[Sound of an ax chopping wood. Quirky music fades in…]
Christopher Gronlund:
I want to make one thing perfectly clear: this show is not about lumberjacks…
My name is Christopher Gronlund, and this is where I share my stories. Sometimes the stories contain truths, but most of the time, they’re made up. Sometimes the stories are funny—other times they’re serious. But you have my word about one thing: I will never—EVER—share a story about lumberjacks.
This time, it’s a story about a would-be mudlark who finds something very strange during low tide on the Thames River foreshore. And because this story is set in London, I apologize to my English listeners for my terrible British accents in this one.
Now, onto the usual content advisory…
“Mudlarking” is pretty tame. Were it a movie, it would be rated PG. I suppose the only real warning is violence in the form of fighting, and even then: it’s not brutal fighting—more like light action movie fighting.
And when it comes to swearing, it’s pretty non-existent. (You’re likely to hear worse on television.) I think about as bad as it gets is another word for “poop” that begins with S.
Oh, and one more thing…longtime listeners might remember some characters mentioned in this story. If a little bit near the end is jarring for new listeners, I did my best to not leave you completely lost…
All right, let’s get to work!
* * *
Eva Barrett loved being places that were off limits: high-rise construction sites, abandoned factories, and office buildings after hours. Once, while visiting an aunt in northern Illinois, she and her sister discovered a series of steam tunnels beneath a seminary, a remnant of times past, used today to get around without going outside—especially in winter. It wasn’t about the rush of breaking rules, although there was an element of suspense and even danger that appealed to something deep down. For Eva, it was about seeing how massive structures grew or decayed, what held them together as industries grew and crumbled. It was also about the strange community breaching the sites: other urban explorers, occasional ghost hunters, and photographers obsessed with seeing how nature’s green hand reclaims our lofty ambitions—a reminder that, while we may reach for the sky, time topples all.
She carefully descended the algae-slicked ladder leading down to the Thames River foreshore. She’d seen people rummaging about during low tide; asked about it at work.
“Those are mudlarks,” her boss told her. “They muck about for artifacts. I suppose it’s as much a thing to do as any…”
When Eva accepted a transfer from Globotek’s Detroit office to London, she had dreams of exploring structures older than the United States. Her work visa kept her out of potential trouble. Climbing down to the foreshore wasn’t the exciting foray into Medieval ruins she imagined, but she figured if she were caught, she could say she didn’t know climbing down was off limits—and hopefully get a pass.
It smelled like she expected: grease, decomposing algae, dead fish, and an underlying eggy odor she couldn’t identify. She walked down to a slight bend in the river, figuring anything flowing downstream from other places would end up trapped in the corner. It was a gathering place for garbage, mostly plastic bottles. Eva shook her head, acknowledging the irony of people seeking clean drinking water constantly polluting their sources.
She found a stick and used it to poke around in the mud and rocks, occasionally spotting something she thought was a find, but turning out to be more garbage that found its way into the river. She hoped to at least find a coin—not even something old—just an item passed hand to hand for a couple decades and the things it had seen. An old piece of pottery or a clay pipe would have been amazing. But all she found was more garbage.
Eva was about to make her way back to the ladder, clean up, and find a bite to eat when she saw a bit of grimy metal poking up from the mud. She wandered over and dug around the edges with her stick. It looked like a small handle. She reached down, worked her fingers around it, and gave a little tug.
The soggy earth released its grip, surprising her. Eva thought it was the handle to an old, hammered pot, something big enough that it would need to be dug out. She came up with a bracelet. She wandered to a tidal pool, where she rinsed it off, revealing coils of what couldn’t be gold—but seemed to be—with boars fastened to the ends where the bracelet almost met.
Eva did her best to dry it off with the bottom of her shirt, before placing it in her backpack and making her way back to the ladder.
* * *
In her flat, Eva brought the bracelet to the bathroom and rinsed it in the sink. As the grime from the Thames River bed fell away from the woven strands of metal, it looked more gold than bronze or copper. The small boars on opposing sides at the ends looked like they were charging each other.
An hour of searching online convinced her she’d found a small Celtic relic on the foreshore. Was it a replica, she wondered—a souvenir that found its way into the river along with coins and plastic bottles? Or was it truly one of the earlier examples of gold work done during the Iron Age?
Pulling up The British Museum’s website, a jump from the Departments link brought her to the Britain, Europe, and Prehistory page. A bit more digging, and she found the name of the curator of the European Iron Age and Roman Conquest Period: Simon Richardson. Additional searching revealed an email address at the museum Eva wasn’t sure was his. Still, it was worth a try.
Dear Mr. Richardson,
I was mudlarking (is that even a word?) on the Thames foreshore, and I found what I think might be an old bracelet (maybe Iron Age?). It could be a replica, but I figured you’d be the person who’d know. (Please see the attached photo.)
I can obviously be reached at this email address, or at this number: 555-555-1212. (I’m an American in London. There’s a werewolf joke in there, somewhere, but…well, I should just stop typing before reinforcing stereotypes about us being prone to babbling instead of getting straight to the point.)
Sincerely,
Eva Barrett
After sending the email, she looked at the bracelet sitting on the desk next to her laptop. Eva picked it up and rubbed the gold wires between the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She looked at the boars at each end, appreciating the detailed work that went into the piece. It had to be a souvenir, she thought—there was no way they could have made something so intricate that long ago. She placed one of the boars against her arm and twisted the bracelet onto her wrist.
* * *
Eva’s body surged with energy, a force from her core radiating out, stopping just below her skin. She inhaled and got her first deep, smooth breath since spring hit and pollen soared. It wasn’t a trick of the mind: the echo of traffic outside was amplified and sorted in her head—engines humming and grinding, footsteps on pavement and people talking. She smelled the remnants of onion skin and the top of a green pepper cooked with eggs for breakfast in her compost bin. Words and images on her laptop monitor displayed in crisp resolution.
Eva looked at the bracelet on her left wrist and whispered, “No way…”
She took it off, and the world seemed dim again. When she put it back on, focus—and that feeling she was closer to everything around her—returned.
Eva stood up and walked to her couch. She bent down and placed her off hand beneath its end and lifted. It rose with no effort. She spent the next several minutes testing the weight of items in her flat, ending with a chest-high bookcase packed full. She squatted, wrapped her arms around it, and stood up. It was easier than lifting a laundry basket. As she placed the bookshelf down, a copy of Lonely Planet’s London travel guide slid off a shelf. Without a thought, she grabbed the bookcase tighter with one arm and snatched the falling book with her other hand.
Maybe Eva couldn’t pick up a car and throw it like the Incredible Hulk, but she guessed she could likely flip one over without assistance. She might not be able to run as fast as The Flash, but her reflexes were beyond explanation.
* * *
Eva spent the rest of the day testing the limits of the bracelet’s effects from the safety of her flat. She only grew fatigued after removing the bracelet, and even then, only felt nappish at best—a remarkable state given her exertion. Were she home in the U.S., she’d test her strength by lifting the refrigerator or washing machine, but in her flat, both appliances were mounted into the cabinetry and not free-standing. She’d have to wait until dark.
* * *
A little before eleven that evening, Eva headed out in search of an alley. She thought about how bad superhero movies began like that: the obligatory person-with-new-powers encounters bad guys, defeats them, and decides to fight crime. Eva was in search of a dumpster, figuring they weighed roughly as much as a large car or SUV. Were something to go wrong, better it to be a chunk of steel full of garbage—a thing constructed to be tough enough to be lifted and put down by trucks—than a stranger’s vehicle.
Eva entered an alley a few blocks from her flat. She looked around to ensure she was alone, and then approached a dumpster. She squatted and grabbed an end at the bottom, much like her couch test earlier. It took far more effort than hoisting things in her flat, but she dead-lifted the dumpster and set it back down. Twice.
After checking her surroundings again, Eva looked at the alley in front of her, making sure nothing was in her way. It was a clear shot to a quiet side street, the perfect place for the next test. She took a deep breath and ran.
Eva moved faster than she anticipated, her body reacting as though this were a thing she did daily since learning how to walk. The difficult part was controlling the speed of a lion. She stumbled as she tried gliding to a stop, eventually falling into the street. A passing black cab stopped Eva when they collided, sending her to the pavement.
Hard.
She looked at the dent in the front of the vehicle, but didn’t feel a tinge of pain.
She bounced up and trotted away, moving away from her flat, before slowing to a walk. Eventually, she doubled back on different streets and returned home.
* * *
The following morning, Eva expected to wake up in pain, but there wasn’t even a bruise from where she was hit by the taxi. During breakfast, she did her usual online sweep of social media, news, and email. A peek at Facebook and Instagram was a reminder that she was wise to take the Globotek position in London. Her friends back in the U.S. still spent their Saturday nights drinking like college students almost a decade after graduating. The news was…well, the news. She opened Gmail and saw a reply from Simon Richardson at the British Museum.
Dear Ms. Barrett,
Thank you for contacting me about your find along the Thames foreshore. From the photo, it would appear you have found a genuine Bronze Age Celtic bracelet, or a very accurate facsimile. At your convenience, I would love to see the piece in person to determine its origin. While the museum’s identification service is open on Wednesdays between 14:00 – 16:00 hours by appointment, I am available Monday through Friday during normal business hours.
I can obviously be reached via this email address, or at the number included below.
Sincerely,
Simon Richardson
Curator: European Iron Age and Roman Conquest Period
Eva wished she could return to Saturday morning and not have sent her email to Simon about the bracelet. At the time, she wanted to know if it was real or fake. Now, with so much more she wanted to discover about her find, she feared it would be taken from her. She clicked reply and began typing.
Mr. Richardson,
I was premature in sending my email yesterday. I suppose finding something so exciting during my first time mudlarking got the best of me. I took the bracelet to a jewelry shop, where I learned it was an ornamental bracelet and not an actual artifact.
I apologize for wasting your time and wish you a good week ahead.
Sincerely,
Eva Barrett
* * *
Eva spent the rest of Sunday morning preparing for the workweek. The following morning, as she got dressed to head into the office, she put on the bracelet and pulled on a thin, long-sleeved sweater to cover it. When she opened to door to leave, she was greeted by an old man with a long beard. She stepped back, startled.
“Eva Barrett, I presume?”
She caught her breath and said, “Who wants to know?”
“I am called Cassius Arkwright, and I am here at your service.”
The old man bowed deeply and stood back up. He looked like a wizard from the Lord of the Rings movies. Put the man before her in the right robes, and he could pass as Gandalf or Saruman. Instead, he wore a tailored suit cut perfectly to his lithe frame. Eva noticed a pin on his lapel: a gold boar similar to the one on the bracelet.
“Well, Cassius Arkwright,” Eva said. “How are you at my service?”
He pointed to the pin on his suit.
“You are in possession of a relic my order seeks to protect.” He gestured to Eva’s left wrist. “I assume you are hiding it beneath your sleeve?”
“Who are you, really?”
“I told you, madam. I am called Cassius Arkwright, a member of unparalleled standing in the Benevolent Order of the Boar.”
Eva rolled the name around in her head and laughed.
“Is something funny?” Cassius said.
“Benevolent Order of the Boar? BOOB? BOOB!”
“There is a T in the name, madam.”
“Yeah, but still. You’d think your order would have thought that through a bit better.”
“The order was founded in 400 BCE—almost twenty-five hundred years ago. Boob was not yet a word.”
“Oh. Strange question, then: are you that old?”
“No, I am not. People are not that long lived.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?” Cassius said.
“Nothing.”
“By ‘nothing,’ I assume you’ve discovered what the bracelet can do?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But it is what you mean?”
“Are you here to take it from me?” Eva said.
“No, I am not. I am here to ask you to give it to me of your own free will. We will not take it by force.”
“What happens if I give it to you?”
“We will place it in safe keeping.”
“And if I don’t?”
“We will ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands.”
“How do you know I’m not the wrong hands?”
“Watching you last night gave us an indication you have no idea what you are wearing. I do not know how you have come by the bracelet, but we suspect you are not going to use it for nefarious means. Should you decide to, be warned: that is the point at which we will retrieve it by force.”
“Watching me?” Eva said. “How?”
“You seem to have forgotten this city is full of closed-circuit television cameras. Some make a hobby out of watching the feeds. A member of the order saw it shared on Reddit. You paused after setting the skip down a second time and looked at the bracelet.”
“The what?”
“The skip. Dumpster. You adjusted the bracelet on your wrist before you took off running.”
“Oh, shit!”
“Yes. Shit, indeed. Can I point out this would be a good time to hand the bracelet over to us? We will ensure your safety should anyone else track you down like we did and try to take it.”
The words sat in Eva’s stomach: “Should anyone else track you down like we did…”
It was supposed to be a fun morning on the Thames foreshore, digging around in the mud and maybe finding a coin or two—not some ancient relic that granted its wearer powers. Eva wondered what else the bracelet might do. She was not successful in trying to read Cassius’s mind or levitating from the floor before him.
“Are you okay, madam?” Cassius said.
“Yeah, why?”
“You suddenly got quiet and had a pained look on your face.”
“I was just thinking. Let’s say everything you just told me is true. How do I know you are good? How do I know you aren’t the wrong hands and planning to use for—as you put it—nefarious means?”
“I suppose there is no way to know, but to trust me.”
Cassius reached into an inside pocket from his suit and handed Eva a business card.
“In time, I am confident you will come to a rational decision. Good day, Ms. Barrett.”
* * *
Eli Husk put great effort into cultivating a personal history where he came into his riches on his own. His billions were not the result of a family diamond mine and half a billion dollars given to him by his father upon graduating college with a degree in economics—in Eli’s version, he started every business from scratch and turned them into powerful companies. Why say, “I bought out existing companies and claimed them as my own brilliant ideas,” when you could convince millions of fans on the social media platform you owned that you have always been the nation’s chosen genius? Despite his reckless breeding habits and penchant for destroying the stock values of the companies he owned, Eli’s life was good…at least until the day he mocked the robot man-child who owned a rival social media company.
It was a stupid thing to do during the boredom of another lonely night, joking online that he couldn’t determine if Mort Zucker was a reptile or an android. Zucker responded about how Husk’s face looked like a half-deflated sourdough starter on a humid day, puffy and oozing. Following a barrage of posts that would make the worst of eighth-grade boys sound mature, Zucker got in a blow that hurt. He called out Husk’s drug use, which resulted in Eli—high on the drug he was accused of abusing—challenging Zucker to a steel cage grudge match. Before he could back out the following morning, his legion of followers had escalated things to a point of no turning back without damaging his brittle ego. Husk figured it would blow over—a spat between two sad men never satisfied with having more than enough—but contracts for a charity fight were signed, and a date was set.
With five days to go, things were looking grim.
Eli was sitting at his messy desk in Texas, watching self-defense videos on YouTube, when he got the news.
“Sir, I think I figured out a way for you to survive Saturday’s fight,” his main bodyguard said.
He looked up at the towering man before him. “How so?”
The bodyguard airdropped a video to his boss and said, “This happened not too far from Testa’s London office. Most people online think it’s fake, but we verified the video’s not been altered.”
Eli watched various closed-circuit television views of Eva testing the bracelet’s powers.
When he was done watching, Eli Husk said, “Where did you get this?”
“It was originally on a subreddit. Then it made its way to TikTok. Eventually—finally—to your site.”
Eli shook his head. “I don’t understand why people use those sites. I still don’t know what I’m looking at, other than something that looks like a found footage clip from a bad superhero movie.”
Husk’s bodyguard pulled his phone from his pocket and showed his boss a screen grab from the video: a blurry closeup of the bracelet.
“It seems like that’s what’s letting her lift the dumpsters and run fast.”
“Okay,” Husk said. “Assuming this is all real, how does it help me?”
“We were able to track down where the person in the video lives. We could send someone from the London office and offer to buy the bracelet. It would give you an advantage in the fight.”
“And…she could tell everyone we bought it, making matters worse.”
“Okay. We can send a security detail to take it from her. Make it look like a robbery.”
“And if they’re caught?”
“They won’t be.”
“I still don’t understand how this helps me in Saturday’s fight.”
“The gloves cover your wrist and are taped. It’s not an officially sanctioned fight, so they aren’t doing weigh ins and checking your gear. You could hide the bracelet under the glove and be assured a win.”
Eli sighed and said, “This has to be the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard. But the alternative right now is to roll over on Zucker like a walrus Saturday night and hope for the best, so what the hell? Call Gordon in the London office and see what he can do. It’s as good a shot as any…”
* * *
Eva’s workday was like any other, with the exception of the magic bracelet hidden on her wrist and a member from a secret order greeting her at the start of the day. Data still needed to be crunched, reports needed to be run, and there were always meetings to be had. So many meetings.
She spent the day in her head, wondering how the bracelet could grant its wearer powers. What else might it be able to do, and what to ultimately do with it? It’s not like she was going to head out at night and fight crimes, but it would come in handy when moving and doing other tasks requiring a bit of effort. It seemed a shame, though, to reserve such a thing for everyday frivolities.
* * *
As Eva walked home, she thought again about the words Cassius said at her front door that morning: “Should anyone else track you down like we did…”
She had paid more attention to her surroundings than usual on the way into work, and walking home after a day of thinking more about the bracelet than what she was paid to do, she felt exposed. Anyone around her could suddenly leap out and try taking it from her, even though she knew it wouldn’t be so easy given the abilities it granted her.
Paranoia set in, and within a couple blocks of walking, she suspected everyone around her of knowing what she wore on her wrist. She took a different route home, keeping an eye out as people approached and passed; listened for the turning bottom of a shoe on the sidewalk as someone pivoted, preparing to grab her from behind.
After altering her route, Eva noticed a man in a suit she saw a block from work. She stepped into a kebab house, figuring eating something wouldn’t hurt—and if the man was a random stranger walking the same way, he’d move on.
When she finished her falafel wrap and paid the bill, she asked her server if they had a back entrance.
“I am sorry. We do not.”
“Not even a back door for garbage? Err…rubbish? I think a man is following me.”
The server looked out the front window. When she returned to Eva’s table, she said, “Come with me.”
She directed Eva through the kitchen and to a back door leading into an alley.”
“Thank you,” Eva said.
“You’re welcome. Do be careful.”
“I will.”
From the alley, Eva surveyed the street behind the shop. The streets were teeming with foot and motor traffic. Picking out one person in all the commotion was difficult, but she saw no signs of the man she noticed near work and along the way. She doubled back several streets and cut across five blocks, figuring a big loop back home was the safest route.
* * *
On Tuesday morning, after making a mug of coffee and grabbing a jar of overnight oats, Eva sat down and opened her laptop. She was greeted by email from Simon Richardson at the British Museum.
Dear Ms. Barrett,
Thank you for your response on Sunday. I am concerned if you sold the bracelet you originally contacted me about on the 18th, that the jeweler you mentioned might have misled you regarding its value. If possible, can you please provide the name of the shop? And if you did not sell the piece, I would still love to see it. I am available during the normal business hours shared in my previous email.
Sincerely,
Simon Richardson
Curator: European Iron Age and Roman Conquest Period
Eva knew the easiest—even right thing—to do would be giving the bracelet to Simon. The British Museum may have housed artifacts that should have been returned to the countries in which they were found, but the bracelet on her wrist belonged to the island. She wondered, though, what Simon might do were he to put it on his wrist and discover its powers. Hell, that might be why he’s so interested in it, Eva thought. She considered calling Cassius Arkwright and asking him about the Order of the Boar’s intentions should she hand over the piece, but she was behind at work and knew, with so much on her mind, that it was likely to be another non-productive day.
* * *
Eva kept an eye out for the man in the suit she noticed the night before, but didn’t spot him. He might have been there, lost in the morning surge, but noticing him among so many people was difficult. Something about heading into work didn’t bother her quite as much as walking home after the day; perhaps because she was in a crowded building all day and alone in the flat at night. By mid-morning, she stopped thinking about the bracelet and had a productive day—even catching up on tasks from the day before.
* * *
Eva was walking home from work when a man in a ratty t-shirt and torn jeans approached her. She recognized his face—the man in the suit who’d followed her the night before, now dressed down and looking determined. He flashed a knife and gestured for her to enter an alley she was passing. When Eva turned to move away, she collided with a tall man who guided her where they wanted her to go.
Eva took off running down the alley, knowing there was no way they could keep up with her. As it opened into a junction where several alleys met, she was tripped by another member of the crew waiting for her. Three others moved in.
Eva leaped to her feet and punched the guy who tripped her in the face. Her stomach turned as his nose shattered and a cheekbone caved in. He turned, took a step, and fell to the ground.
She heard the two men from the street running down the alley and calling to the others. With little effort, Eva leaped over a dumpster and shoved it into one of the three bearing down on her. She cringed as it hit him in the shin, breaking his leg. She kept pushing, feeling the dumpster roll over him, further destroying his tibia and fibula. She kept pushing, despite the screaming, working to ram the massive chunk of steel and garbage into the alley she’d come down, hoping it would impede the two men she encountered on the street.
The two men left standing grabbed Eva by each arm, while the other two climbed over the dumpster in their way. As she broke the hold the two behind her had on her arms, their partners leaped off the dumpster and hit her in the chest. It didn’t hurt as much as she expected, but it was enough to take her off her feet. Three of them held down her arm while the guy who flashed the knife went for the bracelet. With her free hand, she punched one of the men holding her arm down. She felt his jaw shift and pop against her fist. Somehow, despite the blow, he held on with his two friends.
Eva felt the bracelet being jostled on her wrist as the leader of the group worked to pull it free. Right before it was sure to slide off, she heard charging footsteps coming over the dumpster—and more from the closest alley.
At first, she wondered if it was the Benevolent Order of the Boar, but they looked more like the thugs pinning her down looked the night before: more like corporate security or agents.
Eva was able to pull her pinned arm free and shove the bracelet back onto her wrist.
As the two groups fought, she got up and ran down the closest alleyway. She didn’t stop when she hit the street.
Eva always wondered what it would be like seeing a chase in a city, like something from a movie or a helicopter on the news. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see the entrance to the alley erupt with the competing factions bearing down on her, but there was no pursuit. It didn’t stop Eva from running, though—eventually slowing to a jog and then a fast walk before hailing a cab.
* * *
Instead of going home where she was certain people would be waiting, Eva checked into a hotel for the night. Despite the relative safety of the room, she was still on edge—half expecting the door to be kicked down and people rushing in to take the bracelet. Each moment since finding the relic grew more strange and stressful, and she knew it wouldn’t stop as long as she had it in her possession. She opened her purse and pulled out Cassius Arkwright’s business card.
It would be so easy to call and tell him she was prepared to hand it over, not caring what The Benevolent Order of the Boar would do with it. It’s not like the bracelet was that powerful, unless she was unaware of its full potential. “Really, what am I going to do with it?” she thought. “Put on a costume and fight crime? Wear it when rearranging heavy furniture or moving?”
She dialed the number.
“This is Cassius Arkwright. To whom am I speaking?”
“Hi. Yeah. This is Eva Barrett. You came to my apartment on Monday.”
“Yes, Miss Barrett. Of course.”
“I have a couple questions about the bracelet.”
“Certainly.”
“First, you said you would not allow it to fall into the wrong hands, but I was just attacked, and it was almost taken from me.”
“It is still in your possession?”
“Yes.”
“Then it did not fall into the wrong hands.”
“Okay, sure. But what if it did?”
“Then we would have shown up and taken it by force.”
“What if you couldn’t?”
“I assure you, Miss Barrett, despite the age of some members of the order—myself included—we are more than capable.”
“All right. Time for the biggie, then. What the hell even is this thing on my wrist?”
“Are you familiar with the Iceni?”
“No…”
“Have you ever heard of Boudica?”
“She was a Celtic queen, right? Like a warrior badass?”
“Indeed.”
“Was this hers?”
“Some believe it was in her possession for a time, but it is much older than her. I have seen evidence that some of the almost super-human feats attributed to the ancient Celts were the result of certain relics. The one you wear included. I can only speak for my order and our beliefs, but there was a time we were much closer to unseen forces that have always been around us. That still are if you know where to look. Most people have simply lost their way and forgotten how to imbue items with energy. Is it a safe assumption that you are considering parting ways with the bracelet?”
“I’m thinking about it, yeah.”
“I would be happy to meet you now, or at your earliest convenience.”
“Thanks. But there’s one thing I need to do before getting back in touch…”
* * *
Eva opened the email app on her phone and began typing.
Mr. Richardson,
I didn’t sell the bracelet to the jeweler. In fact, I never took it to a jeweler. I have reasons for saying I did in my last email. This thing has become quite the problem in recent days. I’d love to talk.
Sincerely,
Eva Barrett
Eva plopped down on the bed and closed her eyes. She trusted Cassius, but wondered on some level if the wizened old man thing was all an act to get her to hand over the bracelet. That was the worst thing about recent days: all the thinking and doubting. She thought about tossing the bracelet back into the Thames River or just stop wearing it and telling anyone coming for it that it was taken by a rival group of strangers. But she knew they’d keep coming. She was on the verge of dozing off when she got an email notification on her phone. It was Simon Richardson asking her to give him a call at his personal number—yet another thing to make her question people’s intentions and what the hell to do. She eventually called.
“Hello, Simon? Yes, it’s Eva Barrett. How soon can you meet to talk about the bracelet? Really? Okay. I’m currently staying at the Holiday Inn near Regent’s Park. Yeah. How soon can you get here? Yeah, I guess the museum isn’t too far away. Does meeting in the lobby in half an hour work? Okay, cool. I’ll see you soon.”
* * *
After throwing some water on her face and cleaning up her clothes as best she could after the scrum in the alley, Eva opened the door to her hotel room to head downstairs.
She was greeted by a man in a suit.
Before she could think, she reeled back with her hand and noticed other men in the hallway. The person before her put his hands up in front of him and said, “We mean you no harm. We saved you in the alley. We’re here to make you an offer.”
He had an American accent. Eva kept her fist raised.
“Who the hell are you?” Eva said. “And who the hell were the others?”
“We have no idea who they are, but we’re not here to hurt you.” He slowly brought his hands down.
“How the hell did you find me?” Before the man could answer, Eva said, “These friggin’ cameras!”
“What cameras?”
“The cameras on all the streets!”
“That’s not how we found you,” he said.
“Then how?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You know what? Then I’m not talking. I’ll give you three seconds, and then I’m screaming for help and ruining your day.”
He put his hands back up in a defensive position. “Okay. Let’s just say some objects give off a certain energy. And we have ways of tracking that. We want to take that off your hands—well, your wrist. My employer is prepared to purchase that bracelet for a very fair price.”
“Who’s your employer?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Well, then, guess what? I’m not at liberty to answer. Do you not see how ridiculous this seems to me: a group of strange men show up at my door, offer me money, but refuse to tell me who’s offering.”
“Fine,” the man said. “We work for a man named Cory Bradford. He owns a company called Bradford Industries.” He pointed at Eva’s wrist. “He collects things like that—has for a long time. It’s kind of a family thing. He’s prepared to pay a million dollars for it.”
Eva brought her arm down. The man before her kept his arms up.
“Why should I believe you?”
“I’ll give you his card and you can call. Arrange things on your terms. We’re just sending the message.”
“Can I think about this?” she said.
“Absolutely.” He pointed to his chest. ”I’m gonna reach into my jacket for a card. I’m not doing anything funny, okay?”
“Okay.”
He handed Eva Cory Bradford’s business card and said, “Just give us a call when you’ve decided what you want to do.”
* * *
In the lobby, Eva took a seat at a small table that allowed her to sit with her back to a wall and spot people coming into the hotel. She looked at others in the lobby and lounge, men and women—most dressed for business—talking amongst themselves. She didn’t spot the one face she could recognize, the guy who followed for days and worked to steer her into the alley with a knife. But she suspected everyone before her as a potential problem.
Eva recognized Simon Richardson from her online research. She was surprised when she discovered he was someone roughly her age—not an old man in charge of relics seemingly as old as him. When he entered the hotel, Eva signaled him over, but didn’t stand to greet him. He extended his hand.
“Eva?”
She nodded, and he took a seat at the small table on the opposite side.
Eva began the conversation with, “I want to preface this by saying if you do anything I don’t like, I’ll scream.”
“Are you okay?” Simon said.
“Sort of. Not really. It’s been a strange few days.”
“If it would help to meet tomorrow at the museum, I understand.”
“No,” Eva said. “The way things have been going, the sooner the better. Before I show you the bracelet, I want you to know some things. And they’re gonna sound like I’m making it up.”
“Okay…”
“What would you say if I told you this bracelet has given me powers? And what would you say if I told you I’ve been followed—and even attacked—in recent days since finding it? And…what would you say if I told you an old man from an ancient order contacted me about turning it over to them, but then some businessman just offered me a million dollars for it on my way to the lobby? And what would you say if I told you I don’t know who the hell I can trust—even you?”
Simon composed himself before speaking. “I would say the British Islands have always been a place of legends—but in all my years study, working in the field, and curating—I’ve never had reason to believe the validity of those kinds of stories. I’d say there are thieves who only see a relic’s worth who will sometimes resort to force to take something they believe has great monetary value. And yes, there are even people who step forward and offer to buy certain things. But this old man you mentioned. Was he tall and bearded? Talks about an ancient order of the boar?”
“Yes! Do you know him?”
“I’ve met him,” Simon said. “I don’t believe his wilder claims, but he has given the museum several pieces. And the provenance on them indicates he and the group to which he claims to belong are honest if nothing else.”
“And what about you? Are you honest?”
“Were I not, would I tell you otherwise?”
“Good point,” Eva said.
“I can say with confidence that one does not reach the position I’ve reached in my career by being dishonest. May I see the bracelet please?”
Eva extended her arm and pulled back her sleeve. She looked for any sign on Simon’s face that he had other intentions; that he, too, wanted the relic for his own desires. He leaned forward and took a look; a slight grin appeared on his face.
“It never gets old,” he said.
“So, it’s real?”
“From a cursory glance, yes. I need a closer look at the entire piece.”
“I don’t want to take it off,” Eva said.
“I understand. If you’d like, we can go to the museum. But I will say, were I to take it and run—if you are having the problems you say you’ve been having—you’d at least be free of it. But I promise, I am not here to take it.”
When Eva took the bracelet off her wrist and handed it to Simon, the lobby erupted into a frenzy.
* * *
A man at a far table stood up and shouted, “Now!”
Before Eva and Simon could react, the man who’d been following her for days rushed around a wall near the table and pulled the bracelet from Simon’s hand. As he made his way toward the door with his colleagues, three middle-aged men in suits sitting around a low-set table drinking tea leaped up and tackled him. The bracelet broke free from his grip and bounced along the floor. Cassius Arkwright appeared from around a corner, signaling to the three to form a wall. Before Cassius reached the bracelet, the man who’d offered to buy it ten minutes prior at her hotel room door rushed out from the lobby and grabbed it. He put it on his wrist and shoved Cassius to the side.
“Oh, hell no!” Eva said.
She bolted from her seat in pursuit.
The rest of the Bradford Industries crew rushed out from the lobby. They moved like a football team, blocking others, all in an effort to get their leader to the front doors. The Benevolent Order of the Boar’s and Husk’s men worked together, trying to hold them back, while Eva closed the gap. She had no idea what she would do if she caught up to the man wearing the bracelet. If the two groups doing all they could to stop him were being tossed about, what chance did she have? Eva was caught in the scrum between the opposing forces as Bradford’s leader pushed through the crowd and ran toward the doors.
He was stopped by a middle-aged man holding a blue stone in his left hand.
Eva had worn the bracelet and knew what it felt like to run full speed under its effect. When she ran into the black cab on the night she tested its abilities, it was like the vehicle was barely there. A little more speed, and she would have knocked it sideways across the street. So how could the man with the stone stand like a mountain as the bracelet-wearer bounced off his chest and to the floor?
“Friggin’ Healy!” he said while getting back up.
The distraction gave Eva just enough time to rush up and yank the bracelet from his wrist. She slid it on and shouted, “I’m really tired of all y’all messing with me! You’ve got two choices: get absolutely wrecked by someone so tired of your shit, or leave. I’m sure the cops have been called, and I’m guessing none of you can afford to explain to them why you’ve been messing with me. So, what’s it gonna be, guys?”
The man who offered her money looked at her wrist and turned away. As he passed the man he ran into, he said, “This isn’t over…Gerald!”
The other factions wandered out behind the others and the man with the blue stone, all heading off in different directions once they made it to the street.
Eva looked at Simon standing in the middle of the sitting area of the lobby and wandered his way.
“I’m keeping this thing on until the cops get here, and then it’s all yours. I don’t care about money or attention or anything at this point, all I want right now is a good night’s sleep!”
* * *
Mort Zucker toyed with Eli Husk for two and a half rounds before ending their charity fight with a righteous pummeling and painful submission. Husk’s followers took to social media, making excuses for their hero and demanding a rematch. Zucker accepted, but Husk never responded.
Cassius Arkwright visited Eva’s front door one more time, thanking her for ensuring the bracelet at least found a safe home in the British Museum’s collection. He told her, should she ever find herself in need of the order’s services, to give him a call.
Simon Richardson explained to the authorities what happened in the hotel, but left out any mention of the bracelet’s purported powers. He resisted trying it on before placing it in a case with other items in the Britain and European collection room at the museum.
Cory Bradford’s crew reported back to their boss that they almost secured the bracelet for his collection, but were thwarted by Gerald Healy and a rivalry that began in 1986.
Eva Barrett’s sole mudlarking foray to the Thames River foreshore was enough to never do it again. She finally opted for exploring off-limits places, figuring the risk to her work visa if caught was far better than finding another ancient relic in the mud during low tide.
* * *
Christopher Gronlund:
Thank you for listening to Not About Lumberjacks.
Theme music, as always, is by Ergo Phizmiz. Story music was by Hampus Naeselius, licensed through Epidemic Sound.
Sound effects are made in-house or from Epidemic Sound and freesound.org. Visit nolumberjacks.com for information about the show, the voice talent, and the music. Also, for as little as a dollar a month, you can support the show at patreon.com/cgronlund. And technically, I’ve even opened it up to free subscription.
In July, we travel back to the 90s and follow an indie band’s rise to near success…
[Quirky music fades out…]
[The sound of an axe chopping.]
Until next time: be mighty, and keep your axes sharp!
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