16

The next morning we looked in the Danish papers. There was a front-page picture of Kathie’s apartment and a shot of bodies being wheeled out on stretchers on page two. But neither Hawk nor I could read Danish so there wasn’t much to learn. I clipped the story anyway, in case 1 found a translator. Hans and Fritz looked pretty much like two of the people on my list. Hawk and I looked at the Identikit sketches and agreed that they were. “You doing pretty good,” Hawk said. “That’s six.”

“You didn’t waste a lot of time when you came through the door.”

“Like halt or I’ll shoot, that jive?”

“What did you do,” I said, “follow Big Nose?”

“Sort of. I spotted him when he come out looking around and I figured he was checking if this was a setup. So I slipped in the hallway there and hid in the shadows back under the stairwell. You know how hard we is to spot in the dark.”

“Unless you smile,” I said. “And if we keeps our eyes closed.” We were having breakfast in the hotel. Pastry and cold cuts and butter and cheese buffet style. “Anyway,” Hawk said, “he come slipping back in and when he open the door I come right in back of him.” Hawk drank some coffee. “Who the one we lost with Kathie?” he said. “Name’s Paul, little guy, very tough. He’s a lot heavier article than we been dealing with before. He’s a real revolutionary, I think. Of one sort or another.”

“Palestinian?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Right wing. Wants to save Africa from the Communists and the Nigras.”

“South African? Rhodesian?”

“I don’t think so. I mean he may be in that now, but he spoke a language more like Spanish. Maybe Portuguese.”

“Angola,” Hawk said. I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just said he was anticommunist and pro-white. You probably didn’t do much to change his attitude.” Hawk grinned. “He got a big job. I hear there’s quite some number of Nigras in Africa. He going to have to do a powerful heap of saving.”

“Yeah. He may be dippy, but he’s no pancake. He’s trouble.” Hawk’s face was bright and hard. He grinned again. “So are we, babe,” he said. “True,” I said. “What’s the program now?” Hawk said. “I don’t know. I gotta think.”

“Okay, while you thinking, why don’t we stroll down to Tivoli and walk around. I heard about Tivoli all my life. I want to see it. ”

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.” I paid the bill and we went out. Tivoli was nice. Lots of greenery and not too much plastic. We ate lunch on the terrace of one of the restaurants. There wasn’t a great deal for adults to do but watch the kids, and quite frequently the kids’ moms, as they went here and there on the pleasant walks among the attractive buildings. It was fun to be there, but it was more a matter of presence, of space allotted to pleasure and thoughtfully done, that made it a pleasure. The lunch was ordinary. “Ain’t Coney Island,” Hawk said. “Ain’t the Four Seasons either,” I said. I was trying to chew a piece of tough veal and it made me grumpy. “You thought enough yet?” Hawk said. I nodded, still working on the veal. “Should of had fish,” Hawk said. “Hate fish,” I said. “Right now we are up a fjord without an oar, as we Danes say. Kathie sure as hell isn’t going to go back to her apartment. We’ve lost her and we’ve lost Paul.” I took out my pocket notebook. “What I have got is an address in Amsterdam and one in Montreal that I took off her passports. I also have an address in Amsterdam that was the return address on a letter she got, and kept. The addresses are the same.”

“Sounds like Amsterdam,” Hawk said. He sipped some champagne and watched a young blond woman with very tight shorts and a halter top stroll by. “Too bad, Copenhagen looks good.”

“Amsterdam’s better,” I said. “You’ll like it.” Hawk shrugged. I dug out some English pounds and gave them to Hawk. “You better get some new clothes. While you do that I’ll set us up to Amsterdam. You can probably change the money to kroner at the railroad station. It’s right across the street.”

“I change it at the hotel, babe. Thought I might leave the shotgun home while I trying on clothes. Three folks got done in with a shotgun yesterday. I just as leave not explain to the Danish fuzz about what we doing.” Hawk left. I paid the bill and headed out the front exit of Tivoli Gardens. Across the street was the huge red brick Copenhagen railroad station. I went across the street and went in. I had nothing to do there but it was everything a European railroad station ought to be and I wanted to walk around in it. It was high ceilinged and arcane with an enormous barrel-arched central waiting room full of restaurants and shops, baggage rooms, backpacker kids and a babble of foreign tongues. Trains were leaving on various tracks for Paris and Rome, for Munich and Belgrade. And the station was alive with excitement, with coming and going. I loved it. I walked around for nearly an hour by myself, soaking it up. Thinking about Europe in the nineteenth century when it had peaked. The station was thick with life. Ah Suze, I thought, you should have been here, you should have seen this. Then I went back to the hotel and had the hall porter book us a flight to Amsterdam in the morning.

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