Floodgate Part 29

Dessens stared at him, his anger gradually changing to bewilderment. He shook his head and said nothing.

'What I mean is, sir, that if Lieutenant van Effen is to be locked up on a treason charge, then you'd have to lock me up, too, because I'm as much a traitor as he is.' De Graaf considered. 'More, I would say. I am, after all, his superior; moreover, I personally authorized and approved every action the Lieutenant has undertaken. 'Inconsequentially, it seemed, but probably to give Dessens time to readjust, de Graaf turned to van Effen and said: 'You forgot to tell me that you personally had detonated those explosives.'

Van Effen shrugged apologetic shoulders. 'You know how it is, sir.' 'I know,' de Graaf said heavily. 'You have so much on your mind. You seem to have told me that before.'

'Why have you stepped outside the law, Colonel?' There was no reproof in Wieringa's voice, only a question. Wieringa had remained remarkably unperturbed.

'We did not step outside the law, sir. We are doing and have done everything in our power to uphold the law. We - Lieutenant van Effen - have gained the entree - and a highly dangerous entree it is - into the ranks of the FFF. I think it is more than dangerous, it's close to suicidal. But Lieutenant van Effen has persuaded me - and I most reluctantly agree with him - that it's our last best hope. Our only hope.'

Dessens looked at the two policemen dazedly but his mind was beginning to function again, at least after a fas.h.i.+on. 'How is this possible? Van Effen's face must be known to every criminal in Amsterdam.' He had forgotten how junior van Effen had been only moments ago. 'It is. But not the van Effen you see before you. All appearance, voice and personality have changed to such a remarkable extent that I'd wager my pension that neither of you would recognize Stephan Danilov, which is the pseudonym he has temporarily and conveniently adopted.' He might have wagered something else, van Effen reflected; de Graaf was so wealthy that his pension was a matter of total indifference to him. 'Whether the FFF have uncritically accepted Stephan Danilov at his face value, we have no means of knowing. It seems incredible to me that, so far, they appear to have done. If they have not done or will not do so the city of Amsterdam will be requiring a new senior detective-lieutenant. They will also be requiring a new police chief, which the Lieutenant will probably regard as a trifling matter, because I shall have to resign. The Netherlands, of course, will be looking for a new Minister of Justice, because you, Mr Dessens, are also a party to this. Only Mr Wieringa can look forward to a safe tenure.' Dessens looked stricken. 'I haven't said that I'm a party to anything.' Wieringa took him gently by the arm. 'Bernhard, if you would, a word in your ear.' They walked away to a distant comer of the lounge, which was fortunately as large as it was luxurious, and began to converse in low terms. Wieringa appeared to be doing most of the conversing. Van Effen said: 'What weighty matters do you think our revered cabinet ministers are discussing?'

De Graaf forgot to reproach van Effen for his unseemly and unconst.i.tutional levity. 'No prizes for guessing that. Mr Wieringa is explaining to Mr Dessens the principle of Hobson's choice. If Dessens doesn't go along, the Netherlands is still going to be looking for a new Minister of Justice. If Dessens hadn't forced you to divulge your confidential information he wouldn't have found himself in the impossible situation he does now. Hoisted, to coin a phrase, on his own petard.' De Graaf seemed to find it a moderately entertaining thought. He settled himself comfortably in his chair, sighed and reached out for the brandy bottle. 'Well, thank heaven everything's over for the day.' Van Effen considerately let de Graaf pour himself some brandy and sip it before producing Agnelli's shopping list. 'Not quite complete, I'm afraid, sir. There's this little item.'

De Graaf read through the list, his face stunned, then read through it again. His lips were moving, but at first no sound came. He had just got around to muttering: 'This blue item, this little item,' when Wieringa and Dessens returned. Wieringa looked his normal imperturbable self, Dessens like a Christian who had just been given his first preview of the lions in the Roman arena.

Wierinva said: 'What little item, Colonel?'

'This.' De Graaf handed him the paper, put his elbow on the arm of his chair and his hand to his forehead as if to hide hi s eyes from some unspeakable sight.

'High explosives,' Wieringa read out. 'Primers. Detonators. Grenades. Ground-to-ground missiles. Ground-to-air missiles.' He looked at van Effen consideringly but with no signs of consternation on his face. 'What is this?'

'A shopping list. I was going to ask the Colonel to get it for me.' Desserts, who had adopted precisely the same att.i.tude as de Graaf, made a slight moaning sound. 'As you are the Minister of Defence, the Colonel would have had to approach you anyway. I'd also like to borrow an Army truck, if I may. With a little luck I may ever, be able to return it.' Wieringa looked at him, looked at the paper in his hand, then back at van Effen again. 'Balanced against this shopping list, as you call it, the loan of the odd army vehicle seems an eminently reasonable request. All this I can obtain without any great difficulty. I have heard a considerable amount about you, van Effen, and I have learnt a great deal more tonight. I would hesitate to question your judgement.' He thought for a moment. 'I think I would question my own first, so I don't question yours. No doubt it's just idle curiosity on my part, but it would be nice to know why you require those items.' 'The FFF seem to be short of explosives and offensive weapons, so I have promised to supply them with some.'

'Of course,' Wieringa said. 'Of course.' The Defence Minister appeared to be virtually unshockable; certainly, nothing showed in his eyes. Nothing was to be seen in the eyes of de Graaf or Dessens either, but that didn't mean that they were shock-proof. their shading hands still cut their eyes off from the dreadful realities of the harsh world outside.

'They also seem to be short of explosive experts, so I volunteered my services.'

'You know something about explosives?'

De Graaf reluctantly uncovered his eyes. 'He knows a great deal about explosives. He's also a bomb disposal expert. I wish,' he said bitterly, 'that this was something simple, like defusing a ticking 500-kilo bomb.' 'Yes, sir.' Van Effen was addressing de Graaf now. 'I've also recruited George and Vasco, George as another person versed in the way of explosives and Vasco as a trained missile launcher. You will understand that I did not have time to consult you on those matters.' 'You can't think of everything,' de Graaf said dully. He discovered, to his apparent astonishment, that his brandy gla.s.s was empty and set about rectifying this.

'Nothing illegal about recruiting those two men, Mr Wieringa. They're police sergeants. And they weren't recruited - they volunteered. They know the dangers. There's nothing to be done about the explosives, sir, but if you could have an amourer deactivate the missiles I'd be very grateful.'

De Graaf lowered his gla.s.s. 'So would I. So would L' Not much in the way of life had come back into his voice.

Wieringa said: 'I suppose I'm just being idly curious again but why are you and your two friends taking these appalling risks?' 'Calculated risks, sir. I hope. The reason is simple. The Colonel has said that we have gained an entree into the FFF. That's not quite accurate. We have been accepted - or appear to have been accepted - on the fringes. We're just on the outer strand of the spider's web. We don't know where the spider is. But if we deliver the requested items, we'll find out. They're not likely to leave missiles and missile launchers in a safe deposit box in the Central Station.'

'Impeccable logic, van Effen, impeccable logic. Except, of course, for one tiny little flaw.'

'Sir?'

'The spider may gobble you up. The scheme is mad, quite mad - which is the only reason it might just succeed. I'd be intrigued to know where and when you arranged this.'

'About an hour and a half ago. Over a drink with Agnelli.' For the first time, Wicringa's monolithic calm cracked. 'Over a drink with Agnelli? Agnelli? Agnelli! One of those men who have just left?'

'I was Stephan Danilov then. Well, can't think of anything else so, with your permission, I'll be on my way. The weather forecast should be interesting tonight - latest reports say flood level danger inside the next forty-eight hours might even exceed that of February 1953. That will be the time for our friends -and it doesn't leave a great deal of time for negotiations with the British Government. You will remember that I said I didn't believe in Riordan's short-range threats: I'm convinced that the long-range threat, the ma.s.sive flooding of the country, has been arranged and is totally real. One small point, Colonel. Riordan's allegations against the integrity of our customs. They're ludicrous. I know that. You know that. The world doesn't. I'm convinced that the transfers are taking place in the lisselmeer, Waddenzee or the open see. It's a Navy job. G.o.d knows we've got a bad enough name already as a gun-running entrepot: I wonder what it will be like when all this is over.' Van Effen smiled. 'Still, it's not a job that can be handled by a junior police officer: only the ministries of Defence and Justice can cope. Good-night, gentlemen.' 'Moment, Peter, moment.' It was de Graaf and his distress was apparent. 'Surely there's something we can do to help?'

'Yes, sir. There is. Do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Any attempt to help us will probably help us into our graves. Those are clever and desperate men so please, please, don't try anything clever and desperate yourselves. Don't have the truck followed, not in any way, no matter how clever you think you are, nothing. No helicopters, no blind barrel-organist, nothing. And nothing so futile and puerile as fitting a concealed location transmitter bug to the truck - unless they're mentally r.e.t.a.r.ded, it's the first thing they'd look for. Nothing. Do nothing.' 'We take your point,' Wieringa said drily. 'Nothing.' His tone changed. 'But from what you've just said, Lloyd's of London wouldn't insure you for a ninety-nine per cent premium. But you go. For the last time - why?'

'You heard what. Mr Dessens said - the good name and honour of the Netherlands in the dust, and you with its citizens full fathom five. We can't have that, can we?'

'Your sister?'

'What about my sister?'

The Colonel told me tonight. G.o.d only knows how you carry on as you do. I couldn't. Kidnapped.'

:She's part of it.'

I would not care to be the unfortunate man who abducted her when you meet up with him.'

'I've already met up with this unfortunate man.'

'What? For the second time Wieringa's self-control deserted him, but he recovered quickly. 'When?'

'Tonight.'

"Where?'

Here. Agnelli.'

'Agnelli!'

'I should have shot him full of holes? There's a law against it. I'm a policeman. I'm supposed to uphold the law. Sworn to it, in fact.' He left. Wieringa said: 'I begin to believe some of the stories about van Effen. The not-so-nice ones. G.o.d, Arthur, that's his sister. No blood in his veins. None. Ice.'

Yes, sir. Let's hope Agnelli has not hurt Julie.'

What do you mean?'

'Then he's a dead man. Sure, sure, van Effen's sworn to uphold the law - but only in front of witnesses.'

Wieringa stared at him, then nodded slowly and reached for his gla.s.s.

Eight.

At noon on that February day the streets of Amsterdam were dark as dusk. At noon on that same day the streets were as deserted as those of any long-dead city. The cloud cover driven by that icy northern wind must have been black and heavy and thousands of feet in depth but it could not be seen: the torrential slanting rain that bounced knee-high off those same deserted streets limited visibility in any direction, including vertically, to only a few yards. It was not a noontide for the well-advised to venture out of doors.

Van Effen, George and Vasco were among the very few who seemed to be singularly ill-advised. They stood in the porch way of the Trianon hotel, sheltering from the monsoon-like rain behind the side gla.s.s panels. Van Effen was subjecting Vasco to a critical examination. 'Not bad, Vasco, not at all bad. Even if I hadn't known it was you, I don't think I would have recognized you. I'm quite certain I would have brushed by you in the street and not given you a second look. But don't forget that Romero Agnelli had the opportunity of studying you very closely over the table at the Hunter's Horn. On the other hand, the clothes you wore on that occasion were so outlandish that he probably didn't spend much time examining your face. It will serve.'

Vasco had indeed undergone a considerable metamorphosis. The long blond locks that had straggled haphazardly over his shoulder had been nearly, even severely, trimmed and parted with millimetric precision just to the centre left. His hair was also black, as were his eyebrows and newly-acquired and immaculately shaped moustache, all of which went very well with his shadowed, thinned-down cheeks and heavy tan. All dyes were guaranteed waterproof. He was the maiden's conceptualized dream of what every young army officer should look like. s.h.i.+rt, tie, suit and belted trench-coat were correspondingly immaculate. 'They could use him in those army advertis.e.m.e.nts,' George said. 'You know, your country needs you.' George, himself, was still George. For him, disguise was impossible.

'And the voice,' van Effen said. 'I'm not worried about Agnelli, he's hardly heard you say more than a few words. It's Annemarie. I don't know whether she's a good actress with her emotions under control or not, but I rather suspect not. It would rather spoil things if she flung her arms round your neck and cried "My saviour!"'

'I have a very bad cold,' Vasco said hoa.r.s.ely. 'My throat is like sandpaper.' His voice reverted to normal and he said morosely: 'Whose throat wouldn't be in this d.a.m.ned weather. Anyway, I'll be the strong, silent type: I shall speak as little as possible.' 'And 1,'George said,'shall lurk discreetly in the background until one of you have advised the ladies - if the ladies arc indeed there - of my presence. But make it fast.'

'We'll make it as fast as we can, George,' van Effen said. 'We appreciate it's a bit difficult for you to lurk discreetly anywhere for any length of time. And I have no doubt whatsoever the ladies will be there.' He tapped the newspaper under his arm. 'What's the point, in holding a couple of trumps if you don't have them in your hand?'