Floodgate

  ‘And here, again,’ de Graaf said, ‘comes your own private and personal nuisance. My word, you are popular tonight.’

  Van Effen looked, sighed, rose, spoke briefly to the waiter again and disappeared towards the telephone booths.

  ‘The same opposition stirs yet again,’ he said on his return. ‘Ah, a brandy. Thank you, sir. That was Sergeant Westenbrink—Vasco. Message again via the office, of course. Agnelli has been in touch with him. They would, they say, very much like to meet me at 11 a.m., tomorrow morning. Same place. This can mean one of two things.’

  ‘I know what it means,’ de Graaf said. ‘Either they’re on to us or they’re not on to us. It is quite possible that they had no idea that they were being shadowed ever since leaving the Hunter’s Horn this afternoon. On the other hand it’s perfectly possible that they did know. If they did, they can have only one purpose in wanting to meet you, to see how much you know, what danger your knowledge offers and how best they can eliminate this danger. It should, I imagine, be all very discreet. And, if they suspect you and suspect that you in turn suspect them, they’re being clever, for in that case one would have expected them to opt for a neutral rendezvous, for if they suspect you’re an undercover policeman or working as an agent for the police then they must automatically suspect that the Hunter’s Horn is a police hang-out. But, of course, to go elsewhere would be to tip their hand that they know.’ De Graaf sighed. ‘All very devious and complicated. Designed to spread confusion and doubt on all hands. Maybe they’ve been taking lessons from the FFF. Or vice versa. Another brandy, Peter? No? In that case I suggest we be on our way. I expect we shall be having a rather long day tomorrow. Do you have any particular plan for this young lady tomorrow?’

  ‘I shall think up some onerous task by and by. As yet, no.’

  ‘Um.’ De Graaf pondered. ‘You, Anne, are, of course, seen quite often in the company of Sergeant Westenbrink.’

  She smiled. ‘I find it difficult to think of him other than as Vasco. Yes, of course. We have to talk and it seems the best—and also the easiest—thing to do it openly.’

  ‘Quite. Do you come and go as you like there?’

  ‘Of course. That’s the whole point of being us. No hours, no rules, no regulations. You do as you like, you’re as free as the air.’

  ‘It would cause no undue comment if you were not to turn up for a day, even two days?’

  ‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘Am I supposed to be intelligent and guess what you’re getting at, sir?’

  ‘You’re intelligent enough. It’s just that you lack the training and experience to have a nasty, devious, suspicious mind, such as is possessed by Lieutenant van Effen, and I hope you always will.’

  Annemarie shook her head, almost imperceptibly, then looked questioningly at van Effen who said: ‘The Colonel is right, you know.’

  ‘I don’t know. That is, I’m sure he’s right, but I don’t know what he’s right about. If you’re having fun with me, I don’t think it’s very fair.’

  ‘We aren’t having fun with you, Annemarie. Teasing or diminishing people is not our idea of having a good time. Look. All this is a matter of connections. It’s at least possible—I’d say a fifty-fifty chance—that Agnelli and company are on to us. In that case, Vasco is also under suspicion because he introduced them to me. And because you are known to associate with Vasco you, in turn, come under suspicion.

  ‘What the Colonel’s suggesting is that you lie low for a day, maybe even two. Depends how things develop. I have the feeling, irrational, perhaps, that the development is going to be very rapid indeed. It’s not a pleasant thought for the Colonel or myself that you should fall into those people’s hands. Think of those two detectives, the tails who ran out of luck. We already know that those people are ruthless, that the inflicting of pain is a matter of indifference to them. It may even be a downright pleasure. How would you care to be taken by them and tortured? I am not trying to scare you, Annemarie. I’m talking about something that’s halfway between a possibility and a probability.’

  ‘I think I’ve already told you.’ Her voice was very quiet. ‘I’m not particularly brave.’

  ‘And then they’d know who it was they had on their hands. They’d be over the moon. Another lovely blackmailing trump in their hands in addition to their still undisclosed trumps. Apart from your own health, you’d be putting us in an impossibly difficult situation.’

  ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ de Graaf said.

  She smiled faintly. ‘I’m a coward. I’ll do what I’m told.’

  ‘Not told, my dear, not told,’ de Graaf said. ‘Just a suggestion.’

  Again the faint smile. ‘It sounds like a very good suggestion to me. Where shall I stay?’

  ‘With Julie, of course,’ van Effen said. ‘An unobtrusive armed guard will be lurking in the vicinity. But before you go into purdah, as it were, there’s one thing I want you to do for me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I want you to go to Vasco in the morning. Tell him what we’ve told you and tell him to disappear. I know where he’ll disappear to and I’ll contact him there when it’s safe to.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘When you asked me to do something for you and I said “of course”—well, I wish now I hadn’t. You see what you’ve done to me, Peter. I’m a quivering wreck.’

  ‘You’re not quivering and for a wreck you look in pretty good shape to me. You may be jumped on there and then your gallant fellow Krakers would look the other way?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We are accustomed to those injustices, are we not, Colonel? Nothing will happen to you. You’ll be under constant surveillance, and by constant I mean sixty seconds every minute. The trusty Lieutenant van Effen, suitably disguised—not the Hunter’s Horn disguise, of course—and lumbered with his usual arsenal—there’s a thought for you, Colonel. I think I’ll carry a third gun tomorrow when I meet Agnelli and his friend or friends. They already know that—’

  ‘That you carry two guns,’ de Graaf said, ‘and so their minds will, of course, be pre-conditioned against the idea of you carrying a third. It’ll be in your book, of course.’

  ‘Of course, it’s not. One mustn’t put such thoughts in the minds of the criminal element. But, yes, that’s the idea. So, no problem, Annemarie. I won’t be further away than five metres at any time.’

  ‘That’s nice. But you’ve put all sorts of unpleasant thoughts in my head. I could be jumped on, in your words, anywhere and any time between here and Julie’s house.’

  ‘More injustice. No worry. I will transport you there in the safety and comfort of my own limousine.’

  ‘Limousine!’ de Graaf said. ‘Comfort! My God!’ He bent a solicitous eye on the girl. ‘You have, I trust, not forgotten your air cushion?’

  ‘I don’t understand, sir.’

  ‘You will.’

  They left the restaurant and walked along the street until they came to the Colonel’s car, parked, as usual, in a no parking area. De Graaf kissed the girl in what he probably regarded as an avuncular fashion, said goodnight and climbed into his gleaming Mercedes. The back seat of his Mercedes. Colonel de Graaf, inevitably, had a chauffeur.

  Annemarie said: ‘I understand now what the Colonel meant about an air cushion.’

  ‘A trifling inconvenience,’ van Effen said. ‘I’m having it fixed. Orders. The Colonel complains.’

  ‘The Colonel does like his comforts, doesn’t he?’

  ‘It may not have escaped your attention that he was built for comfort.’

  ‘He’s very kind, isn’t he? Kind and courteous and considerate.’

  ‘It’s no hardship to be all those things when the object of them is as beautiful as you.’

  ‘You do have a nice turn of speech, Lieutenant.’

  ‘Yes, I do, rather.’

  She was quiet for a moment, then said: ‘But he is rather a snob, isn’t he? A fearful snob.’

 
‘In the interests of discipline, I must speak severely. You can’t expect me to condone, far less agree with, denigrating remarks about our Chief of Police.’

  ‘That wasn’t meant to be denigrating. It was just an observation. I refuse to get to the stage where I must watch every word I say. This is still an open society. Or is it?’

  ‘Well, well.’

  ‘Go on. Say it. “Spoken with spirit” or something like that.’

  ‘I don’t think I will. But you’re about as wrong with your snobbism as you were about your warm-hearted Arthur bit.’

  ‘Arthur?’

  ‘Our chief’s first name. Never uses it. I’ve never figured out why. Regal connotations. Sure he’s kind and thoughtful. He’s also tough, shrewd and ruthless, which is why he is what he is. And he’s no snob. Snobs pretend to be what they are not. His is a very ancient, very aristocratic and very wealthy lineage which is why you’ll never find me contesting a restaurant bill with him. He was born with the knowledge that he was different, the one per cent of the one per cent. Never occurs to him to question it. He’s convinced that he radiates the spirit of democracy.’

  ‘Tough or not, snob or not, I like him.’ She spoke as if that settled the matter, without specifying what the matter was.

  ‘Arthur, as you may have observed, has a way with the ladies. Especially when he’s off-duty, which is what he considered himself to be tonight.’

  ‘Are you never off-duty? Am I always a policewoman?’

  ‘Never thought about it that way. But I will. Think about it, I mean.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’ She lapsed into silence and remained that way for the rest of the drive. Only van Effen spoke. He called up his office and requested an armed guard for his sister’s house.

  It was not difficult to understand why de Graaf had said that Julie van Effen was his favourite lady in all Amsterdam. With hair dark and shining as a raven’s wing, a delicately moulded face and high, rather Slavonic cheek-bones, she was far more than just merely good-looking but her attraction for de Graaf, as for a great many others, almost certainly lay in her laughing dark eyes and laughing mouth. She was almost permanently good-humoured—except when she encountered injustice, cruelty, meanness, selfishness and quite a few other things of which she disapproved, when she could become very stormy indeed—and seemed to love the whole world with the exception of those who encountered her formidable disapproval. She was one of those rare people who radiated happiness, a quality that more than tended to conceal the fact that below it all lay a fine intelligence. Cabinet Ministers do not habitually employ dim-witted secretaries and Julie was a Cabinet Minister’s secretary, private, personal, confidential and discreet.

  She was also very hospitable and wanted to cook them a meal as soon as they had entered. It was easy to believe that this multi-talented young lady was also a cordon bleu chef, which, in fact, she was. She then offered sandwiches and desisted only when she learned that they had already eaten.

  ‘The Dikker en Thijs, was it? Well, the police always did know how to look after themselves. For a working girl, it’s new herring, red cabbage and sausage.’

  ‘For this particular working girl,’ van Effen said, ‘it’s the ministerial canteen. A gourmet’s paradise, so I’m told—we cops aren’t allowed near the place, of course. Julie, alas, has no will-power—well, you’ve only to look.’ Julie, had in fact, as nearly perfect a figure as it was possible to imagine. She treated this badinage with a lofty contempt, ruffled his hair in the passing and went to the kitchen to prepare some coffee and a café schnapps.

  Annemarie looked after her departing form, turned to van Effen and smiled. ‘She can wrap you round her little finger any time, can’t she?’

  ‘Any time and any day,’ van Effen said cheerfully. ‘And, alas, she knows it. “Minx” is the word for her. Something I have to show you, in case you’re in the house alone.’ He led her to a picture on the wall and pushed it to one side to reveal a red button set flush with the wallpaper. ‘What’s known to the trade as a personal attack button. If you think you’re in danger, suspect it or even sense it, you press this button. A patrol car will be here within five minutes.’

  She tried to make light of it. ‘Every housewife in Amsterdam should have one of those.’

  ‘As there are a hundred thousand housewives in Amsterdam—maybe two for all I know—it would come a mite expensive.’

  ‘Of course.’ She looked at him and didn’t or couldn’t smile any more. ‘I’ve been with the two of you a few times now and one would have to be blind and deaf not to realize that you’re just potty about your kid sister.’

  ‘Tut, tut. I can but sigh. Is it so obvious?’

  ‘I hadn’t finished. You didn’t have that installed just because you love her. She’s in danger, isn’t she?’

  ‘Danger?’ He caught her by the shoulders, so tightly that she winced. ‘Sorry.’ He eased his grip but left his hands where they were. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Well, she is, isn’t she? In danger, I mean.’

  ‘Who told you? Julie?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The Colonel?’

  ‘Yes. This evening.’ She looked at him, her gaze moving from one eye to the other. ‘You’re not angry, are you?’

  ‘No. No, my dear, I’m not angry. Just worried. I’m not a healthy person to know.’

  ‘Julie knows about the danger?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Does she know about the postcards?’ He looked at her thoughtfully and didn’t change his expression as she put her hands on his shoulders and made as if to shake him in exasperation; which was a silly thing to do as van Effen was built along very solid lines. ‘Well, does she?’

  ‘Yes. It would be difficult for her not to. The postcards come to this address. One of the Annecy brothers’ ways of getting to me.’

  ‘Dear God. This—this is dreadful. How—how can she be so—so happy?’ She put her head against his shoulder as if she was suddenly tired. ‘How can she?’

  ‘The old saying, I suppose. Better to laugh than to cry. You’re not about to cry, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The old saying doesn’t quite apply here. She always was a happy child. Only, now she has to work at it.’

  Julie came in with coffee, stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. ‘Isn’t it a little early in the evening—’ She laid the tray down. ‘I hope the deafness is a temporary affliction. I said—’ She stopped again, the expression on her face showing her concern, moved swiftly to where they stood, put an arm round Annemarie and gently turned her head until she could see her face. ‘Tears. Full of tears.’ She pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve cuff. ‘What’s this ruffian been up to?’

  ‘This ruffian hasn’t been up to anything,’ van Effen said mildly. ‘Annemarie knows everything, Julie. Marianne, the kids, you, me, the Annecys.’

  ‘The Colonel, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘You’ll be bound right.’

  Julie said: ‘I know, Annemarie. It’s a shock. To come all at once, it’s a shock. At least it came to me bit by bit. Come. I have the sovereign remedy. A double schnapps in your coffee.’

  ‘You’re very kind. If I could be excused—’ She turned and walked quickly from the room.

  ‘Well.’ There was a demanding note in Julie’s voice. ‘Don’t you see what you’ve done?’

  ‘Me?’ Van Effen was genuinely perplexed. ‘What am I supposed to have done now? It was the Colonel—’

  ‘It’s not what you have done. It’s what you haven’t done.’ She put her hands on his shoulders and her voice went soft. ‘It’s what you haven’t seen.’

  ‘I see. I mean, I don’t see.’ Van Effen was cautious. ‘What haven’t I seen?’

  ‘You clown.’ Julie shook her head. ‘Annemarie. Her heart is in her face, in her eyes. That girl’s in love with you.’

  ‘What! You’re not well, that’s what it is.’

  ‘My beloved, brilliant dolt of a br
other. But don’t believe me. Ask her to marry you now. A special licence—which you can obtain at the drop of a hat—and you’d be married by midnight.’

  Van Effen looked slightly dazed. ‘Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m absolutely certain.’

  ‘But she hardly knows me.’

  ‘I’m aware of that. After all, you’ve only met her, what—twenty, thirty, forty times?’ She shook her head. ‘The feared interrogator, the writer of books on psychology, the man who can lay bare the innermost secrets of any mind with one piercing glance—well, a hundred per cent for theory, zero for practice.’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk. Specialist in marriage counselling—or should I say match-making? Ha! Six marriage proposals for certain—could have been twenty for all I know—and you turned them all down. There indeed speaks the voice of experience.’

  ‘Don’t try to change the subject.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Yes, indeed, there speaks the voice of experience. I didn’t love any of them. She is deeply in love with you. I don’t quite understand why.’

  ‘I need a schnapps.’ Van Effen opened a nearby cupboard.

  ‘I’ve just brought you a café schnapps.’

  ‘First of all, I need a schnapps. Then I need a café schnapps.’

  ‘Not a psychiatrist? Why do you think she’s so upset?’

  ‘She’s soft-hearted, that’s why.’

  ‘You should make a splendid match. Soft heart. Soft head.’ She took his head between her hands and studied his eyes carefully. ‘The hawk-eyed detective lieutenant. What you need is a pair of glasses. And you’ve missed your cue, haven’t you? Half a dozen times, at least.’

  ‘What cue?’

  ‘Oh dear. That wary hunted look makes you more criminal than cop. What cue? “I wouldn’t marry her if she were the last girl in the world” should have been your answer to the cue. Standard reaction, I believe.’ She smiled again. ‘But of course, you’re not standard.’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’

  ‘A well reasoned answer.’ She sat and took up her coffee. ‘Mental myopia. I believe it’s incurable.’