Алистер Маклин - Floodgate

‘Certainly.’ Agnelli tried, not too successfully, to hide the relief in his face. ‘Joop?’

‘Yes, Mr Agnelli.’ Joop opened a cupboard and brought out some boxes which he set on the carpet and proceeded to open. ‘Primer. Detonators. Battery. The trigger mechanism. The setting on this – here – is activated by –’

‘Joop.’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you detonating this device?’

‘No. Of course not.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m not an expert. Oh, I see. Sorry.’ Discomfited, Joop withdrew. Van Effen looked at Agnelli.

‘You have the key for the radio box?’

‘Yes, of course.’ He handed it over. ‘Please excuse Leonardo and myself for a moment.’ Both men left by a side door. Van Effen unlocked the metal lid of the radio container and studied the controls on top of the radio. He turned the power on, touched a knob here, pulled a switch there, calibrated the gauges on a couple of dials and adjusted two wave-length bands. No one watching – and everyone was watching – could doubt he or she was in the presence of an expert. He then studied the timing dial on the triggering mechanism, produced pad and pencil, made a few rapid calculations then straightened, obviously satisfied.

‘Nothing to it, really, is there?’ Kathleen was smiling.

‘Agreed. Can’t imagine why I’m here.’ He stooped, locked the lid of the radio container and thrust the key into an inside pocket.

‘You do trust people, don’t you?’ Kathleen said.

‘No. Especially kids. But if you remove temptation from the reach of kids then they can’t possibly fall into it, can they? I have no wish to be blown up in the cellars of the palace.’

He turned as Agnelli and his brother re-entered the room. Both were dressed as policemen, Romero Agnelli as an inspector, his brother as a sergeant. Van Effen surveyed them.

‘You make an excellent inspector, Mr Agnelli. Really most becoming. Your brother looks the part, too, except for one thing: he’s really at least five inches too short for the police force.’

‘Short legs only,’ Agnelli said comfortably. ‘He’s as tall as anyone when he’s seated behind the wheel of a police car.’

‘You surprise me. About the police car I mean. You have – ah – come into possession of one?’

‘Not exactly. We have, shall we say, a car that looks exactly like a police car. Not too difficult.’ He looked at his watch. ‘A police car is expected at the palace in about twenty minutes.’

‘Expected?’

‘But of course. We have friends and we have made arrangements. Joop, be so kind as to pack the equipment, will you?’ He indicated two grey metallic cases that stood nearby.

‘So you just drive up and walk inside?’ van Effen said.

‘We believe in keeping things simple. Of course.’

‘Of course. No reason required, naturally. You just walk in.’

‘Yes.’ He indicated the two metal cases Joop was loading with equipment. ‘With those.’

‘Again, of course. You declare the contents?’

‘Electronic detecting equipment. For locating hidden explosives.’

‘I didn’t know there was any such thing.’

‘I don’t believe there is. However, in this silicon chip, computerized and electro-magnetic age, people believe anything. The explosives we’re looking for have – we believe – been secreted in the basements, somewhere. Underworld tip. So we go to the basements to look.’

‘You have your nerve,’ van Effen said.

‘Not really. Calculated risk and we calculate that the risk is not very high. People don’t normally publicize in advance the fact that they intend to do something which is the precise opposite of what they intend to do. And with those uniforms, the police car and the impressive set of credentials we have we don’t expect to experience too much trouble. We’ve even got a set of papers for you.’

‘That’s fine. Papers. Papers don’t matter a damn to me. Nor does the fact that you haven’t gone to the trouble to find me a uniform. What –’

‘No uniform. You’re a civilian expert. The papers say so.’

‘Let me finish. You two may – and very probably will – get off with your minimal disguises. But how am I going to disguise my scarred face and the fact that I have a crippled hand? My description will probably be in every paper in the country tomorrow.’

Agnelli looked closely at the scar on van Effen’s face. ‘If you’ll pardon the cruel remark, that really is a beauty. Joachim?’ This to one of the two young men. ‘What do you think? Joachim, Mr Danilov, is an art school student and also a makeup designer for theatrical groups. He requires quite a large case to carry all his stock in trade. As you can imagine, in an organization such as ours, we find our friend’s specialized gifts invaluable.’

‘Do you have anything against beards, Mr Danilov?’ Joachim said.

‘Not as long as they don’t make me look worse than I already am.’

‘I have several in a suitably auburn shade. In your case, I’m afraid, it would have to be a beard of rather a luxuriant style. I know the one. I’ll apply some paste.’

‘Just so long as I can get it off again.’

‘Forty-eight hours and it will fall off.’ Joachim left the room.

‘About that black glove, Mr Danilov,’ Agnelli said.

‘I’m afraid there is nothing they can do with that.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘How can I be sure? If you’d a hand like mine don’t you think I’d have tried anything – everything – to camouflage it?’ Van Effen let just the right note of bitterness creep into his voice.

‘Nevertheless, perhaps I might see it?’ Agnelli’s voice was gently insistent. ‘I promise you I won’t say “Good God above” or swoon or anything of the kind.’

Van Effen, being ostentatious without appearing to be, turned his back on the rest of the company and peeled off the black glove. He held his hand up to within a foot of Agnelli’s face.

Agnelli’s normally mobile face became still. He said: ‘I promised you I wouldn’t say “Good God” or anything of the kind – but, well, I’ve never seen anything like it before. How in heaven’s name did this happen?’

Van Effen smiled. ‘Legitimately, believe it or not. Someone made a mistake when we were trying to cap an oil fire in Saudi Arabia.’

‘One trusts he paid for the mistake?’

‘There and then. He was incinerated.’

‘I see. In which case one might almost imagine you’ve been lucky.’ Agnelli took van Effen’s wrist and touched the scars with his finger-nails. ‘That must hurt.’

‘Not the slightest. Skin’s paralysed. Stick a row of needles into it or slice it with a scalpel. Wouldn’t feel a thing.’ It would be unfortunate, van Effen thought, if Agnelli took him at his word. ‘It’s unimportant. All that matters is that I can still oppose finger and thumb.’

Joachim came back and Agnelli said: ‘Do you mind if Joachim looks at this?’

‘If he’s the sensitive artistic type I should imagine he’d be better off looking elsewhere.’

Joachim looked and failed to hide the revulsion in his face. ‘That’s – that’s awful ! I couldn’t – I mean – how can you bear to go about like that.’

‘I don’t have much option. It’s the only left hand I’ve got.’

Joachim said: ‘You’d better put your glove back on. There’s nothing I – nothing anyone can do about that.’

‘Time to go,’ Agnelli said. ‘Helmut, we’ll meet you and the others down in the Dam in about half an hour, perhaps forty minutes. Don’t forget the radio.’

‘The radio?’ van Effen said. ‘You’re going to operate the radio in this monsoon?’

‘We have a mini-bus. Where’s the key to the radio?’