Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

There are lots of young people like ourselves here in Europe, striving and learning, and I’m sure I’ll gain much from the experience of being on my own and discovering things for myself. Please understand that the reason I didn’t tell you about my plan was that I was sure you would object to it the way you objected to my taking that trip to Denver with Jenny when I was still at Henderson. Also, the various conversations we had didn’t seem to indicate that you’d be receptive to something like this, and so I had to do it on my own and then let you know about it this way. So, again, I’m sorry if this comes as a surprise, but it was something I felt I had to do just now. It is a matter of values, I guess, and finding the right values. I don’t know if you can understand that, but I hope you will try. I love you both, and I would never in the world do anything to hurt either one of you.

All my love,

He called his agent the moment he read the letter (oddly, the fact that she could not spell the word “subsequent” annoyed him almost as much as her defection) to tell Lew he was sorry as hell to be bothering him with something like this, but he was wondering nonetheless if he could help with a matter that had nothing to do with marketing pictures. Lew listened patiently as Jamie explained that his daughter was presumably in Amsterdam someplace — her letter had been dated the twentieth, and this was now the twenty-fifth — and that he was very worried about her because he knew what the drug scene was like in Holland, and she was an eighteen-year-old girl traveling alone with another girl her age and he wondered if Lew could help by putting him in touch with the Dutch agent he’d met just before Christmas in Lew’s office, Evert somebody, who he knew handled work for Lew in Amsterdam, and who had presumably earned commissions selling some of Jamie’s pictures there.

He said all of this in a breathless rush, and Lew, on the other end of the line, immediately grasping the urgency of the situation, told him to hold a minute while he got his book, and was back on the phone thirty seconds later to reel off the Dutch agent’s name, address and telephone number. He spelled out the last name, G-o-e-d-k-o-o-p, and similarly spelled out the Witte de Withstraat address, and then repeated his office and home numbers twice to make certain Jamie had them. Now, at a quarter to eight in the evening in Connecticut, Jamie listened to the phone ringing in Noordwijk aan Zee, wherever the hell that was, a peculiarly urgent sound as compared to the more leisurely American ring, and then the ringing stopped abruptly, and there was the sound of the receiver clattering to a hard surface, and then someone muttering something in Dutch, and then silence, and then “Hallo?”

“Mr. Goedkoop?” Jamie said. He wasn’t sure of the pronunciation, and he hoped the man wouldn’t hang up on him, thinking he was trying to reach someone else entirely.

“Yes?”

“Evert, this is Jamie Croft, we met once in Lew Barker’s...”

“Yes?”

“I’m calling from America.”

Goedkoop was slowly coming awake. “Yes, Jamie,” he said, “how are you?”

“Fine, thanks, I’m sorry to be waking you at this hour...”

“No, no, graag gedaan,” Goedkoop said.

“... but my daughter is in Amsterdam, she left suddenly to go to Europe...”

“Your daughter?” Goedkoop said.

“Yes, my eighteen-year-old daughter.”

“Ah, is here in Amsterdam! Ah, of course,” Goedkoop said, misunderstanding, and wondering why such a call had to be made at two in the morning. “Where is she staying? I’ll be certain to ring her up and...”

“That’s just it. I don’t know where she is. She’s traveling alone with another girl her age, and we’d very much appreciate it if you could — Amsterdam isn’t a very large city — if you could ask around and try to get a line on her.”

“A line?”

“Try to find out where she’s staying. So we can make contact with her.”

“Ah,” Goedkoop said. He was wide-awake now. “Yes, I will check the various hotels, of course,” he said. “But, do you know, not many young people are staying at hotels. Well, I will call on various underground people here...”

“Underground?” Jamie said, alarmed.

“Pardon?”

“You said...”

“Yes, people who are having knowledge of the places these youngsters frequent. Do not worry, Jamie, I quite understand, and will do all I can. What is your daughter’s name?”

“Melissa. Melissa Croft. And she’s traveling with a girl named Barbara Duggan.”

“Would you spell that for me, please?”

Jamie spelled both names for him. On the other end of the line, he heard Goedkoop’s labored breathing and remembered him as a man who was exceedingly overweight.

“I have two boys myself,” Goedkoop said, “of eighteen and twenty-three, and so I can feel for you and your wife, believe me. Amsterdam seems to be the middlepunt for young people from everywhere, do you know, the epicenter? Even Dutch boys and girls. They are coming from all over the Netherlands to Amsterdam. I know Dutch parents who are combing the city for weeks on end. Do you perhaps have a photograph? If you could send me one, it might facilitate...”

“Yes, I’ll put one in the mail immediately.”

“Goed, okay, that will be good. But in the meanwhile, what does she look like, your daughter?”

“She’s five nine, and weighs about... Connie, what does she weigh?”

“Pardon?” Goedkoop said.

“I’m checking with my wife. Connie?” he said, and impatiently snapped his fingers at her, something he’d never done in his life. “A hundred and twenty,” he said into the phone when she’d given him the information. “She has long blond hair, and blue eyes and... uh... let me see what else might help you. A birthmark on her left shoulder, sort of like a crescent moon.”

“Ah, yes,” Goedkoop said, “a crescent moon. And you said her height was...?”

“Five nine.”

“Yes, what would that be in centimeters?”

“I’m not sure. Do you want me to check? Connie, could you get the dictionary or something? He wants to know what five nine would be in...”

“That is five feet nine inches, yes?” Goedkoop said.

“Yes, five...”

“I can convert it here, do not worry. And one hundred and twenty pounds? That is pounds you are saying.”

“Yes, pounds.”

“Blond hair, blue eyes,” Goedkoop muttered, obviously writing down the information. “And the other girl?”

“I have no idea what she looks like.”

“No matter, I will try to find them both for you. In the meanwhile, don’t worry, please. I am sure you will hear from your daughter soon. My older son is studying in London, and if he isn’t writing for some weeks his mother becomes so upset, not to mention his father,” Goedkoop said, and chuckled. “I will do what I can, and I will call you with my results. But as I say, do not worry. I am sure she is fine.”

“Thank you, Evert,” Jamie said, relieved. “When you call, please make it collect, I don’t want you to...”

“Nonsense, no, no,” Goedkoop said. “I have a long time been an admirer of your work, and it is a pleasure when Lewis sends me your photographs to sell. I saw in a recent issue of Time magazine here, the photographs you took of the downtown fire in New York. They are splendid. Has Time bought all rights, or would they be free for the Dutch market?”

“You’d have to ask Lew about that.”

“Ah? Yes, of course, I will. And I will call you when I have the good news I expect I will soon have.”

“Thank you,” Jamie said. “And please forgive me for calling at this hour, but...”