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Kyra backed off. “That’s better! Never be predictable.” She appraised her student. “You’re not bad, you know,” she admitted. Not one to give praise easily, not unusual considering her harsh upbringing in Sparta two thousand years earlier, she was pleased with Nick’s development.
Nick wiped his sword, given to him coincidently by King Carl Gustav himself in thanks for saving his daughter’s life and seeing the Death to Royalty gang disbanded and prosecuted successfully. There was an engraving of a wolf on the guard which the king pointed out to him while explaining that the sword had once belonged to a mysterious stranger named Barak the Bold, a stranger who came from the south many years ago. Legends said he had lived with the people there for many years, but had not aged.
“I’ve always wondered if it was some poor immortal who lost it,” Nick now mused, wiping the blade carefully before stowing it away.
“Then you’d better get good enough that you don’t lose it when the immortal challenges you for it,” she suggested. “His Majesty would not be impressed if you lost it.”
“Better the sword than my head,” joked Nick. “Besides the previous owner is probably long dead.”
“How can you be sure it was a he?”
“The king said so. The king would never lie,” answered Nick. “I’m gonna catch a nap. I’m on tonight and the princess is going clubbing. See you tomorrow,” He slung his bag over his shoulder, waggled his fingers at his teacher before disappearing out the door.
“You never let me have any fun,” protested Princess Madeleine, several hours later as they sat in the back of the limo on the way back to the palace.
“If you’ll remember; your words before you entered the club were ‘If that creepy Kristian won’t leave me alone, rescue me.’” recited Nick.
“I meant dance with me, or punch him in the nose or something. Not announce that it’s time to go home. For a handsome man, you’re awfully dense sometimes,” pouted the princess. She flounced back in her seat.
“Security does not dance with their charges and I reserve my punches for people who actually threaten your safety,” said Nick, for what seemed like the thousandth time since he had taken this job. Princess Madeleine’s crush on him had not abated over the years. “I think you could have handled that young man without my help.” Nick grinned as he looked out the window at the dark streets passing by.
“You’re such a…a…” Princess Madeleine searched for the right word. “A boy scout!” she finally said, triumphant.
“The king likes me to be that way,” said Nick, knowing his calmness riled her. “It is my job, Your Highness.”
“Oh pooh.” She lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive home. When they arrived at the palace she stormed out the car and ran up the stairs to her suite.
Nick stopped by the kitchens, making himself a roast beef sandwich. Grabbing a bottle of beer and spearing an apple in his teeth, he took his snack down the hall to his bedroom. After finishing the food while watching the news from the States, he got ready for bed. He might be immortal, but he was glad that he had the next day off. He could sleep in for once instead of attending the early morning class the princess had at the university since lucky Kyra had the early shift. He stretched, rolled over and turned out the light.
“This better be a case of life or death,” he growled into the phone an hour later. “You should know the time difference by now, Meyers.”
“This is important Nick,” replied Bert. “I need you to go the airport and see if this guy gets off flight three eighteen from Chicago.”
“What guy?”
“I’ve sent you his picture by email,” replied Bert. “If you see him, detain him until I can get someone there.”
“It’s my day off, and it’s very early in the morning.”
“This guy was dead, Nick. Jacob Eldon, big time sex offender the FBI’s been after for years. Yeah, yeah, I still do some work for them once in a while. Anyway, there was a raid on his place last night. Planned it for six months and it went down perfectly. Every detail, every angle worked out, until somebody got excited and shot the guy. He was dead Nick, I checked him myself.”
“So, he’s dead. I hate to tell you this buddy, but Stockholm is way too cold to be where that guy is headed if he’s dead.” Nick sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, hoping his hunch was wrong.
“Well smart ass, his body disappeared from the morgue and the attendant is dead. One of my guys who just happened to be picking up his in-laws at O’Hare is sure he saw him getting on a plane headed for Stockholm.”
“He could be mistaken. You sure he was dead and not just drugged or something?”
“Three bullet holes, Nick. One right through the heart. I checked him myself. He was very dead.”
“So, call the police and let them check out the flight.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried? They laughed at me. How can a dead man fly to Sweden? You Americans are so humorous.” Bert’s Swedish accent left much to be desired. “There’s not much time left, Nick. Just go to the airport and see if he gets off the plane. If you’re right, then it’s nothing. If I’m right, then we really need this guy back here.”
Nick sighed. “Okay, okay, I’ll go. You owe me big time. Yeah, I’ll let you know.” He was about to sign off when he heard a pause in his friend’s voice. His next words chilled him.
“If this was just some random guy, Nick, I wouldn’t care. But we’ve been setting up this operation for six months, while this scum has been selling ten-year-olds to the highest bidder. He and his cronies have parties at which they violate these kids and discuss how they are going to off them. We got them and we got them good. I’ve got the others in jail, but this guy has now vanished. I need to know he’s really dead or it’ll haunt me.”
Even as he listened, Nick got out of bed, started his little coffee maker which made the brew right into a travel mug and pulled on jeans, a sweater and boots.
“Do you have the name he’s using?” asked Nick.
“I’ve got someone going through the passenger manifest right now for likely candidates, but we may not have that information before the plane lands. I’m afraid you’re on your own with this.”
“Eldon is dead, after all,” commented Nick dryly although in his heart in knew that it was possible that this guy was immortal. “Okay, got the picture,” he added, pulling the paper out of the printer. He studied the face, memorizing the features which would be noticeable even if the man put on a disguise on the plane. “Charming looking fellow,” he muttered, noticing the scar on the right side of the man’s nose.
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