Алистер Маклин - Floodgate

‘Among the places he listed – there were so many that I forget half of them – were Leeuwarden, the Noordoost polder in the vicinity of Urk, the Amstelmeer, the Wieringermeer, Putten, the polder south of Petten, Schouwen, Duiveland and Walcheren – did we remember what happened to Walcheren during the war? Both the Eastern and Western Scheldt estuaries were on their list, he said – did we remember what happened there in February 1953 – while Noord and Sud Holland offered a positive embarrassment of riches. That’s only a representative sample. Riordan then started to make very sinister remarks about the weather, had we noticed how high the level of the North Sea had risen, how the strengthening wind had gone to the north and that the spring tides were at hand – while the levels of the Rhine, Waal, Maas and Scheldt were near an all-time low – so reminiscent of February 1953, didn’t Dessens think?

‘He then demanded that they talked to a minister or ministers with the power and courage to make decisions and not a snivelling time-server bent only on preserving his own miserable political career, which was, I thought, a bit hard on Bernhard.

‘Riordan then said that, to display their displeasure at this wholly unnecessary hiatus in negotiations, they would detonate one of several devices they had placed in public buildings in the capital. Here the two of them had a whispered conference and then Riordan announced that they had chosen the royal palace and defied anyone to find the explosives before they went off. No lives, he said, were at risk in this explosion, which would occur within five minutes of their departure. He added, almost as an afterthought, that any attempt to restrain them, hinder their departure or have them followed would inevitably mean that the Oostlijk–Flevoland dyke would go not at midnight but at nine o’clock this evening. On this happy note, they left. The palace explosion, as you may know, duly occurred.’

‘So I believe.’ It seemed the wrong moment to tell de Graaf that it was he, van Effen, who had pressed the button. He shivered and moved to a less damp patch on the Esfahan. ‘I think I’m getting pneumonia.’

‘There’s brandy.’ De Graaf waved a hand at once indicative of preoccupation and irritation that one should be unaware of the universal specifics against pneumococci. ‘Schnapps, scotch –’ He broke off as a knock came on the library door and a uniformed policeman admitted George and Vasco who were, if anything, even more saturated than van Effen had been. ‘Two more advanced cases, I suppose.’

George said: ‘I beg your pardon, Colonel?’

‘Pneumonia. Help yourselves. I must say I wasn’t expecting you gentlemen.’

‘The Lieutenant said –’

‘I know. It just slipped his memory.’

‘I have a lot on my mind,’ van Effen said. ‘Well?’

‘We had a good look at them when they left the house to go to that small bus. Also had a good look at them in the Dam Square. Recognize them anywhere.’ George paused reflectively. ‘Seemed a very harmless bunch to me.’

‘Ever seen – or seen pictures of – the youthful assassins that made up the Baader-Meinhof gang? All they lacked were harps and haloes. When I said “Well”, that wasn’t what I meant.’

‘Ah! That. Yes. Well.’ George seemed slightly embarrassed. ‘When you left the house – we saw you go but didn’t approach you as you’d asked us not to in case you were being followed – you know you were followed?’

‘Yes.’

‘We waited across the street for ten minutes then crossed to the lighted window. The rain! Talk about standing under Niagara Falls.’ He waited for sympathetic comment and when none came went on: ‘Waited another ten minutes. We could hear music and conversation.’

‘I’ll bet you could. So then, overcome by the rain, impatience or suspicion, you moved in. Light still on. Long-playing cassette on a recorder. Birds flown by the back door. Hardly original. So we still don’t know where they’re holed up. Not your fault – Agnelli’s obsessed by security.’

‘Still could have done better,’ Vasco said. ‘Next time –’

The phone bell shrilled and de Graaf picked it up, listened for some time, said ‘Wait a minute, sir’ and cupped the mouthpiece. ‘Predictable, I suppose. Dessens. Seems the cabinet is a bit shaken about the palace explosion and are convinced that the Oostlijk–Flevoland dyke will go up at midnight. So they’re going to parley. They want me along and suggested 11 p.m. I’d like you to be there. 11 p.m.?’

‘Eleven-thirty possible sir? I have a couple of appointments.’

De Graaf talked some more then hung up. ‘You do seem to have a very crowded appointment book, Lieutenant. I can’t recall your mentioning any of this to me.’

‘I haven’t had a chance to. I have to be at the Trianon at ten o’clock to take a call from Agnelli. He’s a bit short of explosives and I’ve promised to supply him with some.’

‘Explosives. Of course. Naturally.’ De Graaf hardly spilled a drop as he poured himself a brandy. ‘Having already blown up the palace’ – it was an exaggeration but a pardonable one in the circumstances – ‘one could not expect you to rest on such trifling laurels. And where do you intend to find this explosive? I’m sure you won’t be wanting more than a few hundred kilos of TNT or whatever it is.’

‘Me? Haven’t the time. Haven’t the authority, either. But I thought, perhaps, sir, if you would care to use your influence –’

‘Me! The chief of police? To supply illegally-come-by explosives to a group of terrorists?’ De Graaf considered. ‘I suppose you would expect me to deliver it personally?’

‘Good heavens, no. That’s where George comes in. Sorry, George, haven’t had the chance to explain this or anything. Had a long talk this evening with Agnelli about you and Vasco. I’m afraid, Vasco, that I’ve blackened your character beyond all hopes of redemption. You’re a crooked cop, bent as a horseshoe, untrustworthy, unpredictable and only a couple of steps removed from a psychiatric ward. Agnelli was just that little bit too casual when asking questions about you. I’m certain he knows you are or were a cop. He comes from Utrecht too. Not that that should be any bar to his employing you – after we’ve made certain delicate alterations to your appearance and history – in the not-too-distant future.

‘George, you’re an arms dealer. Heaven knows there are enough of those around, but you’re something special. The king-pin. Mr Big. A Leopard tank? A SAM missile? Even a motor torpedo boat? George is your man. And being Mr Big means you’re important. You talk only to principals. No intermediaries, not even me. Face to face or no deal.’

‘I talk to this Agnelli?’ George smiled widely. ‘You want me on the inside?’

‘I have a feeling that I could do with a little help, sooner rather than later. I’ve no right to ask you, of course. There’s Annelise and your kids. Things might get a little difficult –’

‘A little difficult!’ De Graaf could put a nicely sarcastic edge to his voice when he had a mind to. ‘Difficult. I don’t say it’s crazy because nothing’s crazy if there’s a chance, but I don’t like it at all. It’s based on the assumption that they’re not on to you and that’s an unjustifiable assumption. Sure, they’ve gone along with you so far and you with them, but that’s only because, so far, it’s suited you both. But if they are on to you and they decide a time has come when you’re of no further use to them, then when the time comes to discard you it may be in a pretty permanent fashion. Have you the right to ask that of George?’

‘I’ve just done that.’

The phone rang again and de Graaf picked it up. ‘Ah. Lieutenant Valken…Yes, yes.’ De Graaf’s face became very still as he listened. ‘Never mind if you’ve never heard it before. Wait till I get a piece of paper and pen.’ De Graaf wrote down a few words, told Valken goodbye and hung up. He reached for his glass.