Floodgate (22 page)

De Graaf made a dismissive gesture which could have meant either that such considerations were irrelevant trifles or that they could not possibly apply to him in the first place. 'An interesting meeting, but only to a limited extent. I'm afraid Bernhard wasn't in a particularly receptive or co-operative frame of mind.' Bernhard was Bernhard Dessens, the Minister of justice.
'A dithering old woman, scared to accept responsibility, unwilling to commit himself and looking to pass the buck elsewhere?' 'Exactly. I couldn't have put - I've told you before, Peter, that's no way to talk about cabinet ministers. There were two of them. Names Riordan and Samuelson. One - person calling himself Riordan - could have been in disguise. The other had made no attempt at any such thing which can only mean that he's pretty confident about something or other. Riordan had long black hair - shoulder-length, in fact, I thought that ludicrous style had gone out of fashion ten years ago - was deeply tanned, wore a Dutch bargee cap and sun-glasses.'
'Anything so obvious has to be a disguise. 'van Effen thought for a moment. 'He wasn't by any chance very tall and preternaturally thin?' De Graaf nodded. 'I thought that would occur to you at once. The fellow who commandeered that canal boat from - who was it?'
'At Schiphol? Dekker.'
'Dekker. This must be the man Dekker described. And damned if I don't agree with your bizarre suggestion that this fellow - Riordan or whatever - is an albino. Dark glasses. Heavy tan to hide an alabaster complexion. Black hair to hide white. Other fellow - Samuelson - had white hair, thick and very wavy, white moustache and white goatee beard. No albino, though - blue eyes. All that white hair would normally bespeak advanced years but his face was almost completely unlined. But, then, he was very plump, which may account for the youthful skin. Looked like a cross between an idealized concept of a US Senator and some bloated plutocrat, oil billionaire or something like that.'
'Maybe he's got a better make-up resin than Riordan.' 'It's possible. Both men spoke in English, from which I assumed that Samuelson couldn't speak Dutch. Both made a point of stating that they were Irish-Americans and I have no doubt they were. I don't have to be Hector or one of his professorial friends to know that - the north-east or New York accent was very strong. Riordan did nearly all the talking- '
'He asked - no, he demanded - that we contact the British government. More exactly, he demanded we act as intermediaries between the FFF ' and Whitehall on the basis that Whitehall would be much more likely to negotiate with another government than with an unknown group such as they were. When Bernhard asked what on earth they could possibly want to discuss with Whitehall they said they wanted to have a dialogue about Northern Ireland, but refused to elaborate further until the Dutch Government agreed to co-operate.'
De Graaf sighed. 'Whereupon, alas, our Minister of justice, seething and fulminating, while at the same time knowing damn well that they had him over a barrel, climbed on to his high horse and said it was inconceivable, unthinkable, that a sovereign nation should negotiate on behalf of a band of terrorists. He carried on for about five minutes in this vein, but I'll spare you all the parliamentary rhetoric. He ended up by saying that he, personally, would die first. 'Riordan said that he very much doubted that Dessens would go to such extraordinary lengths and further said that he was convinced that fourteen million Dutchmen would take a diametrically opposite point of view. Then he became rather unpleasantly personal and threatening. He said it didn't make the slightest damn difference to anything if he, Dessens, committed suicide on the spot, for the Oostlijk-Flevoland dyke in the vicinity of Lelystad would go at midnight if the government didn't agree to talk terms by ten o'clock tonight. He then produced a paper with a list of places which, he said, were in immediate danger of going at any moment. He didn't say whether or not mines had already been placed in those areas - the usual uncertainty technique.
'Among the places he listed - there were so many that I forget half of them - were Leeuwarden, the Noordoost polder in the vicinity of Urk, the Amstclmeer, the Wieringermeer, Putten, the polder south of Petten, Schouwen, Duiveland and Walcheren - did we remember what happened to Walcheren during the war? Both the Eastern and Western Scheldt estuaries were on their list, he said - did we remember what happened there in February 1953 - while Noord and Sud Holland offered a positive embarrassment of riches. That's only a representative sample. Riordan then started to make very sinister remarks about the weather, had we noticed how high the level of the North Sea had risen, how the strengthening wind had gone to the north and that the spring tides were at hand - while the levels of the Rhine, Waal, Maas and Scheldt were near an all-time low - so reminiscent of February 1953, didn't Dessens think? 'He then demanded that they talked to a minister or ministers with the power and courage to make decisions and not a snivelling time-server bent only on preserving his own miserable political career, which was, I thought, a bit hard on Bernhard.
'Riordan then said that, to display their displeasure at this wholly unnecessary hiatus in negotiations, they would detonate one of several devices they had placed in public buildings in the capital. Here the two of them had a whispered conference and then Riordan announced that they had chosen the royal palace and defied anyone to find the explosives before they went off. No lives, he said, were at risk in this explosion, which would occur within five minutes of their departure. He added, almost as an afterthought, that any attempt to restrain them, hinder their departure or have them followed would inevitably mean that the Oostlijk-Flevoland dyke would go not at midnight but at nine o'clock this evening. On this happy note, they left. The palace explosion, as you may know, duly occurred.'
'So I believe.' It seemed the wrong moment to tell de Graaf that it was he, van Effen, who had, pressed the button. He shivered and moved to a less damp patch on the Esfahan. 'I think I'm getting pneumonia.' 'There's brandy.' De Graaf waved a hand at once indicative of preoccupation and irritation that one should be unaware of the universal specifics against pneumococci. 'Schnapps, scotch -'He broke off 'as a knock came on the library door and a uniformed policeman admitted George and Vasco who were, if anything, even more saturated than van Effen had been. 'Two more advanced cases, I suppose.'
George said: 'I beg your pardon, Colonel?'
'Pneumonia. Help yourselves. I must say I wasn't expecting you gentlemen.' 'The Lieutenant said
'I know. It just slipped his memory.'
'I have a lot on my mind,' van Effen said. 'Well?'
'We had a good look at them when they left the house to go to that small bus. Also had a good look at them in the Dam Square. Recognize them anywhere.' George paused reflectively. 'Seemed a very harmless bunch to me.'
'Ever seen - or seen pictures of - the youthful assassins that made -up the Baader-Meinhof gang? All they lacked were harps and haloes. When I said "Well", that wasn't what I meant.'
'Ah! That. Yes. Well. 'George seemed slightly embarrassed. 'When you left the house - we saw you go but didn't approach you as you'd asked us not to in case you were being followed -you know you were followed?' 'Yes.'
'We waited across the street for ten minutes then crossed to the lighted window. The rain! Talk about standing under Niagara Falls.' He waited for sympathetic comment and when none came went on: 'Waited another ten minutes. We could hear music and conversation.'
'I'll bet you could. So then, overcome by the rain, impatience or suspicion, you moved in. Light still on. Long-playing cassette on a recorder. Birds flown by the back door. Hardly original. So we still don't know where they're holed up. Not your fault - Agnelli's obsessed by security.'
'Still could have done better,' Vasco said. 'Next time The phone bell shrilled and de Graaf picked it up, listened for some time, said 'Wait a minute, sit' and cupped the mouthpiece. 'Predictable, I suppose. Dessens. Seems the cabinet is a bit shaken about the palace explosion and are convinced that the Oostlijk-Flevoland dyke will go up at midnight. So they're going to parley. They want me along and suggested i i p.m. I'd like you to be there. i i p.m.?'
'Eleven-thirty possible sir? I have a couple of appointments.' De Graaf talked some more then hung up. 'You do seem to have a very crowded appointment book, Lieutenant. I can't recall your mentioning any of this to me.'
'I haven't had a chance to. I have to be at the Trianon at ten o'clock to take a call from Agnelli. He's a bit short of explosives and I've promised to supply him with some.'
'Explosives. Of course. Naturally.' De Graaf hardly spilled a drop as he poured himself a brandy. 'Having already blown up the palace' - it was an exaggeration but a pardonable one in the circumstances - 'one could not expect you to rest on such trifling laurels. And where do you intend to find this explosive? I'm sure you won't be wanting more than a few hundred kilos of TNT or whatever ii is.'
'Me? Haven't the time. Haven't the authority, either. But I thought, perhaps, sir, if you would care to use your influence -' 'Me! The chief of police? To supply illegally-come-by explosives to a group of terrorists?' De Graaf considered. 'I suppose you would expect me to deliver it personally?'
'Good heavens, no. That's where George comes in. Sorry, George, haven't had the chance to explain this or anything. Had a long talk this evening with Agnelli about you and Vasco. I'm afraid, Vasco, that I've blackened your character beyond all hopes of redemption. You're a crooked cop, bent as a horseshoe, untrustworthy, unpredictable and only a couple of steps removed from a psychiatric ward. Agnelli was just that little bit too casual when asking questions about you. I'm certain he knows you are or were a cop. He comes from Utrecht too. Not that that should be any bar to his employing you - after we've made certain delicate alterations to your appearance and history - in the not-too-distant future.
'George, you're an arms dealer. Heaven knows there are enough of those around, but you're something special. The king-pin. Mr Big. A Leopard tank? A sAm missile? Even a motor torpedo boat? George is your man. And being Mr Big means you're important. You talk only to principals. No intermediaries, not even me. Face to face or no deal.'
'I talk to this Agnelli?' George smiled widely. 'You want me on the inside?'
'I have a feeling that I could do with a little help, sooner rather than later. I've no right to ask you, of course. There's Annelise and your kids. Things might get a little difficult -'
'A little difficult!' De Graaf could put a nicely sarcastic edge to his voice when he had a mind to. 'Difficult. I don't say it's crazy because nothing's crazy if there's a chance, but I don't like it at all. It's based on the assumption that they're not on to you and that's an unjustifiable assumption. Sure, they've gone along with you so far and you with them, but that's only because, so far, it's suited you both. But if they are on to you and they decide a time has come when you're of no further use to them, then when the time comes to discard you it may be in a pretty permanent fashion. Have you we right to ask that of George?' 'I've just done that.'
The phone rang again and de Graaf picked it up. 'Ah. Lieutenant Valken ... Yes, yes.' De Graaf 's face became very still as he listened. 'Never mind if you've never heard it before. Wait till I get a piece of paper and pen.' De Graaf wrote down a few words, told Valken goodbye and hung up. He reached for his glass.
Van Effen said: 'Julie, Annemarie?'
'Yes. How do you know?'
'Valken, your face, brandy. Bad?'
'Bad enough. Phone call from the brothers. They say the girls are as well as can be expected which can mean anything or nothing. They also say they've sent a telegram of condolences to Rotterdam.' He'd picked up the piece of paper he'd scribbled on. 'To David Joseph Karlmann Meijer.' Van Effen sipped his brandy and said nothing. George and Vasco exchanged glances of incomprehension. At length George said: 'And who might he be?' 'I forgot,' de Graaf said. 'You don't know, of course. Anne's - Annemarie's - father.'
'Yes,' George said. 'I mean no. I don't understand, Colonel. What about Annemarie?'
De Graaf stared incredulously at van Effen. 'You mean, you haven't told them?'
'I don't believe I have.'
'Good God!' De Graaf shook his head. 'The need-to-know principle, I suppose. One of those days, Peter, you're going to forget to remind yourself of something and that will be the end of you.' De Graaf looked from George to Vasco. 'Annemarie and Julie - Lieutenant van Effen's sister - have been kidnapped. The Annecy brothers.' 'The Annecy brothers.' George was silent for a moment. 'Those murderous fiends. You put two of them away for fifteen years.' 'Correction. Lieutenant van Effen put them away and the two that escaped have been threatening to get him ever since. They've gone one better. They've got Julie.'
'I know Julie well. And what's the significance of this message to Annemarie's father?'
'The significance lies in her father. You will find it hard to believe, George, but the father of that fearful frump who used to frequent La Caracha is one of the wealthiest men in the Netherlands. Maybe the wealthiest. And a very powerful man. He has the ear of the government. He's in a position rather similar to Dassault, the plane maker, in France. There are some areas in which they don't move without consulting him at first or, at least, listening to what he says. He has power and wealth and a daughter and now they have the daughter and may well turn his power and wealth to their own advantage. Anne Meijer is any criminal's dream hostage come true.'
Van Effen put down his glass and looked at his watch. 'It's time, George.'
'God in heaven! I don't believe it. You look at your damned watch and say it's time to go. Doesn't it occur to you to wonder how in the hell they got that information about David Meijer.'
'Some sort of persuasion, I suppose.'
'Persuasion! Torture. They tortured the poor girl!' 'What poor girl?'
'Are you all right, Lieutenant? Annemarie, of course.' The shake of van Effen's head was very positive. 'No. Not Annemarie. The Annecy brothers - or at least the two we put away - never tortured without a reason, however twisted that reason might be. The reason was either revenge or to get information. Why should they revenge themselves on Annemarie - what has she ever done to anyone? And information -what information could they possibly get from her. They don't know who she is, who her father is. Didn't, rather. As far as they are concerned she's only a friend of Julie's and they took her along for no reason other than the fact that she happened to be there. If they tortured anybody - and I suspect it was only a threat of torture, to get information about me - it would have been Julie. My guess is that Annemarie volunteered that information about herself as a sop to the Annecys, to turn their minds to the thought of unlimited ransom money - maybe she even mentioned her father's influence with the government although people like the Annecys would almost certainly have been aware of that anyway - anything to distract attention from Julie. Annemarie's no fool - if she were, I wouldn't have brought her up from Rotterdam. She knows that the Annecys of this world are above all pragmatists and that anything that would further their plans would be of a great deal more interest to them than hurting me by proxy.' 'Cold-blooded fish,' de Graaf muttered.