After the Silence: Inspector Rykel Book 1 (Amsterdam Quartet) (20 page)

Wednesday, 4 January
19.24

Kees was speeding along the last short stretch of motorway towards Schiphol airport, the road virtually clear, radio on loud. He didn’t really need to be going this fast, just as he didn’t need to have the lights flashing, or, for that matter, the siren screeching, long sinuous wails streaming out behind him punctuated with short bursts of static like rapid gunfire into the night.

But hell, he’d had a shit day.

The stinging slap, delivered with real force by Marinette in front of several uniforms, had already made it to the status of station legend – he was going to be the butt of jokes about domestic violence for the rest of his career. He could see the whole thing now.

He’d tried to ignore it, but all the while he kept playing the scene, over and over, prodding at the wound until the call which propelled him into the car came through. And now he was racing through the dark, the speed calming him.

He’d taken the call whilst Jaap was off in Haarlem, and he’d not been able to reach him on the phone. It was from someone at border patrol, Schiphol branch, to say that they had received one Rint Korssen, detained in Hamburg
under the European Arrest Warrant and put on the first available plane back to Amsterdam. But things hadn’t been so efficient at this end, and it was only just past seven when Kees finally heard about it despite the fact that Korssen’s plane had touched down a little after one o’clock. He glanced at the sign, coming at him quickly, one more exit to go.

Ten minutes later, siren and lights now extinguished, he pulled up at the airport police base, where three patrol cars were parked outside, their windscreens already glistening with frost.

Inside he had to talk with a brain-dead night receptionist who just couldn’t get his head round what was going on, until finally, and reluctantly, he got through to someone who could help. He passed the desk phone to Kees and turned back to his small TV, a believer at his altar.

‘Are you Rykel?’ said the voice on the line.

‘No, I’m Inspector Terpstra, but we work together.’

‘I’m sorry, but the warrant was issued under the name of Rykel, so I’ll only be able to release the prisoner to him.’

‘Are you shitting me? We work together, I told you that, and I’ve just driven out from Amsterdam.’

‘Guess you should have checked first.’

Kees slammed the plastic receiver down on the desk three times in rapid succession, making the receptionist jump, and then glare at him, before he took it back to his ear.

‘Did you hear that? That’s what’s going to happen to your head if I’m not leaving here in ten minutes with the prisoner I came to pick up.’

In the end it took more like twenty-five.

Korssen was being held in a unit on the far side of the site, and Kees was just wondering if he was going to have to go on a rampage and get someone higher up the food chain on to it, when the doors by the receptionist opened and in stepped Rint Korssen, hands cuffed behind him, and a police officer gripping his upper arm, pushing his right shoulder up to his ear, making him look lopsided. Korssen looked at Kees, and was about to speak but something flashed in his eyes and he held his tongue.

Kees stood up, signed the bit of paper thrust at him by the officer and turned to Korssen.

‘Welcome home, sir,’ he said. ‘Welcome home.’

Wednesday, 4 January
20.49

A cop bar. Cheap beer to help wash away the taste of the day, loud music to help drown out thought, and so dark that you couldn’t see how depressed your fellow cop drinkers were.

Jaap hated the place, hardly ever came here, but he didn’t want to go back to the station, the room full of photos, and the laptop containing countless videos, waiting for him like a death sentence.

He was going to have to go back to it, trawl through to see if there were any more of Andreas, but he needed to put it off as long as he could.

De Waart wasn’t there when he arrived so Jaap found a table where he could see the whole room, and was as far away from any speakers as possible. A group of five uniforms were celebrating something at the bar. One of them was the uniform who’d sorted out his door.

Once he’d returned from Japan, and decided to rejoin the police, he started looking for a place to live. The old flat he’d rented, out past the Amstelpark in an area of renowned architectural monstrosity, just didn’t appeal any more.

Initially he’d trawled round property after property, but it became apparent that he wasn’t going to be able to
afford much in the centre of town, rents were stratospheric, and buying was not an option.

Just as he was on the brink of resigning himself to living further out Andreas had called to say he’d busted a grizzled American who’d been living the dream in Amsterdam since the late seventies and had got a bit loose with his drug possession.

The guy had tried to talk his way out of a charge, claiming he was trying to sell up and go back to the States, where he’d inherited, unexpectedly, a small fortune, and pointed out the handmade ‘For Sale’ sign on his houseboat on Bloemgracht.

Andreas reckoned the American would be open to offers, given that he wanted to leave and didn’t want a drugs bust slowing down the process, and Jaap was round there like a shot.

The deal only took a few days to conclude.

It took longer to get rid of the smell once he’d moved in, a deep funk of something Jaap eventually worked out was a combination of pot, no surprises there, and fenugreek.

He was starting to wonder where De Waart was when he looked up and saw him limping in. De Waart scanned the room and nodded to Jaap’s raised hand, stopping off at the bar on the way over.

He brought over two beers, and handed one to Jaap as he sat down.

‘I forgot,’ he said when Jaap didn’t touch it. ‘You don’t drink, do you?’

Jaap shook his head.

De Waart shrugged, pulled the glass back and drained
it in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and letting out a theatrical sigh.

‘Guess I can squeeze another one in.’

I’m sure you can
, thought Jaap.

‘As I said on the phone, I maybe should have listened to you more in the beginning.’ He swirled beer round the second glass. ‘I’ve found some stuff which ties in with what you were saying?’

‘I’m listening,’ said Jaap, not wanting to make it easy for him.

‘Firstly though, I wanted to apologize for the other day, I got out of control, and with all the shit you were having to deal with I should have laid off. So …’

‘Forget it,’ said Jaap.

‘Okay, so down to business. You said Andreas’ death was to do with the case you were working on before, and I dismissed that. I was wrong, but you have to understand, I was getting pressure from above on this as well.’

‘Smit?’

‘Yeah, he said you were not thinking straight. You know, after you …’

‘After I what?’ asked Jaap.

‘Well, that shooting, and your … uhh … episode.’

‘Come on, just say it.’

‘Okay, after you cracked up and went away somewhere to sort yourself out. Look, I respect that, I think it makes you a stronger cop. I know some of the other guys think whatever you’re into is weird, all that eastern sh … stuff, but they can’t deny you get results. And I know how close you and Andreas were and I just figured it could be clouding your judgement.’

‘And you didn’t like Andreas at all.’

‘Look, we had that thing, the accident.’ His hand strayed down to massage his leg; Jaap wondered if it was unconscious or for show. ‘I’ll be the first to admit that. But he was still one of us.’

De Waart’s phone started ringing, he glanced at the screen and put it away again. ‘Anyway, that’s all beside the point.’ He paused for another sip. ‘It got me thinking, what you’d said, so I did a bit of digging of my own. This gang you were working on, they operate out of the ports, so I had a word with someone I know up there and he told me that he’d heard some chatter, about the gang being nervous and needing a problem taken care of.’

‘When was this?’

‘About a week ago.’

‘Who’s your source?’

‘Just this guy. I helped him out with something a while ago, and he passes me the odd bit of information.’

Someone dropped a glass by the bar, a cheer went up from the uniform quintuplets.

‘So what are we having the discussion for?’

De Waart looked at him, as if humouring a small child.

‘I just wanted you to know that I’m on it …’ He leant closer. ‘… and also to see if you’d got anywhere with it yourself, anything which could help?’

‘What makes you think I’ve been working on it? Smit told me not to, so I didn’t.’

De Waart laughed as if Jaap had told the funniest joke in the world, then stopped himself, the laugh cut off before it could flourish.

‘Okay, I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that if it was
me I would have ignored the order. You’re a good cop, Jaap, you fight for what’s right, I’ve seen that. And in this situation no one is going to blame you for wanting to be involved in Andreas’ case. I just want to find these bastards, and I was hoping you’d be able to help me.’

Jaap was tired.

Beyond tired.

He thought of the image he had in his pocket of Andreas as a teenager. His insides were wound so tight they might snap at any moment. He was carrying this all on his own.

Maybe he could use some help.

Maybe he should tell De Waart everything.

‘Okay, so where I’m –’ started Jaap just as his phone rang. He pulled it out and saw it was Kees.

Just in time
, thought Jaap as he answered.

Wednesday, 4 January
21.02

Once he’d left Korssen in one of the holding cells in the basement Kees had finally managed to get through to Jaap. The music blaring in the background had meant he’d had to repeat himself a couple of times before Jaap got it. He told Kees he’d be there in twenty minutes and not to question Korssen till he arrived.

Kees had felt like pointing out that he’d been the one to drive all the way out to Schiphol and back, so if he felt like asking a few questions he would, but resisted.

The office was quiet, a couple of new red names on the murder board showing why. He texted Carice, then turned to his computer, remembering the download he’d started before having to collect Korssen.

The screen was dark; he clicked the mouse button a few times before it flared to life. The download window wasn’t there, and there didn’t appear to be a newly downloaded file. After a few moments’ searching he found that there weren’t any files at all, there was nothing on his computer.

Everything had gone.

Wednesday, 4 January
21.13

‘… and he said that Andreas was mixed up in child pornography. Jaap, I can’t take this. I don’t understand what’s going on.’

Saskia’s voice, coming through the hands-free kit in the car, sounded distorted, alien. Even so, he could tell she was scared. Really scared. He flicked the indicator and pulled left on to Leidsestraat, heading for the station. Leidsestraat was ostensibly traffic-free, given over to trams and pedestrians, but Jaap didn’t feel like going the long way round. And who was going to stop him?

‘Listen, De Waart doesn’t know what he’s doing –’

‘Andreas was never into that, he wasn’t. You have to tell him, you have –’

‘I don’t think he’s going to listen to me right now.’ Raising his voice, angling his head towards the mic by the rearview mirror. He noticed a motorbike one car behind him, its headlight blinding. ‘Listen,’ he continued, ‘I think I may be getting somewhere with this case, and I’m going to be able to prove that Andreas wasn’t into that … stuff. It’s just going to take a little while. I’ll be round later, I’ll let you know more then.’

The thing is
, he thought as he ended the call,
I’m not sure I’m getting any closer at all.

He checked the rearview again.

The bike was still there.

Wednesday, 4 January
21.28

‘Is this some kind of joke?’ said Korssen.

‘Do you find something funny about murder and child pornography? Because I have to say I don’t,’ Jaap shot back.

The interview room was lit with a single bulb, unshielded, and the air was stale with sweat and fear. It was like a stage set, the sparseness of it all designed to give a guilty mind nothing to latch on to, nothing to distract itself.

He knew how effective emptiness could be.

He’d faced it in Kyoto, wrestled with it. He wasn’t sure now if he’d won.

‘But what have I got to do with that?’

‘I don’t know, which is why you’re here, and we’re having this little talk. But what I do know is that your business partner winds up dead, an associate of his, who he’s running a child porn business with, is also killed, and after we talked, you do a runner. If you were in my shoes, what would you think?’

Something tightened in Korssen’s face.

‘Get me my lawyer.’

‘Where’s Ludo Haak?’

‘Who the fuck is Ludo Haak?’

‘I think you know.’

‘I’m not saying another goddamn thing until you get me my lawyer.’

Jaap stood up.

‘Find him a cell,’ he said to Kees, and went for the door, turning back once he’d opened it and was half outside, ‘and see if you can find a busy one, don’t want our friend here getting lonely.’

Once Korssen was settled in – Kees had found a group of tourists for him to stay with, tattooed tossers on a stag night which had ended in the usual brawl – Jaap called Tanya, agreeing on where to meet. But before they left Kees mentioned something which caught his attention.

‘Totally wiped?’

‘Yeah, all my reports and stuff, gone.’

Jaap checked his watch, it would be tight, but he needed to get the laptop over to Roemers, find out if it was the same as Andreas’.

‘I’m going to drop it off with Roemers to have a look at. You head over to meet Tanya, I’ll catch you up.’

Kees unplugged his laptop and handed it to Jaap.

‘And Kees?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Keep it civil between you two, okay?’