“Hey, it worked for Jesus,” Aston said. He immediately wondered if he had stepped in it, but the bartender chuckled.
“How about more recent stories?” Aston asked. “Anything in our lifetime?”
The bartender shook his head. “Not in our lifetimes, that I know of anyway. But Old Mo tells a story about a lost German platoon sometime around World War Two.”
“I thought the Finns fought against the Russians during the war,” Slater said.
The bartender made a wry smile. “We were on the German side. As I understand the story, Hitler was a superstitious man who was always looking for items of power that he thought would help Germany to victory.”
“Like the Spear of Destiny,” Slater said.
“Wait, that was a real thing?” Aston asked. “Hitler’s search for artifacts, I mean.”
Slater nodded. “I know he searched for biblical relics, but what would he have been looking for up here?”
“That, you’d have to ask Old Mo. I just know they were up here searching for something they thought to be hidden in a secret cavern somewhere around the lake. They must have believed it, because they came ready to blast through anyone and anything that stood in their path.” He bared his teeth. “But they weren’t prepared for the monster. The Germans disappeared to the last man.”
“Now that is interesting,” Slater said. “By the way, does this monster have a name?”
“Not one that has stuck, but Old Mo calls it vesiuhraus. It means…” He glanced in the direction of the front door and frowned. “What’s he doing here?”
Aston and Slater turned around to see the police officer Holloway had paid off striding toward them.
Chapter 15
Aston tried to keep his features calm, hoping the lawman would ignore them, but it was a vain hope. The guy strode up to the bar and planted himself right beside Slater. He sat facing straight ahead, but Aston saw him flitting glances in their direction.
“What can I get you, Superintendent Rinne?” The barman asked the question with the enthusiasm of a convict being handed his sentence.
“A mineral water,” Rinne replied, his voice deep, resonant. “I’m on duty.”
“Coming up.”
The barman moved away to get a glass and general conversation in the bar rose again. Story time was over. Before Aston could lament that fact too much, Rinne turned and pinned him with a hard gaze. The man’s eyes were the palest blue, like glacial ice. His nose was lumpy from a bad break, his brow heavy, everything about him reminiscent of an ex-boxer, going a little bit to seed now, but still proud. Aston picked him to be somewhere in his mid or late-fifties, but he had a full mop of pale hair and broad, muscular shoulders. He was a formidable man.
“Having a night off the lake?” Rinne asked.
Aston nodded and Slater said, “We decided to have a break. Bit of R and R.”
“Been working too hard making your nature documentary?” Derision hung heavy on the words.
“Not so much hard work as confined conditions,” Slater replied, unperturbed. She flashed him her most winning television smile.
Rinne scowled, unimpressed. “I don’t see what’s so special about our lake that American television audiences would care to see.”
“Really? Oh, I love hosting shows about places like this. The natural beauty, the interesting and vibrant local community. Our audience loves that stuff. It’s something a little different, you know?”
Aston worried she was laying it on too thick, but Rinne had started off unimpressed and Aston couldn’t imagine anything changing that one way or another.
The policeman snorted. “I think Americans don’t care for anything except America.”
“That’s the impression the rest of the world has, sure. And rightly so given the loudest voices in the media.” Slater made a rueful face, shrugged. “But the people who aren’t like that tend to be quiet. Trust me, we’ll get great viewing figures for our film about this place.”
“You think so? You found anything special out there, except cold water?”
Aston bristled. Clearly the Superintendent was angling for an admission that they were here for something beyond nature and the vibrant local community. Would he quickly revoke any agreements if they admitted to more? Slater wasn’t that foolish though, surely.
“Oh, we’re getting great footage,” Slater said, all enthusiasm and smiles. “Incredible bird life, for one.”
Aston wanted to ask the man if he’d seen Dave around town, but that was sure to arouse suspicions. There was nothing more likely to raise a policeman’s interest than a missing person. He hoped Rinne didn’t ask the bartender what they’d been chatting about earlier.
Rinne scowled at them a moment longer then downed the mineral water the barman had placed silently in front of him. He pulled a wallet from the inside pocket of his thick uniform jacket, but the barman silently waved it away.
Rinne nodded his thanks, gave Aston and Slater one more glare for a few uncomfortable seconds, then walked from the bar without a backward glance.
“Jesus,” Aston said. “Serious guy.”
“Hopefully I was effusive enough that he still thinks I’m just an American bimbo,” Slater said with a wicked smile.
“You’re more than just a pretty face, huh?”
They held each other’s eye for a few seconds and a moment of heat rose between them. Aston cleared his throat, looked away.
“Another?” he asked, indicating his empty glass.
Slater wore an indulgent half-smile. “Sure. I fancy a few more of these, to be honest.”
They fell to chatting comfortably as they enjoyed several more glasses of tasty wheat beer. Aston appreciated Slater’s easy intelligence and honest charm. They laughed about the differences in their upbringing, a planet apart, though realized their schooling was very similar, regardless of distance. They talked about how they had both followed their passions, determined to succeed in their chosen fields and how they had found that success to some degree, but still yearned for more. For greater recognition, bigger opportunities, fatter paychecks. Aston chose not to mention his seedier connections and gambling debts. He felt it might bring the conversation down and he had a strong urge not to say anything that might make Slater think less of him.
He was deep in a warm haze of booze when Slater said, “So we should maybe look up this Old Mo guy the bartender mentioned?”
It took him a minute to remember the stories and who the hell Old Mo was. “Yeah, I guess we should. Maybe we can ask around in the morning, see if we can find him. Character like that is probably known all over.”
Slater frowned, pointed to the bartender. “Why don’t we just ask now?”
“I’m leery of making our intentions too well known with any one person,” Aston said quietly. “That Rinne guy sniffing around and all.”
“A healthy dose of paranoia?”
“Something like that. I reckon it’ll be easy to find the old man by asking elsewhere tomorrow.”
Slater leaned forward, closer than necessary, and put a hand on his knee. “Good thinking. So what now?”
Aston looked around the bar, much emptier than it had been. “Getting late, I guess.”
Slater pursed her lips, mock impatience. “One room or two, Sam?”
He laughed. He respected her strength of will and, though it might be the beer talking, she was surely way hotter than he had ever realized before. Of course, it’s the beer talking, he chided himself, but he thought she was hot when he was sober, so what difference did it make? “I don’t want things to get complicated…” he began.