After the Silence: Inspector Rykel Book 1 (Amsterdam Quartet) (18 page)

Wednesday, 4 January
13.08

On his way to the canteen Kees slipped into the toilets, found a cubicle, locked it and slumped down after lowering the seat lid. His head was still throbbing; the painkillers hadn’t killed much of the pain, and he was wondering if coke would help. Not that he had any.

So much for trying to get Jaap to trust me
, he thought as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim purse, worn red leather, and flipped it open.

He’d found it under his hip when he’d come round in the trunk, Jaap’s grip on his arm shaking him back to consciousness, and even though he was only loosely aware of what was going on he’d slipped it into his pocket as Jaap had helped him out. Too bad Tanya’d been there to see it all.

He’d been sure she was enjoying it.

Nanoseconds before he knew he was going down he’d placed the smell – mothballs, camphor. The girl who looked like Marinette and had run from Friedman’s house on the first day. It had been her who’d knocked him out, and she must have dropped the wallet when she shoved him into the box.

There was nothing that would identify her directly, no
ID. He flicked through the contents, 150 euros in ten-euro notes – coke money now – a card for a taxi firm, a receipt for a journey taken yesterday, and folded up behind that a dry-cleaner’s receipt, for the same day.

The dry cleaner had a name, and an address.

He pocketed it again, and went to get the drink he desperately needed.

Wednesday, 4 January
14.28

Ludo Haak sucked in his cheeks, pulling cigarette smoke deep into his lungs. He held it there for a few seconds before releasing a steady stream through pursed lips, head tipped back. The dirty kitchen surrounding him belonged to one of the council flats he was in charge of collecting the illegal sublet money from. But there were currently no tenants, he’d kicked them out yesterday, just after he’d collected the monthly rent, two weeks early.

He’d had to.

He needed a quiet place, and he figured by tomorrow, or the weekend at the latest, he could fill it again. There were no end of immigrants who were willing to pay for this, cramming in as many as they could, scrimping and saving what little money they earned on their shit jobs, just so they could send some back to the rest of their family in whatever shithole they’d crawled out of in the first place.

It would actually work out better. He could pocket the difference between the rent from the old tenants and the new, a whole month’s rent he wouldn’t have to pass on. There was something in this.

He should do it more often.

And thinking of extra cash, there was a job he had lined up. They wanted that cop dead. And he was the man to do it.

A faint sobbing came from the bathroom, the only room in the flat with a lock on the door –
and what kind of a place had a lock on the outside instead of the inside? –
where he’d put the girl.

Which was a pisser, because he really needed to go. He stood up, grinding his cigarette out on the tabletop, and made his way to the sink. He pulled his trousers down, turned and managed to sit on it, balancing on the edge, the metal rim cold against his flesh and the tap poking into the small of his back.

The new tenants can clear this up
, he thought.

When he was done, he had to use one of the kitchen towels to wipe himself – kind of smeary, he figured it must be the stress – he checked his phone. Someone was supposed to be calling him soon, to arrange the pick-up of the girl, the girl who’d bitten him yesterday as he’d brought her here. He examined the wound on his left hand, the teeth marks visible in red swollen flesh.

Jan hadn’t been there to collect her, and he’d not been able to get hold of that creep Dirk either. Then he’d seen on the news that Dirk was dead, and he’d got a call to say the plan had changed. He was to find somewhere safe to hold her until today, when he would hand her off to someone else.

And he’d got ragged on at the same time, saying he should never have sold her, should have had her shipped out like all the rest.

But he didn’t have all day to hang around, he had shit to do, and where was this asshole anyway?

As if on cue his phone rang and he answered.

‘Yeah?’

‘You’ve got her?’

‘She’s here.’

‘Okay, I’m going to give you an address, you’ll need to take her there now. Come by car and put her in the boot, don’t let anyone see her. Or you.’

Fucking asshole
, he thought as he listened to the address,
what does he think I am, some kind of moron?

Wednesday, 4 January
15.16

‘I just can’t believe it.’

The head of Vrijheid Nu, Hans Grimberg, looked like he’d been gutted, filleted and served up on a slab.

‘I mean, he sat there telling me how he wanted to help, and then I find out he was involved in this … this … are you sure it’s him?’

Grimberg looked back and forth between Jaap and Tanya, who were standing in front of his desk, as if one of them would suddenly smile and tell him it was all a big joke.

‘There’s no doubt. He was involved,’ said Jaap.

‘So what was this, coming here to offer help and money? Was it like trying to make up?’ He stared at Jaap, his eyes on fire. ‘As if giving money to us would cancel it out? Was that it?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. But I need to find his killer.’

Grimberg shot out of his chair and paced back and forth behind his desk, his head shaking, he was muttering to himself, so quietly that Jaap couldn’t make out the words.

‘And you think that whoever killed him was a victim of his?’

‘It’s a possibility.’

‘Don’t you think they would have suffered enough?’ he asked suddenly swinging round. ‘If you’ve got proof of what he’s done then why does it matter who killed him?’ His voice closing up, rising like he was being strangled. ‘And what if that was a kid of yours, what would you do if you found out? You’d go round and kill the bastard, that’s what you’d do. But you’d get away with it because you’re police, you could cover it up.’

‘It’s not that simple. There’s a girl who’s been kidnapped, and if we don’t find and stop whoever killed Friedman, then we’ll lose our chance to save her.’

And get Andreas’ killer.

Grimberg’s eyes lasered into him, before flicking away. He walked over to his chair and slumped into it.

‘You know what? People like that, they deserve to die’ – he slammed his hand down on the desk, knocking off a pile of papers which flurried into the air – ‘they deserve to die like fucking dogs.’

‘Look, we’re all upset about this. And if the person responsible was abused by him then I don’t want to bring them in either, but there’s a life at risk.’

Grimberg sat, dead still now after the pacing, his eyes fixed on Jaap.

Jaap continued. ‘Friedman used to work as a sports teacher and I’ve got someone checking up on where. I remember you saying a lot of these cases aren’t even reported to the police –’

‘And you want to check our records,’ Grimberg butted in. ‘See if there is anyone from wherever it turns out he worked?’

‘It’ll be the quickest way of seeing if there is a match, something we can follow up.’

‘No. Our records are confidential, they have to be otherwise people wouldn’t ever come to us for help. Look …’ He paused, ran his hand through his hair. ‘… people live with this, and some come to terms with it. Some though, despite what help we give them, keep it inside, stay silent for years and years. It’s only after the silence is broken, by themselves, when
they’re
ready, that proper healing can happen. Breaking into that too soon can be highly detrimental to their recovery.’

‘I realize that, but in this case there is a little girl who we might be able to save, and that’s got to be worth something, hasn’t it?’ asked Tanya, anger, or something Jaap couldn’t place, in her voice.

‘I’ve got a duty of care to these people, they’ve been damaged, in some cases irreparably. I can’t just have you charging around –’

‘What it comes down to is this.’ Jaap leant forward over the desk, planting his balled fists on straight arms to support him. ‘I’m investigating three murders and a kidnapping of a child. I’m trying to stop anything else happening to her, something worse. You’ve seen what abuse does to people, so give me access to your files and maybe we can stop another victim coming through your door. I can get a warrant for this, but we need to see it now.’

Grimberg just stared at him, then looked down at his hands.

Tanya spoke up, her voice more controlled this time.

‘You have the chance to help save a little girl, I don’t see how you can refuse to help us.’

Grimberg chewed his lower lip.

Wednesday, 4 January
16.37

Jaap had split up their duties: Kees was to focus on Friedman and Zwartberg, whilst Jaap got to run around with Tanya.

Fucking typical
, Kees was thinking as he made his way to Friedman’s house, the cold air not improving his mood,
he makes a big show of including me in what he’s doing, then fobs me off with the shit work. I bet he’s fucking her too
.

The interior, when he got there, was no warmer than the air outside. Kees flicked on a light switch and the hallway was revealed. A massive oil painting, a pastoral landscape with eighteenth-century wigged noblemen and rustic shepherds, hung on the wall in a gilt frame.

Below the picture two slender vases with a blue floral pattern on a white background and a surface which looked like cracked ice. And supporting them, a dark wooden side table, their reflections slightly blurred on the polished surface.

I hate all this old shit
, he thought to himself before heading forward.

His temples had been pounding since he woke, a mushroom cloud exploding over and over, and each step only made it worse.

He spent the next twenty minutes searching the house,
but, just as he’d said, there was no laptop. As he left the building something caught his eye, just by the doormat.

Kees bent down to pull it out, the tiny corner of paper revealing itself to be a business card. He felt the roughness of the textured paper against his fingertips, and turned it over. It was completely plain with a string of numbers and letters, the embossed shiny surface of the black ink catching the light, running across the centre which didn’t seem to make any sense at all.

XT56SUGK9DYUSNGH

He pocketed it and went back to the station. Next on his growing list was to check up on the stole of Zwartberg’s. As far as Kees understood, it was kind of like a football scarf, different churches had different patterns, so if he trawled round enough churches someone must be able to recognize it. He’d have to make a list of places to visit, starting with those in the Jordaan.

But when he got to his computer it was the card he felt drawn to. There was something deeply wrong with it.

Sitting at his desk he stared at the numbers and letters. It just didn’t make any sense.

‘… and then she says, “but that’s too big to fit in my hole”.’

Laughter erupted from a few desks away, a joke he’d heard at least four times already over the last few days, doing the rounds of the office like a viral infection.

He hadn’t even found it that funny the first time.

A business card usually had a name and contact details on, so this wasn’t a business card. What was it for? Was it some kind of password or code? But if so why have it printed on a card?

He wrote out the letter and numbers and tried to rearrange them into something meaningful, but, having never been any good at crosswords, he gave up after a few minutes.

A yawn prised his jaws open, forcing his head back. He closed his eyes.

Voices he’d been half hearing came into focus.

‘… so it’ll be Rykel, not De Waart?’

‘That’s what the rumour is.’

‘I guess he’d make a better Station Chief than Smit, but he’s a bit young, isn’t he? That would piss off Felco and Bastiaan.’

‘Yeah, but Felco is pissed off anyway, I’ve never met anyone like that, and they couldn’t make Bastiaan Chief, he’d blow the department budget in like a week.’

‘He’d probably bet it all on one match –’

Kees’ eyes flicked open. Jaap to be Station Chief? If that was true then he’d really messed up.

Shit!

Why had he done it? He could feel the moisture on his palms. How could he have been so stupid? He got up, had to move, think it through, and he headed off, needing to do something to neutralize the unease.

‘Hey, Kees?’ Martijn’s voice from behind him.

‘Yeah?’

‘Did you know about this, Jaap being next in line?’

He turned to look at him, the bulk concentrated round his stomach making his shoulders and head seem tiny.

‘No, I hadn’t heard.’

‘You’re working a case with him, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah … yeah, I am.’

‘Looks like your chance to impress then.’

Kees swallowed.

‘Yeah, I guess it is.’

Later, once he’d calmed down – the only way that Jaap would ever know was if Smit or De Waart told him – he went back to his desk and looked at the card again. A thought had occurred to him, and he fired up his laptop. He typed the collection of letters and numbers printed on the card into a browser, prefacing it with ‘www’ and ending with ‘.com’. He hit return and waited for the page to load, but a ‘could not connect to server’ message appeared. But, trying again, this time with ‘.nl’, yielded a result.

His phone rang.

‘Inspector, this is Sergeant Boekestijn. You’re the contact point on e-fit 4751?’

A simple page appeared, asking him to log in or register.

‘You’ve found her?’ The pulse in his veins sped up, and he shifted forward in his chair, typed in a made-up email address and hit ‘Submit’.

‘Yeah, got her down in holding now, but she’s not happy.’

As Kees hung up another screen, ‘Thank you for your registration, your download will begin shortly’, flashed up, and the download window started showing the progress bar, fifty-seven minutes remaining.

Down by the holding cells – strip lights blinking and buzzing making him feel sick – he asked the duty officer where she was.

‘She’s in there, refused to speak to us.’

Kees pushed the door, walked in, and stopped short,
completely unable to breathe. There were four women, two prostitutes and an alcoholic by the look of them, but it was the one on the end of the bench that caught his attention.

‘You bastard,’ Marinette hissed. ‘Is this your idea of a joke? I’ll get you sacked for this.’

Fuck
, he thought,
those fucking, fucking idiots
.

‘There’s been a misunderstanding, they weren’t supposed to arrest you –’

‘Of course they weren’t, but you made them.’ Her face was twisted up, lines appearing where there were none before, blood pulsing under her skin like a rash.

‘No, listen to me. There’s someone we’re looking for, she just looks like you, and they’ve got the wrong –’

Before he could do anything she was up off the bench, her hand hitting his left cheek, the sting bringing tears to his eyes.

The other women cheered.