The Kidnapping King

THE BEST LAID PLANS

DUBLIN, IRELAND - PRESENT DAY 

 "Hey, Arthur, I wanted to let you know my father found someone to open a portal to Stockholm for me. We're heading to Newgrange now. I'll text you when Bart and I get back."

Bill clicked send on his phone then shoved it into his front pants pocket.

"Ninian is on his way. He'll meet us at the visitor's center." Ardal Flanagan opened the driver's side door and got into the black Mercedes CLS, shutting the door behind him. Bill joined him in the passenger's seat, strapping the belt over his shoulder, and securing it across his lap.

"Mighty nice of him to accommodate us on such short notice," Bill gazed out the window as the vehicle rolled along the stretch of driveway exiting the Flanagan family estate.

"Yes, well, he's a good friend and dedicated member of The Order," Ardal glanced at his son, taking note of the way he was drumming his fingertips on his knee as they drove, "and he knows this is a highly unusual situation...what with it being Bart and all."

Bill pushed his hand through his russet-colored hair.

"I just want to get to him, Dad. He's too young to be on his own, in a big foreign city like Stockholm." Bill pressed his lips into a tight line. "That woman just infuriates me!"

"I know, Son, I know. Don't you worry...The Order will take care of her, eventually."

"Eventually isn't soon enough for me," Bill turned to face his father, his cheeks flushed, "I mean, these are kids she's messing with! What she is doing, and has done already, is wrong on so many levels. And I want her to pay!"

"She won't be allowed to get away with it, Bill, you have to trust me on that."

The drive through the small hamlet of Donore was uneventful as Ardal turned right, off the main highway, and onto Staleen Rd. It was only a short, half mile jont through the lush Irish countryside before Bill spied dark brown signs with arrows pointing toward Newgrange Monument. Ardal pulled into the parking area, which was surprisingly vacant, and found a spot.

"Ninian!" Ardal waved to a graying, fair-haired man exiting a vehicle across the lot, as he removed his bag from the back seat of the sedan, then turned to face Bill. "There he is now. We'll have to join a tour and board a shuttle bus that will transport us across the river and up to the monument itself."

Bill nodded, closing the car door and joining his father as he walked to meet the other man. He stood by, quietly, as Ardal greeted Ninian, grasping right-side forearms in an unusual way, and clapping one another on the back with their left hands in a brotherly embrace.

Ninian was dressed strangely, in azure blue breeches that stopped just below his knees, sock-less sandals strapped on his feet, a loose, blue and gray plaid tunic grazing the tops of his thighs, and a substantial, two-sided cape - in solid goldenrod on one side, and yellow and purple plaid on the other, draped over his shoulders and knotted at the neck.

"Slainte!" The men shouted, and Ninian stepped toward Bill, extending his right hand.

Bill grasped it normally and the other man's mouth turned up at the corners.

"Thank you for doing this," Bill looked into his brilliant blue eyes, "it means a lot."

"I'm honored to help a brother in need," Ninian removed his hand and tucked a stray strand of his shoulder-length hair behind one pierced lobe. "Best be off," he said, turning back to Ardal.

"Yes, our tour bus will be leaving soon," Ardal reached into the breast pocket of his brown tweed jacket and retrieved three sheets of paper, each with admission printed on it. "I took the liberty of ordering our tickets online." He handed one to each of the others and they turned toward the visitor's center.

After making the short ride to the monument, the three exited the bus, with the rest of the small tour-group, and walked up the pathway leading to the main entrance. Stopping before a large stone at the chamber's opening , Ardal pointed to the triple swirls engraved all over it's surface.

"We'll be looking for a stone with just one of those on it's front inside the passageway," he whispered to his son as they stood, listening to their guide.

"Newgrange is a prehistoric monument located 8 kilometres west of Drogheda on the north side of the River Boyne. It is an exceptionally grand passage tomb built during the Neolithic period, around 3200 BC," the red-haired woman paused to button her trench coat. "Most people don't know that it's older than Stonehenge and even the Egyptian pyramids." Exclamations of surprise came from the crowd and she waited for things to quiet before continuing. "This site consists of a large circular mound with an inner stone passageway and chambers. Human bones and some possible grave goods or offerings were found in these chambers. The mound has a retaining wall at the front," she raised her arm and motioned toward the wall and the tourists turned in response, "made mostly of white quartz cobblestones, and it is ringed by engraved kerbstones. Many of the larger stones of Newgrange are covered in megalithic art." She pointed to the swirls on the large stone before them. "The mound is also ringed by a stone circle. Some of the material that makes up the monument came from as far away as the Mournes and Wicklow Mountains. No one can agree about what the site was used for, but many believe that it had religious significance. Now if you'll follow me." The woman turned and entered the ancient edifice.

Ninian placed a hand on Bill's arm and Bill turned to face him.

"The portal stone is not far. Once we arrive, we will want to hang back so that we have a brief moment of privacy. You will need to grasp my right forearm, at the location of my tattoo. I will teleport with you to your designated location in Stockholm. Do you have a particular destination in mind?"

Bill turned to his father, who nodded, then back to Ninian.

"Yes, I need to arrive as close to this location as possible..." he reached into his front pants pocket and retrieved his phone, swiping it on. "My son is here," Bill pointed to the coffee shop on Vasagatan Street. Ninian nodded to the right then turned, walking into the monument.

Approximately 100 feet inside the edifice the tour group stopped, as the guide pointed to a six-foot-tall stone with a large swirl carved into the front. Ninian glanced at Ardal and Bill nodding confirmation that this was the place they were looking for. Waiting for the tour-group to proceed, Ninian walked to the stone and pulled up the right-hand sleeve on his tunic, then turned to Bill, extending his bare arm. Bill grasped the tattoo firmly and they both looked at Ardal.

"I'll be back momentarily," Ninian said, and turning to Bill again,

"Ready?"

Bill nodded as, together, he and his Pictish friend raised their arms and Ninian placed his right hand flat on the stone's engraving. Closing his eyes, Ninian uttered a command and they were gone.