Алистер Маклин - Floodgate

‘The second statement makes the announcement that the FFF have in their possession a number of nuclear explosive devices which they will not hesitate to use, if the need arises, to achieve their ends. The FFF hastens to assure the people of the Netherlands that those nuclear devices are not of the calibre of hydrogen or atomic weapons. They are tactical battlefield devices intended for delivery by plane, rocket or shell-fire. All are of American manufacture, some still on the secret list. All have been obtained from NATO bases in Germany. They have the serial numbers of those devices – they are clearly stamped on each one – and the US forces in Germany can confirm that those devices are, in fact, missing. If, that is, they are prepared to give this confirmation.’

There was a pause while the newscaster broke off to accept and glance at a sheet of paper that had just been handed him by a studio colleague: judging from the stricken expression on the colleague’s face, he had already read the message.

Van Effen looked around the room. No newscaster, he felt certain, had ever had so rapt an audience. The faces of George and the Lieutenant were expressionless, but that was only because, in certain circumstances such as those, they hadn’t much use for expressions: but their eyes were very still. Julie and Annemarie looked shocked. Kathleen and Maria were smiling, but their smiles were halfhearted and more than tinged by apprehension: no question, they had known what was coming but they still didn’t like hearing it. Agnelli, O’Brien and Daniken looked thoughtful but not particularly gratified. But the normally genial Samuelson was revelling in every moment of it. True, he was still smiling, but there was no warmth in his smile: there never can be in the smile of a hungry crocodile that has just spotted his unwary lunch.

‘We have here,’ the announcer said, ‘a further message from, the FFF. They say they are prepared to release those numbers at any time, but they feel a practical demonstration to prove their possession of those nuclear devices would be much more convincing. Accordingly, they intend to explode one of those devices in the Ijsselmeer in the early afternoon of tomorrow. The power of the charge will be in the range of one kiloton – that is to say, the equivalent of one thousand tons of TNT. This is expected to cause a certain disturbance of the water but the probable height of the accompanying tidal wave – tsunami is the term for it – is not precisely known. It is hoped that the inhabitants of the coastal settlements of the Ijsselmeer will not be too inconvenienced. Inconvenienced!’ The newscaster almost spluttered the word which was obviously not in the script – or the repetition of it. He recovered himself. ‘The demonstration has been delayed until the afternoon in order to allow British cabinet ministers plenty of time to fly across and join their Dutch colleagues in watching this demonstration. The precise time and place will be announced later. The device, they add, is already in position.

‘Finally, they demand some money. This money, they say, will be returned. It is not blackmail money, or ransom money, merely a temporary loan to cover operating expenses. Details of the methods of payment will be announced later this evening – this is to give the parties concerned time to arrange for the transfer. The demand is for one hundred million guilders from the government, twenty million from Mr David Joseph Karlmann Meijer, the Rotterdam industrialist.’ The newscaster laid down his paper. ‘Viewers will not need reminding that Mr Meijer’s daughter, Anne, is being held hostage by the terrorists.’ Samuelson touched a switch before him and the screen went blank.

‘I wish,’ Samuelson said in a complaining voice, ‘that he wouldn’t call us “terrorists”. “Philanthropists” is the word. I rather liked that touch about operating expenses. Anne, my dear, do sit down. You’re over-excited.’

Annemarie, who was clearly and very understandably over-excited was on her feet, face pale, lips compressed, her hands unclenching and clenching into ivory-knuckled fists.

‘You monster,’ she whispered. ‘You utterly evil monster.’

‘You think so, my dear?’ He looked round the room, smiling. Van Effen was one of those who smiled back at him: there were witnesses. ‘Not at all. Philanthropist. Equitable redistribution of excess wealth. Besides, it’s not even that. As you heard, merely a temporary loan. Don’t tell me that the wealthiest man in the Netherlands can’t afford that money. I know all about your father.’

‘You murderer,’ she said softly. Her hands were hanging straight by her sides now, and they were still. ‘You murderer.’ The tears were rolling down her cheeks and now Julie was on her feet, her arm around the girl’s shoulders. ‘You know all about my father. You know then that he has had two major heart attacks this year. You know that he came out of hospital only four days ago after his last heart attack. You’ve killed him.’ Her voice, like her shoulders, was shaking. ‘You’ve killed him.’

Samuelson had stopped smiling. He frowned and said: ‘I did not know this. Before God, I didn’t.’ Without apparently even pausing to think he reached out for the handset of his RCA and pressed a button. He must have received an acknowledgment almost immediately for he started talking into the mouthpiece rapidly and urgently, clearly issuing instructions in a language that no one there knew but which George, from a few odd words, recognized as being Yiddish. He replaced the handset, rose, walked around behind the bar, poured himself a brandy, not a small one, and drank the contents in two or three gulps. This performance was watched with some astonishment but no comment was made.

Van Effen rose in turn, walked round to the bar in turn and poured brandy in turn – two brandies. He carried these round to Anne and Julie, waited until they had both sipped from them and resumed his seat.

‘Fine lot you are when it comes to ladies in distress.’ He looked at Agnelli. ‘That was a nice line in threats.’

‘You think they were meaningless threats, Mr Danilov?’ Agnelli didn’t seem at all reluctant to speak, like others in the room he probably found it embarrassing not to look at Samuelson who was on his second brandy and paying attention to nobody. ‘I assure you they were all genuinely intended. And will be carried out.’

‘So much for your word, Agnelli.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You’d have to have a damned short memory not to. Only a few hours ago you promised us that no harm would come to any Dutch people. You warn all the Lelystad people to take the necessary precautions against the breaching of the dykes. Good God, man, it’s pitch black outside and coming down in torrents. They won’t be able to see to take precautions.’

‘They don’t have to see. Flood level won’t be more than half a metre. We’ve checked and checked the area. Plenty of second-floor rooms and attics – although they could remain on the ground floor if they didn’t mind getting their feet wet. And plenty of boats. We’ve checked that also. The message was primarily for intimidation. Surely you can see that?’

‘That’s as maybe. Where’s old Elastic Conscience?’

‘Elastic what?’

‘Elastic who. Riordan. The praying priest. The god-fearing Reverend. Why wasn’t he here watching?’

Agnelli smiled faintly. ‘He regards TV as the work of Satan. Could be right, for all I know. As you saw, he’s practically married to his earphones. There was a simultaneous radio broadcast.’

‘You do really have those nuclear devices? I find it frankly incredible.’

‘I can show them to you.’

‘Well, that answers that. So this man of peace and goodwill is prepared to play around with lethal explosives.’