Janwillem De Wetering - Hard Rain

The commissaris acknowledged the information with a careful smile. Fernandus nodded too. "I could always read your thoughts. Conforming thoughts. The obvious again. You think like the majority. Not amazing at all, the way our lives turned out."

"Can I smoke here?" the commissaris asked.

"Sure. Got a cigar for me?"

The commissaris brought out his tin, holding it close to his chest.

"No," Fernandus said. "I don't believe this. Go on, give me a cigar. You're still punishing me? Thanks. A light too, if you please."

The commissaris looked about the bright room. "No guard?"

"No." Fernandus held the tip of his cigar under his nose and sniffed. "You could buy a better brand. Leave the tin anyway, I'll be gone tomorrow afternoon. At four sharp, they say, got the word today, that's why I called you."

"Back to jail?" The commissaris felt his leg. "If you're dying, they might let you do it here."

"They'll kill me here." Fernandus grinned. "Pain in your legs? Good. Is your trouble getting worse?"

The commissaris got up. "You enervate me, Willem. Mind if I cut this short? Is there anything in particular you want to say?"

Fernandus struggled weakly into a more upright position. "Sit down, Jan, I've got pains too, the pleasure is mutual, you can laugh at me. I've got leukemia, did they tell you that?" He held up a finger. "Listen. I looked it up. Acute forms are fatal within weeks or months. Symptoms include weakness, fatigue, anemia, and hemorrhaging. Leukemia is invariably fatal. This is goodbye. Say goodbye in style."

"Goodbye," the commissaris said. He sat down.

"You don't want to know about the euthanasia?" Fernandus asked.

"So you'll be killed at four o'clock tomorrow," the commissaris said. "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry to hear it?"

Fernandus kept sliding back. "Help me up."

"Maybe you're more comfortable lying flat."

"I'm not." Fernandus grimaced. "Go on. Thanks. A little higher. Push that pillow down. Mind my cigar. So how do you feel about our little war now, eh? I hear you got the baron killed and that Guldemeester has been arrested. Did you mess that up?" He shrugged. "It doesn't always quite work the way we set it up. They fell down together and Guldemeester broke his legs. Or was that the way you planned it? Exterminate everyone who ever associated with me? Stamp out the vermin?"

"Who told you about that happening?" the commissaris asked.

Fernandus pointed at the phone next to the flowers. "Ten Haaf."

The commissaris shook his head. "That was a forced move. De la Faille would have shown up in Holland again; the police are patient."

"Yes." Fernandus nodded at the nurse who came in. "We could have some tea. Thank you, dear, you're looking even prettier today." He looked at his visitor. "So now you're the official again, using proper methods? I took that away from you for a while. Dropped the rules. You should be grateful. You could prove yourself." He reached over and touched the commissaris's knee. "You think you did well?"

The commissaris smiled. "Yes. All things considered."

"No," Fernandus said. "Your motivation was wrong. Do you know that now?"

"Wait," the commissaris said. "Before I forget. What happened to Ryder's car? Did Ten Haaf mention the Ferrari?"

"Ten Haaf's got the Ferrari." Fernandus raised a shoulder. "That's an unimportant detail, Jan. Your man left the car. Your fellow came too late." He lifted an eyebrow. "What was the matter with that sergeant? He couldn't arrest the baron in Spain, or had you arranged for a foreign warrant? Was there time for that?"

"Never mind," the commissaris said.

"But I do." Fernandus thumped his bed. "Must have been something personal too. Like you and me. Your man used a stolen car. Is he still with the police?"

"Rinus is in New Guinea now," the commissaris said, reaching out too, but withdrawing his hand before it could touch Fernandus's leg. "That part of our conflict worked out rather well. I've been wanting de

Gier to strike out on his own for a while now, but he kept clinging to his routine."

"Or to you," Fernandus said. "Halba…" He grinned. "What a lout. You got him to resign, I hear. Stupid ass. Halba said you have a dedicated staff- sort of groupies, you're a father to them."

The commissaris accepted a cup of tea from the tray the nurse was holding.

"You've been drinking?" Fernandus asked after the nurse had left. He sniffed. "Whiskey?" He looked at his watch. "You drink at your office?"

"A wedding party," the commissaris said. "My secretary got married."

"The secretary?" Fernandus's eyes gleamed.

"Yes."

"Whom did she marry?"

The commissaris put down his tea. "I'll be right back."

He came back some twenty minutes later.

"A long leak?" Fernandus asked.

The commissaris sat down again. "I spoke to Dr. Peters."

"Oh." Fernandus nodded. "Let's have another cigar. I say, do me a favor and look in that closet. There's a bottle there, the guard bought it for me before he was sent back."

The commissaris fetched the bottle. "Pour it in the cups," Fernandus said. He waved both hands. "Don't be an idiot now. We go back forever, Jan, and this is it. You saw the doctor, so you must believe me now."

The commissaris muttered while he poured the whiskey.

"Did you say 'shit'?" Fernandus asked. "You don't want to face me? Here's shit in your eye."

The commissaris raised his cup. "Your health." He lowered the cup again. "Sorry."

"Not your health either," Fernandus said. "I want you to suffer. Here's to the pain in your leg." He drank. "Do you know why I asked you to come?"

"Sure," the commissaris said. "To brag. Save your last breath, Willem." He raised his hands. "No, really, shut up. I'll drink your liquor, but I've had enough of your claptrap by now." He drank too. "Sixty years of wrong views. I know your side of the argument. I'm the weak one who refused to experiment. We agree there are no absolute morals…"

"We do," Fernandus said. "In theory you always saw that, but you were conventional, you took the easy way out. Sold your soul to the opinion of the majority. Waved the flag, sang the national anthem."

"And why not?" The commissaris looked over the rim of his cup. "This isn't a bad country. You betrayed it."

"I never betrayed myself," Fernandus said. "I maneuvered along with whoever happened to be in power, always covering my exits. I'm for me, like everybody else is for everybody else, it's a nasty truth and I faced up to it. I had a good time. You didn't."

The commissaris winked. "Always covered your exits, eh? So how come I caught you at the taxi stand?"

Fernandus held up his cup. "You betrayed our mutual views. And you and I are the same. You're my weak side, my eternal embarrassment, my shame. Of all those eager watchdogs, you were the only one who could foresee what I might do." Fernandus smacked his lips. "I hoped-it's true, even if you don't believe me-I hoped that you'd let me go, to continue the game. But you had to get rid of me, you ass. Couldn't face the truth."

The commissaris refilled the cups. "The truth… what if there isn't any?"

Fernandus sighed pleasurably. "Good buzz. Hits the painkiller just right." He looked at his cigar. "You thought I'd die of lung cancer, I'm sure. I had stopped smoking, then I started again because of you. I thought about that later. Did you know they suspected lung cancer, the doctors?"

"No." The commissaris balanced his cup on the palm of his hand. "Why should I know that? I have been avoiding you. I asked you a question. What if there isn't any truth? What if even our supposition that there's no truth isn't true? Wouldn't we have to make up our own truth then?"

"But I did," Fernandus said loudly. "You didn't. You accepted the made-up truth of present unevolved society. I hypothesized that nothing matters and that therefore I could make myself matter and that I should do anything to bring about the best possible time for me. I succeeded at doing that. Most of my life I had everything that my own gods would hand me on a platter." Fernandus giggled. "Including your secretary. Now whom did she marry?"