They strolled into the bar and sat down around one of the low-slung wooden tables. They all needed a drink, a moment to relax, to contemplate and decide how to cope with the latest developments. Getting any of the gold out of Greece was going to be more complicated than they originally imagined. And far more risky.
They ordered whiskeys with water and sipped slowly, each absorbed in private thoughts. Michelle reached over and briefly squeezed Ritter’s hand. A sign of encouragement, affection, the gesture warmed him.
Michelle. Her blond hair needed to be combed out. She looked slightly weary. But she was beautiful. It had been a long time since he had been so taken with a woman. A long time.
They continued to sip quietly, each seeking refreshment in the silence.
The well-dressed woman in the corner watched them intensely, nervously fidgeting with her handbag. She was a handsome woman, with strong features clearly under attack by middle age and a deep inner sadness she wore like a veil of mourning. After several anxious minutes she stood up, hesitated, and walked over to them.
Ritter could sense the woman standing over him behind his chair. He turned and looked up over his shoulder at her.
“Hello, Brian,” she said softly. “I thought it might be you.” She nervously glanced at the scar on his temple.
He looked at her intently. The dark, tormented eyes, vaguely familiar, spoke of tragedy and profound grief. Deep shadows under her eyes had aged her face beyond its years, but the basic lines of the face had not disappeared. She was still attractive. She had just missed being beautiful. “Melanie?” His voice cracked.
She nodded. “You haven’t changed much,” she said, trying to interject a light note into her voice. She bit the inside of her lip.
Khoury and Michelle looked around. Ritter stumbled for words, trying to recover some sense of composure. “Melanie,” he said, getting to his feet. “Melanie …” He couldn’t get the sound of disbelief out of his voice. “I, uh, I want you to meet my friends.”
Melanie looked over at the younger woman. “Hello,” she said, offering her hand and an awkward smile.
Michelle responded with a cautious smile of her own.
“Please sit down. Join us,” said Ritter, gradually recovering from the initial shock.
“If you’ll excuse me,” said Khoury, “I’ve got to go upstairs.”
“Me too,” said Michelle hastily. She was tom between her curiosity and the realization that the woman and Ritter needed to speak privately.
Melanie offered a grateful glance. She didn’t attempt to protest their departure.
“Something to drink?” asked Ritter.
She shook her head as she sat down.
A long, difficult pause. So much to be said. Where to begin?
“I, uh …” They both spoke at once, interrupting each Other. Awkward laughs.
“As you were saying …” said Ritter.
“No, please go ahead,” she replied.
“When we took off, the Germans were shooting at us. I thought they captured you … or worse.”
“I was captured,” she said. “They held me for several weeks. This is where I got this.” She pulled up the sleeve of her dress and showed him an ugly scar. “There are others.”
“Melanie …”
“No, there is nothing you can say. Or could have done. They held me for three weeks before I was rescued.”
“Andropolous?”
“Voko,” she said quietly.
“Voko?”
“Yes, I am his wife.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.
The words squeezed the breath out of him. “You … that’s how you heard …”
“Yes, my husband mentioned an American who had been here during the war. He doesn’t know much about you, but he mentioned the scar.” She bit the inside of her lip.
Ritter touched his temple where the German bullet had grazed him thirty-two years earlier as he lunged to save Melanie’s life. “Permanent souvenir.” He smiled cautiously.
“I waited for you as long as I could,” she said. “After Voko freed me from the Germans, he insisted I marry him. I didn’t want to, but he was in a position to ruin my father. You can’t imagine what that means. My family insisted. I … I had no choice.” Her eyes were suddenly red and watery. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to be like this. You are married?”
“No. Never got around to it.”
“The girl?”
“A friend.”
“You know where the gold is?”
“I think so. We are going to dig it up with your husband.”
He leaned toward her. The cross around his neck dangled out.
Melanie stared. “You’re still wearing it.”
“I wasn’t sure—”
She interrupted, her face turned down so he couldn’t see the tears. “I must go. I should not be seen here with you. So many years have passed, so many things have changed. Please be careful…. He is not to be trusted.”
Ritter’s own eyes blurred as he watched her walk away.
* * *
“She’s lovely,” said Michelle carefully. Ritter obviously had been strongly affected by the unexpected appearance of the woman.
He sank into the chair in the corner of their room, fingering the silver cross he always wore around his neck. “I thought she was dead.” he said.
Michelle remained silent.
“Bullets were hitting the plane as I jumped on. We had to get up fast. I could see them closing in on her. There had been plenty of stories about the Germans not taking prisoners among the partisans. After the attack on the train, I was certain …”
“Are you planning to see her again?” Michelle asked.
“It’s impossible.”
“Impossible?”
“She’s Voko’s wife.”
Michelle gasped.
“I’m not sure Voko would react kindly to the reappearance of her wartime lover.” Ritter paused, looking at Michelle, turning the cross over and over in his fingers. “I’m just part of her past. I have no right to suddenly become part of her life now.”