Van Duren pointed to a picture of Tracy stepping onto the barge. “First, by barge. Holland is so crisscrossed with canals and waterways that they could lose themselves indefinitely.” He indicated an aerial photograph of the truck speeding along the edge of the canal. “They’ve timed the run to see how long it takes to get from the bank to their barge. Plenty of time to load the gold onto the barge and be on their way before anyone suspects anything is wrong.” Van Duren walked over to the last photograph on the wall, an enlarged picture of a freighter. “Two days ago Jeff Stevens reserved cargo space on the Oresta, sailing from Rotterdam next week. The cargo was listed as machinery, destination Hong Kong.”
He turned to face the men in the room. “Well, gentlemen, we’re making a slight change in their plans. We’re going to let them remove the gold bullion from the bank and load it into the truck.” He looked at Daniel Cooper and smiled. “Red-handed. We’re going to catch these clever people red-handed.”
A detective followed Tracy into the American Express office, where she picked up a medium-sized package; she returned immediately to her hotel.
“No way of knowing what was in the package,” Inspector van Duren told Cooper. “We searched both their suites when they left, and there was nothing new in either of them.”
Interpol’s computers were unable to furnish any information on the 220-pound Monty.
At the Amstel late Thursday evening, Daniel Cooper, Inspector van Duren, and Detective Constable Witkamp were in the room above Tracy’s, listening to the voices from below.
Jeff’s voice: “If we get to the bank exactly thirty minutes before the guards are due, that will give us plenty of time to load the gold and move out. By the time the real truck arrives, we’ll be stowing the gold onto the barge.”
Tracy’s voice: “I’ve had the mechanic check the truck and fill it with gas. It’s ready.”
Detective Constable Witkamp said, “One must almost admire them. They don’t leave a thing to chance.”
“They all slip up sooner or later,” Inspector van Duren said curtly.
Daniel Cooper was silent, listening.
“Tracy, when this is over, how would you like to go on that dig we talked about?”
“Tunisia? Sounds like heaven, darling.”
“Good. I’ll arrange it. From now on we’ll do nothing but relax and enjoy life.”
Inspector van Duren murmured, “I’d say their next twenty years are pretty well taken care of.” He rose and stretched. “Well, I think we can go to bed. Everything is set for tomorrow morning, and we can all use a good night’s sleep.”
Daniel Cooper was unable to sleep. He visualized Tracy being grabbed and manhandled by the police, and he could see the terror on her face. It excited him. He went into the bathroom and ran a very hot bath. He removed his glasses, took off his pajamas, and lay back in the steaming water. It was almost over, and she would pay, as he had made other whores pay. By this time tomorrow he would be on his way home. No, not home, Daniel Cooper corrected himself. To my apartment. Home was a warm, safe place where his mother loved him more than she loved anyone else in the world.
“You’re my little man,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Daniel’s father disappeared when Daniel was four years old, and at first he blamed himself, but his mother explained that it was because of another woman. He hated that other woman, because she made his mother cry. He had never seen her, but he knew she was a whore because he had heard his mother call her that. Later, he was happy that the woman had taken his father away, for now he had his mother all to himself. The Minnesota winters were cold, and Daniel’s mother allowed him to crawl into bed with her and snuggle under the warm blankets.
“I’m going to marry you one day,” Daniel promised, and his mother laughed and stroked his hair.
Daniel was always at the head of his class in school. He wanted his mother to be proud of him.