Ha! Welcome to the world of kids, sir! Joe Adler laughed to himself.
Grant lifted the child off the seat and held him in the crook of his arm. "Ready?" Adler nodded, slid across the empty seat and then followed Grant down the remainder of the aisle. His hand gripped the brown handle of a ragged, brown leather satchel.
The Americans passed through security without incident. Adler filled out papers for a 1970 BMW, and fifteen minutes later they were driving through the High Gate, which, for ages, was the main entrance to the city. From Royal Road they turned onto Dluga, the main street of Gdansk. Official buildings of state, as well as apartments and hotels, maintained their late medieval and early Renaissance architecture.
Within minutes, the Americans located the Motlawa Hotel, parked the car in front then went inside to the front desk. The small lobby was decorated simply with two upholstered armchairs and a two-tier end table positioned in front of the plate glass window. On the far wall of the twenty-foot room was a coal-burning fireplace where a young boy knelt, scooping piles of gray ashes into a battered bucket.
Grant and Adler put their suitcases by the base of the desk then put the twins on the floor. Adler sniffed the air, recognizing the aroma of fresh bread and pan-fried breakfast sausage.
The sound of a woman's laugh made them turn, noticing a slender, smartly dressed, middle-aged woman coming down the steps and chatting with her male companion, who appeared to be in his early sixties with snow white hair. They glanced at the two men standing by the front desk, then they both smiled as their eyes fell on the two little blond boys, standing between the two. Josef shyly looked at them then wrapped his arms around Grant's leg as if for protection. She gave a little wave to the twins before leaving the hotel.
The office door behind the desk opened. A balding man, short in stature, came out, raising his head to look up at the two men standing on the other side of the desk. Leo Grobowski gave them a warm smile then asked in Polish, "Gentlemen, may I help you?"
The Americans picked up the twins. The hotel owner showed a brief moment of surprise then he nodded. Except for the young boy by the fireplace, the lobby was unoccupied, but even so, he quietly asked, "Grigori?" as he shifted his eyes between the two men.
Grant acknowledged with a nod. Grobowski reached into one of the slots of a wooden, pigeon-holed shelf that was positioned against the wall. He put a skeleton key on the counter. It had a thin metal ring through the hole at the top. Attached to it was a brass tag with the numbers "203" engraved on it.
Grant palmed the key, gave the gentleman a smile, then looked at Adler. "Ask him if Lampson's in."
Adler complied, and Grobowski responded in German, "Ya."
Grant pointed to the phone on the desk and Grobowski slid it towards him. Grant dialed the room, listening as it rang twice. Lampson barely got a word out, when Grant said softly, "Rick, unlock your door but stay in your room. We're on our way up." He immediately hung up then motioned to Adler. Both of them said "danke" to Grobowski before turning and walking up to the second floor.
Grobowski stood quietly watching, leaning over the counter till the men and children were out of sight. Then he went back into his office and closed the door.
At the top of the stairs, they followed the corridor to the right and stopped in front of the third door. Adler gave a look behind them before Grant opened the door. Lampson nearly lost his breath, not knowing what to expect after Grant's call.
He rushed toward them, scooping up the boys. "My God!" he cried, as he hugged the twins tightly. Grant and Adler stepped back, giving Lampson space. The twins seemed bewildered at first, then their little voices squealed in delight, finally recognizing Lampson. "Papa!" they cried. Lampson sat down on the bed, placing a child on each knee. He hadn't shaved since leaving Marie's. A blond, scruffy beard and mustache failed to hide the gauntness behind them.
Grant and Adler unzipped their jackets. Almost in unison, they sagged down on a two-seat sofa, nestled beneath a double window that faced Nowy Park. They shot a glance at one another and grinned. Both of them were near exhaustion. They'd been running a marathon for days on pure adrenaline, and the finish line still wasn't in sight.
Grant looked back at Lampson through half open eyes, knowing he had to tell him Greta was dead. He hoped that having the twins back would help ease the pain. "Rick, I think we need to get some food into those little guys."
Lampson jerked his head up, looking at Grant through reddened eyes. "What? Oh, yeah. Uh… I can run down to… "
"Think it might be best if Joe makes the food run,” Grant interrupted. “Okay, Joe?"
"Sure," Adler answered as he stood up and stretched his fatigued body. He looked down at Grant. "We're getting too old for this, boss."
Grant nodded with a smile. He stood up and dug his wallet out of his pocket. "When you get back, see if you can get us a room, preferably next to this one. Lampson needs some time with his sons, and we need some rest." He handed Adler some bills. "Maybe Leo can tell you where to find some good chow. I have a feeling these kids need to get some nourishing food into them. And buy some milk, too, and anything else that looks good." Adler kept his hand out, and Grant slapped more bills into his palm.
"Yeah, like big, fat, gooey, double chocolate ice cream sundaes!" Adler laughed seeing Grant lick his lips. He slipped the money into his jacket pocket then reached for the brass door handle. "I'll try and get something for you, too, boss!" He left without waiting for a response.
Grant took off his jacket and dropped it on the back of the couch. He smoothed his hair then rubbed his face vigorously with both palms. He looked at Lampson, thinking he may as well not delay it any longer. "Rick."
Lampson looked up, a sudden expression of sadness showing on his face. "Something's happened to… her, hasn't it?"
Grant nodded. "I'm sorry, Rick. We… we found her at the flat with your kids." He saw Lampson's eyes fill with moisture. Grant suddenly felt a pang of guilt. If they had reached the flat just a few, short moments sooner, maybe they could have saved her.
He was going to drop the subject, but Lampson asked, "What… how did it happen, Captain?"
Grant lowered his head then folded his arms across his chest before responding. "It looked like one of Steiner's men had been ordered to… " He glanced at the twins then continued. "He’d been ordered to take them all out, Rick." Lampson listened, but nervously occupied himself by taking off the boys' jackets. He kept his eyes on them as Grant kept talking. "She put up a helluva fight; got him with a nail file before… " He didn't have to fill Lampson in with any more details. Enough had been said.
The twins played gleefully in the room. Their little feet patted across the carpet while they looked at the knick-knacks on the dresser and made faces at themselves in the oval, beveled mirror. They spotted the window and ran to the sofa, struggling to climb up on it then pressed their noses and hands against the glass, watching children playing in the park.
Grant stepped closer to Lampson, then leaned back against the dresser. "Listen, Rick, I'm really sorry."
"I know, I know." He stared at Grant, finally noticing the fatigue showing on his face and pronounced dark circles under his eyes. "You got my kids, and I'll be indebted to you forever." He looked across the foot of the bed at the twins, as he asked, "What about Von Wenzel?"
"Don't know. Nobody was at the lab when I got there. I found a note that was addressed to the chief of police. It looked as if it had been scribbled in a hurry. Maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but near where I found it there was a stain on the floor that was most likely blood."