Apartamente de vanzare bucuresti
He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep. However, I felt fine. I was able to purchase a daypack from a climbing supplies store catering to early risers. I took some extra food from the hotel buffet breakfast for my lunch and some bottled water, and I was ready for the trail. Assuming our suspect and his friends were climbing the Matterhorn, they had to do it in two stages. The first stage was to get to the Mountain House where I was going. They would spend the night there and tackle the climb to the summit the next morning, hopefully with a guide. Those who had tried to climb to the peak without a guide filled apartamente de vanzare bucuresti the cemetery in Zermatt. The trail to the top from the Mountain House was steep, rocky, snow-covered in places, and prone to minor avalanches, especially if there were a lot of climbers on the mountain, since they kicked loose stones down the trail onto the heads of the people below. August was the peak climbing month.
To get to Schwarzee (black lake) where the trail I was taking to the Mountain House started, I traveled on a tram and a cable car. That took me up to 2,582 meters. The Mountain House was at 3,260 meters or 10,700 feet. The apartamente de vanzare bucuresti whole trail was well above the tree line, so I had vistas of fabulous alpine peaks during the entire hike, their rocky surfaces etched into artistic shapes by the weather over millions of years, with intermittent blankets of snow for contrast. I kept an eye out for my suspect and his gang, but I didn’t expect to see him on the trail. My plan was to beat him to the Mountain House and wait for him there. The people on the trail were mostly men, dressed in knee breeches or lederhosen with lug-soled boots.
The sun warmed the air apartamente de vanzare bucuresti
Enough that some of them were wearing short-sleeved shirts. I was the only woman hiking alone, and I must have looked funny with my scarf and jeans and running shoes, but everybody gets respect on the trail. I had no trouble keeping up with the other hikers, and because I didn’t stop much to rest I passed a number of them. I was in good shape from running. Slow and steady is the name of the game in the mountains; remember the tortoise and the hare.
My experiences hiking with my cousin in Southern California gave me confidence negotiating the rocky trail. However, I was glad when I arrived at the Mountain House and was able to sit down at one of the outside wooden tables and eat my lunch. That lasted for about two minutes. One of the employees came over and informed me in no uncertain terms that the tables were for patrons only. I broke down and purchased a coke, one drink you can get anywhere in the world. That was my ticket to a seat, and I was able to eat my lunch in peace. I tried to call Alice and Enoch, but I couldn’t get a connection for my cellphone. I scrutinized the hikers arriving from Zermatt on the trail. Since they all stopped at the Mountain House, that wasn’t difficult to do. I heard a helicopter coming up the mountain and went to investigate. It was carrying a net below it on a long rope. I figured it was going to the rescue of an injured hiker, perhaps high up the mountain, but it landed on the roof of an outbuilding and the pilot and hotel employees unloaded a net-load of soda cans for the hotel. I wanted to start down the trail in time to return to Zermatt before Alice and Enoch became worried about me.
The sun wouldn’t set until after 8:30 so that wasn’t a problem—yet. I definitely didn’t want to hike the trail at night. At times it went along the edge of a cliff, and I could picture myself stumbling on a rock and falling, like in the dreams I sometimes had. But this one wouldn’t end with me waking up safely in bed. As the afternoon wore on, I wondered whether Enoch had correctly interpreted the conversation he’d heard in the restroom. Maybe they weren’t coming up here at all. Perhaps Enoch and Alice had tracked them somewhere else, and solved the mystery of the blond man’s identity. Was I wasting my time? I was close to giving up my vigil and heading back down the mountain when I saw them: the blond man and two of his apartamente de vanzare bucuresti male friends, coming up the trail. I’d been wandering around in the vicinity of the hotel, my light pack on my back. I stopped and watched the three go into the hotel.
They must be staying the night. They didn’t come up here just to rush back down, so they were going to make an assault on the peak tomorrow morning. The blond disappeared before I got a close look at him.
When they didn’t appear apartamente in five minutes
The weather was still balmy. I hoped they’d come outside again. I went inside, looking for them. I glanced around the lobby but didn’t see them. I couldn’t ask the desk clerk about them because I wanted to remain inconspicuous, and I couldn’t disappear without racing back down the trail. One of the suspect’s friends came down the stairs and went into the bar. I followed him. He sat at a table. I sat on a stool at the counter and ordered another coke. Five minutes later the other two men came in and sat with him.
From my vantage point, I could glance casually at them. I looked at the earlobe of the blond but from where I sat I couldn’t decide whether it had been surgically repaired or not. They were speaking German to each other. My knowledge of German was zilch, but I could tell from listening to them that they were all conversant with the apartamente de vanzare bucuresti language. Nothing we knew about Nordahl indicated that German was anything other than a second or third language for him. Still, that wasn’t enough evidence. It was possible he’d been speaking a lot of German since he’d disappeared six years ago. Nordahl would be thirty-six years old now. This man was in the correct age range. I needed a way to either positively identify him or eliminate him as Nordahl. While I was pondering what to do, one of his buddies got up from his chair and walked over to me. I panicked, wondering whether I’d been showing too much interest in them. I looked around for an escape route, but of course there wasn’t one. He spoke to me in German. He appeared to be affable.
My fear rating went down a notch. I decided it was all right to talk to him. Do you speak English? He grinned. English. You are English? His hair was darker than that of my suspect, and he was handsome in a rugged way. He had an accent but he was easy to understand. I had to be careful of my answer, since I was carrying a British passport. But I wasn’t going to show him my passport. I’m American. I love America. Would you like to sit at our table? He was radiating friendship. Unless he was a very good actor, he didn’t suspect me of being a spy. This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. He was picking me up. I wasn’t pursuing him. Would I be too forward if I accepted immediately? Yes. That would be very nice. I am Heinrich. Aiko. I immediately regretted using that name. It didn’t sound American. However, Heinrich didn’t react, and we shook hands with one quick up and down movement. I got off my stool, picked up my glass, and walked several steps to the table. Fortunately, the vacant chair was to the left of the blond. I could sit there and study his earlobe.
My pickup artist pulled back the chair for me as I sat down. This is Gerhard. I found myself shaking hands with the man who might be my former lover, thinking I should feel something if he were. However, I didn’t feel anything except some trepidation that if it were him he might recognize me. I wasn’t wearing my dark glasses. If he did recognize me, I apartamente de vanzare bucuresti would have to kill him. I remembered Alice’s admonition and lowered my eyes after exchanging glances with him. Nice to meet you, Gerhard. I am happy to meet you. I noticed his hand had a rough look to it. It was the hand of someone who did manual labor, not that of an academic. He spoke in accented English. Of course, it could be a put-on, but I doubted most Americans could fake an accent that well in their native language. I reached across the table and shook hands with the third member of the group, but I failed to catch his name. Heinrich, the most loquacious of the triumvirate, sat on my left and asked me to say my name again. When I did he said, Aiko. That is not American. I think it is Japanese.
I nodded. I am half Japanese. I stole a look at Gerhard. He didn’t react to that statement. I didn’t know whether I wanted him to be Nordahl or not. But I had to find out. In one smooth motion I took off my scarf and shook my hair out, my heartbeat accelerating and my ears ringing as I did so. I knew this was a provocative gesture, but I figured if Gerhard were Nordahl, I would certainly get a reaction out of him. He took a quick glance apartamente de vanzare bucuresti at my hair and then focused on his beer stein as he took a long swallow. I wasn’t used to being almost completely ignored by a man. This couldn’t be Nordahl. Heinrich, on the other hand, wasn’t ignoring me. He seemed entranced by my transition. I asked him if apartamente de vanzare bucuresti. Ja, tomorrow. Do you have a guide? Ja.
To get to Schwarzee (black lake) where the trail I was taking to the Mountain House started, I traveled on a tram and a cable car. That took me up to 2,582 meters. The Mountain House was at 3,260 meters or 10,700 feet. The apartamente de vanzare bucuresti whole trail was well above the tree line, so I had vistas of fabulous alpine peaks during the entire hike, their rocky surfaces etched into artistic shapes by the weather over millions of years, with intermittent blankets of snow for contrast. I kept an eye out for my suspect and his gang, but I didn’t expect to see him on the trail. My plan was to beat him to the Mountain House and wait for him there. The people on the trail were mostly men, dressed in knee breeches or lederhosen with lug-soled boots.
The sun warmed the air apartamente de vanzare bucuresti
Enough that some of them were wearing short-sleeved shirts. I was the only woman hiking alone, and I must have looked funny with my scarf and jeans and running shoes, but everybody gets respect on the trail. I had no trouble keeping up with the other hikers, and because I didn’t stop much to rest I passed a number of them. I was in good shape from running. Slow and steady is the name of the game in the mountains; remember the tortoise and the hare.
My experiences hiking with my cousin in Southern California gave me confidence negotiating the rocky trail. However, I was glad when I arrived at the Mountain House and was able to sit down at one of the outside wooden tables and eat my lunch. That lasted for about two minutes. One of the employees came over and informed me in no uncertain terms that the tables were for patrons only. I broke down and purchased a coke, one drink you can get anywhere in the world. That was my ticket to a seat, and I was able to eat my lunch in peace. I tried to call Alice and Enoch, but I couldn’t get a connection for my cellphone. I scrutinized the hikers arriving from Zermatt on the trail. Since they all stopped at the Mountain House, that wasn’t difficult to do. I heard a helicopter coming up the mountain and went to investigate. It was carrying a net below it on a long rope. I figured it was going to the rescue of an injured hiker, perhaps high up the mountain, but it landed on the roof of an outbuilding and the pilot and hotel employees unloaded a net-load of soda cans for the hotel. I wanted to start down the trail in time to return to Zermatt before Alice and Enoch became worried about me.
The sun wouldn’t set until after 8:30 so that wasn’t a problem—yet. I definitely didn’t want to hike the trail at night. At times it went along the edge of a cliff, and I could picture myself stumbling on a rock and falling, like in the dreams I sometimes had. But this one wouldn’t end with me waking up safely in bed. As the afternoon wore on, I wondered whether Enoch had correctly interpreted the conversation he’d heard in the restroom. Maybe they weren’t coming up here at all. Perhaps Enoch and Alice had tracked them somewhere else, and solved the mystery of the blond man’s identity. Was I wasting my time? I was close to giving up my vigil and heading back down the mountain when I saw them: the blond man and two of his apartamente de vanzare bucuresti male friends, coming up the trail. I’d been wandering around in the vicinity of the hotel, my light pack on my back. I stopped and watched the three go into the hotel.
They must be staying the night. They didn’t come up here just to rush back down, so they were going to make an assault on the peak tomorrow morning. The blond disappeared before I got a close look at him.
When they didn’t appear apartamente in five minutes
The weather was still balmy. I hoped they’d come outside again. I went inside, looking for them. I glanced around the lobby but didn’t see them. I couldn’t ask the desk clerk about them because I wanted to remain inconspicuous, and I couldn’t disappear without racing back down the trail. One of the suspect’s friends came down the stairs and went into the bar. I followed him. He sat at a table. I sat on a stool at the counter and ordered another coke. Five minutes later the other two men came in and sat with him.
From my vantage point, I could glance casually at them. I looked at the earlobe of the blond but from where I sat I couldn’t decide whether it had been surgically repaired or not. They were speaking German to each other. My knowledge of German was zilch, but I could tell from listening to them that they were all conversant with the apartamente de vanzare bucuresti language. Nothing we knew about Nordahl indicated that German was anything other than a second or third language for him. Still, that wasn’t enough evidence. It was possible he’d been speaking a lot of German since he’d disappeared six years ago. Nordahl would be thirty-six years old now. This man was in the correct age range. I needed a way to either positively identify him or eliminate him as Nordahl. While I was pondering what to do, one of his buddies got up from his chair and walked over to me. I panicked, wondering whether I’d been showing too much interest in them. I looked around for an escape route, but of course there wasn’t one. He spoke to me in German. He appeared to be affable.
My fear rating went down a notch. I decided it was all right to talk to him. Do you speak English? He grinned. English. You are English? His hair was darker than that of my suspect, and he was handsome in a rugged way. He had an accent but he was easy to understand. I had to be careful of my answer, since I was carrying a British passport. But I wasn’t going to show him my passport. I’m American. I love America. Would you like to sit at our table? He was radiating friendship. Unless he was a very good actor, he didn’t suspect me of being a spy. This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. He was picking me up. I wasn’t pursuing him. Would I be too forward if I accepted immediately? Yes. That would be very nice. I am Heinrich. Aiko. I immediately regretted using that name. It didn’t sound American. However, Heinrich didn’t react, and we shook hands with one quick up and down movement. I got off my stool, picked up my glass, and walked several steps to the table. Fortunately, the vacant chair was to the left of the blond. I could sit there and study his earlobe.
My pickup artist pulled back the chair for me as I sat down. This is Gerhard. I found myself shaking hands with the man who might be my former lover, thinking I should feel something if he were. However, I didn’t feel anything except some trepidation that if it were him he might recognize me. I wasn’t wearing my dark glasses. If he did recognize me, I apartamente de vanzare bucuresti would have to kill him. I remembered Alice’s admonition and lowered my eyes after exchanging glances with him. Nice to meet you, Gerhard. I am happy to meet you. I noticed his hand had a rough look to it. It was the hand of someone who did manual labor, not that of an academic. He spoke in accented English. Of course, it could be a put-on, but I doubted most Americans could fake an accent that well in their native language. I reached across the table and shook hands with the third member of the group, but I failed to catch his name. Heinrich, the most loquacious of the triumvirate, sat on my left and asked me to say my name again. When I did he said, Aiko. That is not American. I think it is Japanese.
I nodded. I am half Japanese. I stole a look at Gerhard. He didn’t react to that statement. I didn’t know whether I wanted him to be Nordahl or not. But I had to find out. In one smooth motion I took off my scarf and shook my hair out, my heartbeat accelerating and my ears ringing as I did so. I knew this was a provocative gesture, but I figured if Gerhard were Nordahl, I would certainly get a reaction out of him. He took a quick glance apartamente de vanzare bucuresti at my hair and then focused on his beer stein as he took a long swallow. I wasn’t used to being almost completely ignored by a man. This couldn’t be Nordahl. Heinrich, on the other hand, wasn’t ignoring me. He seemed entranced by my transition. I asked him if apartamente de vanzare bucuresti. Ja, tomorrow. Do you have a guide? Ja.