashford lifted Kahrter’s unconscious body off the ground with every ounce of strength he had left. He finally was able to place him a minute later down on a nearby chair. The Chief Inspector pulled out his handcuffs and proceeded to bind them on the ogre’s wrists. After a couple of failed attempts, he soon realized they were too small. He flagged a nearby officer and asked for a long zip strap as well as some rope, just in case.
As he proceeded to finish the job binding Kahrter a sniper entered from Kahrter’s office, walking past a couple of officers as they led some employees out to the police lorry. The sniper was dressed in a pseudo-military uniform with a body armor vest strapped over top and a high powered rifle slung over his shoulder
“Very impressive,” said CI Ashford, standing up. “For a heartless hitman.”
“It’s still the best G4S can buy,” the sniper uttered in a Scottish accent. “And far better than you were doing, Inspector!”
Ashford growled. “Where the hell were you anyhow?” he said, wiping off some blood from his chin.
“I was shooting from the alleyway,” the sniper replied standing in front of Kahrter’s body. “I gotta admit the dude’s a bad ass. Usually, two or three shots are all I need before the mark’s down for the count. Almost had to reload with this one”
“He’s an ogre,” Ashford said. “At least that’s what he told me.”
The sniper chuckled. He raised Kahrter’s head up and looking squarely at his pinkish face. “Definitely as ugly as one.”
The Inspector groaned, looping his arm underneath Kahrter’s in an attempt to lift him up.
“This is a hell of a haul for you guys, with the whole Guardian thing,” the sniper remarked, leaning on the edge of the table. “I wonder if you guys will even have any room at the Precinct house.”
“We will find proper room,” Ashford fired back. “We have in the past.”
The young sniper stepped back and raised his hands in mock defense. “I’m just saying.”
The Chief Inspector shook his head as the sniper walked away. As he lifted Kahrter off the chair, he was interrupted by a Police Constable calling from behind. “I'm sorry to bother you, sir, she said. “I found something.”
“What is it?” Ashford asked, struggling to keep the massive Kahrter upright.
“It’s a body.”
The Chief Inspector’s curiosity was piqued. He rested Kahrter back down on the chair. He walked over and found the body in question mounted against the wall with four officers examining it. At first glance, he assumed the man was an associate of Kahrter’s; someone they had forgotten about in the heat of battle. Ashford went down on one knee and leaned toward the person’s face. He noticed a small black mark in the middle of the man’s forehead.
“Did you get an ID on him?” he asked as the Constable looked on from behind.
She nodded. The Constable reached into her pocket and pulled out an identification card. “Not sure you’re gonna believe it though.”
CI Ashford picked the card out of her hand and stood back up. The name on it surprised him. “Randolph Shayes? What the hell is he doing in a place like this?”
“I’m guessing extortion,” she replied. “Looking at how crap this place, this Kahrter guy must have been desperate for money. He finds Shayes walking around Fleet Street one day, suddenly gets the idea to nab him for a big payday from his hedge fund.”
“Sounds plausible,” The inspector sighed. He looked at the ID a little longer before putting it back in Mr. Shayes’ pocket. “Let’s take him in for questioning just to make sure.”
“Yes, sir,” the young officer walked around to the opposite side of the large suspect. “Should we detain Mr. Kahrter with the others?”
“No,” Ashford looped his arm underneath Kahrter’s muscular shoulder. “He’s going to Blackmoor. Commissioner’s orders.”
“That seems a little excessive, doesn’t it?” she said, grabbing hold of Kahrter’s other shoulder. “He’s only charged with a handful of felonies, not treason.”
Ashford shrugged. “I’m too old to raise objections. Hopefully your generation is better.”
They collectively lifted Kahrter up and carried him out to the police cruiser. “Sweet Christ,” the woman groaned as they took a couple of steps forward. “How heavy is this guy?”
“Apparently, he isn’t a guy,” Ashford replied, straining and panting. “He’s an ogre!”
The officer laughed. “Guy must have been completely shitfaced!”
Ashford laughed. As they approached the front entrance, the veteran inspector remembered something he hadn’t given to the suspect. Given where Mr. Kahrter would soon end up, he thought, it was a suitable penance for justice herself.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he said, stepping through the open doorway onto the sidewalk. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense.”