Hammer of the Gods Read online

  He sat the glass on a small table near the kitchen door; it was best not to disturb Christelle at the moment. He had upset enough women this morning as it was; there was really no need to go for a record.

  He went to his cabin to change into a tee shirt and a fresh pair of shorts before heading below decks. Lunch was a couple of hours away; he might as well get something done.

  Mio was sprawled out in front of the balcony door, a shredded brown paper bag and napkin at his feet. At least, he didn’t eat the napkin this time. That turned-out to be the gift that kept on giving.

  The gigantic bundle of wrinkles had been a gift from Cecilia Giordano, a luscious Italian fashion designer that tried to entice Thor into marrying her.

  The woman had abundant charms and “unique abilities”, but Thor had made up his mind years before never to marry. Cecilia never truly understood why Thor could not go through with it, but accepted his decision graciously; giving him the cutest puppy Thor had ever seen as a consolation prize. Now, Thor often wondered if the gift had been out of love for him, of if she wanted him to suffer a very long time.

  By the time Thor had changed, Mio had decided to tear himself away from his favorite spot on the ship, and pester Thor until he knelt down and scratched the thick folds of skin under the dog’s chin. Mio nuzzled into Thor’s neck, nearly knocking him down with his massive weight. The beast had been a ham for attention since the day Cecilia put him in Thor’s arms, and the women onboard were only making him worse!

  “Easy, you ugly bag of fur!” Thor said in between laughs as Mio liked his face. “That shit might work on the girls, but not me.”

  As Mio finally backed away, Thor sighed, seeing the smear of drool running from his shoulder down to his waist. It was times like this, Thor thought the only love in Cecilia’s gift was the love of her revenge on him for not marrying her.

  It’s a good thing I still need to take a shower!

  Mio lumbered behind, as Thor headed toward the hold were he kept Ann. Thor deliberately chose the route that took him past the crew’s cabins. They were empty, of course; Thor had no doubt otherwise. Their doors had been propped open, and the rooms appeared tidy…too tidy, as if they were not being lived in. except for the faint sounds of Thor’s rubber-soled shoes on carpet and Mio’s panting and sniffing, the corridors were as silent as a tomb, bringing a smile to Thor’s lips.

  He found it amusing that, no matter what time of day or night he came down this corridor, there were never any signs of life. Every room appeared exactly the same as the last time he traveled this passage, and the time before that, and so on for the past eight years since the crew came onboard.

  The only time he saw Julia’s crew when they were not docking or shoving off, was that unfortunate incident off the coast of Somalia, when pirates tried to board the ship… It did not go well for the pirates. Julia’s crew handled automatic weapons like they were born with them in hand. Other than that, Thor never saw any of them. Ever. It was like they were playing a very long game of hide-and-seek with him, and very intent on winning.

  He kept an eye out for signs of life as he continued, but deep-down he knew the attempt was futile. Two years ago, he placed several tiny cameras scattered about to catch them when he was not around. The cameras were still there, but they mysteriously stopped working twenty seconds after Thor left. Since then, the game had lost some of its fun, but that did not mean it was not interesting.

  The main cargo hold deep in the belly of the ship had been the first of many changes Thor made to Mjölnir after his parents died. It cost over a million dollars to transform the space to an exact duplicate of his father’s workshop, and could only be accessed by a digital retina scanner and a series of voice recognition scans.

  It was not that he did not trust everyone on board; but you could never be too careful. All of his father’s projects were tucked behind that blast-proof hatch; and he would go to any length to keep them secret. He would have paid ten times the price, but the contractors did not need to know that. He had been very young during the renovation, again, not stupid; only that once.

  The door sealed behind him, and he waited ten seconds in the dark before saying; “it’s me, Dad.”

  The lights came on. “Thor, my Son, how are you?” a recording of his father’s voice asked, signaling a recognition response.

  “I’ve had better days, Dad.” He counted to three and some random music began to play, signaling the deactivation of the security measures. No music meant he had ten seconds to hit one of the two kill switches in the room, before it flooded with a powerful agent that would render anyone present unconscious.

  The words “your Mom and I love you” used to follow before the music, but Thor could no longer bear to hear those words from a recording.

  He passed a workbench, still cluttered with half-finished projects his father never got the chance to complete. Most were automotive related; meant to boost performance and efficiency – Thor actually finished the sub-atomic separator that converts pure water into fuel, and installed it on Ann. He destroyed six engines getting that ratio right – two actually exploding like bombs. When he did get it right, though, his world was never the same.

  The bomb his father had dropped everything to build, however, had been dismantled for years. Thor shuddered to think the thing had been onboard the ship two years before he realized what it was. The components were still tucked away in boxes, just in case there was a need to reassemble the thing. He had no idea why it had been built in the first place, but he trusted his father had a good reason.

  In the back corner sat a black, 1972 Ferrari Daytona Spyder. The Italian sports car was meant to be a birthday gift for Thor’s mother – she loved Miami Vice, and mentioned several times how the show was never the same after they blew-up the Spyder so many times, his father decided to surprise her with one.

  His parents were on their way home from purchasing the car, when their plane crashed just west of Denver. As if to rub salt into the wound; the car was delivered to their Northwest Portland home during the funeral. He hated that car, and often thought of having it crushed. However, as much as he hated the Ferrari, he loved his mother and her memory more.

  Thor flipped a switch and the hydraulic lift hissed as Ann rose.

  Ann was worse than he thought, and he thought she would be rough considering the crunching sound he heard as he hit the ramp. He had a few hours of hard work ahead of him, but, at least, the frame was not bent and he had all the parts on hand. Still, it pissed him off that he had to replace most of the front end, all because he let Julia get under his skin.

  “What lesson did we learn from this?” his father would have asked. His parents were great at turning all of his mistakes into life lessons, without getting too angry with him. At least they pretended to not be angry, he understood the difference now.

  “Not to get pissed at Julia and wreck your car, Dad,” Thor finished his imaginary conversation.

  He was sure his father would have laughed at that one, just before he put a wrench in Thor’s hand and told him to get to work.

  Thor sat on a stool and sighed. Mio padded up and placed his head on his shoulder and Thor rubbed the monstrous Mastiff’s head. “I’ve made such a mess of things,” he whispered. The dog leaned more of its weight against Thor, as if giving him a hug and Thor responded with a gentle squeeze around the dog’s ribs.

  Thor glanced up at Ann, calculating the amount of work to be done. She would be fixed soon, but not today… he had a sneaking suspicion, not tomorrow either.

  Thor grabbed hold of Mio’s prodigious jowls with both hands, and gave the beast a vigorous shake. “C’mon, you fleabag, let’s get some lunch.” Mio’s face lit up, his club-sized tail thumping against the deck as it wagged.

  Freshly showered and shaved, Thor walked into the dining room, Mio in tow. In an instant, it became abundantly clear just how homesick Christelle was. All three tables were set with the fine china and sterling silverware, though only
one would be utilized at this setting; the crew had already finished their meal and had re-set the tables for this evening’s dinner. The linen tablecloths and napkins had been pressed, and a centerpiece of fresh-cut flowers adorned the tables, giving the room the smell of Paris in springtime. Someone had reinstalled those ridiculously-ornate crystal chandeliers that Bryndis loved, and centered each table beneath them. If none of those hints were good enough, Zaz’s raspy voice floated softly from the ceiling speakers, singing: Les Passants.

  Yes, Christelle was very homesick.

  The women began to filter in through the doors; no one liked to be late when Christelle went all out. Else had made it back, and was straitening her hair as she made her way to the table. Damn, that woman can fly! The rest of the women smiled at seeing the table. They dined extravagantly often, Christelle saw to that, and each meal was greatly appreciated by all blessed enough to consume her cuisine. Those meals were mere warm-ups to what she prepared today…

  The first course was sautéed Portabella mushrooms with a cream sauce that was so good, it nearly brought those at the table to tears, paired with a light Alsace Riesling. Thor would have been satisfied if that was the extent of the meal, as long as he had a baguette to go along with it.

  The conversation was as light as the wine. Iona seemed to have forgiven Thor for doing whatever it was that he did. We should bring the world leaders to this table. There would be world peace before dessert.

  The next ten courses could only be described as a gastronomic orgy of indulgence, each complimenting the next perfectly in a symphony of semi-debauchery. The roasted duckling was more of a religious experience than the mere flesh of water-fowl, which, somehow, made the prior courses and those following, that much more sinful.

  By the time Christelle brought the Epoisses, fruit and café to the table, everyone had that look in their eye like they had done something… naughty. Else wore the “after sex glow”, and seemed proud of it. Mio Cane passed out in the corner soon after his platter of duckling and vegetables had been devoured, and now snored softly. Everyone but me spoils that damned dog!

  Thor stood and kissed Christelle on both cheeks. “That was, without a doubt, the best meal I’ve ever had!” he said with a smile. The women added their agreements, raising their wine glasses.

  Iona laughed. “If I had a man that fucked as good as you cook, I’d never leave my room.”

  Christelle blushed, though her chest swelled with pride, and she seemed to stand a foot taller. Well… a few inches taller, anyway. “Thank you,” she said with a shaky voice.

  “Thank you!” Thor said. “I know I don’t say it often enough.”

  Christelle beamed, she had every right. “You thank me every time you don’t complain about the grocery bill,” she said with a smile that lit-up the room.

  Thor eased into the chair as Christelle made her way from the dining room. He was in need of a nap, but it would have to wait. He eyed the cheese and fruit, wondering where he would find the room to put it. He would find it, though. Getting up from the table at this point was like walking out on a virtuoso’s encore. It was just not done!

  Chapter 9

  Thor stood on the deck of the ship, wearing an eight thousand dollar, black silk suit and a red Hawaiian shirt with multi-colored flowers that had been gifted to him. His hand-made, leather shoes were made in the same small shop in Italy that produced the Pope’s slippers.

  It amused him to think that the holy-man and the biggest heathen on Earth shopped the same store; he made several attempts to get the Pope’s thought on the subject, but never received a response.

  His clothes were an odd mixture of contrasts, but so was the rest of his life. The morning had been filled with violence and brutality, anger at what he had done to Ann, followed by a scrumptious meal that left him feeling he owed Christelle much more than he could ever repay. Now he wanted nothing more than to see smiles on the faces of those he loved, and maybe relax just a bit. The last part was going to take a lot of doing; it was difficult to relax knowing there was always a storm on the horizon.

  His fingers drummed the railing as he waited, breathing deeply. It had rained earlier. The air smelled crisp and clean, just the way it should be. He closed his eyes, ignoring the clamor as the crew shouted to one another – and to Julia – in a language he did not know, as they secured mooring lines. A few shouts later, the faint rumble of the turbines engines died.

  Thor opened his eyes with a slight smile. He was home.

  Hands down, Portland Oregon was the best city on Earth. From the Columbia River to Milwaukie, Beaverton to Gresham, he loved it with all his heart. How could you not love a place with a motto urging you to keep your city weird?

  Few outsiders understood the weirdness was the ability to accept the quirks of others as well as your own. Life is too short not to throw a beer brewing party on your front porch, or taking time for Trek in the Park. Live it up. Borrow a monkey, and walk around, dressed as a pirate. You might even try Thor’s favorite thing to do: trying to weasel your way onto as many television or movie backgrounds as possible in a day. You can’t walk for an ice cream without running into one. Have fun, and learn to take yourself less seriously.

  Bryndis had appeared at his side before the gangway was secure. There was a deep sadness in those deep-blue eyes as she put an arm around him without a word. She rested her head on his and sighed. This was one of those times words were not needed, Thor knew what she was thinking.

  Life was funny that way, one look conveyed more thought and emotion than a thousand words ever could. The real trick was to translate those looks correctly… he was still working on that. From what he understood about women, it was going to be a life-long project.

  Iona, Mikki, Else, Jennifer, and Lindsay sounded like a bunch of feral cats fighting over which of them got first pick at a freshly killed rodent corpse as they made their way across the deck. They had not yet left the ship, and they were arguing over men? Women! With those revealing dresses and short skirts, there isn’t a damned one of them that has a worry about finding a man!

  “Don’t forget our conversation, bwoy,” Julia shouted to Thor from the deck above, just outside of the Bridge.

  “I won’t forget to call,” he shouted back.

  “You best not, bwoy. Don’t go tinkin’ you’re too big ta get your ass beat wit a switch!” Julia never had Bryndis’ reservations about berating him in front of the other women. In fact, Thor suspected the old woman enjoyed it. Maybe that’s what keeps her young.

  Thor blew Julia a kiss. “I love you, too, Grandma!”

  Julia smiled as she pretended to catch the kiss with her hand and press to her cheek, just as she did when he was young. “Go on. Git wit ya, bwoy,” Julia said, waving a hand. “I got too much ta do.” She ducked through the Bridge hatch, closing it behind her.

  Two men the size of linebackers stood beside the stretched, black Hummer waiting for them on the dock. Both men smiled and greeted Thor’s party warmly, but that did not stop their eyes from darting from shadow to shadow. Even the greatest city on Earth had rough areas; the term “Shanghaied” originated in Portland, after all, and the tunnels used to transport the unfortunate victims were still beneath the streets.

  Iona’s fingers flashed to the other women, indicating which of the two men she could wear-out first. That started more squabbling.

  Thor shook his head. This was going to be a long car ride.

  Forty minutes later, Thor smiled to himself, staring at the bright lights lining the winding asphalt road. Not that long ago, this would have been a terrifying journey on a rut-filled, dirt road, in total blackness, to an abandoned lumber mill in the middle of nowhere. Unbelievably, no human remains were reported found as the road was being constructed; a fact that amazed Thor.

  Those days – or nights, rather – were gone. Long gone. Six years ago, Club Kepolo became the premier hot-spot in southwest Portland, and has been ever since; another amazement, considering the fick
le nature of a night club’s popularity. The cavernous building hosted three main dance floors, three smaller, a dozen private party rooms, and a bar stocked with, just about, every liquor known to man. Most nights, the crowd could be overwhelming, and a long line formed as people waited to get in.

  This evening was no different.

  The Hummer came to a stop in front of the main door. Thor and the women emerged from the vehicle to the leers of the people standing behind a string of red velvet ropes running the length of the building. Several very large men stood by the door, ensuring the people waiting in what was affectionately referred to by the security staff as “the cattle pen” stayed in line.

  There were plenty of protests as Thor’s party neared the door. Who could blame them? Most had been standing in line nearly an hour as they inched closer to the prize, only to have a small group stroll from a chauffeured limousine to the front door.

  “Why don’t you honeys lose that joker!” one of the young men at the front of the line shouted. “I’ll show you what a real man can do.” A better up-bringing, better friends, and a lot less alcohol would have helped the young man in this instance. Maybe then he would have chosen not to pump his hips in an unimaginative fashion.

  Thor sighed out of frustration as Mikki stopped dead in her tracks. The idiot in line may as well have jumped into the ring with a bull and started waving a flag. Thor was sure she was going to hit the boy, until Jennifer placed a hand on Mikki’s shoulder, her pale-blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “Let’s see it, then,” the ginger-haired Ausie said, stepping closer to the young man with her hand cupped near the man’s crotch. “It had better be big, though; our man is so big it takes a few days to recover from a proper rooting. It took me three days to walk right, after my first time with him. So, unless it’s as big as my forearm and you can lift the skinny one with nothing but your stiff cock, you should keep quiet, mate”

  The young man stared in stunned silence. His friends on the other hand, roared with laughter.