to answer the young lady’s questions.’ Wolf was interested despite hitnself. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Well, Herr Wolf,’ Elizabeth said nervously, ignoring the annoyance on the headmaster’s face, ‘I was just wondering what it was like to break the record on the Hahnenkamm?’
‘What?’ Wolf stuttered, taken aback.
‘In nineteen twenty-five,’ the young girl added helpfully.
‘]a, I remember when it was,’ Hans Wolf replied. He took a closer look at the pretty eyes and saw the pale ring of goggle-marks. ‘It was terrifying. Wonderful. You are interested in skiing?’ How many of his own. countrymen knew he’d broken that record? It was half a century ago
now.
Elizabeth nodded eagerly and Herr Geller, wanting to impress a member of the Olympic committee, .added,
‘Lady Elizabeth is a very good skier, I believe, Herr Wolf. Our own instructors taught her. The Ecole has an excellent record into’
Wolf caught the scornful glint in Elizabeth’s eye and was suddenly vastly amused. Maybe he could take the young Friiulein out for lunch at a mountain caf& Good sausage, black bread, soup. A glass of Ptlaumen. No doubt she would enjoy the chance to get out of this ridiculous establishment for a while, and it would be fun to tell war stories from his youth. The Hahnenkamm in 9z5! A lifetime ago.
‘So I hear, Herr Geller. I would very much like to see for myself, though.’ He turned to Elizabeth. ‘Young lady, will you show me what you have learned? We could take the gondola up to Plattjen.’
‘I’d love to, sir.’ Elizabeth glanced at Herr Geller. ‘Natiilich, go ahead,’ he said expansively. ‘We have many skis, suits and boots in the games room, Herr Wolf, if you would like to join her yourself.’
‘I hung up my skis a few years back.’ Wolf eyed the
young woman speculatively. ‘Are you good?’
‘Very good,’ Elizabeth said boldly.
Wolf grinned. ‘There are some nasty mogul fields up there. We’ll see.’
Hans Wolf leaned over the rail on the restaurant balcony, wondering if he could believe his eyes. Down the steep, unforgiving slope opposite him, Elizabeth’s strong young body was flying around the-moguls. The stick was planted firmly and removed cleanly, She jumped high and twisted sharply from the waist. Slice, leap, slice. No mogul seemed too large, no jump too high. The teenager moved with instinctive grace and skill. The technique was unpolished, but Gott in Himmel! she was superb.
Ten minutes ago he’d been looking forward to an encouraging chat and a pleasant lunch. The Engliinderin
aristocrat was very down to earth and warm, openly admiring of him, obviously passionate about skiing and funny about her school. He had settled on the restaurant balcony and told her to have a go at the short, steep mogul run while he ordered lunch. The first time he watched her descent Wolf thought he must be imagining things. He waved at her to do it again, to check it was not a fluke. And then again.
She was so good, it set his adrenalin flowing just to watch her. For a second the old man imagined Heidi Laufen and Louise Levier, their own World Cup hopes on the Swiss women’s team. They wouldn’t thank him for what he was about to do, but he didn’t hesitate for a second.
‘ He beckoned to a waiter. ‘Do you have a payphone in the back?’ he asked. ‘I need to make a telephone call.’
‘Of course, sir. Let me show you,’ the waiter said, and led him into the bar. Wolf dropped some coins into the slot and dialled the number from memory.
‘British Ski Federation,’ replied a female voice.
‘This is Hans Wolf calling from Switzerland,’ he said. ‘Is the director around?’
Chapter 7
Six hundred and twenty-seven dollars didn’t get you very far, even in Brooklyn.
‘Fifty a week,’ the landlord said.
Nina shrugged and looked scornful. She was staring into a tiny, cramped little room with damp stains on the walls, a tiny chipped basin and one closet. The
‘Well, Herr Wolf,’ Elizabeth said nervously, ignoring the annoyance on the headmaster’s face, ‘I was just wondering what it was like to break the record on the Hahnenkamm?’
‘What?’ Wolf stuttered, taken aback.
‘In nineteen twenty-five,’ the young girl added helpfully.
‘]a, I remember when it was,’ Hans Wolf replied. He took a closer look at the pretty eyes and saw the pale ring of goggle-marks. ‘It was terrifying. Wonderful. You are interested in skiing?’ How many of his own. countrymen knew he’d broken that record? It was half a century ago
now.
Elizabeth nodded eagerly and Herr Geller, wanting to impress a member of the Olympic committee, .added,
‘Lady Elizabeth is a very good skier, I believe, Herr Wolf. Our own instructors taught her. The Ecole has an excellent record into’
Wolf caught the scornful glint in Elizabeth’s eye and was suddenly vastly amused. Maybe he could take the young Friiulein out for lunch at a mountain caf& Good sausage, black bread, soup. A glass of Ptlaumen. No doubt she would enjoy the chance to get out of this ridiculous establishment for a while, and it would be fun to tell war stories from his youth. The Hahnenkamm in 9z5! A lifetime ago.
‘So I hear, Herr Geller. I would very much like to see for myself, though.’ He turned to Elizabeth. ‘Young lady, will you show me what you have learned? We could take the gondola up to Plattjen.’
‘I’d love to, sir.’ Elizabeth glanced at Herr Geller. ‘Natiilich, go ahead,’ he said expansively. ‘We have many skis, suits and boots in the games room, Herr Wolf, if you would like to join her yourself.’
‘I hung up my skis a few years back.’ Wolf eyed the
young woman speculatively. ‘Are you good?’
‘Very good,’ Elizabeth said boldly.
Wolf grinned. ‘There are some nasty mogul fields up there. We’ll see.’
Hans Wolf leaned over the rail on the restaurant balcony, wondering if he could believe his eyes. Down the steep, unforgiving slope opposite him, Elizabeth’s strong young body was flying around the-moguls. The stick was planted firmly and removed cleanly, She jumped high and twisted sharply from the waist. Slice, leap, slice. No mogul seemed too large, no jump too high. The teenager moved with instinctive grace and skill. The technique was unpolished, but Gott in Himmel! she was superb.
Ten minutes ago he’d been looking forward to an encouraging chat and a pleasant lunch. The Engliinderin
aristocrat was very down to earth and warm, openly admiring of him, obviously passionate about skiing and funny about her school. He had settled on the restaurant balcony and told her to have a go at the short, steep mogul run while he ordered lunch. The first time he watched her descent Wolf thought he must be imagining things. He waved at her to do it again, to check it was not a fluke. And then again.
She was so good, it set his adrenalin flowing just to watch her. For a second the old man imagined Heidi Laufen and Louise Levier, their own World Cup hopes on the Swiss women’s team. They wouldn’t thank him for what he was about to do, but he didn’t hesitate for a second.
‘ He beckoned to a waiter. ‘Do you have a payphone in the back?’ he asked. ‘I need to make a telephone call.’
‘Of course, sir. Let me show you,’ the waiter said, and led him into the bar. Wolf dropped some coins into the slot and dialled the number from memory.
‘British Ski Federation,’ replied a female voice.
‘This is Hans Wolf calling from Switzerland,’ he said. ‘Is the director around?’
Chapter 7
Six hundred and twenty-seven dollars didn’t get you very far, even in Brooklyn.
‘Fifty a week,’ the landlord said.
Nina shrugged and looked scornful. She was staring into a tiny, cramped little room with damp stains on the walls, a tiny chipped basin and one closet. The
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