The Rattle-Rat

\\\\\ 17 /////

Corporal H. Hilarius cried that night, and not because Sergeant R. De Gier hadn't performed as well as could be expected. Hylkje, after pushing Durk the rabbit off the bed, wept-de Gier thought he could describe the steady flow of tears as weeping-because she didn't have to pretend that she was tough. She said so herself.

Durk bounced about the floor, dropping neat round turds, while de Gier watched.

"And you're so well-mannered." Hylkje said that, too.

"Me?" de Gier asked. "Have you gone out of your mind? Wasn't I manly, dominating, hard as steel?"

"You were," Hylkje sobbed, "but that's something else, you did a good job, and at your age."

"You wouldn't mind if I slept a little now?" de Gier asked. "I'm just a trifle tired."

"And you're a good cook," Hylkje sobbed. "And you don't have a temper and there's nothing about you that puts me off. I like you better than Durk. Can't we stay together forever?"

De Gier slipped away and woke up in the office of a bank. He was signing mortgage papers, at interest that would absorb half his wages. "Sign here," the bank director said. "We'll insure your life, too. Nothing can happen to you now. You'll be happy, sir, forever."

De Gier groaned.

"Say something," Hylkje sobbed.

De Gier was awake. "I have commitments. I have to follow the commissaris around and catch him when his legs give way. I keep Grijpstra out of trouble. I feed Tabriz and rub medicine into her fur. Tabriz is going bald on the belly."

"You're living with her?" Hylkje sobbed. "What is she? An ape?"

"And I grow weeds on my balcony," de Gier said, "that I have to watch, and there's the flute to be played and books in French to be misunderstood." His voice ebbed away.

Hylkje rubbed his back. "You're such a darling."

The darling slept. He snored and was shaken by the shoulders, for Hylkje had no need to listen to his bubbly snoring. She left the bed and tripped across the room on high-heeled slippers. She poured boiling water on a coffee filter. The steady dripping was putting de Gier back to sleep. He lived in a big house now. Hylkje watered roses in the garden, but there was a big bald man in the kitchen hitting a drum, with powerful swings that made muscles bulge on his bare arms. The house changed into a slave ship. De Gier was rowing. The bald man had a whip that lashed out.

"Sit up," Hylkje said. "I have cognac too. Drink your coffee, dear."

"Isn't it cozy here?" Hylkje asked when she sat next to him again, with Durk cradled in her arms.

"Fortunately not," de Gier said. "At home it used to be cozy, on Sunday afternoons. Dad made us listen to radio concerts or we were taken to the zoo, to watch sick animals staring at us from cages. I used to throw rocks at the attendants. They would beat me up when Dad wasn't looking."

Corporal Hilarius pushed out her lower Up. Her eyes were asking. "Nice lip," de Gier said.

"Shall we kiss again?" She caressed his hair. "Maybe I don't understand men. Don't you want to be cozy?"

"I never understand women," de Gier said. "Good for me, maybe. Understanding may leave big holes."

The room had a slanting roof, with a skylight showing a slow-moving sickle moon. Hylkje's body took on a creamy white tinge. De Gier nudged Durk away and drew a triangle, beginning between her breasts and ending under her navel.

"What are you doing?"

"If I blow on your bellybutton now," de Gier whispered* "you'll be mine forever."

"Don't. Please. I don't want to be possessed."

"I must," de Gier said sternly. He blew, but first wiped the triangle away. "A black witch doctor taught me the spell. A dark secret obtained during the course of my duty."

"Why did you wipe out the triangle before you blew?"

'To make sure the spell won't work."

"You don't want me to be yours forever?"

"What do I want?" de Gier asked loudly, "with a female warrior who fights for liberty on the good side of the line? I'm too one-sided already. You'll limit my inquiry."

"I put men off," Hylkje said, "because I dress in leather and ride a motorcycle. I can get you one too. We'll race down the dike forever, for the true dike never ends, and we'll go faster and faster."

"To where?"

"We'll never get to 'where.'"

"You're sure now?" An odd thought started up in a corner of de Gier's mind. A thought to do with nowhere. He tried to catch the thought, but it was riding a motorcycle down a moonlit dike. He kept missing it, which was a pity, for he wanted to crash with the thought, evaporate, share its disappearance. Durk knocked the coffee out of his hand, but he didn't notice.

The alarm clock tore at the silence in the room. Hylkje's hand aimed for it, but smacked de Gier's cheek instead. He fell off the bed, rolled on the floor, pushed himself up, tripped over Durk, jumped up again, and assumed a proper defensive position.

"Hoo," Hylkje said. "That's nice. I like the way you dangle. Don't move now. You must be good at judo."

"Not too good," de Gier said. "Some must be better. I'd like to meet them sometime." He wandered about the room, looking for his clothes. A thrush began its early-morning cantata above the skylight. Hylkje put the coffee on, singing softly.

"Ubele Bubele Bive

Ubele Bubele Bix

Stay home, dear wife,

It's only a quarter to six."

"That late?" de Gier asked.

"It's a quarter to five," Hylkje said, "but it's later in the song. It's a Frisian song. The man sends his wife to work, but he also wants her to stay home to fix breakfast. If you stay with me, you can stay in bed all day. I'll do all the work."

"Good," de Gier said. "But I sometimes have ideas. Like now. I have the idea to go to the cattle market. They're bad ideas, but I can't get rid of them."

"You're so talented," Hylkje said, bringing him his coffee. "You're good with women. Why don't you start a brothel? Exploit silly women?"

"Brothels have regular hours," de Gier said. "I'd feel tied down."

"I'll help you get women," Hylkje said. "You can have my three sisters. They watch TV in stained housecoats now, and have curlers in their hair. With some discipline they would be quite attractive."

"Maybe the commissaris was right," de Gier said. "Once evil is released here, it's ready to take on anything. Let me consider your proposal, but first you can take me home."

De Gier sneaked through the corridor of the house in Spanish Lane. Griijpstra sneaked through the corridor too. Grijps- tra's pistol protruded from the pocket of his pajama jacket. "It's you," Grijpstra said. "I've been threatened all night, and then I heard a creepy noise. Did you have a pleasant night?"

De Gier shaved and showered. Grijpstra brought coffee.

"Who was threatening you?"

"Women," Grijpstra said. "All Frisian women were after me. Wanted to punish me for what I did to my wife. Hylkje was in charge, assisted by Gyske, and that Mem Scherjoen wanted me too."

"You were pretty good to your wife," de Gier said. "It wasn't your idea that she should leave and you're paying. Anything else happen in your dreams?"

"There was Douwe's skull," Grijpstra said, "and Eddy rattled inside it. And then the shuffling in the corridor, but that was you."

"Fears," de Gier said. "I'm not having them because I'm on holiday now. Having Hylkje around helps. Good company, don't you agree? If it wasn't for Douwe's skull, I would never have found her. When I saw that skull, I thought it was trying to get me somewhere, but I had no idea the place would be pleasant."

"I'll work," Grijpstra said. "While you're running about."

De Gier ran down the stairs and out the door. He drove the Volkswagen to the cattle market. He had no idea where the market was located. I'm glad, de Gier thought, that I'm a sleuth. An ordinary man would be quite lost, but I find this cattle truck and follow it to my destination.

"Hello," a policeman said in the parking lot of the market. "Lost, are you? If you can wait a minute, I'll get a car and show you the way. Where would you like to go?"

"You know me?" de Gier asked. "How come everybody here always knows me?"

"Couple of nights ago," the policeman said. "You were having a beer. Making a pass at Corporal Hilarius. My name is Eldor Janssen."

"Right," de Gier said. "You were the cop who came to make sure that the cafe would close, but it didn't. I don't want to go anywhere. I'm here because this is where I want to be." The constable directed him to a parking place between large trucks that had just dropped their loads. They walked together to the hall.

"You're not a Frisian?" de Gier asked. "You've got a normal name."

"I'm Frisian," the constable said. "Names mean nothing. Just pay attention to the way people look. We came out better. The pure Frisian soil. Ha ha. You've heard that before?"

"You're too tall," de Gier said. "I don't like that much. I'm supposed to be tall, but here I keep looking up."

"I won't say that we're a super race," the constable said.

"I heard that joke too," de Gier said. "That's all you have here? Two jokes? Neither of them particularly funny?"

"That's our trouble," Eldor said. "We're too serious. That's why nothing ever happens here. We're slow and we're square, that's why our new building is a cube. I've been on duty for three consecutive nights, and I arrested one pisser."

"To piss is illegal?"

"It is when they piss against a squad car," Eldor said. "I told the subject and he drew a knife. I took it away and returned it the next morning. An expensive knife."

"You didn't make a report?"

"After he had spent the night in one of our cells? Ever seen our cells? Even the rats won't stay there."

"I'll send you Eddy," de Gier said. "He likes to show off. He might lose his habit."

"The rattle-rat?" Eldor asked. "I know Eddy quite well. I used to visit the house where you and your mate are staying now. Adjutant Oppenhuyzen is the local champion at checkers. I always lost, so I stopped going. He won because he made me nervous, I think. Feeling his cheeks all the time and twisting his face. And then, some other evening, he seemed over-relaxed. Most amazing. The rat got on my nerves too. It would run about and suddenly drop on its side and rattle. A depressing household. I didn't like Mrs. Oppenhuyzen, either. A woman in bad taste. Not her fault, I'm sure." Trucks blew their horns behind them. "Maybe I'd better do some work," Eldor said. "I'll look you up later."

De Gier walked into the hall. A man in a frayed linen coat pulled at a cow. The cow pulled in the opposite direction. "Turn!" the man shouted. De Gier didn't know what to turn. "Her tail!" shouted the man. Another man showed de Gier what to do, by grabbing hold of the cow's tail and twisting it gently. The cow changed her mind and walked ahead, limping with one leg.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Wrecked."

"Sick," the man said. "We're the checkers. We catch all the wrecks. They can't be sold here. The dealers are always trying to cheat each other, so they pay us to take out the wrecks. We earn a lot of money."

The cow was tied to a fence. There was a sign above the fence reading WRECKED CATTLE.

De Gier ambled about. One large truck after another dropped its rear door, and hundreds of cows ran down, pushing each other. Farmers and their assistants clattered their wooden clogs on the cobblestones. Most of the cows had their tails raised and were dropping manure. Animals and men had trouble staying upright. The layer of semiliquid droppings grew steadily. Trucks rumbled off and were immediately replaced by others. New troops of cows tumbled into the building. The steady lowing was punctuated by shouts. A bull, released from a van, stopped and scratched the mess underneath with its pointed hoofs while it lowered its large head. Steam shot from its widened nostrils. The bull rumbled inarticulate threats. A rope had been attached to its horns. The bull's owner jumped from the van and grabbed the rope. The bull's roar drowned the clamor in the hall.

"Watch it! Watch it!" shouted farmers, assistants, and checking officials. The bull lumbered forward and began to run. The owner followed, skiing on his rundown clogs, sending up a double spout of splashing shit. People and cows pushed out of the bull's way. De Gier jumped ahead and clawed a grip on the rope. Ahead, the farmer slid along, hanging back. The bull crossed the entire hall until it thundered into the rear wall. De Gier braked on his heels. The farmer slid to the side and back again, coming to rest against the heaving chest of the bull. He tied the rope to a railing. His arm linked into de Gier's. "A drink?" the farmer asked. "To calm our nerves?" asked de Gier. "What nerves?" the former asked. "It's drinking time. I'll sell the bull later, there's no rush. Splendid animal. Put up a good show."

"A good show of what?"

"Got himself into the exact spot where I wanted him," the farmer said. "The bulls are kept in the rear. Weren't we there in a jiffy? A tame bull will take hours to cross the hall."

The bar was on a raised floor in the back of the hall, commanding a view of what went on below. A thousand sheep were driven into the hall, bleating nervously, darting to and fro between the fences.

"Coming to buy?" the farmer asked.

"Only to look."

De Gier finished his drink, and the fanner pulled out his purse, which had been tied around his neck. "You're well provided," de Gier said. The farmer flicked thousand-guilder notes under a dirty nail. The purse was hidden under his black silk waistcoat again. "About a quarter of a million," the farmer said. "I expect fifty thou for the bull, which is about right. I need three hundred thousand to buy cows today."

"I could retire on that," de Gier said.

"Not much at all," the farmer said, "but it's more than I usually carry. You see the fat man over there, with the green cap? That's Kryl. Kryl will be buying for a million in a minute. And Wubbe, over there, the man with the beard and the silver knob on his cane? He'll be spending two million if he can find the right beasts."

De Gier shook his head slowly. "And they've got all that in cash?"

"They won't be paying taxes," the farmer said. "We don't like that here. If you pay through the bank, the government is watching. Signing papers." The farmer waved all thoughts connected to signed papers away. "That's good for the likes of you, who live below the dike. Keeps you busy, I'm sure. The busier you are, the better. You were so busy that you didn't watch out for the plague. Lost your cattle, and we'll be selling you new stock. We don't mind making a profit."

De Gier excused himself, for he had just seen Bald Ary and Fritz with the Tuft, admiring cows in the hall below. Easily recognizable from the photographs de Gier had studied, both suspects strolled about at ease, as lithe as lethal predators in a prairie filled with juicy wildlife waiting to be pounced upon. How wonderful, de Gier thought, that I can watch this, and follow at my ease, and have nothing to do with any of it.

"Cattle plague," Ary was saying. "Why doesn't anybody ever tell me anything? So there'll be a lot more trading today. And we never prepared."

"Another serious mistake," Fritz said. 'Today is the day, not next Friday. And we haven't dressed for our parts."

"The successful know how to control a given situation," Ary was saying. "I say the hell with caution. We'll do it today. This is our luck, let's grab it."

De Gier was gone. Where were the colleagues? Everybody around wore linen coats and caps and were minding their business. De Gier ran outside.

Eldor Janssen was herding trucks that tried to squeeze through the wrong gate. Eldor wouldn't give way. The trucks backed up.

"Eldor," de Gier shouted, "they'll be doing it today, this Ary and this Fritz."

"Can't be," Eldor said. "I spotted them too, just now. We have their photographs up in our cube. Today they're sup- posed to be scouting, and they'll be back next week and then we'll take care of them."

•Today," de Gier said. "Because of the vast volume of trading that's going on. There's more loot to be grabbed. Where is your command post?"

"Aren't they clever fellows?" Eldor asked. "All the cars that belong to the Arrest Team are parked in the rear, where they can't get out. I've been directing trucks that way."

"Get the trucks out. Find me your chief."

Eldor said, "The command post is next to the bar. The chief constable is in charge. He's a nobleman, you'll recognize him at once. He's so straight that he leans backward."

"Now look at that," de Gier said, pointing at Ary and Fritz, who were buying dustcoats at a stall. "They're about ready."

"Sergeant," the chief constable said. "Not today. Out of the question. Please. Do go away."

"Should I talk to the suspects?" de Gier asked. 'Tell them to go home and try again next week? When you're ready?"

"This is only an exercise," the chief constable said. 'The communications gear hasn't even been connected."

The commander of the Arrest Team reported.

"You too?" the chief constable asked. "Not today, that's final. We'll do a good job or we'll do nothing at all."

"My cars are blocked," the commander said. "I have no idea what car the suspects will be using, or which way out they're expected to take. I need an open range so that I can use fully automatic fire."

"War tactics?" the chief constable asked. "Here? In my city?"

"Wherever you like," the commander said. "I don't care where I direct my fire. I'll blow suspects to smithereens in any location you will be good enough to suggest. Violence will be used."

"No violence," the chief constable said. "Violence is to be prevented at all costs."

"So why call us in?" the commander asked.

"Listen here, colleague," the chief constable said. "The suspects will commit their armed robbery and subsequently escape, according to our plan. We know what they look like, and they'll be arrested later on."

"WhatV the commander said. "No, sir, they'll be liquidated with minimal delay."

"All of this still has to be looked into somewhat," the chief constable said.

"Sir?" de Gier said. "The suspects are walking over there. Two dangerous and armed criminals. They've just picked up their weapons from their car. The robbery"-de Gier raised his hand slowly-"will begin… about… now."

"That's all very well," the chief constable said, "but this is not the right time at all. Peak hour. Here we are, hampered by cows milling about, and the streets are clogged with daddies driving to work and mommies walking the kids to school."

"So what?" the commander asked. "We'll barrel right through any obstruction. That's the way we're trained. Whap, another bicycle flattened, kerblam, another car on its side. All our arms will be aimed at the escapees and our engines will growl with uncontained fierce energy. In cold blood my men will handle their supermodern equipment."

"This is not really the way I'd been visualizing proceedings," the chief constable said.

"Should I follow the suspects a little?" de Gier asked.

"If only I could warn someone," the chief constable said.

Ary and Fritz drank coffee in the bar. De Gier was at the next table, one ear freed from his exuberant curls.

"This coat is too large for me," Fritz said, "and the clogs are too small. Did I become a successful gangster to clobber about on clogs?"

"This cap is oversized," Ary said. "It keeps tipping into my eyes. It'll be hard to see what I'm doing."

"Why didn't we know earlier?" Fritz asked. "I know just the right atelier that supplies wigs, mustaches, anything. Good thing we brought our guns."

"Our clients are getting sozzled," Ary said. "Shall we have one for the road?"

"Just one," Fritz said.

The waitress brought them Frisian jenever.

"This isn't nice," Ary said. "It reminds me of my Mary's tea. Would it be some health drink?"

"It'll stop your cough," Fritz said. "Okay, here's the plan. Money doesn't change hands in the hall below, I've noticed that. Bills are settled up here. You can see it for yourself. Look down there, over to the right. See the two farmers slapping each other's hands? The one rustic keeps walking away and the other doesn't stay close either, but they keep meeting once in a while."

"Crazy show," Ary said. "Now they're both complaining to their cows. As if the silly beasts care about what prices they'll be fetching."

"It's all for entertainment," Ary said. "At this stage it is. Now. Right. They slapped for the third time. Third time counts. Now one has to collect money, and he'll be doing it here. Once most of them have come into this bar, we'll start our action. There are only two doors. You take one and I'll cover the other. Guns at the ready. The first shot will be a blank, just to show them what's what. Bit of a bang. You're with me so far? Then we move in and grab their purses table by table?"

"The purses are attached to their necks."

"We'll yank them off. Purses into our bags. As soon as the bags are filled we'll be on our way. Into the car and gone."

Fritz looked about him. "Still too few customers in here. Maybe we can use another herbal beverage for our health. Miss?"

"Here's how," Ary said. "How," said Fritz. "We Indians are winning."

De Gier walked through the hall. The chief constable ran by. "Sir?" de Gier said.

"Not now," the chief constable said. "Try someone else. Any man with a red necktie is a cop," The chief constable jogged off.

A red necktie came by. "Hello?" de Gier said. "Anyone in charge here on this lower level?"

"In charge?" the man in the red necktie asked. He draped his arm around de Gier's shoulders. "I bought the sexiest cow, spent my last penny. I'm so tired, but I'm exuberantly content."

De Gier stared at him.

The man repeated his statement in Frisian.

"I don't speak your language yet," de Gier said, "but I can read it somewhat. I've been reading about a lady called Martha who detests all her men. I'm really after the chief cop in the hall now. Would you mind pointing him out?"

"I left my chief at home," the man in the red necktie said. "And later today I'll be going to Amsterdam. To hire a better-looking chief, but she won't be as attractive as my cow."

De Gier ran off. The chief constable had found the commander of the Arrest Team. Both men were shaking their fists. "It can start any minute now," de Gier said.

"I say grab them here," the commander said.

"Without using your guns?" the chief constable asked.

"What's the matter with you?" the commander asked. "You want suspects to be shooting at my men? They're trained to attack, they can't defend themselves."

"Why don't you have your men shoot suspects beyond the city limits?" de Gier asked.

"Who is this character?" the commander asked the chief constable.

"It'll be quite an adventure," de Gier said. "If you open fire here, you're not granting yourself a speedy pursuit. Haven't you been equipped with fast cars?" He pointed. "Look, they can get out now, the trucks have gone. If the chief constable here lets the suspects get away, you can catch them in open country-or not, of course, if your cars are too slow."

"Too slow?" the commander said. "Too slow?"

"What you might be doing outside my limits," the chief constable said, "would not be without my blessing."

"Good country here," de Gier said. "Nothing but narrow, curvy dikes. If you push suspects off the road, they'll land in a moat. Unarmed submerged combat, just die ticket for your men."

"We're trained with knives too," the commander said.

"Knives," de Gier said slowly. "I can see it. Fritz and Ary hiding in the reeds, you and your men crawling noiselessly closer, still closer. Glistening steel between your teeth, and then, whish."

The commander grinned, "You're my sort of fellow. Would you be from Amsterdam?"

"Yes, sir."

"One beautiful day we'll invade that city. Rub all black faces into the gutter. Push the furry Far Eastern monkeys up a gable. Liquidate the foreign gangsters. Hunt punks and pimps into extinction. Won't be long now, I bet."

"You think so, sir?"

"Not with the way you're not doing things. Go on selling your services to the enemy. Let misery take solid root. Then we'll be called and we'll clean you all up."

"Right, sir," de Gier said. "I can hardly wait. If you'll excuse me now, I'll go and watch the suspects again. I'm only an observer, I'm not in on this at all."

Breathing deeply, de Gier strolled along. In the past, he thought, a scene like this would have irritated me considerably, but now I know better. It's a matter of tolerating all-pervasive* stupidity. The individual cannot change the ignorance of the powerful group, but he can learn to go alone and follow his chosen path. By manipulating my private fate, I will rise to dizzy heights and enjoy myself on the way. Live the good life. Like now, for instance, I think I'll have a snack.

He leaned against the front of a stall. A young woman in a spotless white coat leaned toward him. De Gier ordered fried sole on a bun. Up in the gallery he could look down on the hall. More farmers were slapping hands with each other. What do I see here? de Gier thought. Small-minded greed preyed on by evil. Amused, I follow fateful events that I'm quite free of myself.

"Coffee with it?" the young woman in the white coat asked.

De Gier nodded, from far away, for he was soundlessly moving, at speed, in empty space. Yes, why not, some nice fresh hot coffee.

"Hi," Eldor said.

"And a nice day to you," de Gier said cheerfully.

"Anything happening yet?"

"Any minute now, dear Eldor." De Gier smiled. "Shots will crack in a moment, or one shot to be exact, and it'll be a harmless blank. Further shots might make corpses."

"Get away," Eldor said. "Corpses in Friesland? I've been a cop six years, and the worst I've ever seen was a husband arguing with his wife. I've also seen cars go against traffic on a one-way street, but that's because of the way we've arranged our transport here. I don't even write a ticket when I see it happen."

"In Amsterdam…"

"Yes, sure, in Amsterdam," Eldor said. "But my wife won't let me work there. My wife is a good woman. My kids are good kids. I'm good too. Just look at me."

Eldor Janssen towered above de Gier. His freshly laundered uniform was an artful combination of pure blues, framing six foot six of rugged manliness. Eldor's eyes reflected an unpolluted, ever-present sea.

"What do I see?" de Gier asked.

"Goodness," Eldor said, "is too one-sided for me. I wouldn't mind being bad, but that's impossible in these parts. Ride a horse into a church and rape the bride, I wouldn't mind that. Or be a pirate, swinging through rigging, flashing a curved sword, or astride an old-model Harley-Davidson, in smudgy leather, with 'Fuck You' painted on the back of my jacket."

"Really," de Gier said. "Eldor!"

"I just want to be courageous," Eldor said. "On the right side, if need be."

"Good hasn't won yet," de Gier said, "and as long as it hasn't, there is still much to do."

"It has won here," Eldor said sadly.

The fanners began to climb the stone steps to the bar.

"Watch it now," de Gier said. "The suspects should be taking charge of the doors."

"You're sure now?"

"I have never," de Gier said, "been more sure of anything than that that bastard over there, with the dusty curls under the edge of his cap, is Fritz, and the other bastard over there, in the shiny wooden clogs and the dustcoat with the sleeves rolled up, is our Ary. They each have a hand in a pocket, holding a gun, and they have other hands out to hold on to their bags."

"I'm not to go inside," Eldor said. "The chief constable told me just now. My uniform might just possibly excite the suspects."

"Oh, I don't know," de Gier said. "They're professionals, they won't be easily upset."

"Our instructions," Eldor said, "tell us clearly that in a situation like this, we cannot even think of drawing our guns. Three hundred fellow beings pushed together in a bar, and there I would be, maybe firing hard-hitting, long-range rimfire bullets. The bullets will penetrate the guilty party and all the not-guilty parties behind him too."

"You stay right here," de Gier said, "where nothing outof-the-way can happen."

A shot cracked, followed by sudden silence, then by the screaming of waitresses and the melancholy lowing of the cattle below. Eldor considered, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. "Maybe I'll just take a look," Eldor said softly. De Gier walked along. Fritz came hurtling out through one of the bar doors, revolver in one hand, filled bag in the other. Eldor pushed himself through the door and the human cluster behind it.

Ary, interrupted in saying good-bye to his victims, looked around. "No cops here, get out."

Eldor towered quietly, his eyes ablaze with cold blue power.

Ary's revolver indicated a moaning waitress. "You want me to do away with this poor innocent woman?"

Eldor's silence persisted.

"You don't," Ary said. "So here we go, the poor woman and me. Get going, miss."

"Just a moment," Eldor said.

"Listen, cop," Ary said. "I'm serious. You really want me to do away with this lovely lady?"

Eldor's finger pressed the spring in his holster. Hie gun jumped into his hand. Eldor's arm rose slowly. His pistol's barrel pointed at Ary's nose.

Ary's revolver pointed at Eldor's wide chest.

"You," Ary said, "or me."

"I," Eldor said, "or you." His other arm rose and supported the mighty hand that held his pistol.

"You're making me real nervous," Ary said.

"Put your gun on the floor," Eldor said.

"So what have I got to lose?" Ary asked. "Think of yourself, dear fellow. A young man with a beautiful wife and cute kiddies playing at her feet. Your career, officer, consider it while you still can consider."

"I'm going to count now," Eldor said. "Starting with one"

"You," Ary said, "are making a serious mistake."

"Two," Eldor's bass voice sang melodiously.

Ary lowered his revolver.

"Put it down," Eldor said. "Don't drop it. I'm counting again. One."

Ary's gun nuzzled Eldor's knee.

"Two" Eldor sang.

Ary squatted and placed his gun on the floor.

Everybody around them cheered and applauded.

De Gier ran away, through the door, across the gallery, down the stairs. He sped athletically through the hall. He crossed the parking lot. He came to a stop. Two cars, their noses mashed into each other, were silently watched by tall, unhappy-looking men. All the men were heavily armed.

"A little accident?" de Gier asked the commander.

"Always an extra problem," the commander said. "How can one ever take all possibilities into account? Some idiot truck, complete with trailer, suddenly shooting off toward the gate. All my routes blocked at once. Car number three, supposedly swerving to the right, totals car number one, which supposedly is the pivot of my pursuit."

"And Fritz?" asked de Gier.

The commander waved a tired arm at the gate. "A most unfortunate concurrence of unpredictable circumstances. My car in the middle, pushed out of its course by the truck and trailer, makes a sudden sharp left, and one of my men, ready to shoot, falls on the door handle. The door opens. My man falls out. Fritz, in his Mercedes, coasting toward the gate too, sees the pistol in the hands of my man."

"You had five cars," de Gier said.

"Three are in pursuit now," the commander said. "But where is the beauty of a well-planned attack, if two-fifths of my power falls away at the start? If it could only go right once, just once. Why do I always have to improvise within the first five seconds?"

De Gier found his Volkswagen and drove into Leeuwarden. The streets were busy. Somewhere ahead, in the core of the city, sirens chanted sadly. Threatened by two lanes of oncoming traffic, the Volkswagen found refuge on the sidewalk. A policeman approached. "Lost, colleague?"

"Looking for those sirens."

The officer listened too. "Would be close to the railway station. Take the next alley to the right, and never mind from then on. Just go straight, can you do that?"

De Gier made the Volkswagen bounce along the pavement and took the first right. The alley was marked as a bicycle route. Ignoring further signs, de Gier took a one-way bridge from the wrong side, broke through a red and white check- ered partition that bordered a parking lot, and roamed about between long lines of silent cars. A Mercedes sports car appeared, and the car's pursuers, racing along in two sleek Ford convertibles. The Volkswagen jumped ahead and tried to follow the chase.

Around and around and around.

Monotonous, de Gier thought. The Volkswagen began to weaken. De Gier noticed an open parking space, and filled it. The Mercedes aimed for the bridge, but a Ford tried to cut it off. The military policeman in the rear seat emptied a clip from his Uzi. The weapon spat rapid fire just before Mercedes and Ford ripped off each other's fenders, went out of control, and began to destroy parked cars. De Gier approached the final scene on foot. The Ford's driver rested his bleeding head on the steering wheel. The Ford's horn howled tragically. "Yayhay" the other policemen, jumping from the Ford, were shouting while they leaped at the stalled and silent Mercedes from three sides. The Uzi chattered again. De Gier reached the Mercedes too.

"Huh?" the military policemen asked each other.

De Gier looked into the car. "You took his head off," he said quietly. "No head." De Gier sat down, for he was tired now. He preferred to lie down, and stretched himself on the tarmac.

"Everything is fine," a kind voice said.

De Gier thought he might want to sit up now for a bit, but he couldn't, for he was strapped down.

"Won't be long now," a kind voice said.

Isn't the world a friendly place? de Gier thought.

He woke up a few minutes later and heard Grijpstra's voice.

"Can I have him now?" Grijpstra asked.

De Gier noticed a sour taste in his mouth.

"He threw up in the ambulance just now," Grijpstra said. "Otherwise he's fine. Truly. I've known him for maybe twenty years. The sergeant can't stand blood. If he sees blood he throws up."

De Gier stumbled against Grijpstra's arm. "Fritz had no head." He burped.

"So they were saying," Grijpstra said. "But it isn't too bad. Sprayed fire, they call it. The bullets spread, formed a cloud, cut down everything in their way. And that Fritz was no good."

The Volkswagen waited in the hospital's driveway, with a bashed-in front end.

"Did I do that?" de Gier asked.

"It was me this time," Grijpstra said, "but it's all right. Bit of confusion out there. I found the car, and you had left the key. I wanted to save our faithful companion, but one of the Arrest Team's vehicles was still tearing about, and the ambulance came for you. Not a clear situation. You know a colleague by the name of Eldor Janssen?"

"A great man," de Gier said. "An example to us all. A true Viking, Adjutant, they still have some here, I believe. If only there were more of them."

"Sure," Grijpstra said. "Well now, that Eldor has a wife and she also wrecked a Volkswagen, her own, but the front end is okay. She's giving it to us."

"When I looked in on Fritz," de Gier said, "there was still some movement in there. Maybe Fritz wanted to tell me something, but he was short of his head."

"What were you doing there, anyway?" Grijpstra asked. "The confrontation was planned for next week. Here I am, doing everything possible to keep you free of what's going on, and you're out there in a hail of bullets."

De Gier had been bedded down on the couch. Grijpstra brought tea.

"Was I out a long time?"

"The doctor said you were asleep," Grijpstra said. "He thought you'd been overdoing things a bit."

"I fainted."

"You did not, you know," Grijpstra said. "First you ran about all day on a tourist island, and then you spent a hectic night with Hylkje. A visit to the cattle market after that. You had worn yourself out."

"I'm tired now," de Gier said.

"Rinus?"

De Gier mumbled.

"You're not doing something sneaky, are you now? Remember our arrangement? This is my project. Rinus, are you with me?"

"So tired," mumbled de Gier.