As they turned left onto the gravel track, Sylvia opened the window to let the fresh air into the coupe.

The landscape was sparse, yet simultaneously beautiful and tasteful y minimalist. The green of the deciduous trees was stil tender, almost transparent, the sky clear blue as glass. Shy flowers that had only just emerged from the frozen soil swayed in the turbulence caused by the car as it flashed by.

They passed two cars just before they crossed the bridge leading back onto the mainland. Neither of the drivers seemed to take any particular notice of them.

"Party time tonight," Sylvia said, stroking Mac's neck. "Are you up for it?"

"I want you here, right now," he whispered sexily.

She ran her hand slowly across his crotch, feeling how hard he was.

When they were on the motorway heading north toward Stockholm, Sylvia put on a new pair of gloves. She reached into the backseat for the backpack and started to go through the dead Germans' valuables.

"Look at this," she said, taking out an ultramodern digital camera. "A Nikon D3X. That's pretty neat."

She rummaged through the woman's jewelry.

"A lot of it's rubbish, sentimental, but this emerald ring is okay. I guess."

She held it up to the sunlight and examined the gemstone's sparkle.

"He had a platinum Amex," Mac said, glancing at the things spread out on the floor of the car and in Sylvia's lap.

"So did she," Sylvia said, waving the metal ic card.

Mac grinned.

"And we've got the Omega watch itself, of course," Sylvia said, triumphantly holding up the German woman's recently purchased gift. "And it's even in the original packaging!"

"The cheap Kraut bastard was thinking of buying her a Swatch," Mac said.

They burst out laughing, heads thrown back, as they passed through the commercial center of Stockholm.

"We're back, " Sylvia said in an eerie voice.