Floodgate. Alistair MacLean
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Iron bars. They’re under surgery. Neither man will be able to walk for months, neither will ever be able to walk properly again. Nice, isn’t it, sir. And a new development in our fair city. Another instance, one supposes, of the steady advance of American culture.’
‘Crippled?’ Annemarie’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. ‘Crippled for life. How can you—how can you joke about such things.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Van Effen looked at her, saw that some colour had gone from her face, and pushed her glass closer to her. ‘Take some. I’ll join you. Joking? I can assure you I never felt less funny in my life. And it’s not just an American practice, sir: it’s become a very popular pastime in Northern Ireland in the past two or three years.’
‘So your other tails were almost certainly given the slip and nothing accidental about it.’ De Graaf sampled his Bordeaux and the distressing news didn’t appear to have upset him unduly for he smacked his lips appreciatively. ‘Excellent. Our friends seem to have a considerable expertise in both evasive and direct action. Professionals. And gone to ground. Ah. All is not lost. The Chateaubriand. You said you would share this with me, my dear.’
She appeared to give a tiny shudder. ‘I know it’s trite, silly, but I don’t think I could eat a thing.’
‘Maybe the moles will come out of their burrows tomorrow,’ van Effen said. ‘I’m still hoping that they will keep their promise and make contact with me.’
Annemarie stared at him, almost blankly. ‘You must be mad,’ she said in a low voice. She seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘Either they’ll come and give you the same treatment, perhaps worse, perhaps dispose of you permanently, or they won’t come at all. After they carried out that savage attack on those poor men they could have examined them and found out that they were policemen. They must have been carrying something that would identify them as policemen, even guns. Were they carrying guns?’ Van Effen nodded. ‘Then they’ll know you are a policeman because they’ll know you must have had them followed since they left the Hunter’s Horn. You like the idea of suicide?’ She reached out and touched de Graaf’s wrist. ‘You mustn’t let him do it, sir. He’ll be killed.’
‘Your concern does you credit.’ It was van Effen who answered and he seemed quite unmoved by her plea. ‘But quite uncalled for. The villains don’t necessarily know that I set the tails on their tracks. They might not even have noticed them until long after they’d left the Hunter’s Horn and would have no reason to connect me with them. That’s one thing. The other thing is the fact that though the Colonel is your father’s friend that doesn’t give the father’s daughter the right to advise the Colonel. A fledgling policewoman. A Chief of Police. It would be laughable if it weren’t so presumptuous.’
She looked at him, her eyes hurt as if she had been struck, then lowered her gaze to the tablecloth. De Graaf looked at van Effen, shook his head slightly, then took the girl’s hand.
‘Your concern does do you credit. It does. But it doesn’t give me much credit in your eyes. None. Look at me.’ She looked at him, the hazel eyes at once solemn and apprehensive. ‘Van Effen is absolutely correct. The foxes have to be flushed from their covers and this, at the moment, seems the only way to do it. So Peter will go—I would never order him to go—and with my consent. Good heavens, girl, do you think I would use him as live bait, a lamb to the slaughter, a Daniel in the lion’s den, a tethered goat for the tiger? My word, I do have a way with metaphors. I guarantee, my girl, that, when and if the meeting does take place, both the Hunter’s Horn and the surrounding area will be alive with invisible armed men. Invisible to the ungodly. Peter will be as safe as a man in a church.’
‘I know. I’m silly. I’m sorry.’
‘Pay no attention to the Colonel’s comforting words,’ van Effen said. ‘I shall probably be riddled with bullets. Police bullets. Unless it’s pointed out to them that I’m in disguise. Ironic if they shot the wrong man. Same outfit as before. Just let them concentrate on the black glove. That’s me.’
A waiter approached their table. ‘Sorry, Lieutenant. There’s another call for you.’
Van Effen was back inside two minutes. ‘Well, no surprise, surprise. The FFF, again, mysterious message, no doubt stepping up their demoralizing campaign. They say there could be some havoc wreaked along the North Holland Canal tomorrow at Alkmaar at 9 a.m., but they have made no guarantee that there will be. All they have promised is that there will be some quite considerable activity.’
De Graaf said: ‘That was all?’
‘All. I see. Seems utterly pointless and meaningless. What the devil do you think they’re up to now?’
‘It’s not pointless. That’s just the point—to make us wonder and worry about just what the devil they are up to now. They want to create uncertainty, confusion and demoralization and it would seem to me that they’re going the right way about it. Speaking of the FFF, sir, how was your pleasure trip to Texel this afternoon?’
‘Complete waste of time. I was accompanied, as you more or less predicted, by a bunch of old women.’
‘You don’t intend to be at Alkmaar at 9 a.m. tomorrow?’
‘I intend to be in Amsterdam at 9 a.m. tomorrow. What am I supposed to do? Lurk around and nab anyone who looks as if he is acting suspiciously, such as gloating over the scene of the crime?’
‘An unpromising course of action. You’ve got friends in the University, sir. Specifically, in the linguistics department?’
De Graaf said to Annemarie: ‘I’m supposed to look startled at this sudden switch and ask “why on earth do you ask that?” ’ He looked at van Effen. ‘Well, why on earth do you ask that?’
‘I listened to the FFF’s tapes in the Telegraph’s office earlier on this evening. A woman’s voice. A young woman, I would say. And not Dutch, I’m sure.’
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