The Corridors of Time (2 page)

Her mask clamped down. She sat utterly relaxed and went on, cool of tone. ‘Besides, I require assistance. The task is dangerous.
You seem much better fitted than some
slogg
I might hire off the street. The payment will not be niggard’s.’

‘Miss,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t want any pay for – for anything at all.’

‘You will need travel funds, at least,’ she told him. ‘Immediately after the trial, Ellsworth will give you an envelope with
a check and instructions. Meanwhile, you are not to speak a
word about me. If asked who is financing your defense, say a wealthy distant relative. Is that clear?’

Only later, trying to make sense of the whole fantastic matter, did he wonder if she was some kind of criminal, and refuse
to believe that she could be. In this moment, he knew a command when he heard one, and nodded dumbly.

She rose. He stumbled to his feet ‘I will not return here,’ she said. Her hand clasped his, a swift firm gesture. ‘We will
meet again when you are free, in Denmark. Now good-bye and good heart to you.’

He stared after her until she was gone, and then down to the hand she had taken.

September 14, her letter had said, at nine in the morning. Lockridge woke early, couldn’t get back to sleep, and finally went
for a long walk. He wanted to say farewell to Copenhagen anyhow. Whatever the job Storm Darroway had for him, it would scarcely
be here – not when he was directed to buy backpacking equipment for two, a rifle, and a pistol – and he had fallen in love
with the city.

Bicycles swarmed the streets, weaving in and out of auto traffic, the last workward rush. Their riders didn’t have the beaten
look of American commuters: placid portly men, young fellows in business suits or student caps, girls with fresh faces and
blowing blonde hair, all openly enjoyed life. The gay glitter of Tivoli was like champagne in the blood, but you needn’t go
there to taste the Old Vienna spirit. Sufficient was to walk down Langelinje, sea winds in your nostrils, ships
bound for the outposts of the world; stop to pay your respects to the Little Mermaid and Gefjon of the Oxen; go past royal
Amalienborg, left along the canal through Nyhavn where centuries-old seamen’s taverns sleepily recalled last night’s fun,
across Kongens Nytorv with a pause for a quick beer at an outdoor café; and on among Renaissance churches, palaces, counting
houses, whose slender copper-sheathed spires pierced the sky with loveliness.

I got so damn much to be grateful to that woman for, Lock-ridge reflected, and not least that she had me arrive here three
weeks ahead of time.

He had wondered why. Her instructions were to get ordnance maps and familiarize himself with the Danish topography, spend
many hours in the Old Nordic section of the National Museum, and read several books that thoroughly explained the exhibits.
He obeyed conscientiously, puzzled but not questioning his luck. There were ample chances for recreation, and no lack of companionship.
The Danes were friendly, delightfully so in the case of two young ladies he had met. Maybe that was Storm Darroway’s idea:
for him to recover from the ordeal behind him, and work off enough biological steam that he wouldn’t be making passes at her
– wherever they were bound.

The reminder was jolting. Today! He quickened his steps. The hotel she had ordered him to use hove into view. Trying to ease
the tension that gathered in him, he took the stairs to his room rather than an elevator.

He had not long to pace and chain-smoke. The phone rang. He yanked it off the hook. The clerk said, in excellent English,
‘Mr Lockridge? You are asked to meet Miss Darroway outside in fifteen minutes, with your baggage.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ For a moment he bristled. She was treating him like a servant. No, he decided. I’ve been so long in the northern
states I’ve forgotten what a real lady expects. No reason to get a bellhop. He slipped a pack onto his shoulders, took the
other one and his suitcase in his hands, and went down to check out.

A gleaming-new Dauphine stopped by the curb. She was at the wheel. He had not forgotten her looks, that was impossible, but
when her dark head leaned out the window, he drew a breath and the Danish girls fell from his awareness.

‘How do you do,’ he said lamely.

She smiled. ‘Welcome back to freedom, Malcolm Lock-ridge,’ the husky voice greeted him. ‘Shall we start?’

He put the gear in the trunk and joined her. She was wearing slacks and sneakers, but looked no less imperial than before.
She slipped the car into traffic with more skill than he could have shown. ‘Whew!’ he said. ‘You don’t waste time, do you?’

‘There is little to spare,’ she answered. ‘I want to be across this country before nightfall.’

Lockridge pulled his eyes from her profile. ‘I, uh, I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I read you aright.’

‘But if you’ll tell me—’

‘In a moment. I gather you were acquitted.’

‘Completely. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.’

‘By helping me, of course,’ she said with a touch of impatience. ‘But let us discuss your own situation first. I need to know
what commitments you have.’

‘Why – none, really. I’d no idea how long this job would take, so I haven’t applied for another. I can stay with my mother
till I do get one.’

‘Does she expect you back soon?’

‘No. I stopped off in Kentucky to see my folks. Your letter said not to let on, so I only told them my defense had been handled
by somebody rich who thought I was gettin’ a raw deal and now wanted me in Europe as a consultant on a research project that
might or might not take quite a while. Okay?’

‘Excellent.’ She dazzled him with a look. ‘I did not misjudge your ingenuity either.’

‘But where are we headed, anyway? What for?’

‘I cannot tell you much. But, briefly, we are to recover and
transport a treasure.’

Lockridge shaped a whistle and fumbled for a cigarette.

‘You find that unbelievable? Melodramatic? Something from a bad novel?’ Storm Darroway chuckled. ‘Why do people in this age
think their own impoverished lives must be the norm of the universe? Consider. The atoms that built you are clouds of sheer
energy. The sun that shines on you could consume this planet, and there are other suns that could swallow
it.
Your ancestors hunted the mammoth, crossed oceans in row-boats, died on a thousand red fields. Your civilization stands at
the edge of oblivion. Within your own body, at this instant, a war is fought without quarter against invaders that could devour
you, against entropy and time itself. There is a norm for you!’

She gestured at the street, where folk were about their daily business. ‘A thousand years ago they were wiser,’ she said.
‘They knew the world and the gods would go under and nothing could be done but meet that day bravely.’

‘Well—’ Lockridge hesitated. ‘Okay. Maybe I’m just not the Ragnarok type.’

She laughed. The car hummed onward. They were out of the old city, into a district of high apartment buildings, before she
continued :

‘I will be brief. Do you remember that the Ukraine rebelled against the Soviet government, a number of years ago? The revolt
was savagely put down, but the fight lasted long. And the headquarters of the freedom movement was here, in Copenhagen.’

Lockridge scowled. ‘Yes, I’ve studied foreign politics.’

‘There was a – a war chest,’ she said, ‘that was hidden away when the cause began to look hopeless. Now, lately, we have found
someone who knows the place.’

His muscles tautened. ‘We?’

‘The liberation movement. Not for the Ukraine alone any more, but for everyone enslaved. We need those funds.’

‘Wait a minute! What the dickens?’

‘Oh, we do not hope to set free a third of the planet over-
night. But propaganda, subversion, escape routes to the West – such things cost money. And nothing may be looked for from
governments that blither of a
détente.’

He needed time to collect his wits. So he said, ‘That’s right. I used to claim, in bull sessions and so forth, there seems
to be a will to suicide in America these days. The way we sit up and beg for any kind word from anybody, whether or not he’s
sworn to wreck us. The way we turn over whole continents to idiots, demagogues, and cannibals. The way, even at home, we twist
the plain words of the Constitution to buy off any bunch of – never mind. My arguments didn’t make me any too well liked.’

An odd exultation flitted across her face, but she said flatly :

‘The gold is at the end of a tunnel in western Jutland, dug by the Germans during their occupation of Denmark for an ultra-secret
research project. The anti-Nazi underground raided that base near the end of the war. Apparently everyone there who knew of
the tunnel was killed, because its existence was never revealed in public. The Ukrainians learned of it from a man on his
deathbed, and took it over as a hiding place. After their revolt was crushed and they disbanded, their treasury was left.
You see, those few who had been told about it would not betray their trust by appropriating the gold for their private use,
yet they had no more cause. Most of them are dead now, of age or accident or murder by Soviet agents. The last survivors finally
decided to let our organization have the fund. I have been assigned to fetch it. You are my helper.’

‘But – but – why me? You’ve got men of your own.’

‘Have you never heard of using an outside courier? An East European might too likely be watched, or searched. But American
tourists go everywhere. Their luggage is seldom opened at the frontiers, especially if they are traveling cheaply.

‘Beaten into leaf, the gold can be sewn into our garments, the linings of our sleeping bags, and so on. We will go by motorcycle
to Geneva and there turn it over to the proper person.’ Her eyes challenged him. ‘Are you game?’

Lockridge bit his lip. The thing was too weird to swallow in
a piece. ‘You don’t think they’ll wave us on with this arsenal I bought, do you?’

‘The guns are mere precaution while we prepare the gold to go. We will leave them behind.’ Storm Darroway fell silent a while.
‘I will not insult your intelligence,’ she said gently. ‘This involves certain violations of law. They might become very great
violations, if there is a fight. I need a man who will take the risks and is capable of meeting trouble, and tough if he must
be, yet not a criminal tempted by the chance of personal gain. You seemed right. If I have been mistaken, I beg you to tell
me now.’

‘Well – that is —’ Lockridge recovered some humor. ‘If you wanted James Bond, you sure were mistaken.’

She gave him a blank glance. ‘Who?’

‘Never mind,’ he said, largely to cover his own astonishment. ‘Uh — All right, I’ll speak plain. How do I know you are what
you say? This could be an ordinary smugglin’ ring, or a con game, or … or anything. Even a Russian stunt. How do I know?’

The city was falling behind, the road so clear that she could give him a long regard. ‘I cannot tell you more than I have
done,’ she said. ‘Another part of your task is to trust me.’

He looked into those eyes and surrendered with joy. ‘Okay!’ he exclaimed. ‘You got yourself a smuggler.’

Her right hand fell on his left and squeezed. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and that was ample.

They drove on in silence, through green countryside and little red-roofed villages. He ached to talk with her, but you wait
for the queen to open conversation. They were entering Roskilde when he finally ventured: ‘You’d better give me some details.
The layout and so on.’

‘Later,’ she said. ‘This day is too fair.’

He could not read her expression, but a softness lay on the mouth. Yes, he thought, in your kind of life you must grab after
everything beautiful you can, while you can. They passed near the great three-spired cathedral and he wished he could find
better words than, ‘Quite a church yonder.’

‘A hundred kings lie buried there,’ she said. ‘But under the market square are the still more ancient ruins of St Lawrence’s;
and before that rose, there was a heathen temple with the gable ends carved into dragon heads. For this was the royal seat
of Viking Denmark.’ Somehow it ran a shiver down his nerves. But her mood passed like a blown cloud and she smiled. ‘Did you
know that the modern Danes call the Perseid meteors the tears of St Lawrence? They are a people of charming fancies.’

‘You seem right interested in them,’ he remarked. ‘Is that why you wanted me to study up on their past?’

Her tone stiffened. ‘We need a cover story in case we are observed. Archeological curiosity is a good excuse for poking about,
in a land this old. But I said I do not wish to think about these matters now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Again she bewildered him with change. ‘Poor Malcolm,’ she teased. ‘Is it that hard for you to be idle? Come, we are to be
a pair of tourists, camping out at night, eating and drinking at poor men’s inns, winding down back roads and through forgotten
hamlets, from here to Switzerland. Let us begin to practice the part.’

‘Oh, I’m good at bein’ a bum,’ he said, eager to please.

‘Have you traveled much, besides your field trips?’

‘Sort of. Hitchhiked around some, and used to go into the hinterlands on Okinawa when I had a pass, and took a leave in Japan—’

He was sophisticated enough to admire the skill with which she encouraged him to talk about himself. But that didn’t make
the process less enjoyable. Not that he was given to bragging; however, when a gorgeous woman listened with so much interest,
he naturally obliged her.

The Dauphine purred down the island, Rinsted, Sorø Slag-else, and so to Korsør on the Belt. There they must take the ferry.
Storm – she had awarded him permission to be on first-name terms; it felt like an accolade – led him to the restaurant aboard.
‘This is a good time to have lunch,’ she said, ‘especially
since drinks are tax free in international waters.’

‘You mean this channel is?’

‘Yes, around 1900 or so, Britain, France, and Germany held a conference and grew touchingly unanimous in their opinion that
the straits through the middle of Denmark are part of the high seas.’