The Hammer of Thor (The Falkenburg Files Book 1) by Miles Andrew J

Author:Miles, Andrew J. [Miles, Andrew J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roberts & Maclay Publishing
Published: 2023-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

NAZDROVIE!

Helsinki, May 4, 1952

“Ah, my two friends have returned! And I see you come bearing gifts!” Alexander Mitrenko welcomed them into his hotel suite with open arms. He wore a silk bathrobe, and in his right hand he held a glass of champagne. Gero found the Russian’s theatrical bonhomie instantly nauseating, but he decided to play along.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” he said. “We have indeed brought some fine gifts with us.” Gero handed his rucksack to Mitrenko.

“Thank you very much. Do sit down! Would you like something to drink? But of course you would. I’m such a terrible host! Sergei, champagne for my friends!”

While Freder and Gero took a seat on the couch, Mitrenko took the gloves and the tapestry pieces out of the rucksack. His eyes began to gleam, and he looked over to Freder and Gero with a broad grin.

“Excellent! I knew I could rely on you! What did you do with the traitor?

“He’s fish food,” replied Freder.

“Marvelous. And the others at the camp? Did you leave them unharmed?”

“Yes, we just scared them a little and tied them up.”

“Good. I hope that will deter them from any further search for the hammer.”

“Why could we not just kill them? That would stop them from getting in our way,” said Gero.

“Because that would be too many dead Americans at once. It would only draw unwanted attention—and the last thing I want is too much attention. The museum director was bad enough.” Mitrenko smiled.

“That’s true, but I don’t think the Americans will be frightened off so easily. They’re bound to keep looking.”

“In that event we will take appropriate measures, trust me. I take it I can still count on your help, of course?”

“We remain at your service,” replied Freder in an obsequious tone.

“You have my thanks. Have you inspected the tapestry closely yet?” he asked Gero.

“Yes, I have.”

“And?” Mitrenko’s voice gained a hostile edge. Gero knew the Russian hated asking, and he derived a bit of satisfaction from making him do so.

“The tapestry unquestionably tells the story of Leif Erikson,” he said finally.

“And the gloves? Are they really the gloves of the god of thunder?”

“Hard to say. They are certainly extraordinary. I doubt any Viking would have had the skill to craft gloves like these.”

Mitrenko sat down in his chair and spread the tapestry pieces out on the coffee table, then stared long and hard at them. Only when Sergei returned with the champagne did he lift his head.

“Ah, very good, Sergei. Now pour a glass for our friends.” Mitrenko waited until Sergei had poured, then he raised his glass.

“To you! May our partnership continue to proceed as successfully! Nazdrovie! ”

Gero and Freder raised their glasses and Freder drank the contents of his in a single gulp. Gero, however, paused skeptically.

“Come now, Herr von Steinheim! Why so mistrustful?” With a cool smile, Mitrenko stood up, walked over to Gero and tipped some of Gero’s champagne into his own glass, then tossed it back.

“Nazdrovie! ” repeated Gero, and drank.

“Good. Now leave me alone.

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