FLOODGATE by ALISTAIR MACLEAN

occasion were so outlandish that he probably didn’t spend much time

examining your face. It will serve.’

Vasco had indeed undergone a considerable metamorphosis. The long blond

locks that had straggled haphazardly over his shoulder had been neady, even

severely, trimmed and parted with millimetric precision just to the centre

left. His hair was also black, as were his eyebrows and newly-acquired and

immaculately shaped moustache, all of which went very well with his

shadowed, thinned-down cheeks and heavy tan. All dyes were guaranteed

waterproof. He was the maiden’s concep-

202

tualized dream of what every young army officer should look like. Shirt,

tie, suit and belted trench-coat were correspondingly immaculate.

‘They could use him in those army advertisements,’ George said. ‘You know,

your country needs you.’ George, himself, was still George. For him,

disguise was impossible.

‘And the voice,’ van Effen said. ‘I’m not worried about Agnelli, he’s

hardly heard you say more thah a few words. It’s Annemarie. I don’t know

whether she’s a good actress with her emotions under control or not, but I

rather suspect not. It would rather spoil things if she flung her arms

round your neck and cried “My saviour!”‘

‘I have a very bad cold,’ Vasco said hoarsely. ‘My throat is like

sandpaper.’ His voice reverted to normal and he said morosely: ‘Whose

throat wouldn’t be in this damned weather. Anyway, I’ll be the strong,

silent type: I shall speak as little as possible.’

‘And 1,’George said,’shall lurk discreetly in the background until one of

you have advised the ladies – if the ladies arc indeed there – of my

presence. But make it fast.’

‘We’ll make itas fast as we can, George,’ van Effen said. ‘We appreciate

it’s a bit difficult for you to lurk discreetly anywhere for any length of

time. And I have no doubt whatsoever the ladies will be there.’ He tapped

the newspaper under his arm. ‘What’s the point, in holding a couple of

trumps if you don’t have them in your hand?’

The FFF’s latest aimouncement had been very simple, direct and to the

point. They had now with them, they said – crude words like ‘abducted’ and

‘kidnapped’ had been studiously avoided – two young ladies, one of them the

daughter of the nation’s leading industrialist, the other the sister of a

senior police officer in Amsterdam. They had then proceeded to name names.

Condolences, the FFF had said, had been sent to both parents and brother,

together with assurances that they were being well cared for and expressing

the pious hope that they would continue to remain in good health.

‘I do look forward to meeting those cardplayers,’ Georg-, said wistfully.

‘Crafty bunch of devils, aren’t they? I wonder what

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American university – or it could be Irish – offers a combined course in

terrorism and psychology?’

‘They’re not exactly mentally retarded,’van Effen said. ‘But, then, we

never thought they were. Another push up the back for the arm of the

government – and another push into an even more impossible situation.

just ending their message with those prayerful good wishes. No threats,

no hints of reprisals or what might happen to the girls, no possibility

of torture or even death. Nothing. The old uncertainty principle in full

operation again. What, we are left to wonder, do they have in mind.

That’s left to us – and, of course, it’s only human nature to come up

with the worst possible scenario. Bad enough to have the country

threatened with inundation, but for the tender-hearted and romantic – and

even among the so-called stolid Dutch there are an uncommon number of

those around – the thought of what dreadful terrors may lie in store for

two beautiful and innocent young damsels could be a great deal worse.’

‘Well, there’s one consolation,’Vasco said. He was practising his in

extremis voice again. ‘I’m sure that’s the last threat about your

sister’s well-being that you’ll be getting, Lieutenant.’

‘Stephan,’ van Effen said.

‘Stephan. I know. But I won’t apologize this time.’ Vasco’s voice was

back to normal. ‘Once I clap eyes on that lot there’s not the slightest

chance I’ll forget.’

‘My mistake,’van Effen said. ‘I’m the person who’s doing the forgetting

– about your undercover years. I agree with you -there’ll be no more

threats to Julie. By the same token, I don’t even think they’ll bother

to try to extract any money from David Meijer. Apart from the fact that

they appear to have unlimited funds of their own, David.Meijer is much

more important to them as David Meijer – the man who, however

unofficially, has very much the ear of the government and is in a

position to influence them, to swing whatever decision may be under

consideration. Not that I think that the government has any decision

under consideration. I think that matter has been effectively taken out

of their hands now. The ball, in the American phrase, is now very much

in the court of the British.’

‘I wouldn’t very much like to be in the position of the British

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either.’ George said. ‘They f2ce a position that, if it’s possible, is even

worse than the one our government had to face. Are they going to be dictated

to, even by proxy, by a bunch of what are essentially no more than

terrorists, no matter what lofty motives they may ascribe to themselves?

What will happen in Northern Ireland if they did pull out – would there be

strife, and murder, even massacre that might cost more than any lives that

could or would be lost in the Netherlands – and, of course, we can have no

idea of how many lives that might be – hundreds or hundreds of thousands. Or

do they just dig in, refuse to move and sit back and let the Hollanders

drown and make themselves the lepers of the world, ostracized, perhaps for

generations to come, by all nations – and although this is a wicked old

world there must be still quite a few left – who still subscribe to some

ideals of decency and humanity?’

‘I do wish you’d shut up, George.’ Rarely for him, van Effen sounded almost

irritable. ‘You put the damn thing all too clearly. In a nutshell, it’s a

toss-up between what value is put on the lives of x number of citizens in

Ulster againsty number of citizens in the Netherlands.’ Van. Effen smiled

without much mirth. ‘It’s difficult to solve an equation when you don’t

even have a clue as to what the factors are. Imponderables, imponderables.

The physicists who ramble on about the indeterminates and uncertainties in

quantum mechanics should have this one dumped on their laps. Me, I’d rather

spin a coin.’

‘Heads or tails,’ George said. ‘What way do you think the coin would land?’

11 have absolutelv no idea because, of course, no one eve” knows which face

01 the coin is going to show. But there’s one factor that is at ‘Least

faintly determinate, even although that is wildly uncertain, and that is

human nature. So at a wild guess, just as wild as guessing at the toss, I

would say that the British would give in.’

George was silent for a few moments, one massive hand caressing his chin,

then said: ‘The British haven’t got much of a reputation for giving in.

Feed any of them enough beer or scotch or whatever and like as not someone

will end up by telling you that no unspeakable foreigner has ever set foot

on

205

their sacred soil for a thousand years. Which is true – and it’s the only

country in the world that can claim.that.’

‘True, true. But not applicable – or at least of importance -here. This is

not a case of Churchill declaiming that we will fight in the streets,

hills, beaches or wherever and that we will never surrender. That’s for

martial warfare and in martial warfare the parameters and issues are

clearcut. This is psychological warfare where the distinctions are blurred

out of sight. Are the British any good at psychological warfare? I’m not

sure they are. Come to that, I’m not sure that any country is – too many

indefinables.’

‘I don’t think, anyway, that it’s a factor of either martial or

psychological warfare. If there’s any factor that’s going to count, it’s

the factor of human nature. This is how it might just possibly happen. The

British will bluff and bluster, rant ind rave – you have to admit that they

yield first place to none when it comes to that – throw their arms in the

general direction of a mindless heaven, appeal for common justice and claim

they’re as pure and white and innocent as the driven snow, which, at this

moment of time and conveniently forgetting their not-sodistant bloody

history, they have some justification in claiming to be. What, they will

ask, have we done to precipitate this intolerable situation and why should

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