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
Atlanta
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
“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
Atlanta
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
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