Floodgate

Six

As far as one could tell, Romero Agnelli was in high good humour: but, then, as far as one could tell, Romero Agnelli was always in high good humour. Even the torrential rainfall drumming on the roof of the car had no effect on his spirits. The car was Agnelli’s, a large and, van Effen had been glad to note, fairly conspicuous green Volvo.

‘Dreadful night,’ Agnelli said. ‘Quite dreadful. And worse still to come, I’m sure. Bad time of the year, this. Always a bad time. Gales, spring tides, north wind — must listen in to the eight o’clock forecast.’ Agnelli, van Effen thought, was uncommonly interested in the weather conditions. ‘Busy day, Mr Danilov?’

‘If you call sleeping being busy, yes, then I’ve had a busy day. Late in bed last night — late this morning, actually — and I didn’t know what hour you’d keep me up to tonight. You have not, Mr Agnelli, been too free with information about your plans.’

‘Would you have been in my situation? Don’t worry, we won’t keep you late. That data I sent round — it proved useful?’

‘Everything I required.’ Van Effen pulled out the yellow envelope from under his coat. ‘Returned with thanks. I don’t want to be found with that in my possession. Where’s the radio?’

‘In the boot. In perfect condition, I assure you.’

‘I don’t doubt it. Nevertheless, I shall want to see it. I trust the amatol, primers and the rest are not in the boot?’ Agnelli looked at him in amusement. ‘They’re not. Why?’ ‘I’m thinking of the detonator. Usually made of some fulminating powder, commonly a mercury derivative. Delicate. Doesn’t like being jounced around. And I don’t like being around when it’s jounced around.’ ‘They’re in a room we’ve hired off the Kalvetstraat.’

‘Would it be presumptuous of me to ask why the radio isn’t with the explosives?

‘Not at all. I want to trigger off the device in the palace from the Dam Square itself. Perhaps you wonder why?’

‘Wonder or not, I’m not going to ask. The less I know the better all round. I’m a great believer in the need-to-know principle.’ ‘So, normally, am I.’ He switched on the car radio. ‘Eight o’clock. Forecast.’ The forecast, which came through almost immediately, was not encouraging. Wind, force seven, north, veering north-north-east, increasing, heavy rains, temperature dropping. Then followed some technical jargon about stationary depressions and a confident, if gloomy, assertion that the weather would continue to deteriorate for the next forty-eight hours.

‘Sounds bad,’ Agnelli said. His expression did not appear to reflect inner concern. ‘Lots of people, especially the middle-aged and older with longer memories, won’t be feeling any too happy — especially with the recent comments about the decayed state of the dykes. Same conditions as caused those dreadful floods back in the fifties — and the dykes are in no better condition now than they were then.’

‘Putting it a bit strongly, isn’t it, Mr Agnelli? Think of the huge storm-surge barriers they’ve built in the delta area in the southwest.’ ‘And what guarantee have we that the North Sea is going to be considerate enough to launch its attack against the delta area? Little point in locking your front door if the back door is failing off its hinges.’ Agnelli parked his car in the Voorburgwal, reached into the back seat and produced two large umbrellas.

‘Not that these are going to be much help in this downpour. just wait a few seconds until I get the radio out of the boot.’ just over a minute later they were standing outside a door to which Agnelli had his own key. Beyond lay an ill-lit and dingy passageway, its floor covered with cracked linoleum. Agnelli furled his umbrella and gave a coded knock on the first door to the right — three taps, then one, then three. The door was opened by the man calling himself Helmut Paderiwski who made an unsuccessful effort to restrain a scowl when he recognized the person accompanying Agnelli, who appeared not to notice it.

‘Helmut you have met,’Agnelli said, and led the way into the room. Unlike the corridor, it was brightly lit and was large and furnished in surprising comfort. Leonardo Agnelli gave van Effen a nod and a smile. Leonardo apart, there were four other people in the room, all young, all pleasant looking and very respectable: two men and two girls, all looking like refugees from some university honours graduate course, the type that would have more than passed muster in any Parisian grand salon: they were also of the type that, in the past decade, had not only been members of, but had organized and controlled so many politically motivated criminal groups in Germany and Italy. They were considerably more formidable than your common-or-garden criminal who was concerned primarily with the accumulation of as much wealth as possible in the shortest time possible but who would rapidly abandon all thought of ill-gotten gains if personal danger threatened, fanatically dedicated people who would stop at nothing to achieve their own cherished Utopias, no matter how bizarre, sick and undesirable those Utopias might appear to the vast majority of their fellow men and women. They could, of course, have been genuine salon intellectuals who sought no more of life than the opportunity to discuss Proust and Stendhal, Hegelian and Kantian philosophies. But seekers after the higher truths did not commonly assemble in such clandestine fashion, especially not in the close vicinity of sixteen-kilo blocks of amatol explosive which van Effen had at once observed neatly stacked in a corner.

Agnelli indicated the two young men. ‘Joop and Joachim. They have other names, of course, but are not using them at the moment.’ Joop and Joachim, oddly alike in that both were tall, slightly stooped and wore horn-rimmed glasses, bowed slightly, smiled but refrained from reciprocal comment when van Effen said he was delighted to meet them. Agnelli turned to a sweet-smiling dark-haired girl. ‘And this is Maria, who has also for the moment forgotten her surname.’

‘My, my,’ van Effen said. ‘Imagine forgetting a name like Agnelli.’ Agnelli smiled. ‘I didn’t think you would be the man to miss much, Mr Danilov. Yes, my sister. And this is Kathleen.’ Kathleen, petite and slender, had blue eyes, dark hair and a slightly humorous, slightly wry expression which in no way detracted from the fact that she was very pretty indeed.

‘Kathleen?’ van Effen said. ‘But that’s an Irish name. And, if I don’t give offence, you’re every man’s concept of what an Irish colleen should look like. You know, the one in the song “I’ll take you home again, Kathleen”?’

She made a mock curtsy. ‘You choose to flatter me, kind sir. No offence. My mother is Irish. I”m quite proud of it, in my own Celtic way.’ Professor Spanraft’s putative ex-student, van Effen knew. And, beyond doubt, the girl who had spoken over the telephone to the sub-editor Morelis and others.

‘It was promised that I would meet your leader tonight,’ van Effen said. ‘He is not here.’

‘He asked me to convey his apologies,’ Agnelli said. ‘An urgent appointment that he couldn’t break.’ If one were in any way courteous, van Effen reflected, one did not break appointments with Ministers of Justice.

‘Those are all your group?’

‘No.’ Agnelli waved a hand. ‘Those are all that are with us tonight.’ ‘Pity I won’t be able to further my acquaintance with them,’ van Effen said. ‘They may be with us but I won’t be with them.’ He turned towards the door. ‘I trust they enjoy their trip to the cellars. I’m sorry, Mr Agnelli. Goodnight.’

‘Wait a minute, wait a minute!’ Agnelli, no longer smiling, was totally taken aback, his face registering his lack of comprehension. ‘A minute? Not a second. Not in this company.’ Van Effen looked around the other equally startled and puzzled occupants of the room, his eyes and mouth dismissive and more than slightly contemptuous. ‘If you imagined that I was going to move into hostile territory — and no matter how good your inside information may be, the possibility of danger is always there — carrying explosives and with this bunch of amateur rubber-neckers traipsing at my heels, you have to be out of your mind.’ He reached for the door-handle. ‘Get yourself another demolition expert. Preferably from a lunatic asylum.’ ‘Is that what it is?’ Agnelli smiled in relief. ‘My dear fellow, those people are not coming with us. Do you think I am from a lunatic asylum? Only you, Leonardo and myself.’

‘Then what are all those people doing here? And don’t tell me it’s none of my business. It is. I value my freedom above all things and my freedom is endangered when unnecessary risks are taken. Don’t you know that danger lies in numbers? Don’t you think it’s stupid to have your people holed up so near a place where you intend to carry out an illegal act? Don’t you ever operate on the need-to-know principle?’

‘This is not our base, Mr Danilov. One night only.’ Agnelli was slightly on the defensive, slightly uncomfortable. ‘Those people are here simply as observers.’

‘Observing what?’

:The effects of the explosion.’

Effects? The walls of Jericho come tumbling down? There’ll be nothing to observe.’

:Psychological effects. Reactions. Guide to our future plans.’ Effects on whom? The crowds thronging the Dam Square?’ Van Effen looked at him incredulously. ‘That rain’s torrential. There won’t be a single living soul in the square tonight.’ He looked slowly round the unsmiling faces. ‘Sunday-school kids on a Sunday-school picnic. Cheap thrills? Or the feeling that they’re not making a contribution, not really participating unless they’re on the spot? God help us. Let me see all the gear you have.’ Enough moral ascendancy, van Effen thought, was enough. ‘Certainly.’ Agnelli tried, not too successfully, to hide the relief in his face. ‘Joop?’

‘Yes, Mr Agnelli.’ joop opened a cupboard and brought out some boxes which he set on the carpet and proceeded to open.

‘Primer. Detonators. Battery. The trigger mechanism. The setting on this — here — is activated by —’

‘Joop.’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you detonating this device?’

‘No. Of course not.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m not an expert. Oh, I see. Sorry.’ Discomfited, Joop withdrew. Van Effen looked at Agnelli.

‘You have the key for the radio box?’

‘Yes, of course.’ He handed it over. ‘Please excuse Leonardo and myself for a moment.’ Both men left by a side door. Van Effen unlocked the metal lid of the radio container and studied the controls on top of the radio. He turned the power on, touched a knob here, pulled a switch there, calibrated the gauges on a couple of dials and adjusted two wavelength bands. No one watching — and everyone was watching — could doubt he or she was in the presence of an expert. He then studied the timing dial on the triggering mechanism, produced pad and pencil, made a few rapid calculations then straightened, obviously satisfied.

‘Nothing to it, really, is there?’ Kathleen was smiling. ‘Agreed. Can’t imagine why I’m here.’ He stooped, locked the lid of the radio container and thrust the key into an inside pocket. ‘You do trust people, don’t you?’ Kathleen said.

‘No. Especially kids. But if you remove temptation from the reach of kids then they can’t possibly fall into it, can they? I have no wish to be blown up in the cellars of the palace.’

He turned as Agnelli and his brother re-entered the room. Both were dressed as policemen, Romero Agnelli as an inspector, his brother as a sergeant. Van Effen surveyed-them.

‘You make an excellent inspector, Mr Agnelli. Really most becoming. Your brother looks the part, too, except for one thing: he’s really at least five inches too short for the police force.’

‘Short legs only,’ Agnelli said comfortably. ‘He’s as tall as anyone when he’s seated behind the wheel of a police car.’

‘You surprise me. About the police car I mean. You have — ah — come into possession of one?’

‘Not exactly. We have, shall we say, a car that looks exactly like a police car. Not too difficult.’ He looked at his watch. ‘A police car is expected at the palace in about twenty minutes.’

‘Expected?’

‘But of course. We have friends and we have made arrangements. Joop, be so kind as to pack the equipment, will you?’ He indicated two grey metallic cases that stood nearby.

‘So you just drive up and walk inside?’ van Effen said. ‘We believe in keeping things simple. Of course.’

‘Of course. No reason required, naturally. ‘You just walk in.’ ‘Yes. ‘He indicated the two metal cases Joop was loading with equipment. ‘With those.’

‘Again, of course. You declare the contents?’

‘Electronic detecting equipment. For locating hidden explosives.’ ‘I didn’t know there was any such thing.’

‘I don’t believe there is. However, in this silicon chip, computerized and electro-magnetic age, people believe anything. The explosives we’re looking for have — we believe — been secreted in the basements, somewhere. Underworld tip. So we go to the basements to look.’ ‘You have your nerve,’ van Effen said.

‘Not really. Calculated risk and we calculate that the risk is not very high. People don’t normally publicize in advance the fact that they intend to do something which is the precise opposite of what they intend to do. And with those uniforms, the police car and the impressive set of credentials we have we don’t expect to experience too much trouble. We’ve even got a set of papers for you.’

‘That’s fine. Papers. Papers don’t matter a damn to me. Nor does the fact that you haven’t gone to the trouble to find me a uniform. What-‘ ‘No uniform. You’re a civilian expert. The papers say so.’ ‘Let me finish. You two may — and very probably will — get off with your minimal disguises. But how am I going to disguise my scarred face and the fact that I have a crippled hand? My description will probably be in every paper in the country tomorrow.’ Agnelli looked closely at the scar on van Effen’s face. ‘If you’ll pardon the cruel remark, that really is a beauty. Joachim?’ This to one of the two young men. ‘What do you think? Joachim, Mr Danilov, is an art school student and also a make-up designer for theatrical groups. He requires quite a large case to carry all his stock in trade. As you can imagine, in an organization such as ours, we find our friend’s specialized gifts invaluable.’

‘Do you have anything against beards, Mr Danilov?’Joachim said. ‘Not as long as they don’t make me look worse than I already am.’ ‘I have several in a suitably auburn shade. In your case, I’m afraid, it would have to be a beard of rather a luxuriant style. I know the one. I’ll apply some paste.’

‘Just so long as I can get it off again.’

‘Forty-eight hours and it will fall off.’Joachim left the room. ‘About that black glove, Mr Danilov,’ Agnelli said. ‘I’m afraid there is nothing they can do with that.’ ‘How can you be sure?’

‘How can I be sure? If you’d a hand like mine don’t you think I’d have tried anything — everything — to camouflage it?’ Van Effen let just the right note of bitterness creep into his voice.

‘Nevertheless, perhaps I might see 0’ Agnelli’s voice was gently insistent. ‘I promise you I won’t say “Good God above” or swoon or anything of the kind.’

Van Effen, being ostentatious without appearing to be, turned his back on the rest of the company and peeled off the black glove. He held his hand up to within a foot of Agnelli’s face.

Agnelli’s normally mobile face became still. He said: ‘I promised you I wouldn’t say “Good God” or anything of the kind — but, well, I’ve never seen anything like it before. How in heaven’s name did this happen?’ Van Effen smiled. ‘Legitimately, believe it or not. Someone made a mistake when we were trying to cap an oil fire in Saudi Arabia.’ ‘One trusts he paid for the mistake?’

‘There and then. He was incinerated.’

‘I see. In which case one might almost imagine you’ve been lucky.’ Agnelli took van Effen’s wrist and to-ached the scars with his finger-nails. ‘That must hurt.’

‘Not the slightest. Skin’s paralysed. Stick a row of needles into it or slice it with a scalpel. Wouldn’t feel a thing.’ It would be unfortunate, van Effen thought, if Agnelli took him at his word. ‘It’s unimportant. All that matters is that I can still oppose finger and thumb.’ Joachim came back and Agnelli said: ‘Do you mind if Joachim looks at this?’

‘If he’s the sensitive artistic type I should imagine he’d be better off looking elsewhere.’

Joachim looked and failed to hide the revulsion in his face. ‘That’s — that’s awful! I couldn’t — I mean — how can you bear to go about like that.’

‘I don’t have much option. It’s the only left hand I’ve got.’ Joachim said: ‘You’d better put your glove back on. There’s nothing I — nothing anyone can do about that.’

‘Time to go,’ Agnelli said. ‘Helmut, we’ll meet you and the others down in the Dam in about half an hour, perhaps forty minutes. Don’t forget the radio.’

‘The radio?’ van Effen said. ‘You’re going to operate the radio in this monsoon?’

‘We have a minibus. Where’s the key to the radio?’ ‘In my pocket,’ van Effen said. ‘I thought it might be safer there.’ ‘I’m sure you’re right.’

They left, taking the metal cases with them. Agnelli stopped at a door close to the entrance, opened it, went inside. He reappeared, leading a Dobermann pinscher which had about it the homicidal appearance shared by many members of its breed: it was, reassuringly, muzzled. ‘Is that animal as fierce as it looks?’ van Effen asked. ‘I’ve had the good fortune never to find out. However, he’s not here for the purposes of either defence or attack. Dobermann pinschers can be trained to smell out explosives. Use them at airports. Fact.’ ‘I know it’s a fact. Has this dog been so trained?’ ‘Quite frankly, I have no idea. For ail I know, his olfactory nerves may be completely paralysed”

‘I’m beginning to believe that you might even get off with this,’ van Effen said.

They made the best time they could through the drenching rain and were back at the spot where they had parked the Volvo in the Voorburgwal. Van Effen had his hand on the door when he realised that it was not, in fact, the car in which they had arrived: it was’ unmistakably, a police car. Van Effen got into the back seat beside Agnelli and said: ‘You leave your own car here and come back and find a police car in its place. You know, 1 now do believe that you are going to get off with it after all. You do have your — organization.’

‘Organization is all,’ said Agnelli.

Everything went off as Agnelli had confidently expected. They were expected at the palace and their credentials received only the most cursory inspection: they and the car were so obviously official that a more detailed examination could only have seemed superfluous: besides, it was raining very heavily indeed and the guards were very anxious indeed to get back to the shelter just as soon as they could. Agnelli led them to a doorway which was so completely shrouded in darkness that he had to use a pencil torch to locate the keyhole of a door, at keyhole for which, as he had promised, he had the key. He also had a succession of keys which he used two flights of stairs down to open a succession of cellars. He knew the location of every door, every light switch.

‘You lived here?’ van Effen asked.

‘I’ve been here a couple of times. One has to be fairly meticulous about these things.’ He led the way through a completely empty cellar into another equally bare cellar and said: ‘This is the place. Not too difficult, was it?’

‘I find it hard to believe,’ van Effen said. ‘They do have security systems here?’

‘Excellent ones, I’m told. But security is a relative term. There is no security net that can’t be breached. Look at Buckingham Palace for instance. One of the tightest security shields in the world but as has been proved several times in the past year or so any semi-intelligent person — and, indeed, as has also been proved, those of a considerably lower IQ — can go in and out whenever they feel so inclined. Well, Mr Daniov, it’s yours.’

‘Alinutes, only. Open this far door for me — if you have the key.’ Agnelli had the key. Van Effen produced a tape and proceeded to measure the thickness of the walls. He said: ‘How come all those cellars are so empty?’

‘They weren’t a few days ago. They were pretty well filled with old furniture, archives, things that you expect to collect in a royal palace over the years. Not that we were concerned with the well-being of those antiquities, most of which were just ancient rubbish anyway. It was no part of our plan to bum the palace down.’

Van Effen nodded, said nothing, went out — accompanied by Agnelli — and climbed a flight of steps to work out the thickness of the ceiling. He returned to the cellar, made a few calculations on a piece of paper then said: ‘We’ll use the lot. Those walls are stouter than I would have expected. But the resulting bang should still be quite satisfactory.’ ‘Always a pleasure to watch an expert at work,’ Agnelli said. ‘No more than it is to watch a journeyman brick-layer at work. He does his five years’ apprenticeship. I’ve done mine.’

‘There’s a difference, I suggest, between dropping a brick and dropping a detonator.’

‘A skilled tradesman never drops anything.’ Van Effen busied himself for not more than two minutes, then said: ‘I think I recall you saying that you did have the duplicate keys for the cellars we’ve just passed through?’

‘I did and I have.’

‘So no one else can get near this place?’ Agnelli shook his head. ‘So. Finished.’

Their departure was no more eventful than their arrival had been. Less than ten minutes after van Effen had inserted the detonator into the primer they parked their car just behind a dimly lit minibus. As they stepped out a figure emerged from the shadows. He came up to Agnelli. ‘All well, sir?’

‘No problem, John.’

‘Goodnight, sir.’ The man got into the police car and drove off.,More organization,’ van Effen said. ‘Formidable.’

The five people they had left in the room close by the Voorburgwal were all seated in the minibus which, being a fourteen seater, was considerably larger than its name suggested. Van Effen and Agnelli sat in the wide seat in the back.

Van Effen said: ‘May one ask how long you expect to wait here?’ ‘Of course.’ Agnelli had become more than his usual smiling self in the past few minutes: He was now positively jovial. He had shown no signs of strain inside the palace but strain there must inevitably have been. ‘Not quite sure myself, to be honest. A few minutes, perhaps. Certainly no more than twenty. But first, one must beware lurking and suspicious policemen. Leonardo? Catch.’

He threw something to his brother then stood up himself and shrugged his way into a long grey raincoat. Then he sat, reached below the seat, pulled out a machine which looked like and was a radio transceiver, flicked a switch which made a red light glow, then brought up a headband with one earphone, which he draped over his knee: he reached down again and brought up a microphone the lead of which was, presumably, attached to the transceiver.

‘Sorry I have to keep you waiting,’he said, almost apologetically. ‘But I, in turn, have to wait a call.’

‘More organization,’ van Effen said. ‘Quite admirable. But there is one area in which your organization falls down.’

‘Inevitably.’ Agnelli smiled. ‘In what respect?’

‘No heating in this vehicle.’

‘An oversight. Maria?’

‘It’s by the radio.’

Agnelli reached under the seat and, not without some effort, brought up a large wicker basket which he placed on the seat between van Effen and himself. He opened the lid to reveal a rather splendidly appointed picnic basket.

‘What you would have expected, Mr Danilov. A picnic basket for the Sunday-school picnickers. If we cannot have external warmth at least we can provide some of the internal variety.’ The contents of the basket tended to bear out his claim. Apart from two rows of gleaming glasses and packets of sandwiches neatly wrapped in cellophane, it held a very Promising variety of bottles. ‘We thought we might have something to celebrate this evening,’ he said, again almost apologetically, ‘and I do think we have. A schnapps, perhaps, Mr Danilov?’

Van Effen said: ‘I unreservedly withdraw my remarks about your organization.’

Agnelli hadn’t even had time to begin to pour the schnapps when the transceiver buzzer rang. He clamped on the headpiece and acknowledged the call then listened in silence for almost a minute. Then he said: ‘Yes, they are foolish. They have no place to go. So a little persuasion to tip the balance? Call me back in one minute.’ He took off the headpiece. ‘WeLl, who’s the volunteer to press the button?’ There were no volunteers. ‘Well, then, I suggest you, Mr Danilov. You’re the man who prepared the charges so, of course, we’ll all blame you if the explosion turns out to be a damp squib or, alternatively, the palace falls down, so perhaps it’s only fitting that you press the button also. That way the rest of us will all feel blameless while you — ,

He wasn’t given time to complete his sentence. Van Effen stabbed the button and less than two seconds later, deep and muffled like a distant underwater explosion but very unmistakable for all that — to anyone with normal hearing, the sound must have been audible up to a kilometre away — the reverberation from the detonating amatol rolled across the square. Van Effen took the bottle from Agnelli’s unresisting hand — Agnelli, not smiling and with lips parted, seemed to be seeing something very far away — and poured himself a schnapps.

‘Seems I’ll just have to congratulate myself. A nice loud bang but the royal walls still stand. As guaranteed. My health.’ ‘That was splendid,’Agnelli said warmly. He was back on his own usual smiling balance again. ‘Perfectly splendid, Mr Danilov. And no damage after all that noise. Unbelievable.’

‘Perhaps a little royal wine spilt on the royal tablecloth.’ Van Effen made a dismissive gesture. ‘I don’t want to seem unduly modest — not in my nature, really — but that was next to nothing. Next time — if there is a next time — something a little more demanding perhaps.’ ‘There’ll be a next time. That I promise. And a little more exacting. That I also promise.’ He paused to sip some schnapps as the others, obviously excited and elated, turned to congratulate van Effen, then held up a hand for silence as the buzzer rang again.

‘Ah! You heard it also, did you? Very, very satisfactory. Mr Danilov is a man of his word. ‘He was silent for almost a minute then said: ‘Yes, I agree. I’d been thinking along those lines myself. Most fortuitous, most … Thank you. Ten o’clock then.’

He replaced headpiece and microphone, then leaned back in his seat. ‘Well, now, time to relax.’

‘You relax,’ van Effen said. ‘Not me. If you’re not moving on, I am.’ He made to get up and a puzzled Agnelli caught his arm. ‘What is wrong?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just, as I’ve told you, that I’ve got a very acute sense of self-preservation. As soon as the police come to their senses — if they ever lost them, they’re a pretty efficient bunch hereabouts — they’re going to start questioning everyone within eyesight of the palace. I should imagine — no, I’m certain — that a minibus with eight odd characters such as us parked in a rainstorm in the Dam would be a prime target for questioning.’ He shrugged off Agnelli’s hand and rose. ‘I’ve an acute aversion to being questioned by the police. A criminal — and we are criminals — has to be some kind of retarded lunatic to remain in the vicinity of his crime.’

‘Sit down. You’re right, of course. Foolish of me — one should never let one’s guard down. Helmut?’

Paderiwski, who was obviously in full agreement with van Effen, drove off at once.

Back in the room they had so recently vacated, Agnelli sank into an armchair. ‘Thank you, ladies, thank you. Schnapps would be fine. Now, perhaps, Mr Danilov, we can relax.’

‘Safer than where we were. But relax? For me, no. Still too close. Instinct? Plain cowardice? I just don’t know. Anyway, I have an appointment tonight. Nine-thirty.’

Agnelli smiled. ‘You were pretty sure that you were going to keep that appointment?’

‘I never had any reason to doubt it. No, that’s not quite accurate. I never had reason to doubt that the arranging of the explosion was a simple matter. I had ample reason to question your ability to get us in and out undetected. But, then, I had no reason beforehand to be aware of your rather remarkable organizational ability. I’ll have no doubts about you again.’

‘Nor we of you — not after tonight’s performance. I had mentioned the possibility of finding a permanent niche with us. That’s no longer a possibility, it’s a guarantee if you’re still of the same mind.’ ‘Of course I’m of the same mind. Tonight, you had a free demonstration. Now, I would appreciate some steady employment.’

‘The point I was about to raise. I think you arc now entitled to be taken into our confidence.’

Van Effen looked at him in silence, took a thoughtful sip of his schnapps and smiled. ‘Not, I feel certain, your full confidence. You are not about to tell me your ultimate aims. You are not going to tell me how you came together. You’re not going to tell me how you are financed or by whom. You are not going to tell me where you stay-although, if we’re to work together in however limited a capacity, you’ll have to give me some intermediate contact phone number. You’re not even going to tell me why, in what would appear to be an otherwise highly organized set-up, you require my services at such a late date.’ Agnelli was thoughtful. ‘That’s a lot of things you seem to be certain that we’re not going to tell you. How come?’

Van Effen let a little impatience show. ‘Because that is precisely the way I would behave myself. The need-to-know principle. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of that again. What I do believe — is that you are about to let me into your very limited confidence about your immediate operational plans. No abnormal prescience on my part. You have to. If, that is to say, I’m to be of any use to you.’

‘Correct on all counts. Tell me, Mr Danilov, are you in a position to acquire explosives?’

‘Good God!’

‘Is that so extraordinary a question to ask of an explosives expert?’ ‘My astonishment was not at the fact that you ask me. I’m surprised that — well, that such an organized group should embark upon what I take to be an ambitious project without the essentials to hand.’ ‘We have some of what you call the essentials. We may not have enough. Are you in a position to help?’

‘Directly, no.’

‘Indirectly?’

‘Perhaps. I would have to make enquiries.’

‘Discreet, of course.’

Van Effen sighed. ‘Please don’t be so naive. If it were possible to obtain explosives without official permission in the Netherlands you would already have done so.’

‘Sorry. Silly remark. But we have to protect ourselves. Your contact would not, of course, obtain supplies — if he could — in a legitimate fashion?’ ‘I’m not being indiscreet in saying that, to the best of my knowledge, my contact has never been involved in any legitimate dealings in his life. He would regard it as an affront to his professional code. He is also, incidentally, the only man in the country who knows more than I do about explosives.’

‘Sounds like a person whose acquaintance it might be useful to make.’ Agnelli studied his glass then looked at van Effen.

‘Not by any chance your friend Vasco? The person who introduced us at the Hunter’s Horn?’

‘Good lord, no. ‘van Effen creased his brow and compressed his lips. ‘Vasco is hardly what you might call my friend, Mr Agnelli. I got him out of bad trouble, once, and have employed him occasionally on some none-too-demanding errands. But we are not soul mates. I’m quite certain that Vasco knows nothing about explosives, has no access to them and would find it difficult to obtain a child’s cap pistol in a toy shop.’ Agnelli turned to his brother and shrugged. ‘Had we known that, Leonardo, you wouldn’t have spent so much time looking for him this afternoon.’ ‘Vasco frequently disappears,’ van Effen said. ‘Has a girlfriend in Utrecht, I believe. You are seriously trying to tell me that you were, also seriously, thinking of engaging Vasco’s services?’ ‘Not exactly, but

‘He comes in the front door and I go out the back and that’s that,’ van Effen said. ‘He’s unstable, unpredictable and highly dangerous, whether he means to be or not.’

‘I don’t quite understand what you mean by that.’

‘And I don’t quite understand you. You mean you’ve never even bothered to check on him, his background?’

‘We didn’t check yours.’

‘You didn’t have to,’ van Effen said bleakly. ‘Not with all those extradition wan-ants hanging around.’

Agnelli smiled. ‘That was this morning and this morning has been forgotten. You obviously know something about Vasco that we don’t.’ ‘Obviously. He’s bad. Poison. He’s the classic example of game-keeper turned poacher. He’s treacherous and a man full of hate. He hates the law and the society that law protects — or is supposed to protect. He’s that most dangerous of criminals, an ex-cop gone wrong.’ ‘A policeman?’ Agnelli’s surprise, van Effen thought, was splendidly done. Police!’

‘Ex. No public accusation of wrong-doing, far less a trial. Dismissed without explanation — although doubtless there would have been an explanation made to Vasco. just try making some discreet enquiries at the Utrecht police station about a certain ex-Sergeant Westenbrink and see what kind of dusty answers you get. My friend George is a different kettle of fish entirely. A firm believer in honour — among thieves. An honest criminal, if such a contradiction in terms exists.’

‘This George is your explosives friend?’ Van Effen nodded. ‘He has a second name?’

‘No.’

‘Do you think he’d work for me?’

‘George never works for anyone. He might be prepared to work with someone. Another thing. George never works through anyone. Not even through me. He’s a very careful man. His police record is clean and he wants to keep it that way. He talks to principals only and then it must be face to face.’

‘That’s the way I like it. Do you think you could get him to talk to me?’ ‘Who knows? I could ask him. Not here though.’

‘Why not?

‘Because I’d advise him against it. He knows I wouldn’t do that without reason. Where can I contact you?’

‘I’ll contact you. At the Trianon.’

‘I won’t make any comments about how touching your trust in me is. Tomorrow morning.’

‘Tonight. Ten o’clock.’

‘You are in a hurry. No point, I suppose, in asking you the compelling nature of this deadline you so obviously have to meet. Besides, I told you, I have a nine-thirty appointment.’

‘Ten o’clock.’ Agnelli rose. ‘You will of course try to see your friend immediately. I’ll put a car at your disposal.’

‘Please, Mr Agnelli. Don’t be so naive.’