Grendel's Curse (Rogue Angel, Book 48)
Alex Archer, Steven Savile
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A sword of legend in the hands of an extremist…
Skalunda Barrow, Sweden, has long been rumored to be the final resting place of the legendary Nordic hero Beowulf. And there's something of Beowulf's that charismatic and zealous right-wing politician Karl Thorssen wants very badly. Intent on getting his hands on the mythical sword Nægling, Sweden's golden-boy politico puts together a team to excavate the barrow. A team that American archaeologist Annja Creed manages to finagle her way onto. She wouldn't miss this possible discovery for anything.
With Nægling at his side, Thorssen could be invincible…a Nordic King Arthur. What his followers don't know—and Annja is beginning to suspect—is just how far Thorssen will go to achieve his rabid amibitions. When Thorssen marks Annja for death, she quickly realizes that this is much more than a political game. And the only way to survive is to match Thorssen's sword with her own.
It rattled against the table leg, making Micke raise an eyebrow. She offered an apologetic face and tried to ignore it, but even after going to voice mail, the caller tried again. “Sorry.” She half expected the display to show Johan’s name. He ought to be getting off the train any minute, she calculated, but it wasn’t him. She didn’t recognize the number. Voice mail kicked in again before she could answer. “Problem?” Micke asked. “Don’t know,” Annja said, giving the caller a moment to leave a
was going on inside the theater. Halfway down the red carpet, the bodyguard caught up with the man he’d spotted in the crowd. Annja was too far away to hear the exchange, but it was obvious from their body language that it was hostile in the extreme. His fingers dug into the guy’s arm as he twisted him around. He said something—the vehemence behind his words translated even if the words didn’t. The man didn’t back down. Far from it, he pushed himself up into the guard’s face and snarled back,
Regardless, as Annja pushed down on the handle and opened the door, she couldn’t shift the sense of trepidation she felt. There were more signs on the other side of the door; someone had definitely been inside. The living space was a bigger disaster than it had been when she’d last been here. She wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t been looking for it; the differences were almost imperceptible—papers had been disturbed, the chair had been moved, a small cupboard door left open. It could all have
Okay. Bear with me, I haven’t said any of this stuff out loud before, so... After I was supposed to see Lars, two men broke into my hotel room. At first I thought they were looking for something. But they weren’t. They’d come for me. One of them came back the next morning, before we met, and searched my room. I think he’d come to finish the job, but I wasn’t there.” “Oh, my God.” Annja concentrated on the road ahead. “There’s more. Johan, my photographer, took footage of a political rally a few
all the excitement going on.” He pushed back his chair and disappeared into the master bedroom only to emerge a moment later with a small black box, which he plugged into one of the USB ports on the laptop Annja had retrieved. He booted up the laptop. “So what does that thing do?” Annja asked around a mouthful of food. Garin paused and looked at her quizzically. “You really want me to tell you or is this one of those questions where you’re just pretending to be interested to humor me?”