Page 35 of Whispers at Dusk
A spark?
No doubt the man was extremely attractive. But many agents were tall, young and, perhaps just because of their youth and the fact of their work, fit and attractive. But she’d never...
Never what?
Been drawn in? She felt their minds had clicked, and after that...
Maybe she’d noticed him physically to a greater extent?
Groaning, she tossed on the bed and punched her pillow. Then she smiled, unable to resist the concept that maybe he was equally intrigued by her.
After all, he had said acoldshower was going to be just fine.
That made her smile as she finally slept.
Five
“It’s amazing how many people believeallVikings were laid out on their ships, and the ships were sent out to sea ablaze! Some were, yes. There was a belief that by doing such a thing, those left behind were helping their leader on to the great rewards in the next world. But many great Viking leaders were buried—some in burial chambers—and some with their ships and other goods as well. We used the same high-resolution geo-radar they used at Halden, and we’ve had much the same luck,” Lars Vander explained as he welcomed Mason and Della at the dig site.
Lars was a man of about forty, the dig liaison for media, sponsors, and all curiosity seekers. He was made for the job, being a dignified man who still managed a quick smile and had an easy personality. He might be called apeople person. He was a little over six feet, wiry strong with muscles from the physical work he also engaged in—he’d told them right away that while he didn’t have to assist in any of the physical labor, he loved history, especially Viking history, and was thrilled when discoveries were made. He had a contoured face with eyes so light of a brown they were almost yellow, and neatly styled light brown hair.
Angela had set up their meeting from the main office. And while the dig site had been cordoned off, he had been at the entry to meet them when they arrived.
“This is a massive venture, I see,” Mason said. “You have people working here from around the world, right? That’s what we’ve been told.”
Lars smiled and nodded. “The largest majority are from Norway, the USA, and Great Britain. We also have two Frenchmen, an Italian, an Australian—and his friend, a Kiwi, a New Zealander. Also, three from Sweden, two from Switzerland and three from Denmark.” He grinned. “For Scandinavians, working conditions are easy. I’m not sure how long you’ve been here, but our main meal is in the middle of the day while you people have dinner. And for your dinner, we often have teatime with little open-faced sandwiches. Unless you’re in one of the big cities, you won’t find any giant-sized American hoagies. And beef! You are big on beef. Here we eat salmon, trout, and yes, we have lots of pigs, so pork.”
“We haven’t been here that long,” Della said, “but I’m accustomed to a lot that is Norwegian. I have a set of grandparents from Oslo.”
“Ah!” he said, beaming. “And you?” he asked Mason.
“Maybe someone somewhere along the line,” Mason told him. “I think I’m a mix of just about everything. But tell me, how do you keep control on something this big and this international? Do people come and go?”
“Yes, of course! Take Mr. Dean Oswald. He finished his task with a remarkable piece of jewelry that was discovered, and then had to return to Britain and head up to the Orkney Islands. They were Norse until 1472 when a dowry wasn’t paid to James III, and the Scottish Parliament annexed them. Wonderful place, the archipelago of the Orkney Islands...but I digress! Yes, people come and go. Even the workers, the diggers. This is massive, and we have muscle to dig when it’s deep—but when it gets to the fine line, the experts want to go in themselves.”
“Fascinating—how do you keep track?” Della asked him.
He was suddenly silent.
“I thought the article you were working on had to do with the incredible wonder of this site! We are inland, but Magnus Fairbeard—the jarl buried here circa the late 1200s—owned the land here. His family kept it and worked it when he went a-Viking. This is a rare and incredible find, and I was led to believe—I mean, you are journalists, right?”
“Freelancers,” Mason said. “Della does a video blog. I’m going to film her somewhere, but wanted to make sure wherever we filmed, you were okay. I see tons of people by that huge pile of dirt over there, so I was hoping that wasn’t an area you’re trying to protect until you have all your findings.”
“That’s the ship! We’re unearthing it carefully, and the big dig has been done now. The ship was barely four feet down. Anyway, you’ll note that before the piles, people are now working with smaller trowels and brushes. But if you wish, you can film there,” he said. “Just keep your distance from the workers. I have sheets for you with the information we have on Magnus Fairbeard. He was admired and feared. He never fell in battle, but rather did something rare for his kind of ruler. He lived to be a ripe old age and died of natural causes.”
“Fascinating!” Della said, smiling at him. “And thank you, thank you! This must be the hardest job here, fending off everyone curious about what’s going on. Especially with...”
“With?” Lars asked.
“Nothing, nothing.”
“No, no, please,” Lars pressed.
“I’m sorry. Just...well, all this going on, bringing up the past, bringing up history, and now...well, the vampire killings that have happened here,” she finished in a whisper.
He stared at her with deep consternation. “What would that have to do with us? Vikings and vampires have nothing in common. Vikings were very much alive. Deadly, yes. But this isn’t Transylvania. The killings have not had anything to do with the so-called real Count Dracula or the historical ruler he was based on, Vlad the Impaler. The man impaled his enemies! He didn’t lay them out in beauty. There are no vampire legends around here. They suspect the killer is an American you know. No offense.”
“And none taken,” Mason assured him quickly.
