be precious little private flying in the country today. The odd bored air
controller might just amuse himself by tracking this helicopter to
Valkenburg. That helicopter, of course, is heading for
Valkenburg.’Agnelli nodded. ‘Your idea, of course.’
, Agnelli smiled and made a deprecating motion with his hand.
‘Target Zero is heading west on the Sliedrecht road,’ Druckmann report.
‘Which patrol is in the vicinity?’
‘Patrol A.’
‘Ah! Colonel Gropious, sir?’
‘Yes. I am seeing a road block one kilometre east of Sliedrecht. Close
up until you have them visually. But not too close.’
‘I understand, sir. Target Zero is travelling at a very leisurely pace
– perhaps “circumspect” is the word I’m looking for. just
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below fifty kilometres. I estimate they should be with you in just under
twenty minutes.’
‘Thank you, sergeant.’
Ylvisaker leaned back luxuriously in his seat and lit a cigar. ‘This,’ he
said with a sigh, ‘is the life. Thank God we’re not aboard that damned
helicopter.’
That damned helicopter was bumping and lurching its way in a generally
west-by-south direction. ‘Generally’, because Daniken was at pains to avoid
towns, villages or settlements of any size. It was, van Effen thought, a
totally superfluous precaution. There was no earthly reason why, say, a lone
farmer should report the passage of an unidentified and probably
unidentifiable helicopter. Helicopters were ten a penny in the Netherlands.
Van Effen looked around the gunship. Most of the passengers looked
distinctly unhappy and their complexions offered an interesting variety of
shades of colour. Annemarie and Julie, who were sitting together, had
adopted remarkably similar attitudes – clenched fists and eyes screwed
tightly shut. Van Effen himself was untroubled: Daniken was a superb pilot.
He cupped his hand to Agnelli’s ear. ‘How much further?’
‘About fifteen minutes.’
‘Reasonable accommodation?’
Agnelli smiled. ‘It’s a nice little place.’
judging by the standards of Samuelson’s taste, the nice little place, van
Effen thought, was probably about the size of the royal palace in the Dam
Square.
The blue and yellow sign read: ‘ROAD CHECK AHEAD. PLEASE STOP AT THE RED
LIGHT’.
Ylvisaker’s driver slowed and said: ‘What do we do now?’
Ylvisaker took a leisurely puff at his cigar. ‘Drive on, my man.’
Gropious’s driver lowered his binoculars. ‘Target Zero for sure, Sir.’ He
raised his binoculars again. ‘And the given number.’
F.-K 289
Gropious’s vehicle was in the left-hand lane, facing oncoming traffic.
On the right-hand side, and slightly behind them, was another troop
carrier. Two soldiers, both holding umbrellas, were leaning against their
vehicle. Both were smoking cigarettes.
‘Would you look at that s)oppy bunch,’ Ylvisaker said. ‘Umbrellas!
Cigarettes! I’ll bet there’s not an officer nearer than Rotterdam. And
these, mind you, are the gallant troops sworn to defend NATO to the
death.’
As they came to a halt at the red light, Gropious and his two men, all
three trailing machine-pistols in their left hands, approached the stolen
army truck, Gropious going to the front of the truck and his two men to
the rear. Ylvisaker opened his door.
‘What’s all this then, Corporal?’
‘ColonelP An embarrassed Gropious, perceptibly stiffening, executed as
military a salute as could be expected from a slovenly corporal.
‘Colonel. If I had known -‘
Ylvisaker smiled tolerantly. ‘What is it, Corporal?’
‘Orders, sir. We are under instructions to stop and examine all vehicles,
army trucks included, which may be carrying illegally obtained weapons.
We w,-re given the registration number of one particular army truck. This
is not the one.’
Ylvisaker displayed some mild interest. ‘Are you searching for anything
in particular?’
‘Missiles, sir. Ground-to-ground and ground-to-air missiles. I must
admit, sir, that I don’t even know what they look like except that
they’re copper coloured and over two metres long.’
‘Duty is duty, Corporal. I see you have two men at the rear. Instruct
them to open up and search. just, you know, for the records.’
Gropious gave the instructions, the rear doors were opened and no
missiles were found.
‘My apologies, Colonel,’ Gropious said. He hesitated, then produced a
notebook and pencil. ‘My instructions are to make a
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note of the identification of every person passing through this
check-point.’
Ylvisaker reached inside his uniform jacket. Gropious said: ‘No, no, sir.
In your case, no papers are necessary. just your name, Colonel.’
‘Ylvisaker.’
‘Colonel Ylvisaker.’ Rather laboriously, Gropious wrote down the name in
his notebook. How ironic, he thought, that such a confrontation should
occur between a lieutenant-colonel posing as a fake corporal and a
civilian – and criminal – posing as a lieutenant-colonei. He put his
notebook away and lifted his machine-pistol at the same instant as his
two soldiers at the rear of the truck.
‘Move,’Gropious said, ‘and you’re dead.’
No sooner had Gropious and his men brought Ylvisaker and his two men out
on to the roadside than Sergeant Druckmann’s car drew -up behind them.
Druckmann and his men got out, Druckmann carrying a considerable number
of metal objects in his hand. Druckmann looked at the scruffy corporal
with the straggling blond locks and said hesitantly: ‘Colonel Gropious?’
‘it is indeed.’ Gropious removed his hat, took off his wig and threw it
beyond the roadside. ‘Those damn things itch.’
Druckmann said: ‘Congratulations, sir.’
Gropious, who without his wig now looked remarkably like a
lieutenant-colonel, shook his hand warmly. ‘And the very same to you,
Sergeant. Your name, please? Ali I know is that all the police cars were
manned by sergeants.’
:Druckmann, Colonel.’
An excellent piece of work, Sergeant Druckmann. Most professional. And
what, may I enquire, is all that. ironmongery you’re carrying?’
‘Handcuffs and leg irons, sir. I understand that those are not standard
army issue.’
‘Splendid. Kindly have one of your men attach them at once.’ He turned
to one of his soldiers. ‘Instruct all patrols to return to base. I
suggest, Sergeant Druckmann, that you instruct one of your men to do the
same for the police cars. Emphasizing, of course, the need for complete
secrecy.’
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‘At once, Colonel. But there is no need to emphasize secrecy. All of us,
myself included, have been threatened by Colonel de Graaf with the
equivalent of Devil’s Island.’
‘Ah! Our redoubtable Chief of Police in Amsterdam.’
‘Yes, sir. Whose prisoners are those – yours or ours?’
‘They are now the property of the nation. We will drive to my base, call
up Mr Wieringa, the Defence Minister, and Colonel de Graaf and see what
is to be done with them. Meantime, let’s have a look at Ylvisaker’s truck
– well, his stolen truck.’
Inside the truck Druckmann said: ‘I really know very little about what’s
going on. Those three men are FFF?’
‘They are indeed and they face three charges. The first is impersonating
army officers. The second is being in possession ofa stolen army
vehicle.’ Gropious opened the lids of the two fake long-range petrol
tanks to reveal the squat, cylindrical shapes of two bronze-coloured
metal objects. ‘The third, of course, is to have them explain how come
they are transporting a couple of nuclear bombs along the roads of our
fair countryside.’
The lids were lowered and they stepped outside. Druckmann said: ‘May I
smoke in the Colonel’s presence?’
‘The Colonel is about to do the same.’
After a few moments, Druckmann said: ‘Well, all right. I volunteer.’
Gropious smiled. ‘To drive this truck to base?’
‘I’m a fearful coward, Colonel. I shall take great care.’
‘I have a great deal of time for fearful cowards, sergeant. By the time
we get there we shall have two US experts from Germany standing by to
de-activate those damned things. I shall lead the way, red lights
flashing and all that sort of thing, you will follow close behind and
your police car will follow close behind you. You have this consolation,
Sergeant Druckmann. If you’re vaporized, we’re all vaporized.’
The time was 9. 27 a.m.
At precisely 9.27 a.m. Daniken touched down outside another isolated
windmill-curn-farnihouse, considerably larger than the one they had so
recently left. Two men and two women,
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umbrellas in hand, came hurrying out to meet them. It was clear that
Samuelson and his friends, judging from the smiles on the faces of the
four, were not obly known and welcome but also expected.
With the power shut off the interior of the gunship was almost deathly
quiet. Van Effen said to Agnelli: ‘Well, yes, you do have a certain gift
for organization.’
Agnelli smiled and said nothing.
The living-room of the windmill, which had a similar verandah outside, was
considerably larger and even more luxurious than the one they had left
behind, There were ten people in the room – Samuelson and the Agnelli
brothers, van Effen and his friends and the four girls. Daniken, van Effen
guessed, was presumably parking – and concealing – his helicopter in a
nearby barn. Riordan had gone upstairs, no doubt to indulge in another
bout of meditation and prayer.
Samuelson, relaxed in an armchair before a crackling wood fire, sighed