recollection of saying that.’
‘That’s because you never had any intention of writing out your
resignation.’
‘Well, well. We’ll make a lady detective of you yet. You’re quite right, my
dear, I did not. How could I? How could I leave Uncle Arthur alone to cope
with the rising wave of crime in Amsterdam? He needs me.’
Annemarie said to Julie: ‘If I were to say to him, that he is as
Machiavellian as he is big-headed, do you think he would fire me? Or just
try to reduce me to tears?’
Van Effen sipped his jenever. ‘Fortunately, I am above such things. And you
must never confuse Machiavethaiiism with diplomacy, big-headedness with
intelligence.’
‘You’re right, Annemarie. I’m sorry I said “sorry”.’ Julie looked at van
Effen with something less than affection. ‘And what are you going to do
now?’
‘Just sit. Waiting.’
‘Waiting for what?’
‘The phone. The Colonel.’
‘The Colonel!’Julie said. ‘After what you said to him?’
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‘After what he said to me, you mean.’
‘You’re going to have a very long wait.’ Annemarie spoke with conviction.
‘My dear children – or should I say babes in the wood – you sadly
underestimate the Colonel. He is infinitely shrewder than either of you.
He knows very well indeed what the score is. He’s taking some time to
make this call because he’s figuring out a way to beat a strategic
retreat without loss of dignity, peace with honour, if you will. Now
there, if you like, does go a man with a Machiavellian cast of mind –
after forty years battling with the underworld one does develop a certain
cast of n-iind. I told theColonel that he had left me with no place to
go. De Graaf, being de Graaf, realized at once what I meant – that he had
no place to go. I
Julie said: ‘Seeing you’re so clever, would you mind
‘There’s no need to be unpleasant. Look at me. I am treating you with
unfalling courtesy- or should I say chivalry-‘
‘I suppose. What’s the Colonel going to say?’
‘That’s on consideration – or on re-consideration – well, he’s going to
give me carte blanche. The 8 p.m. assignation is on.’
‘It would be nice to see you wrong for once,’Julie said. ‘No, I didn’t
really mean that. I only hope you are wrong.’
For a time no one spoke. The girls kept looking at the telephone on the
coffee table by van Effen’s side. Van Effen wasn’t looking at anything
in particular. The phone rang.
Van Effen picked it up. ‘Ah! Yes … I accept that. jhAaybe I did step
out of line. But 1 was provoked.’ He winced and held the telephone some
distance away from his ear. ‘Yes, sirj you were provoked too … Yes, I
thoroughly agree. A very wise decision, if I may say so. . . Of course,
you will be kept in the picture, sir … No, they don’t trust me … Yes,
sir, here. Goodbye.’
He hung up and looked at Julie. ‘Why aren’t you in the kitchen, my girl?
Distinctly smell burning. 1 was asked for lunch -‘
‘Oh, do be quiet. What did lie say?’ ‘Carte blanche. 8 p.m.’
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Julie looked at him , her face still, for what seemed a long time but
could only have been a few secon6, then turned and went to the kitchen.
Arinernarie made a couple of steps towards him, stopped and said:
‘Peter.’
‘Don’t say it. I’ve already got out of one difficult situation. Don’t you
and Julie put memi an impossible one.’
‘We won’t. I promise. You know that we can’t help what we feel and you
can’t blame us for that. But you could blame us if we did start talking
about it, so we won’t. That’s sure.’ She smiled. ‘Now, isn’t that
considerate.’
‘Very. Do you know, Annemarie, I do believe I’m beginning to like you.’
‘Like me?’ She gave him a quizzical look. ‘So you didn’t even like me
when you kissed me this morning? Absentmindedness, I suppose. Or do you
just go around k~ssing policewomen as a matter of routine? Something to
do with their morale, no doubt.’
‘You’re the first.’
‘And, no doubt, the last. We all make mistakes, whatever I mean by that
cryptic remark. Who do-Isn’t trust you?’
‘Who doesn’t – what?’
‘Something you said to the Colonel.’
‘Ah. My criminal associates. We parted at the Hunter’s Horn professing
mutual trust and faith. Didn’t stop them from staking a man out at the
Trianon. An irritation. No problem.’
‘And after lunch?’
‘Stay here a bit. The Colonel is going to call me. That will be after we
hear what, if anything, the FFF have been up to at two o’clock. The
Colonel is convinced that they will not blow up the Hagestein. Frogmen
have found no traces of any underwater charges in position.’
Van Effen called his office and asked for the desk sergeant. ‘The men on
Fred Klassen and Alfred van Rees. They called in at noon?’ He listened
briefly. ‘So van Rees has lost our man. Chance or on purpose, it doesn’t
matter. I assume you have the licence number. All officers on patrol. Not
to approach. just locate. Note this number and call me here.’
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Lunch was an excellent but hardly festive meal. Julie and Annemarie were
determinedly over-bright and over-cheerful and the harsh edges of strain
occasionally showed through: if van Effen noticed anything amiss he made no
comment: her brother, Julie knew, rarely missed anything..
They had coffee in the living-room. Shortly after two o’clock a young
motor-cycle policeman came to collect the Hunter’s Horn tape.
Julie said: ‘I hear that you are awaiting a call from the Colonel. After
that?’
‘Your bed, my dear, if I may. I don’t know when I can expect to sleep
tonight or even if I will sleep so I think an hour or two might be of some
value. That hour or two, of course, wouid be helped along by the brandy you
have – unaccountably – so far failed to offer me.’
The Colonel’s call came when van Effen was halfway through his brandy. It
was a brief call and one-sided. Van Effen said 4yes’ several times, ‘I see’
a couple of times, then told the Colonel goodbye and hung up.
‘The FFF blew up the North Holland dyke at exactly 2 p.m. Extensive
flooding, but shallow and no lives lost. Not according to first reports.
The Hagestein weir was not touched. As the Colonel says, he expected-this.
The frogmen had located no charges and he is convinced that the FFF were
unable either to approach the weir or conceal charges. He’s further
convinced that their blasting techniques are primitive and limited only to
simple operations like blowing up dykes and canal banks.’
‘But you’re not convinced of this, are you?’ Julie said.
‘I’m neither convinced nor unconvinced. I know no more about it than you
do. Maybe the Colonel finds it preferable, more comforting to think along
those lines: maybe the FFF want the Colonel – us, the country – to think
along those lines. They have all the hallmarks of being a devious and
highly organized bunch. That impression, too, may be deceptive. Are they a
simple-minded group trying to make us think they are devious or a
devious-minded group trying to make us think they are simple? Figure it out
for yourselves. I can’t. I’m going to rest lightly. Turn on the radio,
would you? The FFF have, it
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seems, got into the habit of making a public announcement after what they
no doubt regard as being one of their master strokes. Don’t bother to wake
me to convey their next dire threat. In fact, don’t bother me for
anything.’
He had barely dropped off when Julie came in and shook him awake. He
opened his eyes and, as was his custom, was almost instantly awake. He
said: ‘This is the way you don’t disturb me? The heavens have fallen in?’
‘I’m sorry. A letter came for you.’
‘A letter? An exhausted man is torn from his slumbers
‘It came by special delivery,’ she said patiently. ‘it has Urgent stamped
all over it.’
‘Let me see.’ He took the envelope from her, glanced briefly at the
address and postmark, opened the envelope, half extracted the contents,
pushed it back inside again and slid the envelope under the pillow. ‘And
I’m disturbed by this. One of my fellow officers trying to be witty. Next
time, be sure the heavens have fallen in.’
‘Let me see what was inside that letter,’ Julle said sharply. She sat on
the bed, laid her hand on his arm and said in a gentle voice: ‘Please,
Peter?’
Van Effen made to speak, said nothing, reached under his pillow,
retrieved the envelope and gave the contents to Julie. It was not a
letter, just a plain postcard, blank on one side. On the other side was
a crude drawing of a coffin and a hangman’s noose.