He was smiling as the train went into the tunnel.
14
I went back and staked out Kathie’s apartment, but she never came back. Good. She was probably headed for a new place. Any pattern break was better than none at this point. After dinner that night I finished up Regeneration Through Violence and was thumbing through the International Herald Tribune when Hawk called. “Where are you?” I said. “Copenhagen, babe, the Paris of the North.”
“Where is she?”
“She here too. She checked into an apartment here. You coming over?”
“Yeah. Be there tomorrow. Anyone with her?”
“Not yet. She just flew over, came to the apartment and went in. She ain’t come out.”
“The revolutionaries do lead an exciting life, don’t they?”
“Like you and me, babe, international adventurers. I’m at the Sheraton Copenhagen watching Danish television. What you doing, man?”
“I was glancing through the Herald Tribune when you called. Very interesting. An enriching experience.” Hawk said, “Yeah. Me too.”
“I’ll come over tomorrow,” I said. “Room five-two-three,” Hawk said. “Have them pack up my stuff and ship it to Henry. Hate to have some limey walking around in my threads.”
“Ah Hawk,” I said, “you sentimental bastard.”
“You gonna like it here, babe,” Hawk said. “Why is that?”
“The broads are all blond and they sell beer in the Coke machine. ”
“Maybe I’ll come over tonight,” I said. But I didn’t. I slept another night in England. In the morning I arranged for Hawk’s stuff to be shipped to the States. I called Flanders and told him where I was going. Then I packed my gun as before, in my luggage, and flew to Denmark. Have gun, will travel. Did Paladin do vengeance? Probably. The airport at Copenhagen was modern and glassy, with a lot of level escalators to move people around the airport. I took a bus in from the airport to the SAS terminal in the Royal Hotel. On the way I spotted the Sheraton. A short walk from the terminal. I made the walk carrying my flight bag, my suitcase and my garment bag, feeling the odd excited buzz I always felt in a place I’d never been. The Sheraton looked like Sheratons I’d seen in New York, Boston and Chicago. Newer maybe than New York and Chicago. More like Boston. It looked as Danish as Bond bread.
I checked in. The desk clerk spoke English with no accent. Embarrassing. I didn’t even know how to say Soren Kierkegaard. The hell with him. How many one-armed push-ups can he do? I unpacked and dialed room 523. No answer. The air conditioner was purring under the window but wasn’t cooling the room. The temperature was about 96. I opened the windows and looked out. There was a broad park across the street with a lake in it. The park extended several blocks down to the right. Across the park I could see another hotel. The open window’s help was largely psychological, but I didn’t feel quite as bad. I reassembled my gun, loaded it, put it in its shoulder holster and hung the rig on a chair back. My shirt was wet. I took it off. The rest of me was wet too. I took off my clothes, brought the gun and holster with me into the bathroom, hung it on the door knob and took a shower. Then I toweled off, put on clean clothes and looked out the window some more. About two in the afternoon there was a knock on the door. I took my gun out, stood to one side of the door and said, “Yeah.”
“Hawk.” I opened the door and he came in. He was wearing white Nikes with a red slash, and white duck pants and an off-white safari jacket with short sleeves. He was carrying two open bottles of Carlsberg beer. “Fresh from the machine,” he said, and gave me one. I drank most of it. “I thought Scandinavia was cool and northern, ” I said. “Heat wave,” Hawk said. “Never had one like this before, they keep saying. That’s why the air conditioners don’t do shit. They never really use them.” I finished the beer. “Right in the Coke machine, you say?”
“Yeah, man, right on your floor here, around the corner from the elevator. You got any kroner?” I nodded. “I exchanged some at the desk when I checked in.”
“Come on, we’ll get us a couple more. Helps with the heat.” We went out and got two more beers and came back in. “Okay, where is she?” I said. The beer was very cool in my throat. “About a block down that way,” Hawk said. “You lean far enough out your window, you probably see her place.”
“Why aren’t you poised outside watching her every move?”
“She went in about eleven, nothing happened since. I was thirsty and I figured I’d come see if you got in.”
“Anything shaking since I talked with you before?”
“Naw. She hasn’t done a thing. Somebody else staking her out though.”
“Ah hah,” I said. “What you say?”
“I said, Ah hah.”
“That what I thought you say. You honkies do talk strange.”
“They spot you?” I said. “Course they didn’t spot me. Would they spot you?”
“No. I withdraw the question.”
“Damn right.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Dark fella. Not a brother. Maybe a Syrian, something, some kind of Arab.”
“Tough?”
“Oh yeah. He got a look. I think he had a piece. Saw him sort of shrug like the shoulder holster straps was aggravating him.”
