FLOODGATE by ALISTAIR MACLEAN

never promised they would blow the canal -which is quite true – only that

there would be considerable activity in that area at nine o’clock this

morning. There were, they reported, scenes of very considerable activity

which is again quite true. All rescue and repair teams were there,

waiting, as were considerable numbers of police and army, not to mention

air force helicopters. They claimed to have taken a good number of aerial

photographs of the scenes, just for keepsakes.’

‘You believe that, too?’

‘Certainly. I have no reason to disbelieve it.’

‘But aerial photographsio How could that be possible?’

‘It would be all too simple, I’m afraid. There would be any amount of

helicopiers buzzing about there this morning. An extra one wouldn’t be

noticed especially if, as is highly likely, it was carrying some official

markings.’

‘What was the reason behind this pointless and idiotic exerci

‘It was far from being idiotic and very much to the point. just in case

we missed the point they spelt it out very clearly. They said that in the

space of twenty-four hours they had reduced the country, most especially

the authorities, to a state of frustrated helplessness. The so-called

authorities – they had a number of cynical and very unpleasant remarks

to make about the government, the police, the army and those whose duty

it was to look after the safety and welfare of dykes, locks, weirs,

sluices, dams and I forget what else – were totally powerless to do

anything to stop them. AD they had to do, they said, was to stop at home,

stick a pin into a map, phone the papers, sit back and never go within

a hundred kilometres but still guarantee that the law, the army, the

repair and rescue teams would be out in full force. It was, they said,

both an entertaining and gratifying situation. One can readily understand

why they feel that way.’

‘And not a word about their purposes, no hint as to what lies behind it

all?’

‘No hint, but a suggestion that we might soon know what

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their demands are going to be. They didn’t use the word “demands” but they

can have meant nothing else. Tomorrow, they said, they were going to fiood

a really large area of the country and after that they would probably have

talks with the government. Can you imagine? The sheer cold arrogance of it

all. They speak as if they are an independent sovereign state. Next, one

supposes, they’ll be calling for an open debate in the UNO.’ He glanced at

his watch. ‘Plenty of time. Two minutes to remove this outfit – no washing

or soaking required – and five nrunutes to put on my Hunter’s Horn uniform.

I suggest coffee.’

She put a hand on his arm. ‘You really are going there, aren’t you, Peter.’

‘Of course. I’ve said so. Somebody has to and as I am the only person who’s

been in contact with them, it has to be me. How else do you think the law

would ever get anywhere unless it’s prepared, just once in a while, to take

the initiative?’

‘I wish you weren’t going. I feel certain something is going to happen.

Something awful. You could be hurt, even killed, or, maybe even worse,

crippled for life. You know what they d:d to those two men. Oh Peted’ She

was silent for a moment, then said.: ‘If I were your wife, I’d stop you.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said miserably. ‘Appeal to your better nature, love for

me, something like, “For my sake, if you care about me, please don’t go.”

Something clever like that,’ she said bitterly.

‘Well, you’re not my wife, and, even if you were, I’d still go. I’m sorry

that sounds hard and selfish and cruel, but it’s my job and I have to go.’

He put his hand on her arm. ‘You’re a very kind girl and I do appreciate

your concern.’

‘Kind? Concern?’ She caught his wrist and gently removed his hand from her

arm. ‘Concern!’

‘Annemarie!’ Van Effen’s surprise was genuine. ‘What on earth’s wrong.’

‘Nothing. just nothing.’

Van Effen gazed ahead for some moments, sighed and said: ‘I don’t think

I’ll ever understand women.’

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‘I don’t think so either.’ She seemed to hesitate, then said: ‘I don’t

much fancy going to a coffee-shop.’

‘If you wish we won’t. But why not?’

‘I don’t much care for wearing this face in public. Where there are

decent people around. It doesn’t matter back there. And I don’t think you

are particularly keen on being seen among the same public with a freak

like me.’

‘I know what lies behind the warpaint so it doesn’t matter to me.’ He

paused. ‘Maybe I don’t know anything about women but I always know when

they’re telling fibs.’

‘I’m telling fibs?’

‘Of course you are.’

‘Well, yes, I am. Can’t we have coffee at Julie’s place. It’s only

another five minutes.’

‘Sure. Time I have. I know you’re very fond of Julie. But are you also

worried about her?’

‘I think she’s worried about me. Even though she knew you would be there

she didn’t like the idea of my going back to that place.’

‘You didn’t answer my questioD. You’re not, perhaps – well, just a little

bit worried about her?’ She remained silent.

‘The Annecy brothers. Would you believe, I’ve never even seen either of

them? I regard them as a fairly distant menace.’

‘The menace I’m thinking of is a great deal nearer to home. Well, not

menace. Problem, rather.’

‘This is something new on me. A bagatelle, whatever it is. Give me the

name of this person or problem and I’ll attend to it.’

‘Indeed, Lieutenant.’ Something in the tone of her voice caught van

Effen’s attention and he gave her a long speculative look. ‘And how do

you attend to this bagatelle, when the bagatelle in question is

yourself?’

‘Ah. Me again. I don’t suppose there’s any point in repeating the old

complaining question?’

‘Which is what?’

‘What the bell am I supposed to have done this time?’

‘By your standards, I suppose, absolutely nothing.’

‘I detect a certain sarcasm? Or is it irony? I’ve noticed an

F.-D 97

increasing use of it. Not becoming, Annemarie. You should do something

about it. Well, what have I done?’

‘Reduced a lovely girl to team. Not once, but three times. And when I say

lovely, I don’t just mean beautiful. I mean the nicest, kindest, warmest

person I’ve ever met. Three times. But it’s as I said. By your standards,

a bagatelle.’

‘Julie?’

‘Julie! Who else would I mean? Or do you have a whole collection of

ladies that you go around reducing to tears?’

‘What’s she crying about?’

‘What’s she – I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re cruel,

indifferent. But don’t you care that she’s upset?’

‘Of course I care. I’d care more if I knew why shc was upset.’

‘I wonder. You’ll think it funny. For one thing, you left last night

without a good-night hug and kiss. You’ve never done that before, she

says.’

‘Funny? It’s ludicrous. My men getting hospitalized, a gang of lunatics

threatening to inundate our country, another gang of lunatics wanting to

hire me to blow up the palace or whatever, nations toppling and I’m

supposed to be worried about smooches? A bagatelle? Soon fix that.’

‘Of course you will. A double ration of affectionate farewells. Georgie,

Porgy, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry.’

‘Shakespeare?’

‘English nursery rhyme.’ Her voice was very curt indeed. ‘Perhaps a

bagatelle. What does matter is that she says she hurt two people she

loves because she was meddlesome. I suppose she means you and me. Said

she thought she was helping but that she was too clever or too stupid for

her own good.’

‘That’s her problem. A little bit of self-analysis never did anyone any

harm.’

‘Seff-analysis! You told her she was interfering and too smart for her

own good. Anybody’s good.’

‘Julie told you that?’

‘Of course she didn’t. She’s too loyal – misplaced loyalty, perhaps.

Julie would never have said that – she’s too unselfish to think about

herself. But it sounds exactly like you.’

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‘I’ll say I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.’

‘And, of course, you’ll tell her that I told you to.’

‘No. I must say Ws a sad thing to b~ held in such low esteem by two

ladies you love.’

‘The Lieutenant is pleased to be flippant,’ she said coldly.

‘Flippancy? Never. You don’t believe rne?’

‘No, I don’t believe you.’

‘I care very much about you. But as a matter of principle and in the

interests of discipline, a barrier must remain between the officer class

and rankers.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ The tone was one of pure exasperation.

‘The principle doesn’t seem to be standing up very well,’ van Effen said

gloomily. ‘And the barrier’s flat. So much for discipline.’

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