‘Any luck, Lieutenant?’
‘None. I’ve called four times- every ten minutes, not twenty, as you
asked. Nothing.’
‘Good God, good God!’ Unmindful of his own admonitions, Samuelson went
behind the bar and brought back two jonge jenevers. ‘Ylvisaker is wildly
overdue. What on earth can have happened to him?’
‘I’ve been thinking, Mr Samuelson. He hasn’t blown himself to pieces or
the news would be all over the country by now. Let’s assume he’s had an
accident or had a breakdown. Let’s further assume he doesn’t know how to
operate the radio. What would you have done, sir?’
‘Gone to the nearest phone and informed us. It’s difficult to move far
in any direction in this country without coming across a house with a
phone or a public call box.’
‘Exactly. Does Ylvisaker knmv the telephone number of this place?’
Samuelson stared at him then said: ‘Ylvisaker has never been here. Wait.’
He hurried from the room and returned within a minute, his face grim.
‘The consensus of opinion is that Ylvisaker does not know this number.’
‘But you know the precise route he was taking?’
‘Of course. Two men, a fast car. Bound to intercept. Thank you,
Lieutenant. I’m glad to see that there are some minds still working
around these parts.’
‘Shall I keep on trying, Mr Samuelson?’
‘It’s a faint chance, isn’t it?’
Vasco shrugged. ‘Very faint. But nothing else for me to do.’
‘Thank you.’ Samuelson brought him another jonge jenever. ‘Another trifle
like this is not going to hurt a mind as clear as yours.’
‘That is kind. I think I’ll have it on the verandah, if I may. It is a
bit overheated in here.’
302
‘Of course, of course.’ Samuelson hurried from the room.
The car was a tan-coloured BMW with Antwerp number plates. Vasco watched the
car and its two occupants disappear round a comer, finished his drink in a
thoughtful manner, then returned inside. He went to the radio, switched
wave-band and wave-length and said softly in Flemish: ‘Record.’ He spoke for
no more than twelve seconds, then switched back to the previous wave-band
and length. He tried again for Ylvisaker and was answered by the some
silence. He refreshed his drink at the bar, resumed his radio chair, glanced
through a magazine and again called the missing truck with the same lack of
response. He tried twice more in tLe next twenty minutes with the same lack
of responsq. He was still trying to make contact when Samuelson returned. He
looked at Vasco, went behind the bar and returned with two more drinks.
‘Breaking my own rules, I know, but you’ve earned it and I feel the need
for it. Nothing?’
‘Dead. I know Mr Danilov makes a point of being incurious about everything
but I’m a serving army officer. just how important are those nuclear
devices to you?’
‘Almost entirely psychological. If necessary, I would have used them to
blow off both the northern and southern approaches to the Haringvliet dam.’
‘Whatever for? No senior military commander in the Netherlands would dream
of attacking the Haringvliet dam. Bombers? Never. Fighter planes? Never.
Not only is your gunship more than a match for any fighter, not only do you
have ground-to-air missiles, you will have a large number of hostages whose
lives they would never imperil. Destroyer? Torpedo boats? Groundto-ground
missiles are heat-seeking. They’re lethal.’
‘Not bombers?’
‘What would happen if they breached the Haringvliet darn?’
‘Of course. Well, no point in trying any longer. Perhaps we should both
have a brief rest before lunch.’
Vasco gave van Effen and George a brief resumd of what had happened.
303
Van Effen said: ‘So you’ve convinced Samuelson of his total
invulnerability and ensured that we will have two fewer hard men to cope
with abroad the dam. Whom did you notify?’
‘Rotterdam police.’
‘I think, George, that we may make a policeman of him yet. Well, another
hour or so before lunch.’
‘Snooze for me,’ Vasco said. ‘Four jonge jenevers in succession are too
much for my delicate constitution.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Dutch hospitality. You know what it’s like.’
Lunch was more than adequate but less than convivial. Samuelson tried to
maintain a cheerful fagade but he was deeply worriec~pbout the fate of his
nuclear devices and his worry was
aalpable with the result that the last half hour of the meal
wa unied in almost total silence.
ur
ffee, Samuelson said to van Effen: ‘Do you think it
POat Ylvisaker and his men could have been seized by
the ities, army or police?’
I unlikely. I don’t see how they could have been. Your
sis total. Even if they had been, the question is, would
is
ker c r his men have talked?’
A out t
bout the Haringvliet dam? No. Until we got here today only Riordan,
Agnelli, Daniken and O’Brien were privy to the plans.’ Samuelson smiled
faintly. ‘Your famous need-to-know maxim, Mr Danilov.’
‘One does not want to sound cynical or callous, but what the hell are you
worrying about, then?’
‘As you can see,’ the TV announcer said, ‘the weather is as atrocious as
ever with correspondingly poor visibility, such as one would expect as
dusk approaches. The rain is extremely heavy and the wind, between Force
eight and nine, has backed to the north-west. We have four cameras in
position – one near Hoorn and one near Volendam, on the west side of the
Markerwaard and one on the opposite shore near Helystad. This one, I’m
afraid, is virtually useless: in spite of its lens hood the rain is
304
driving straight into the lens. We have a fourth camera in a helicopter and
we understand they are having a very rough time indeed. The time is 1.58.
Our first shots will be taken from the helicopter.’
A white-capped, storm-tossed sea appeared on the screen. Detail was blurred
and shifting, because the helicopter was being, it was clear, severely
buffeted about, hence making it impossible to maintain a steady camera
direction. Another voice took over from the studio announcer.
‘Helicopter camera here. I can assure you that my friend in the studio was
not exaggerating. The conciitions are abominable and I have to confess that
the only person who is not sick is, most fortunately, the pilot. We are
flying at seven hundred metres, give or take fifty metres every time this
damn machine is going up or down, which we hope is a safe height if the
nuclear explosion and its accompanying water spout should occur, which God
forbid, directly beneath us. It is now preCisel 2 ,_ y
p.m. and’ – his voice rose almost by an octave -‘there)
V~goes! There it goes! Me and my big mouth.
It is direc y ng-AOS!, TNL7-
The camera lens had been extended to m ‘ u zoo ‘ rAMlie
surface of the Markerwaard boiled whitely anen eru;Wa
great column of water climbing vertically skywards toward s tke
helicopter’s camera.
‘Would you look at that?’ the excited voice went on. ‘Would you just look
at that?’ It seemed rather a superfluous question, as, unquestionably,
almost every eye in the Netherlands was looking at nothing else. ‘And the
air is full of spray. Our pilot is moving as quickly as possible to the
north-west – we want to get out of this area as quickly as possible. We are
making poor time
. st this north-west gale, but he is clearly hoping that that same gale
will blow the spout and spray away from us. So do V
Van Effen looked at Samuelson. He appeared to have gone into some kind of
trance. Ile only sign of movement came from his hands. His fingers were
interlocked but his thumbs were revolving slowly around each other.
The studio announcer appeared. ‘I am afraid the helicopter’s lenses are
clouded by that spray. We regret that none of the
305
other three cameras are in visual contact. The detonation appears to have
occurred almost exactly in the centre of the M,arkerwaard.’
The helicopter commentator’s voice came again. ‘Sorry about that. What with
the spray and rain we are at the moment quite blind. We are still moving
steadily north-west. Wait a minute, wait a minute. We have eyes again.’
The spout was collapsing on itself. The camera, zoom half retracted, was
only momentarily on the spout, then began panning the surrounding area. A
circle of water could be seen moving steadily outwards from the centre.
‘That,’ the commentator said ‘must be the expected tidal wave. Doesn’t look
much like a wave to me, but, then, from this altitude it is impossible to
gauge the height of the water.’
The picture faded to be replaced by the studio announcer. ‘We are trying to
– wait, wait, we have Volkendam.’
A camera, at full zoom, showed a swell of water, little more than a ripple,
it seemed, rapidly approaching the shore-line. A commentator said: ‘I agree
with my colleague in the helicopter. This is hardly my idea of a tidal