They had passed Brandbyestrand and were coming into the southern outskirts of Copenhagen, driving along the Kalveboderne, the inlet from the Køge Bugt leading to the heart of the city. Across the water they could see huge airplanes taking off from Kastrup Airport on Amager, suddenly rising above the apartment buildings like giant cranes frightened from their chimney nests. The planes reminded both Ruth and Gregor that eventually each would be taking one of those planes to his own country, his own home. But first, as they both knew, there was the matter of the Schliemann treasure and their unbelievable discovery of it. Gregor smiled across the car.
“All that simple, eh?” he said lightly. “And you expect that once you hand him that tough ultimatum, he’ll rush to the closet, or under the bed, drag out the treasure and lay it at your feet, and then get down on his knees to thank you from the bottom of his heart for saving him from a life of crime? Is that it?”
“Well,” Ruth said a bit stiffly, “maybe that isn’t the scenario exactly, but it will be very close. He hasn’t a lot of choice, as I see it.” She frowned at Gregor. “What would you do in his shoes?”
“Me?” Gregor shrugged. “I’d say you were crazy and if you didn’t get out of my house in five seconds, I’d call the police.”
“What!”
“That’s what I’d say, and that’s what he’ll say. He’ll deny knowing what you’re talking about. He’ll act completely innocent. And just how are you going to prove he isn’t?”
“And exactly,” Ruth asked sardonically, “how will he explain Knud Christensen?”
“Why does he have to explain Knud Christensen?” Gregor sounded completely serious. He changed his voice slightly, raising it, imitating the unknown professor. “Knud who? Oh, Knud Christensen, my crazy cousin? What? He claims he found a box with a treasure in it? Well, good luck to him, he certainly can use it, if he really did find something, but he suffers delusions, you know. He what? He claims he sold it to me for a thousand kroner? I suppose he has my canceled check to prove it. What? He says I paid cash for it? A thousand kroner? Ma’am, do I look like a person who carries a thousand kroner in cash around with him? And when was I supposed to have done all this? And where? Earlier this year in Gedser? Gedser? I’ve never been in Gedser in my life. Please, Dr. McVeigh! I’m just a poor university professor. You’ve been listening to a sick man. I heard that ever since his two brothers were drowned, he’s been a little — well, strange, to say the least. As I say, I’ve never been in Gedser, but I’m sure there are people there who can confirm that. What? You say if I’ve never been in Gedser, how do I know about his brothers drowning? Well, I happened to hear it from someone in the family. After all, we are related...”
Ruth had been listening to the imitation of the unknown professor with increasing irritation. “If you think my method of getting this Nordberg to confess he’s got the treasure is so terrible,” she said coldly, “just how would the brilliant Gregor Kovpak handle it?”
“Me?” Gregor’s face lost its good humor. “I’d use a completely different approach.”
“Force, I suppose. The masculine — or, rather, the macho — approach to all problems.” Ruth sniffed disdainfully. “Hot needles under the fingernails, or the Iron Maiden—”
Gregor grinned. “That’s us Cossacks!”
“—and if an educated man such as a university professor doesn’t react to reason, what makes you think he’d react to force? And if he would call the police to throw me out after I merely talked to him, who do you think he would call to throw you out after you used muscle? And not just to throw you out of his house, but probably out of the country, as well.” She shook her head decisively. “We’ll try my method.”
“First,” Gregor said calmly.
Ruth looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean, first?”
Gregor shrugged. “I mean, you try your approach first, and when it fails — as it will — then I get a chance to try my approach.”
“I don’t like force!”
“Who likes force?”
Ruth frowned at him. “Then what’s your approach?”
“Ah, that’s a secret! I’m not objecting to your trying your way so why object to my trying mine?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
Gregor’s head swung around; his eyes showed his hurt. “You don’t trust me?”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Ruth said hurriedly, and reached across the car to squeeze his hand on the steering wheel. “All right, darling. I’ll try my method and if it doesn’t work, you can try yours. I promise.”
“I accept your promise,” Gregor said, and pulled the car into the area before the front of the Plaza Hotel. While they waited for the doorman to come and take the car to a garage, Gregor turned to Ruth, bringing up a subject that was bothering him. “You know, darling,” he said quietly, “we disagree on many things, but I love you very much. Will you please explain to me why you keep insisting on separate rooms?”
Ruth looked at him tenderly. “I love you, too, darling. We agree on the most important thing of all — how we feel about each other. As for the separate rooms, have we lacked each other in any way?”
“In a way—”
“I don’t believe so. We enjoy each other. Then, afterward, we’re alone to relive the precious moments and appreciate how lucky we are to have anything at all. Besides,” she added with her gamine grin, “this way I don’t need to discover that you snore, or thrash around in your sleep, or hog the covers or the bathroom. This way I get the best of you.”
“And leave the worst to me,” Gregor said glumly, and sighed as he climbed down. He handed the car keys to the doorman and followed Ruth through the door the man was holding open. They crossed the hotel lobby to the bank of self-service elevators and waited until one appeared. Gregor ushered Ruth into the cab and followed her. They rose in silence, each with his own thoughts. Gregor reached for and held Ruth’s hand as they walked down the thickly carpeted corridor to her room. He leaned over, proud and happy to feel possessive after all the years, kissing her. “I’ll see you at six,” he said fondly. “At the bar.”
“Don’t be late,” she said. She squeezed his hand with a strength he hadn’t known she possessed, and then she was gone, her door closing behind her, leaving Gregor standing in the hallway. He stared at the closed door a moment, as if contemplating something, then, his face inscrutable, he walked slowly down the corridor toward his own room.
Major Serge Ulanov watched the two, oblivious to anything except themselves, enter the elevator. He crushed out his cigarette and came to his feet a bit reluctantly. He liked Gregor Kovpak, and he knew the man was bound to be angry with him for needlessly interrupting what obviously was the equivalent of a honeymoon for two people who could never, or would never, marry. In his shoes, Ulanov thought, remembering when he had been courting, I’d probably take me and drop me from the roof, but duty is duty, and while I will undoubtedly lose a friend, I may save my job. He walked to the elevator bank just as James Newkirk also approached. Newkirk waited stiffly, paying no attention to the man at his side. When they entered the first car that appeared, Ulanov pressed the button for his floor and then innocently looked at Newkirk inquiringly, as one accommodating elevator passenger to another.