Алистер Маклин - Floodgate

‘Ylvisaker struck me as being a pretty competent character,’ van Effen said. ‘Engine trouble, heavy traffic, burst tyre, anything. Anyway, you can soon find out. You’ve said you have a radio transmitter here. The Lieutenant is an expert operator – and, of course, he knows the frequency of the truck.’

‘Would you, Lieutenant? Thank you.’ Samuelson pointed across the room. ‘There.’

Vasco seated himself at the transceiver, adjusted his headphones and started transmitting. After two minutes he took off the head-phones and returned to the bar.

‘Nothing, Mr Samuelson. Can’t raise him.’

Samuelson pursed his lips. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure.’ Vasco spoke with just a faint trace of irritation. ‘I know what I’m doing. If you don’t believe me, let Daniken try. He knows what he’s doing too.’

‘No, no. I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Worried, you know.’

‘Two things may have happened,’ Vasco said. ‘He may have had an accident. That’s the more serious and less likely happening. What’s more probable is that the on-off switch is in the off position.’

Samuelson’s brow cleared slightly but only slightly. ‘If he’s late, why doesn’t he call us?’

‘Does he know how to operate the radio?’

Samuelson’s brow cleared even more. ‘Quite honestly, I don’t know.’ He looked up as an aproned maid approached him.

‘Sorry, sir,’ she said. ‘I thought you might like to know that there is to be a government broadcast in two minutes. Less.’

‘Thank you, thank you.’ Samuelson hurried round the bar, gestured to Agnelli to end the lecture and switched on the TV set. Within half a minute, the announcer appeared on the screen, a much younger one than previously, but one who had clearly been trained in the same mortician’s school.

‘The government have three announcements to make. The first is that the British government and Stormont have agreed to withdraw all British troops to barracks. As the troops are scattered all over Northern Ireland this is expected to take several hours but the process is already under way. Although no statement to this effect has been made, this is taken to be indicative of London’s intentions.’

Samuelson beamed in satisfaction. At that moment, Ylvisaker was the last thing in his mind.

‘The second is that the British Foreign Minister, Defence Minister, the chief of the Imperial General Staff and the First Sea Lord are en route to Amsterdam in a VC10 to witness the detonation of this nuclear device in the Markerwaard at 2 p.m.

‘The third is that the government have offered an amnesty to the two as yet unnamed prisoners whose release has been demanded by the FFF.

‘We will, of course, be back on screen at 2 p.m.’

‘Well,’ van Effen said, ‘it looks like wholesale surrender.’

‘Matters are certainly proceeding quite satisfactorily,’ Samuelson said modestly. ‘We will each take a minimum of luggage with us. This can be concealed in the rear of the helicopter – soldiers on active duty do not carry suitcases around with them. Lunch will be at twelve-thirty, so we have about two and a half hours to wait till then. I do not think it would be a good idea to indulge in any more jonge jenevers so I suggest we rest. Although we are not returning tonight we have quarters prepared for you, to which you will be shown. Tell me, Lieutenant, do you intend to have a snooze?’

‘Not I.’

‘Then perhaps you would be kind enough to come down, say, every twenty minutes, and try to contact Ylvisaker?’

‘If you think it’s worth trying, certainly. I’ll go upstairs, have a wash, pack what little equipment I have to pack and be down in twenty minutes. After that, I might as well stay down.’ Vasco smiled. ‘No furtive trips to the bar, I promise you.’

The room to which van Effen and his companions were shown was almost a duplicate of the one they had left in the other windmill. Vasco carried out his usual meticulous search and pronounced the room clear.

Van Effen said: ‘Samuelson is rather concerned about the non-arrival of Ylvisaker and his friends who, I think we may take it, are at present being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. More importantly, Samuelson seems to think that it’s all over bar the shouting. The possibility of failure doesn’t now exist for him. That’s a very dangerous state of mind to be in – dangerous for him, I mean.’

George said: ‘And what do you think he’ll do when he gets to the dam.’

‘Take it over. I can’t see that giving him any trouble. Then he’ll tell the government that he has done just that. Coming so soon after the nuclear explosion in the Markerwaard, it should have a devastating effect on the government who will all too clearly appreciate the implications and realize that the FFF has the nation by the throat.’

‘And then,’ Vasco said, ‘they blow a few bits of concrete off the dam just to show they mean business.’

‘Nothing like that,’ van Effen said. ‘Nothing so crude. The explosives are Agnelli’s idea. Apart from being a first-class organizer, Agnelli is a very prudent fellow. I believe that the explosives are for back-up purposes only, just in case something should go wrong.

‘What I do believe is that O’Brien knows as much about the controls of the hydraulic gates as the man who designed them. They just open the sluices.’

‘And if the authorities cut off the power from the mainland, if you can call it that?’ Vasco said. ‘Then, perhaps, the explosives?’

‘There have to be standby generators. O’Brien will have checked on that. As far as the safety of the country is concerned, the sluice gates of the Haringvliet are the most vital installations in the country. Imagine the sluice gates being open at low tide and a major power failure occurs? They simply cannot afford to rely on a single source of power.

‘For the moment, however, and much more importantly, Samuelson and Agnelli have been kind enough to provide us with a detailed outline of their plans.’

George rubbed his hands. ‘And now we make our own plans.’

‘Now we make our own plans.’

Some forty minutes after Vasco had gone down to the living-room he was joined by Samuelson. Vasco, sitting on the radio chair and idly leafing through a magazine, looked up at his entrance.

‘Any luck, Lieutenant?’

‘None. I’ve called four times – every ten minutes, not twenty, as you asked. Nothing.’

‘Good God, good God!’ Unmindful of his own admonitions, Samuelson went behind the bar and brought back two jonge jenevers. ‘Ylvisaker is wildly overdue. What on earth can have happened to him?’

‘I’ve been thinking, Mr Samuelson. He hasn’t blown himself to pieces or the news would be all over the country by now. Let’s assume he’s had an accident or had a breakdown. Let’s further assume he doesn’t know how to operate the radio. What would you have done, sir?’

‘Gone to the nearest phone and informed us. It’s difficult to move far in any direction in this country without coming across a house with a phone or a public call box.’

‘Exactly. Does Ylvisaker know the telephone number of this place?’

Samuelson stared at him then said: ‘Ylvisaker has never been here. Wait.’

He hurried from the room and returned within a minute, his face grim. ‘The consensus of opinion is that Ylvisaker does not know this number.’

‘But you know the precise route he was taking?’

‘Of course. Two men, a fast car. Bound to intercept. Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m glad to see that there are some minds still working around these parts.’

‘Shall I keep on trying, Mr Samuelson?’

‘It’s a faint chance, isn’t it?’