At seven a.m. the three-quarter full squad room buzz suddenly went to a near whisper as all eyes turned towards Bakker as he came through the door, and headed for his desk. Harry Ribb, who was in his office drinking coffee, looked out into the squad room, and stopped midway and stared at the spectacle.
Unbelievable. Bakker had had a transformation. His hair was a lot shorter, not too short, but the shaggy mess had disappeared. He wore a brand new, nicely cut, dark brown leather jacket with neatly tailored zipped side pockets. Under his jacket he wore a dark blue upmarket polo shirt. The dark Wrangler blue jeans were also new, with no holes, stains or patches and a brand-new pair of dark blue Adidas sneakers.
Bakker went to his desk and took out his notes, seemingly totally unaware of the attention he was receiving. He was about to start up his computer when Wall walked in through the door. He came up beside Bakker and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Are you ready buddy? We got to go."
"Yeah?" Bakker said, fumbling his notes.
"I want to get a head start on that hospital. See if our little fishing yesterday picked up anything."
"Oh yeah, right." He quickly put the notes into a drawer, locked it, then stood up.
All eyes followed them as they went out the door. When they got outside Bakker let out a sigh of relief.
"Thanks for that."
"What?"
"Saving me."
"I did nothing," Wall replied, and continued to walk towards the back entrance to the car park. "Nice gear by the way. I dig the jacket."
"Thanks," Bakker said, as he unlocked his Citroen 2VC.
"This could do with a makeover as well," Wall said, as he got into the passenger seat.
"They call this type of car a lelijk eend in Dutch. Which means an ugly duckling."
"That would be about right. But as I recall, the ugly duckling turned into a beautiful swan, right?"
For the first time since they met, Bakker laughed. "That's true," Bakker replied, still chuckling. "And every morning I wake up hoping to find a beautiful swan parked outside my door."
"I believe in miracles too," Wall said, "but they only happen if you make them happen. What I mean is they never happen without a good kick in the ass, which will never happen if you just go on dreaming about it."
"I get the message." Bakker replied, smiling. He drove over the bridge, turned left, and headed in the direction of the hospital.
Their first stop was the security office on the left-hand side just inside the main entrance of the hospital. Five security guards were in the room, with only one watching the monitors. They had stuck the picture of the suspect to a concrete beam halfway down the office. Bakker pointed to it and spoke Dutch, and they all shook their heads. Wall and Bakker quickly left and headed for the lifts.
"Let's take the stairs this time," Wall said.
"But they've got lifts," Bakker complained.
"Are you afraid of the stairs or something?"
"No, I just always take the lift."
"You are never going to get fit by taking the elevator all your life. You will end up looking like that guy Hendrik or that other overweight blimp Dop. In New York, it's the fat asses who take the elevator, but young and fit people like you and me need to burn some energy and stay healthy. Come on."
Bakker looked at Wall. "All right, you got me into this," indicating to jacket and jeans, "I guess I need to work on the inside as well."
Wall lifted his arms wide and high, and shouted, "Now he gets it."
Five minutes later they stood at the nurse's post on the first floor. The nurse behind a desk looked blankly at them. It was a different nurse than yesterday. Another shift, Wall thought.
She said something in Dutch. "Yes, we are," Bakker replied in English.
"Oh yes, my colleagues told me you would come by," the nurse said, then looked up at Wall. "I'm sorry. Are you also from the police?"
"I am, in fact I'm the best they've got."
"I bet you are," she replied.
"We left a photo yesterday and would like to know if anyone recognized the man in the picture."
"Everybody has seen it, but I'm afraid no one recognized him."
"Do me a favor." Wall said. "You hold onto the photo and if you can put a name to the face give me a call."
The nurse sat upright in her chair and smiled. "Yes, I will."
Wall reached into his inside breast pocket and pulled out a card from the hotel.
"My cell phone number is on the back," he said, and handed her the card. "Thank you for your help."
Wall placed his hand on Bakker's shoulder and led him away. "Let's go pal."
"Are we working here or are we chasing after the nurses," Bakker said, as they went up the stairs to the next floor."
"Okay. Maybe I need to explain something to you. Work and play go together, otherwise you are going to hate your job after so many years. The only way to stretch it all the way up to your retirement is to have plenty of fun. Now, I have to admit my boss did not always appreciate my humor, but it was the only way I could do my work and like it."
They passed a doctor and two nurses coming down the stairs. Wall stopped talking until they were out of range.
"I also have to admit that some of my friends were corrupt, filling their pockets whenever they could. They thought that was the way to make it to retirement, or even better early retirement, but to me it was a dead-end tunnel. Eventually, you end up in jail with the scum, murderers, and shit of the earth you put behind bars in the first place. I decided right from the start that it was not the way from me. So the only thing I had left was to have fun."
"And that got you into trouble. I've seen your file."
"Fair enough. I got it into some shit with my boss, but I have never committed a crime, and I never hurt anyone else but myself. Is that clear?"
"Clear," Bakker replied.
"All right, now let's go interview more of those beautiful chicks and hope they can revive you from the zombie world you live in."
On the next floor, the nurse looked up at Bakker and Wall as they came to a halt before her desk. She said something in Dutch. Bakker answered her again in English.
"I am detective Frank Bakker from the Amsterdam police and this is my colleague Detective Wall, who is on loan to us from the New York Police Department."
Now that was a better introduction, Wall thought. She sat through Bakker's introduction with a straight face, almost cold, but when he finished she looked up at Wall and smiled.
"New York?"
"That's right." Wall replied.
"I was there two years ago, for about six months."
"All right. And where were you hiding out."
"Greenwich Village."
"Nice area. Pretty cool."
"We used to go to the village Tavern."
"Bedford Street, right? On the corner."
"Wow, you really know it."
"I worked mostly in Chinatown, but I used to go to the village to chill out. It's familiar territory."
"Nice."
Bakker did not know where to look. Wall noticed his irritation. "But the reason why we are here is that we are trying to identify this man."
Wall pointed to the picture they had left the day before which was now stuck to a drawer next to where she was sitting.
"I honestly don't know who he is."
"That's a pity," Wall said.
"Yes it is," she replied.
"We are going to the next floor but if you can identify this man, Wall said, pointing to the photo. "You can call me on this number." Wall handed the nurse another card from the hotel.
"My name is on the back, and my cell number," he added.
"A hotel?"
"Yeah, I just got here last week. I'm waiting for my boss to get me an apartment pretty soon."
"I'll let you know if something turns up," she replied.
He turned to Bakker. "Let's go."
On the stairs to the next level Bakker tapped Wal
l on the shoulder.
"What just happened back there."
"Back where?"
"With that nurse."
"What about it."
"There was something going on between you and that nurse."
"Right. You mean that. That's normal. I thought she was cute and she thought I was cute, then we just decided to see each other, that's all."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"That happened just like that."
"Yeah, why not. You are not going to tell me I broke some Dutch rule about meeting women? I mean, your country has legalized drugs, legalized prostitution, and all sorts of weird shit, this is possible, right?"
"I don't know the rules on that."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"I could look them up if you want."
"I don't think so. Maybe you just better forget about that area of the rulebook. What we don't know won't hurt us."
"As long as she's not a suspect. I do know that," Wall replied, with an air of authority. "That's in all the rulebooks."
The next floor was also a dead-end. The dark haired nurse told Bakker that everyone who had been on duty was questioned, but no one recognized the face.
Suddenly Bakker reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. Oh my God, Wall thought, not again.
"If you hear of anyone who can put a name to the face let me know as soon as possible," Bakker said, as he handed her the card. Wall looked down and saw it was brand-new and not creased and stained like yesterday.
"I will," she replied, and smiled.
"You can call me directly at the station but you can also reach me on my mobile number. That's on the bottom of the card."
"Okay, thanks."
There was a slightly longer silence between Bakker and the nurse than Wall wished for, but finally he turned and headed for the door which automatically opened.
Halfway up the stairs to the next level, Wall turned to Bakker.
"You little fox," Wall said.
"What?"
"You were hitting on that nurse."
"No, I wasn't," Bakker replied. "I just asked her to call me if she got any more information. It was no different to what you did."
"That sounds about right." Wall said, and chuckled. "You're something else, you know that?"
They went through all the wards, but nobody recognized the face in the window. When they left, they went back to the sports shop and picked up the buyers list of crampons for the last two years.
A few minutes later they sat in Bakker's car he had parked on the side street of the Eerste Helmerstraat, and went through the list. There were only twenty-eight pairs sold, which quickly dropped to twenty-seven. One pair was sold after the murders began. Nearly all had been paid for by bank or credit card, only two were paid in cash.
"I bet it's one of those paid in cash," Wall said. "There is no way he is going to leave a paper trail by paying with plastic."
"You could be right, but until we check out each and every one of these purchases we won't know for sure. I can run the bank numbers through our computers and get their addresses pretty quickly."
"Leave out tourists and people not living in Amsterdam," Wall said. "Like I said before. This guy is definitely local."
"Coffee?"
"You bet."
"I know a place just around the corner, we can go there."
They got out of Bakker's car and walked about fifty meters before turning right and towards a bar on the left-hand corner. Wall did not recognize it at first, since they approached it from a different angle, but suddenly he realized where he was. Looking through the window he spotted a familiar face at the end of the bar. It was the third thief he had caught last week, and the same bar.
At that moment, the thief looked up and recognized Wall.
He jumped off his bar stool and shot out the door and onto the busy street.
"Shit," Wall shouted, and took after him.
The thief dodged a car coming from the left and ran over the tram rails in the middle of the street, then up a side street opposite.
Wall narrowly missed the same car and went after him into the side street. Bakker made an effort to follow Wall, but he was too fast. He stalled and got out his mobile and called for assistance.
Wall gained on the thief along the sidewalk, but then he bolted to the right, behind a parked car and shot across the street. Wall raced on to an open parking gap twenty meters further up, then cut across the street and caught the thief by his shirt. He whacked him across on the back of the head with his right, and he was down. Wall's momentum carried on, which caused him to trip over the thief. He landed on his knees, just a meter away. As he climbed to his feet, Bakker stood over the thief, who lay motionless. He checked to see if he was still alive.
"Who is he," Bakker asked.
"He's one of the three thieves I caught last week."
"Oh, one of them." Bakker replied, surprised.
At that moment two police cars pulled up next to them and four uniformed police jumped out. Wall was amazed to see they had not drawn their handguns, as they would do back home. They casually walked over to the thief on the street, who was now slowly regaining consciousness. The officers said something to Bakker in Dutch and looked up at Wall. There was a quick banter in Dutch between the officers and Bakker. Wall did not understand a word of it, but his attention was on the thief in front of him, who was now sitting up straight.
"You got handcuffs?" Wall asked Bakker.
"Of course," he said, then removed a pair attached to his belt at the rear of his jacket. Wall went to grab them, then Bakker pulled away.
"He's not going to need them," Bakker said.
"He's a criminal. He robbed the pizza restaurant last week and either he escaped or some idiot let them free."
"That would be our boss, Chief Ribb."
"What?" Wall shouted.
"It turned out you used excessive violence when caught those three thieves."
"What?" Wall screamed, once again. "Are you kidding me? If I used excessive violence he would be in intensive care."
"They were released from jail the day after you caught them."
"You're fucking with me, right?"
"No."
"Well when was I going to be told about this," Wall moaned, totally astonished.
"I'm sure the chief was going to tell you, but as you might have guessed he had had a lot more important things to do this week."
"Oh, right." Wall climbed to his feet, took a couple of steps towards the thief and looked down. He had obviously recovered. He was nervous at the sight of Wall standing over him.
"Are you okay?" Wall asked, looking down at the thief.
"I'm okay," he replied.
"No bones broken?"
"I don't think so."
Wall reached down and grabbed the thief by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. Wall looked him over from head to foot.
"Yeah, you look okay."
"I'm alright." The thief replied, with a shade of doubt.
"That's what I want to hear, now get lost."
The thief stared at him. Wall could see from his eyes he did not trust him.
"You heard what I said. Get the fuck out of here. You're free to go."
The thief hesitated.
"Wait a minute," Bakker said, putting his hand on the shoulder of the thief. "He has to go to hospital for a check-up."
Wall turned back to the thief. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to go to the hospital?"
"No."
Wall lifted Bakker's hand off the thief's shoulder with ease.
"Then go."
The thief took off, with a slight limp to one leg.
"What did you do that for?" Bakker said, dumbfounded.
"Let's go and get that overdue coffee, and I'll explain some policing methods, and how not to let a thief sue your ass off.
"Oh," Bakker said,
deflated.
The two police cars left, and they both headed for Helmer's cafe.
"I'll tell you something," Wall said. "I'll be happy when I get my piece back."
"What? Your gun?"
"Dead right my gun. Maybe your chief will give me one of your models. A Walter P5, right?"
"I don't know." Bakker replied, sounding unsure of what to say. "You will have to take it up with him."
"Well, why didn't you draw your piece instead of letting me do all the hard work."
"I don't have a piece."
"What?"
"Well, I do have one, it's locked up back at the station."
"Why didn't you take it out with you?"
"We are not allowed."
"What?" Wall yelled. "What the hell do you use, water pistols?"
"We are only allowed to take weapons out onto the street if we believe we really need them."
"You're kidding me, right? You really don't have a piece with you?"
Wall grabbed the front of his jacket and opened it wide. There was no gun to be seen.
"No, I don't have any weapons on me right now, but if I needed it then the chief would let me have it."
"So that means I'll not be allowed to carry a weapon."
"I don't think so, no."
"You people are something else."
Along with the woman behind the bar, two female customers and an older man clapped when Wall and Bakker came through the door.
"That's the best action we've had around here in years," the bar lady said.
"Thank you very much," Bakker replied in Dutch, then turned to Wall. "It seems you're the hero of the day."
Wall bowed briefly to the people in the bar. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen. But I was only doing my duty."
"Much better than television," an older woman shouted. Everybody in the bar laughed.
"Where do you want to sit," Bakker asked.
"Let's sit there," he pointed to a small table across from the bar.
The bar lady had a ready smile and was quick to serve them when they sat down.
"What can I get you gentlemen?" She asked.
"What do you want?" Bakker asked Wall in English."
"I'll have a cappuccino."
"Two cappuccinos." She disappeared down the back of the bar.
"So this is where you caught the thief," Bakker said.
"Yes, I met up with him here and we had a beer together."
"Huh? A beer? Together? Really?"
"Yeah, well that's what you would call it. It was one of those little glasses where beer disappears in a blink of an eye."
"You arrested him here?"
"No. I followed him back to his house and pinned the fucker down right outside his front door. It's not nice to do that sort of thing in a bar like this. You upset the customers."
Wall looked over at the two old women sitting at the table next to the front window. They were smiling and staring at them.
Wall waved to the women. "Hi there. How you doing."
They waved back. "Very well thank you," the old woman on the right replied with a heavy Dutch accent. The bar lady quickly returned with their order on two separate small trays.
"Thank you ma'am," Wall said, then reached into his inside jacket pocket for his wallet.
"It's on the house," she said, as she laid the tray down in front of Wall. It had a large cappuccino and something that resembled chocolate covered waffle and a biscuit. "I'm so happy you chased that worm out of the bar. With any luck he will never set foot in here again. I never liked the klootzak anyway."
"Sorry? Klote what?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Klootzak means asshole in Dutch," she explained.
"All right. Klootzak," Wall repeated, nodding in approval. "I like that word."
Chapter Twenty-Seven