Trojan Gold - Elizabeth Peters [87]
In my opinion, it was questionable as to whether either of us qualified, but I did as she asked, and Jan sat down. They made a nice couple; unlike the other men, Jan was formally attired in a gray three-piece suit and a somber dark tie. He only needed a black armband to complete the picture, but even the rotten tailoring and dismal color couldn’t mar Jan’s absurd good looks. He’d look divine in the clothes like those of the King in the painting—rich brocades and glowing colors, and the chaperone headdress, with its graceful hanging drapery.
Tony on my other side gave me a sharp jab in the ribs, and I realized that a silence had fallen over the table. Several people started talking at once; out of the corner of his mouth Tony muttered, “You look like a groupie staring at a rock star. Stop making a fool out of yourself.”
“I’ll have plenty of help,” I said.
Dieter banged on the table. “A toast,” he exclaimed, raising his glass. “Let us drink to…to Heinrich Schliemann!”
Schmidt giggled and Tony’s tight lips relaxed. Jan nodded gravely; but after Elise had drained her glass, she said pettishly, “I say to hell with Heinrich Schliemann. He started this—”
“Yes, but you can’t blame him,” said Dieter. He leaned over and planted a wet, smacking kiss on her cheek. “It is my fault you are here, Herzgeliebte, so you should say to hell with Dieter.”
“To hell with Dieter,” Elise said. I realized she was a little drunk. She must have downed a few before joining us.
Jan ignored the byplay. “I am glad you have decided to be candid,” he said, addressing the table at large. “As I said to Vicky today, it is foolish we should not cooperate.”
“To hell with cooperation,” Elise muttered. “I think you are all crazy. This is a wild-goose chase; we are wasting our time.”
“Oh, you hurt me,” Dieter exclaimed, clutching his heart. “I have not wasted my time, Schatzie. What is the harm in this, if it gives us a pleasant holiday? Here—have more champagne.”
“I believe I will,” Elise said.
“You claim this is for you only a pleasant holiday?” Jan demanded, frowning. “You refuse to—”
“Oh, don’t be such a suspicious old Marxist,” Dieter said. “No one is trying to put one over on you, Jan. We came here for the same reason—we admit that—and now we know we have arrived at a dead end. Is that not so? Hoffman is dead, the treasure is hidden, if it was ever here to begin with, and that is all there is to it. Now I say forget it, enjoy yourself.”
“But—” Jan began.
“But nothing. Have you an idea, a theory, you would like to propose? No? And you, Vicky—you, Tony?…” His bright, amused eyes moved around the table. “And you, Dieter? Dieter says no, he has no idea either. So let’s forget it and have fun, eh?”
“Amen to that,” Elise said loudly.
The arrival of the first course put an end to the discussion, if not to the disagreement. The band arrived, and began playing—a bizarre mixture of American soft rock and schmaltzy Bavarian waltzes. Filled with food and drink, especially the latter, Tony asked me to dance. I declined; Tony is even more of a menace on the dance floor than he is on skis. So he asked Elise, out of spite, and she was delighted to accept.
Dieter and Schmidt had gone back to discussing disguises, which left me tête-à-tête with Jan. He ate in silence for a while; then the band broke into a waltz—I think it was a waltz—and Jan said solemnly, “Will you honor me?”
“Why not?” I said.
The dance floor was so full we couldn’t do much but stand in one spot and sway back and forth. Jan swayed rather nicely; I told him so, and he returned the compliment. He was holding me even closer than the crowded conditions demanded, and when his hand began making what my mother would have called “rude gestures,” I said, amused, “I’m surprised at you, Jan.”
“Surprised? That I am human, after all?” At close range the smile was drop-dead blinding. He went on, “Do you think I am some sort of machine? No, Vicky, I am a man; I feel as any man would feel in the company of a beautiful woman.”
There was ample evidence of that. At that interesting moment the music ended