Day of the Vikings. A Thriller. (ARKANE) by J.F. Penn Read Free Book Online Page A

power to do this? But the evidence was before her eyes. She could only imagine what it must look like from outside. The sound of smashing glass and howling wind must be heard by the press and police, who were surely now escalating their plans to storm the museum.  
    When the hole in the roof had stretched across half of the widest part of the Great Court, the Valkyrie stopped her spinning. The wind died down. The sound of a helicopter grew louder, and then it appeared, a shadow against the blue sky above. It was a Black Hawk, the open door revealing two men inside as well as the pilot. Hovering directly above, they lowered a winch basket that descended to the floor of the museum. The Valkyrie didn’t even look back at the hostages. She entered the basket and two of the Neo-Vikings entered with her, all three holding tight to the mesh sides.  
    They can’t possibly get away, Morgan thought. A helicopter this low over London would have the military out after them. They weren’t so far from Parliament and Buckingham Palace, after all. Concern flashed through her mind, for this group was clearly well funded. This was not the work of a two-bit cult in furs. Everything in Morgan wished for a weapon to stop them, to punish them for what they had done. Instead, she lay with Blake under the overhang, unable to do anything to stop the escape.
    “Your sacrifice has earned you a place in Valhalla,” the Valkyrie said to the men who would be left behind. Two nodded, watching as the basket was winched up to the helicopter above the museum.  
    “No, take me too,” one of the men shouted, his eyes wide with fear of what would befall him if left behind. He ran wildly for the cage, which was now just six feet from the ground. The man jumped and caught hold of the bottom, his fingers protruding into the cage. The winch shuddered and inched up more slowly.
    “Let go,” the men in the basket shouted, stamping at his fingers. “It’s too heavy.”  
    The cage inched higher and the man still held on.  
    “Please,” he screamed. “Don’t leave me.”
    As the cage reached the upper third of the open space, the Valkyrie bent and slashed at the man’s fingers with her knife. When he still didn’t let go, she began to saw at them.  
    “No,” he screamed as blood ran down his arm. Finally, he couldn’t hold on anymore. He let go, his scream silenced as he smashed into the flagstones, his blood running into the words of Tennyson carved in the marble floor of the Great Court.
    The cage was winched up the final meters and the Valkyrie and her men pulled into the helicopter as it banked away out of sight, the noise of the blades fading as it flew off. Morgan’s resolve was steel, refined by the heat of her rage at the murder of the curator, the injuries to the hostages and the despoiling of this great museum. She would hunt down this Valkyrie and get the staff back, and she would find the Eye of Odin.
    The Neo-Vikings left behind threw their shields down. Without looking at the hostages, they ran toward the back of the museum. The hostages, many cut and bleeding, sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then one man stood up and walked toward the entrance, his steps halting as if he couldn’t believe he was free to go.  
    There was a crash from the museum’s front entrance and a team of armed police and medics swarmed in, one wrapping the man in a blanket as they passed to triage those huddled on the marble floor. A policeman called for body bags and soon the hall was alive with activity, processing the crime scene and helping those with injuries to waiting ambulances. Several of the armed police headed toward the back of the building, but Morgan considered that this was so well planned, the Neo-Vikings may well have got away unseen.  
    In the group of medics that entered, Morgan saw Peter Lovell, one of the ARKANE London support team. With fifteen years as a military doctor, Peter’s buzz cut, upright posture and confident bearing