Алистер Маклин - Floodgate

‘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.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll find the answer.’ Van Effen was his old self, calm, assured, relaxed and very much back on balance. ‘I don’t particularly care for cool, clinical, slightly superior, slightly amused doctors, but I have to admit you’ve effectively worked a cure in my case. You’ve cured me of any interest I might ever have had in that young lady. Or maybe that was what you wanted. I don’t know.’ She was looking at him with parted lips and uncomprehending eyes. ‘I don’t need – I don’t want, I should say – help, advice or sympathy from you, and not just because they’re uncalled-for, unhelpful, unwanted or unsolicited but because I’m perfectly capable of managing my own life without the assistance of a meddlesome young sister. I’ll go check if the guard is here.’

He went out leaving Julie to stare numbly at the door he’d closed behind him, disconsolate and disbelieving, and she was still in the same position, still gazing sightlessly at the door, the same expression of hurt and bafflement on her face when Annemarie came into the room. Annemarie stopped, looked in puzzlement at the unhappy face, hurried across the room to Julie’s chair, dropped to her knees and said: ‘What’s wrong, Julie? What’s wrong?’

Julie looked away from the door and slowly turned her head. ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’

‘Nothing’s wrong? Oh, God! Nothing. First me, then you. Tears. And you look – you look so woebegone.’ Annemarie hugged her. ‘Nothing wrong! Julie! Don’t treat me like an idiot.’

‘I’m the idiot. I’ve just made a mistake.’

‘You? I don’t believe it. Mistake. What mistake?’

‘The mistake of forgetting that Peter is not only my brother, he’s a policeman and heir apparent to the Colonel. You didn’t know that, did you?’ Julie sniffled. ‘Common knowledge. De Graaf is due to retire this year but he’s in no hurry to retire as long as Peter is already doing most of his job for him.’

‘Never mind the Colonel. Where’s that ruffian?’

Julie tried to smile. ‘Second time tonight he’s been called a ruffian by two different girls. I’ll bet it’s never happened before. He’s left.’

‘Gone? Gone for the night?’

‘No. Just to check on the guard.’ Julie smiled again, a more successful effort this time. ‘He may be gifted at reducing people to tears but I’m sure he cares for us.’

‘He’s got a funny way of showing it. What did he do to you, Julie? What did he say?’

‘Do? Nothing, of course. Say? I stepped out of line, I guess, and he brought me back into line. That’s all.’

‘You expect me to be satisfied with that?’

‘No, I don’t, my dear. But can we leave it just for the moment? Please?’

They had finished their coffee by the time van Effen had returned. He appeared to find nothing amiss or, if he did, chose not to comment on it.

‘Guard’s here,’ he said. ‘Armed to the teeth. And I have to go now.’

‘But your coffee –’

‘Another time. I am, as they say, summoned forth. Julie, there’s something you must do for me. Could you –’

‘Must?’ She smiled. ‘An order or request.’

‘What does that matter.’ Rarely for him, van Effen was irritated. ‘Do what I ask – please, note the please – or I’ll take Annemarie away with me.’

‘My word! Such threats. And if she chooses to remain here or I ask her to stay?’

‘Rotterdam. Tomorrow morning. Ex-police-woman. You don’t disobey orders in the police and remain on the force. Sorry, Annemarie, that was not directed at you. Julie’s not being very bright tonight. Don’t look shocked, little sister, if you can’t see I’m serious then you’ve become uncommonly stupid. Develop diplomatic flu for the next day or two. Annemarie is in as much danger as you are and I want the two of you here together. Annemarie, nine-fifteen.’

He went to the door and opened it, looked at the two solemn faces and shook his head.

‘Exit the gallant Lieutenant into the dark and dreadful night.’

He closed the door quietly behind him.

The tall, thin young man in the dark and dripping raincoat would rarely have called for more than a passing glance or a comment on the fact that he did look rather unprepossessing, an impression increased by the black hair plastered to his head by the heavy rain and that he sported an ill-trimmed black moustache. The moustache, in fact, had not been trimmed at all: he had been in an unusual hurry that morning and had pasted it on ever so slightly askew.

He was standing almost in the middle of the square when he saw her, angling across and coming almost directly towards him. Annemarie, her warpaint back in position again, looked as miserable and bedraggled as the young man, who now stepped out into her path.

‘Annemarie, is it?’

Her eyes widened and she looked quickly around. Despite the near torrential rain there were a fair number of people around and a flower and vegetable open-air market only metres away. She looked again at the young man, who was smiling, a rather pleasant smile despite his overall appearance.

‘Please don’t worry, miss. Hardly the place where anyone would think to carry out a kidnapping. You must be Annemarie – there couldn’t be two people answering the description I was given. I’m Detective Rudolph Engel.’ He brought a badge from his pocket and showed it to her. ‘I could, of course, have stolen this. Lieutenant van Effen wants to see you. He’s in his car.’

‘Why should I believe you? Why did he send you? He knew where I was. He could have come to see me. What car does he have?’

‘A black Peugeot.’

‘You would know that, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes.’ The young man was patient. ‘When you’ve worked under someone for five years you do know something about him. The Lieutenant said to me, “Miss Meijer is very suspicious. Mention the Amazon, her father, the Colonel and someone’s ‘lack of courage’.” I have no idea what he meant.’

‘I do.’ She took his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’

Van Effen, relaxed behind the wheel of his car, was this morning sporting a homburg hat and a big, black, square beard of the type favoured by Sephardic jews. He looked round as Annemarie opened the passenger door and looked in.

‘Good morning, my dear.’

‘Good morning, he says. What are you doing here?’

‘Sheltering from the rain. It’s coming down in buckets. You must have noticed. Come in, come in.’

She sat down and looked at him accusingly. ‘Five metres, you said. Never more than five metres away. Sixty seconds in every minute. That’s what you said. Where were you? Your promise to look after me! Fine promise.’