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FLOODGATE by ALISTAIR MACLEAN

polythene. Van Effen dropped it in his pocket.

‘I’ve stuck the two pieces of soap together and left them in hot

252

water,’ Vasco said. ‘Should be mushed together again pretty soon. I have an

idea. Just after I got into the bathroom I saw a man crossing the courtyard

towards the barn. That’s when I switched off the light. He disappeared round

the back of the barn, you know, where the outside stairs are, and then

joined the man who was then standing at the loft door. Changing of the

guard, so to speak. That was exactly at seven o’clock. It occurred to me

that it might be very convenient if the condition of my throat has

deteriorated so badly that I will be unable to join you for dinner. It might

be very convenient if we found out how regularly they changed guards.’

‘It would .;ndeed,’ van Effen said. ‘An excellent suggestion, Vasco. Should

have thought of it myself. Promotion guaranteed – if, that is, we survive

this lot. I’m sure Samuelson will be most distressed. Probably insist on

sending you another toddy.’

‘Make sure it’s a large one, if you please. I’m feeling very weak.’

‘Mr Danilov. George.’ As van Effen and George descended the stairs into the

fiving-room, Samuelson advanced to greet them, beaming as if they were

long-lost friends. ‘Just in time for the next TV broadcast. Then dinner. But

where’s our dashing young Lieutenant?’

‘Our young Lieutenant isn’t feeling at all dashing. Throat’s worse. Flu, I

think.’

Samuelson clucked his tongue and shook his head. ‘Damn flu’s everywhere

these days. This awful weather. Most important that he’s reasonably fit

tomorrow. Herta!’ This to a flaxenhaired young girl who was setting the

table for the evening meal. ‘A toddy. A strong one. Take it up to the

Lieutenant’s room. Dear me, dear me. Ah!’

Agnelli had just turned up the volume of the TV set and a rock band, which

had been playing, mercifully, in apparent mime, faded from the screen to be

replaced by the accustomed announcer looking, if possible, even more

lugubrious and funereal than he had on the previous occasion.

‘With reference to the threats being made against our country by the

unidentified group calling themselves the FFF, the

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Ministry of Defence has just issued a statement. The British Government

and ours are in constant contact but no announcement as to the results of

those negotiations can yet be made pending the outcome of discussions

between Whitehall and Stormont. Stormont is the parliament or governing

body of Northern Ireland which is, of course, next to ourselves, the

country most closely concerned with the outcome of those negotiations.

Whitehall, it must be said, finds itself in a most difficu!t and peculiar

position. Ulster, Northern Ireland, that is, although an integral part of

Great Britain, retains a certain degree of autonomy as far as decisions

relating to its own future is concerned. When further news comes to hand

the country will be immediately informed.

‘The FFF have informed us that they will issue a further communiqu~ after

this broadcast. This will be transmitted to you at 8 p.m.

‘In the circumstances, the latest report from the meteorological office

is relevant. The wind, due north, is Force Nine and strengthening.

Torrential rain is sweeping over most of Scandinavia and is heaviest of

all over the Netherlands. The North Sea is expected to reach its highest

level for at least the past quarter century inside the next forty-eight

hours.’

The announcer’s image faded and Agnelli switched off the set.

‘Dear me, dear me,’ Samuelson said. ‘Things do look very unpromising. Or

very promising. All depends upon one’s point of view.’ He gestured

towards the bar. ‘Romero, see to it that our friends are not neglected.

Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. 1 shall be back shortly.’ He disappeared

up the stairs.

While the Agnelli brothers busied themselves behind the bar van Effen

wandered aimlessly around the room apparently admiring the paintings and

the bronze and copper artefacts that decorated the walls. fle paid

particular but very brief attention to the telephone: the telephone

number had been carefully and thoroughly inked out, which neither

surprised nor disturbed him. He was reasonably certain that he could,

later that night, have given that number to the police HQ in the

Marnixstraat in Amsterdam, , which would have enabled them to pinpoint

the

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exact whereabouts of the windmill, but that would not have suited his

purpose: the answer to the machinations of the FFF lay elsewhere.

Samuelson, presumably and for reasons best known to himself, had gone

upstairs to use another telephone to deliver the text of the next FFF

communiqu6.

Dinner that night was a rather odd affair. Not that there was anytUng odd

about the food. Obviously, there wasn’t a cordon bleu chef within miles.

The Dutch, taken by and large, are not gourmets. Your standard Dutch cook

or housewife consider it a matter of personal pride and honour and an

insult to their guests if they can see any part of the plate under the

mound of food that covers it: the food was palatable enough but Michelin

would not have come there a second time.

What was odd was the contrasting behaviour of the diners. Samuelson,

Romero Agnelli, van Effen and George were in an expansive, genial and

talkative mood. Daniken made an occasional contribution but was clearly

no conversationalist. The Rev. Riordan, apart from delivering a lengthy

and, in the circumstances, extremely hypocritical blessing before the

meal, remained grave and thoughtful and totally silent throughout the

meal: Riordan, van Effen reflected, if not quite deranged or demented,

was totally detached from reality and possessed of an incredible naivet6.

Leonardo was equally silent. He, too, was thinking, but only of his

stomach: for a man of his diminutive stature, he was an awesome

trencherman. They spoke only when spoken to, smiled but seldom and for

the most part were remote and withdrawn to the point of being dispirited.

At one point van Effen said to Romero Agnelli: ‘And where’s our friend

O’Brien tonight? He’s not down with the flu, I trust?’

‘O’Brien’s as fit as a fiddle. He’s elsewhere.’

Van Effen said: ‘Ah.’

Samuelson smiled. ‘You really are a singularly incurious person, Mr

Danilov.’

‘Would it help any if I knew where he was or what he was doing?’

‘No. Romero has spoken to me several times about your need-to-know

philosophy. It is one with which I am in entire

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agreement.’ He glanced at Iiis watch. ‘Romero, it lacks one minute to

eight o’clock.

It was the same newscaster. He looked as if he had just heard that his

entire family had been wiped out in an air crash.

‘We have here the latest communiqu6 from the FFF.’ He didn’t sound at all

like a newsreader, he intoned the words like a minister delivering a

funeral oration. ‘It is very brief and reads as follows: “We place no

credence in the Ministry of Defence’s statement. We think the Dutch and

British governments are either stalling or don’t believe in our threats.

Or both. We do not intend to stall. We do intend to make them befieNfe

our threats. The dykes north and south of Lelystad will be breached a few

minutes after midnight. The nuclear device in the lisselmeer will be

detonated at 2 P.M. tomorrow. We beg you to believe that these two

incidents will be regarded as the merest trifles compared to the disaster

that will engulf the Netherlands within twenty-four hours of the

detonation of the nuclear device. ” That is the end of their communiqu6.

‘We have also had a further statement from the Ministry of Defence. They

say that they have no comment to make on this latest communiqu6 on the

basis that there is DO way that they can predict the irrational workings

of the minds of terrorists.’ Samuelson clicked his tongue and shook his

head sadly. ‘They say they are prepared to believe that the terrorists

are insane enough to carry out their insane threats’- more cluckings and

shakings from Samuelson -‘and can do no more than warn all local

authorities to carry out all possible means of protection.

‘Netherlands experts and British nuclear scientists have agreed on the

probable results of such a nuclear explosion. It is assumed that this

will take place in the Markerwaard. If this device is located in or near

the centre of the Markerwaard, the tsunami – the tidal wave – reaching

the shores should be of minor proportions, averaging between sixty and

seventy centimetres. Should it be placed close inshore the wave could be

several times as high and the local results could be disastrous.

‘The nation will be immediately informed of any further developments.’

Agnelli switched off the set. Samuelson, half-smiling, looked

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at van Effen and said: ‘Do I detect just a trace of a half frown, Mr

Danilov?’ Van Effen made no reply. ‘Romero has told me that you are

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