Janwillem De Wetering - Hard Rain

"Yes?" Fernandus asked. "Do say it, old chap. You what?"

"Your own son?" the commissaris asked. "But why?"

"Why not?" Fernandus asked.

"But…"

Fernandus looked at the lake, where the ball of fire was dying down. "But nothing. You're right, Jan, there's nothing there. You and I are part of it, figments of creative imagination. We can do as we like, and whatever gets in our way and is removable is removed."

"I'll remove you." The commissaris pointed a trembling finger. "You have to go."

"But I'm not removable," Fernandus said. "Neither are you, unfortunately. It wouldn't suit us to do away with one another. You're a powerful official on one side of the line, and I'm an inventive entrepreneur on the other side of whatever divides us. Why don't we shake hands and have a grand old age together?"

"No," the commissaris said. "You'll be destroyed."

"Pity," Fernandus said. "Stupid to the end. You're a coward, Jan, you never dare to think things out."

The baron was at the bar inside the motel. "Hi," de Gier said, taking the next stool. "Why did you blow them up?"

"Oh, hello," de la Faille said. "How did you enjoy the fireworks, Rinus? Do call me Bart."

"Those kids in the canoe might have drowned."

"We do have to take risks," the baron said. "Grand show, wasn't it? Never cared much for either of the victims, although I could put up with Ronnie at times, but a useful purpose will be achieved by Ryder's demise. The other liquidation may be more philosophical, I understand. Uncle is a great man for thinking solutions through. Can't follow him, always. A drink?"

"Bit short of time," de Gier said. "We'll have that duel soon. Okay?"

"No," the baron said.

"Yes," de Gier said. "Soon. To the death. Bare hands."

"I thought I could choose my weapon?"

"Not anymore," de Gier said. " 'Bye. You'll hear from me."

The commissaris read the note left under the windshield wiper of his car. See you in town, sir. Key's in the ignition. He looked to the side. Ryder's Ferrari was missing.

He got into the Citroen and drove slowly out of the parking lot. Halfway home, he stopped and limped to the bushes at the side of the road. When he came back he was wiping his lips, holding his other hand on his stomach.

"Jan?" his wife asked when he stumbled into her arms. "Something bad?" She sniffed at his face. "Were you unwell?"

"Willem killed his own son," the commissaris whispered.

She embraced him. "Do you want to lie down? Grijpstra and Cardozo are in your room. Shall I tell them to go away?"

"Tell them to wait," the commissaris said. "I need a bath, won't be long."

The Commissaris, in robe and slippers, guided by his wife, looked old and frail when he shuffled into his study. "Yes," he said softly when he looked around. "Hello, Adjutant, hello, Cardozo. I'm sorry."

Grijpstra sat quietly. Cardozo leaned against a bookcase. "I didn't foresee what happened on the lake," the commissaris said. "It seems logical now. Willem can be quite gruesome. One doesn't like to imagine that sort of thing."

"The others are downstairs," his wife said.

The commissaris turned toward her with an effort. "De Gier came too?"

"Yes."

The commissaris felt his chin. "A showdown, is it? He's calling my bluff."

"De Gier?" his wife asked.

"Yes, dear. But mostly Willem Fernandus, of course. One would like to think that a mishap occurred, that Huip set off the charge by accident, but it didn't go that way. Willem is destroying evidence." He felt for his cigars in the pocket of his robe. "Live evidence. Willem is eliminating his human instruments. First we saw the destruction of the junkies, then Heul's body was dumped in my car. Heul wasn't trustworthy. Willem knew that he would break if we squeezed him too hard. Huip was the next link. We would break Huip too, and Huip would blame his father. There was no love between Willem and his only child. Perhaps Willem wouldn't grant Huip the right of succession; that could be another motive."

"Oh, surely, Jan," his wife said. "It must have been an accident. Don't you think so, Adjutant?"

It became quiet in the room. Voices became audible downstairs.

"Grijpstra?" the commissaris asked.

"No, ma'am," Grijpstra said. "There was no accident. Fernandus knew we were all around him, watching what he'd do next. He pretended to call off Ryder's murder and took Huip's gadget. Then he gave it to the baron. Willem Fernandus trusts only the baron. De la Faille shot IJsbreker and tried to do away with your husband's turtle. He's Fernandus's right hand, like de Gier is your husband's right hand. The others don't matter, they're more like instruments, it seems."

The commissaris opened his tin of cigars and stared at the contents. "I don't like that, Adjutant. We've been working as a group. Your simile is too simple and"-he selected a cigar-"a little nasty perhaps?"

Grijpstra's eyelids fluttered.

"Sir?" Cardozo asked. "I was watching from the shore. I spotted the baron. He left the terrace immediately after the explosion and de Gier went after him. Maybe the sergeant found the detonator in the baron's pocket and we can prove something after all."

The commissaris lit his cigar. "No. This assassination was well planned. De la Faille must have made sure that his device got lost at once. He may have dropped it into the lake. It was probably quite small."

"Now what?" Grijpstra asked. "What do we have left? Carl could testify that Heul picked up the artworks the junkies took from IJsbreker's house, but one witness is not enough for us to move ahead. Celine, who saw de la Faille fire a shot at your turtle, is dead. Huip Fernandus is dead. Nothing now points at Fernandus, except the baron. Do we wait for Fernandus to kill the baron too?"

The commissaris shook his head. "He won't. De la Faille is too valuable to Willem, as you pointed out just now in your lopsided manner. As IJsbreker's replacement, de la Faille will run the Society and the Banque du Credit; Willem doesn't want to be in the midst of things."

The commissaris's wife smiled. "But you're so clever, Jan. You'll come up with something devilish again, set them against each other somehow."

"Devilish?" the commissaris said. "Katrien… I'm not devilish. I protect the peace…"

"Yes, dear, of course." She touched his arm. "I'm sorry."

"Devilish," the commissaris muttered. "Besides, there's no time. I don't know what to do."

"Sir?" Cardozo asked.

"No idea," the commissaris said. "Willem won. I can't go on with this unless I do away with morality again. AH these people in the house." He held his wife's hand. "Poor thing. Inflicting this inconvenience on you."

"You're just impatient, dear." She, held his hand. "I don't mind."

"Miss Antoinette too," the commissaris said. "Maybe I can lodge her with my sister. Where is Miss Antoinette, anyway?"

"On the porch, dear, helping Carl with that cute ark he's building. They've smashed some bottles and are building the sides of glass, so that the animals inside can be visible."

The commissaris gestured with his cigar. "On the porch? Perhaps de la Faille is out there with his rifle again. I can't have this, Katrien."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Cardozo, is your computer connected now?"

"Izzy Sanders is here too," Cardozo said. "Whenever you like, perhaps we can do more than you expected."

"Who is this Izzy?" the commissaris's wife asked. "Isn't anybody going to tell me anything?"

The commissaris squeezed her hand. "Izzy used to work for the Banque du Credit. Cardozo has been very clever indeed." He looked at Cardozo. "I forgot to ask, who paid for all that gear?"

"I did, sir. It wasn't much. It's some phased-out model that Izzy knew about."

"You'd better give me the bill." The commissaris turned back to his wife. "With Izzy's knowledge, we have access to the bank's financial records now. I was hesitant to go that far, but we did have the raid, we may as well go all the way."