deeply on his cheroot. ‘No, you’re not mad. I’m not complaining, Peter, but
it’s been a shock to my system.’
‘I can see that, sir. Should have warned you, I suppose. She does have
rather an effect on people who-make her acquaintance for the first time.
That awful harridan is in fact a rather lovely young lady, or would be if
she soaked in a bath for about an hour. She’s very nice, charming really,
intelligent, speaks four languages, is a university graduate and is also a
lady policewoman from Rotterdam. Don’t you see, sir, I’m making a point. If
she can fool the Chief of Police, who has become Chief of Police by, among
other things, being fooled by fewer people than anyone else around, she can
fool anyone.’
‘How did you come by this paragon?’
‘Exchange basis. Not a very fair exchange, really. I knew she’d spent six
months underground in Rotterdam, and we had no one comparable up here. It
wasn’t easy but my opposite number down there is a friend of mine.’
:Why wasn’t I informed of this?’
Because you gave me a free hand, remember. I would have informed you if
there had been anything to report. So far there has been nothing. Didn’t
want to bother you with trifles.’
De Graaf smiled. ‘I doubt whether the young lady would care to be called a
trifle. Have her in, would you?’
Van Effen did so and de Graaf waved her courteously to a seat. ‘Sorry you
were kept waiting. You know who I am?’
‘Of course. Colonel van de Graaf. My boss.’ The slightly husky voice was
low and pleasant, at complete variation with her appearance.
Lieutenant van Effen told you?’
He didn’t have to, sir. I work for him and I know he works for you. And
I’ve seen your picture dozens of times.’
‘That outfit you’re wearing, Annemarie. Don’t you feel it makes you look
rather conspicuous?’
‘Among the people I’m supposed to be investigating? I can assure you, sir,
that compared to some of the clothes worn
46
there, mine are low key, positively understated. Isn’t that so, Peter?’
‘Ah! Peter, is it? A lowly ranker addresses my senior Lieutenant by his
given name?’
‘On orders, sir. We’ve been out a couple of times together
‘Among your – ah – friends?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I wish I had seen that.’
‘We do form rather a striking couple. I told Annemarie that it would be
unwise to call me Lieutenant in such company but to call me Peter and
always think of me as Peter. That way you don’t make mistakes. Someone
drummed this into me years ago.,
‘I was the drummer. I understand that you carry a gun, young lady. You
can use it?’
‘I was trained at the police range.’
‘Ever used it?’
‘No. And I must admit I hope I never have to.’
‘Would you use it?’
‘I don’t know. If it was to stop someone from killing a person, well,
perhaps, yes. But I couldn’t kill a person. I don’t like guns. I’m afraid
I’m not very brave, sir.’
‘Nonsense. Your sentiments do you credit. Feel exactly the same way
myself. And it takes a brave girl to venture into Krakerland.’
She half-smiled. ‘That’s where the roll-neck comes in so useful. They
can’t see the pulse in my neck.’
‘Rubbish. How are things among your friends? Anything untoward or
exciting afoot.’
‘They’re not a very exciting lot, sir. Rather dull, really. Most of them
are not the social rebels and anti-authority stormtroopers they would
like to be thought to be. Of course, there are the drug-pushers and
drug-users, and there is a hard core that trade in armaments, selling
Russian small-arms to the Irish Republican Army and other disaffected
elements. But Peter has told me not to bother about the arms-running
side.’
‘Disaffected elements? I rather like that. So, Peter, the young lady does
not concern herself with gun-running. Why?’
47
‘You ask me, sir? America, Russia, Britain, France trade in arms –
legally – to the tune of billions of dollars yearly. The Israelis do it,
as do the Iranians, Libyans and God knows how many oiher countries. All
with their government’s blessings. Who are we to become all God-fearing,
moralistic and holierthan-thou when private enterprise move in on a tiny
scale? Anyway, I know you’re not really interested in that side, and that
the only things you really are interested in are drugs and those
mysterious and increasing threats to the Royal family and members of the
Government.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Anything interesting to report on any of these
fronts?’
Annemarie shook her head. ‘Vasco – you’ve heard of Vasco?’
‘Yes. Never met him, though. Supposed to meet him today. In fact I
thought I was meeting him with you.’
‘I thought so, too. We’d arranged to meet in a caf6 close by here almost
an hour ago. No signs, which is most unlike Vasco.’
‘This friend of yours – he’s a dyed-in-the-wool true-blue Kraker?’
‘Well, he seems to be but he can’t be, can he? They have some kind of
leaders, nobody with any personality or charisma, a kind of loose
council, and Vasco appears to be a member or close to it. But he says
he’s basically against them and I believe him. After all, he w6rks for
you. Sort of.’
‘But you’re in two minds about him?’
‘My intelligence, if I have any, says that – well, I’m ambivalent about
him. My instincts trust him.’
‘Peter?’
‘Her instincts are right. He’s a cop. Detective sergeant.’
‘A policeman.’ Annemarie’s lips were compressed, her eyes angry. ‘Thank
you. Thank you very much.’
‘Don’t be childish,’ van Effen said. ‘You told him you were a
policewoman?’
She didn’t answer and de Graaf said hastily: ‘It’s the need-toknow
principle, my dear. He didn’t even tell me. I take it he thinks I didn’t
need to know. You were about to say something about Vasco?’
‘Yes. Could be important. I don’t know. He told me late last
48
night that he thought he had a lead. He said he had been approached by one
of the council, a person who knew that he, Vasco, moved quite often about
the outside world – to them, everything beyond their suburban boundaries is
the outside world. He said he was being taken to a meeting about midnight to
meet someone important. I don’t know who the person was.’
Van Effen said: ‘Who was the person who approached him? Can you describe
him?’
‘I can describe him, all right. Short, balding, pepper-and-salt beard and
a bad squint in his right eye.’
De Graaf looked at van Effen. ‘Another eye disorder, but this one for real.
This person have a name?’
‘Julius.’
‘Julius what?’
‘Just -‘ She hesitated. ‘Julius Caesar. I know it’s crazy, but then they’re
crazy. Nobody out there ever uses his real name. Right now, as far as names
are concerned, they’re going through an historical phase. That’s the kind
of follow-myleader sheep they are. We’ve got Alexander the Great, Genghis
Khan, Charlemagne, Lord Nelson, Helen of Troy, Cleopatra -I could go on.
They go for macho men or beautiful women, everything that they’re not.
Anyway, Julius Caesar.’
Van Effen said: ‘And that’s all you know? No indications as to what kind of
lead it was?’
‘No.’ She pursed her lips. ‘That’s not to say that he didn’t know.’
‘An odd comment to make,’ de Graaf said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing. I just don’t know whether he knows or not.’
‘Lieu me.’ De Graaf studied her quizzically. ‘You don’t trust your fellow
officer?’
‘He doesn’t trust me.’
‘Well, once again, dear me. This does make for a happy relationship in the
field.’
Van Effen said: ‘Sergeant Westenbriak doesn’t distrust her. It’s just that
three years working under-cover tends to make you secretive, a loner.’
‘Westenbrink, is it. I thought I knew all my sergeants.’
49
‘He’s from Utrecht, sir.’
‘You cast a wide net. Lieutenant van Effen, Annemarie, works on the same
principle as Vasco, whose name, I feel quite certain, is not Vasco. The
need to know. How can you be hurt when you see me being treated in this
cavalier fashion?’
George entered, apologised, picked up a phone set from a side table and
placed it in frorit of Annemarie. She lifted the receiver, listened to
the crackling voice for all of two minutes, said: ‘Thank you. Five
minutes,’ and hung up.
Van Effen said: ‘The Hunter’s Horn, I presume. What’s the message from
Vasco?’
‘The Hunter’s Horn.’ De Graaf frowned. ‘I trust that’s not the Hunter’s
Horn that -‘
‘There’s only one – ah – establishment of that name in Amsterdam. Beggars
can’t be choosers. Apart from La Caracha it’s our only safe house in
Amsterdam. A private connection, Colonel. The fair name of the Amsterdam
police department remains unbesn-jirched.’
‘Not to know,’ de Graaf muttered. ‘Not to know.’
‘You’re half right,’ Annemarie said, almost reluctantly. ‘It was the