Алистер Маклин - Floodgate

Van Effen considerately let de Graaf pour himself some brandy and sip it before producing Agnelli’s shopping list. ‘Not quite complete, I’m afraid, sir. There’s this little item.’

De Graaf read through the list, his face stunned, then read through it again. His lips were moving, but at first no sound came. He had just got around to muttering: ‘This little item, this little item,’ when Wieringa and Dessens returned. Wieringa looked his normal imperturbable self, Dessens like a Christian who had just been given his first preview of the lions in the Roman arena.

Wieringa said: ‘What little item, Colonel?’

‘This.’ De Graaf handed him the paper, put his elbow on the arm of his chair and his hand to his forehead as if to hide his eyes from some unspeakable sight.

‘High explosives,’ Wieringa read out. ‘Primers. Detonators. Grenades. Ground-to-ground missiles. Ground-to-air missiles.’ He looked at van Effen consideringly but with no signs of consternation on his face. ‘What is this?’

‘A shopping list. I was going to ask the Colonel to get it for me.’ Dessens, who had adopted precisely the same attitude as de Graaf, made a slight moaning sound. ‘As you are the Minister of Defence, the Colonel would have had to approach you anyway. I’d also like to borrow an Army truck, if I may. With a little luck I may even be able to return it.’

Wieringa looked at him, looked at the paper in his hand, then back at van Effen again. ‘Balanced against this shopping list, as you call it, the loan of the odd army vehicle seems an eminently reasonable request. All this I can obtain without any great difficulty. I have heard a considerable amount about you, van Effen, and I have learnt a great deal more tonight. I would hesitate to question your judgement.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I think I would question my own first, so I don’t question yours. No doubt it’s just idle curiosity on my part, but it would be nice to know why you require those items.’

‘The FFF seem to be short of explosives and offensive weapons, so I have promised to supply them with some.’

‘Of course,’ Wieringa said. ‘Of course.’ The Defence Minister appeared to be virtually unshockable; certainly, nothing showed in his eyes. Nothing was to be seen in the eyes of de Graaf or Dessens either, but that didn’t mean that they were shockproof: their shading hands still cut their eyes off from the dreadful realities of the harsh world outside.

‘They also seem to be short of explosive experts, so I volunteered my services.’

‘You know something about explosives?’

De Graaf reluctantly uncovered his eyes. ‘He knows a great deal about explosives. He’s also a bomb disposal expert. I wish,’ he said bitterly, ‘that this was something simple, like defusing a ticking 500-kilo bomb.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Van Effen was addressing de Graaf now. ‘I’ve also recruited George and Vasco, George as another person versed in the way of explosives and Vasco as a trained missile launcher. You will understand that I did not have time to consult you on those matters.’

‘You can’t think of everything,’ de Graaf said dully. He discovered, to his apparent astonishment, that his brandy glass was empty and set about rectifying this.

‘Nothing illegal about recruiting those two men, Mr Wieringa. They’re police sergeants. And they weren’t recruited – they volunteered. They know the dangers. There’s nothing to be done about the explosives, sir, but if you could have an armourer deactivate the missiles I’d be very grateful.’

De Graaf lowered his glass. ‘So would I. So would I.’ Not much in the way of life had come back into his voice.

Wieringa said: ‘I suppose I’m just being idly curious again but why are you and your two friends taking these appalling risks?’

‘Calculated risks, sir. I hope. The reason is simple. The Colonel has said that we have gained an entrée into the FFF. That’s not quite accurate. We have been accepted – or appear to have been accepted – on the fringes. We’re just on the outer strand of the spider’s web. We don’t know where the spider is. But if we deliver the requested items, we’ll find out. They’re not likely to leave missiles and missile launchers in a safe deposit box in the Central Station.’

‘Impeccable logic, van Effen, impeccable logic. Except, of course, for one tiny little flaw.’

‘Sir?’

‘The spider may gobble you up. The scheme is mad, quite mad – which is the only reason it might just succeed. I’d be intrigued to know where and when you arranged this.’

‘About an hour and a half ago. Over a drink with Agnelli.’

For the first time, Wieringa’s monolithic calm cracked.

‘Over a drink with Agnelli? Agnelli? Agnelli! One of those men who have just left?’

‘I was Stephan Danilov then. Well, can’t think of anything else so, with your permission, I’ll be on my way. The weather forecast should be interesting tonight – latest reports say flood-level danger inside the next forty-eight hours might even exceed that of February 1953. That will be the time for our friends – and it doesn’t leave a great deal of time for negotiations with the British Government. You will remember that I said I didn’t believe in Riordan’s short-range threats: I’m convinced that the long-range threat, the massive flooding of the country, has been arranged and is totally real. One small point, Colonel. Riordan’s allegations against the integrity of our customs. They’re ludicrous. I know that. You know that. The world doesn’t. I’m convinced that the transfers are taking place in the Ijsselmeer, Waddenzee or the open see. It’s a Navy job. God knows we’ve got a bad enough name already as a gun-running entrepot: I wonder what it will be like when all this is over.’ Van Effen smiled. ‘Still, it’s not a job that can be handled by a junior police officer: only the ministries of Defence and Justice can cope. Good-night, gentlemen.’

‘Moment, Peter, moment.’ It was de Graaf and his distress was apparent. ‘Surely there’s something we can do to help?’

‘Yes, sir. There is. Do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Any attempt to help us will probably help us into our graves. These are clever and desperate men so please, please, don’t try anything clever and desperate yourselves. Don’t have the truck followed, not in any way, no matter how clever you think you are, nothing. No helicopters, no blind barrel-organist, nothing. And nothing so futile and puerile as fitting a concealed location transmitter bug to the truck – unless they’re mentally retarded, it’s the first thing they’d look for. Nothing. Do nothing .’

‘We take your point,’ Wieringa said drily. ‘Nothing.’ His tone changed. ‘But from what you’ve just said, Lloyd’s of London wouldn’t insure you for a ninety-nine per cent premium. But you go. For the last time – why?’

‘You heard what Mr Dessens said – the good name and honour of the Netherlands in the dust, and you with its citizens full fathom five. We can’t have that, can we?’

‘Your sister?’

‘What about my sister?’

‘The Colonel told me tonight. God only knows how you carry on as you do. I couldn’t. Kidnapped.’

‘She’s part of it.’

‘I would not care to be the unfortunate man who abducted her when you meet up with him.’

‘I’ve already met up with this unfortunate man.’

‘What!’ For the second time Wieringa’s self-control deserted him, but he recovered quickly. ‘When?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Where?’

‘Here. Agnelli.’

‘Agnelli!’

‘I should have shot him full of holes? There’s a law against it. I’m a policeman. I’m supposed to uphold the law. Sworn to it, in fact.’