Floodgate (40 page)

It is directly beneath us!
The camera lens had been extended to maximum zoom. The surface of the Markerwaard boiled whitely and erupted a great column of water climbing vertically skywards toward s the helicopter's camera.
'Would you look at that?' the excited voice went on. 'Would you just look at that?' It seemed rather a superfluous question, as, unquestionably, almost every eye in the Netherlands was looking at nothing else. 'And the air is full of spray. Our pilot is moving as quickly as possible to the north-west - we want to get out of this area as quickly as possible. We are making poor time in this north-west gale, but he is clearly hoping that that same gale will blow the spout and spray away from us. So do Van Effen looked at Samuelson. He appeared to have gone into some kind of trance. The only sign of movement came from his hands. His fingers were interlocked but his thumbs were revolving slowly around each other. The studio announcer appeared. 'I am afraid the helicopter's lenses are clouded by that spray. We regret that none of the other three cameras are in visual contact. The detonation appears to have occurred almost exactly in the centre of the Markerwaard.' The helicopter commentator's voice came again. 'Sorry about that. What with the spray and rain we are at the moment quite blind. We are still moving steadily north-west. Wait a minute, wait a minute. We have eyes again.' The spout was collapsing on itself. The camera, zoom half retracted, was only momentarily on the spout, then began panning the surrounding area. A circle of water could be seen moving steadily outwards from the centre. 'That,' the commentator said 'must be the expected tidal wave. Doesn't look much like a wave to me, but, then, from this altitude it is impossible to gauge the height of the water.'
The picture faded to be replaced by the studio announcer. 'We are trying to - wait, wait, we have Volkendam.'
A camera, at full zoom, showed a swell of water, little more than a ripple, it seemed, rapidly approaching the shore-line. A commentator said: 'I agree with my colleague in the helicopter. This is hardly my idea of a tidal wave. However, I understand those tsunami tend to increase in height as the water shallows. We shall see.'
There wasn't, in fact, much to sec. With the wave less than a hundred metres from land, the commentator estimated its height as just under a metre, which was pretty much in accordance with the scientists' predictions. Samuelson gestured for the set to be switched off. 'A few wet feet, no more,' he said. 'And not a life lost. An impressive performance, wouldn't you say, Mr Danilov?
'Most impressive.' True, probably not a life had been lost. Not that day. But the years to come might well record a different story: the radio-active fall-out would have fallen or would be falling over the already flood-beleaguered Flevolands. But it hardly seemed an appropriate moment to point this out to Samuelson.
Samuelson said: 'Romero, radio the message to the Haringvliet dam. Emphasize the need for absolute radio silence. Where the devil are those two who went in search of Ylvisaker and his friends?'Nobody knew where the devil they were. 'Five good men lost to me. Five!'
'It's annoying, Mr Samuelson,.' Vasco said. 'And worrisome. But it can have no effect on the outcome. We have seventeen men. With the element of total surprise in our favour I could guarantee to take the Haringvliet with only four men.'
Samualson smiled. 'That's a comfort. We leave in twenty minutes.'
They left in twenty minutes. All the soldiers were armed, all carried either rucksacks or satchels. Neither van Effen nor George were armed, at least not visibly, but they, too, carried satchels, both crammed with gas grenades. In addition, van Effen had taken the precaution of taking his Yves Saint Laurent aerosol,
As they climbed aboard the gunship, van Effen said to Samuelson: 'Gas, not guns?'
'Gas, not guns.'
Twelve
The gunship touched down on the Haringvliet darn roadway at 2.38 p.m. Romero Agnelli, dressed as a major and in nominal command of the party, was the first down the steps. A fair-haired, youngish man with horn-rims detached himself from a small group of observers, hurried forward to greet Agnelli and shook him warmly by the hand.
'Damned glad to see you, Major, damned glad. Have you seen what those devils have just done in the Markerwaard?'
'That we have,' Agnelli said sombrely. 'That we have.' 'How seriously do you take this threat to the Haringvliet?' 'Well,' Agnelli said reasonably, 'there's no threat now. Quite frankly, I don't take it seriously at all, but, as soldiers, ours is not to reason why. Quite frankly again, the country is in a state of near panic and ninety-nine per cent of all intelligence reports and agitated phone calls we receive turn out to be groundless. This, I say, may be the hundredth, although, as I say, I don't believe it.' He took the man's arm and led him a few steps from the helicopter as soldiers followed down the steps and others opened the loading doors. 'May I have your name, sir?' 'Borodin. Max Borodin. Manager. What on earth are those things they are unloading?'
'Missiles and their launching platforms. We'll have one facing the North Sea, the other the river. Ground-to-ground missiles and ground-to-air missiles. Heat-seeking. Lethal.' Agnelli did not add that they could be swivelled on their platforms to cover both road approaches to the Haringvliet dam. 'Totally superfluous precaution. The FFF are a mad lot but not mad enough to launch a frontal attack on the Haringvliet dam. We expect a destroyer and patrol boats to be standing by shortly. Again, quite unnecessary.'
'Unnecessary or not, you've taken a great load off my mind. Who are those two rather portly and harmless-looking civilians?' 'Portly they may be. Harmless they are not. Senior police officers from Amsterdam. Very much specialists in a very specialist anti-terrorist squad. They'll be wanting to look for any weak spots in your defences. Pure formality but they insist. We shall leave two soldiers by the missiles to keep watch. Inspector Danilov - that's the less portly one - also insists that my men accompany us. He wants, understandably, that they should familiarise themselves with the general layout of the interior of the dam.'
Twenty minutes it was and a very surprising twenty minutes it turned out to be for Mr Borodin, not least when four blue-overalled mechanics produced Kalashnikov machine guns which had been assembled from their tool bags. It was a completely painless - physically, that is, but not mentally for many of those concerned - and bloodless operation. Borodin, his staff and his guards had simply no chance. They all finished up in one of the many giant cellars in which the darn abounded. Agnelli was about to turn the key in the lock when van Effen stopped him. 'No. Rope. Tie them. Come, come, Mr Agnelli, you're the man who never overlooks anything.'
'I've overlooked something?'
'You've overlooked the fact that O'Brien may not be the only man in the world who can pick any lock in the world.'
Agnelli nodded. 'Of course. Rope.' Rope was fetched, enough to secure a hundred men. When Borodin and his men had been bound hand and foot, Samuelson, looking every inch the successful Roman general back from Gaul and making his ritual entry of triumph into the city of Rome, led them all up to the control room. Van Effen and his two friends lingered some way behind while van Effen opened a small tin and brought out six sodden balls of cotton-wool. These they stuffed into their nostrils. Vasco winced.
'What the hell is this? Sulphuric acid?'
'You'll get used to it,' van Effen said.
'And what was this rigmarole about people being able to pick locks? It's a million to one against there being another O'Brien down there.' 'We're going to need rope. Lots of it. There's a couple of hundred yards of it down there.'
Vasco looked at George. 'The man thinks of everything. 'He shook his head. 'Agnelli is not the only one who overlooks things.' They entered the control room. It was wide and very spacious with serried ranks of control panels lining the right-hand wall and paralleling tables. O'Brien was in the vicinity of them but not examining them: van Effen knew he didn't have to.
'Ah!' Samuelson said. 'The very man, Lieutenant. I want to talk to Wieringa, the Minister of Defence.'
Vasco showed no surprise, merely thought for a few seconds. 'The Defence Minister will be out at Volkendam, I imagine. Doesn't matter where he is. No problem. Wherever he is, office, car or plane, he's never more than an arm's length from a telephone. IT call the War Office and they'll patch him in.'
'How long will it take?'
'A minute. Less.'
'A minute!'
'In the Netherlands,' Vasco said with a trace of loftiness, 'the Army has over-riding priority.' In less than the specified time he handed the phone to Samuelson, who took it, his eyes the eyes of a man whose dreams have come true. Or a madman whose dreams have come true. 'Mr Wieringa? This is the leader of the FFF, the Fighters For Freedom. I trust you appreciated our little demonstration in the Markerwaard this afternoon. I have some more rather unwelcome news for you. We have taken over the Haringvliet dam. I repeat, we are in complete control of the Haringvljet.' There ensued quite a lengthy pause, at least on Samuelson's part before he continued: 'I am glad, Mr Wieringa that you appreciate the significance of this. Any attempt to retake the Haringvliet, by force or by stealth, will have disastrous effects on Holland. I m;,-ht also add that we have mined the dykes at Hollandsch Diep and the Volkeral. We have observers there.
Any attempts to send divers to investigate will compel us to radio-detonate those mines.
'At 4 p.m. we will be giving a slight demonstration of what awaits your country if our demands are not met immediately by opening a few sluice gates for a few minutes. You might find it instructive to have a helicopter around to take a. few pictures so that the people of the Netherlands may understand what lies in store for them.
'I do hope you speed up negotiations with the British government.' 'That was quite a performance, Mr Samuelson,' van Effen said. 'You really do have those two dykes mined?'
Samuelson laughed. 'Of course not. Why should 1. That pusillanimous lot now take our every word for gospel.'
Van Effen and his two friends drifted unobtrusively into the space between the table and wall controls and opened their satchels while Samuelson and his men talked excitedly and congratulated themselves. In the space of just over two seconds ten gas grenades, fairly evenly spaced around the room, exploded. The effects were spectacular. Within a few seconds everyone was staggering about and most were unconscious before they crumpled to the floor. Van Effen snatched a key from Agnelli's pocket and the three men hastily left the room, closing the door behind them. Their noses were protected but they could hold their breath for only so long. 'Five minutes and we'll be able to go back in there,'van Effen said. 'They'll be asleep for half an hour at least.' He handed Vasco the key. 'The ropes. Cut Borodin free and tell him to do the same for the others. Explain.'
Vasco entered the cellar and cut an astonished Borodin free, then handed him the knife. 'Cut the others free. We're police officers - genuine ones. The one with the scarred face is Lieutenant van Effen of the Amsterdam police.' 'Van Effen? Borodin was, understandably dazed. 'I've seen his picture. Mat's not him. I know his face.'
'Use your head. So does nearly every criminal in Holland.'
'But the FFF -'
'Are having a short nap.' Vasco gathered up the spare ropes and left at a run.
Van Effen approached the man on the seaside missile site. 'Mr Samuelson wants you. Quickly. Control room. I'll keep watch.' The man was just disappearing from sight when van Effen crossed to the other man on the river missile site, his hand round the burgundy Yves Saint-Laurent aerosol with the special fragrance. He lowered the man to the roadway and headed for the helicopter.
The man from the first missile site that van Effen had visited stopped when he saw George, who waved him on encouragingly. As the man passed, George chopped him on the back of the neck. For George, it was just a little chop, but the man, had he retained consciousness would probably have regarded it in a different light. George lowered him gently to the floor.
Van Effen pulled back the curtain and said: 'Ah, there you are, Joop. Keeping a good watch, I see.' Joop's good watch lasted for all of another two seconds before he slumped to the floor. Van Effen produced his Smith and Wesson, waved it in the general direction of Kathleen and Maria and sliced Annemarie's and Julie's bonds free. He raised both girls to their feet, helped them free their gags, and, gun still in hand, put his arms round their shoulders. 'My beloved sister. And my dear dear Annemarie.' The eyes of Kathleen and Maria were as round as the proverbial saucers. 'You took your time about it, didn't you,' Julie said. There were tears in her eyes.
'Gratitude was ever thus,' van Effen sighed. 'There were problems.' 'It's over?' Annemarie whispered. 'It's all over?'
'All over.'
'I love you.'
'I'll have you repeat that when you are in a more normal state of mind.'
The two seated girls were still staring at them. Kathleen said: 'Your brother?' Her voice was husky, her voice disbelieving. 'My brother,' Julie said. 'Peter van Effen. Senior detective lieutenant of the Amsterdam police force.'
'It's a nasty shock, I will admit,' van Effen said. 'There may be an even nastier one awaiting you. There are those whom you might like to see or who might like to see you. When they wake up, that is.'
All of the FFF were still sound asleep, bound hand and foot, or in the process of being so bound.
'Not bad, not bad,' van Effen said. 'And what else have you been doing with your time?'
'Would you listen to him,' Vasco said. He tightened, with unmistakable enthusiasm, the last knot on the rope binding Samuelson's legs. 'To start with, half the police cars and vans in Rotterdam and Dordrecht should be on the dam inside fifteen minutes. I thought that up all by myself.' 'A promising officer, as I said.' Van Effen turned to Kathleen, who was staring at her father, her face ashen with shock and fear. 'Why, Kathleen?'
Instead of replying, she reached inside her handbag and brought out a small pearl-handed gun. 'You're not going to take Mr Samuelson. You didn't know he was my father.'
'Yes, Kathleen, I did.'
'You did?' Her voice faltered. 'How did you know?'
'Julie told me.'
Julie stepped between the gun and van Effen. 'You'll have to shoot me first, won't you, Kathleen. I'm not being brave because I know you could never do it.'