Hard Rain

\\\\\ 32 /////

The next day's Courier outdid itself in a display of subtle venom without making any outright statements. A front-page article pointed at possible instability of the Banque du Credit. The second page discussed the woes of the Ryder clothing stores, brought about, possibly, by the luxurious life-style and gambling of its president and main shareholder. Ryder's accidental death, already reported on, was covered in more detail, and a photograph showed the remnants of his boat, studied by State Police officers in uniform. The Society for Help Abroad was linked (the word "separately" appeared various times) to a shuffle at Police Headquarters. The commissaris, reading the article to Grijpstra and de Gier, rustled the paper. "I didn't tell him that. Kowsky must have other informants in this building."

"Good," Grijpstra said. "I like the photographs that illustrate that article. Halba and the chief constable at the club's bar, cavorting with half-naked women. Kowsky must have kept that snapshot up his sleeve. Probably smuggled a photographer in."

"Kowsky has a minicamera himself," de Gier said. "He showed it to me once. Shall we get busy, sir?"

The commissaris put his paper down. "Yes. Use all your contacts. I'll work on the Tax Inspection Office. You two can raid the club later this week; I'll assign a chief inspector. The warrant will be for gambling without a license. We'll make it official this time."

"Chief Inspector Rood, sir?"

"No. Someone else. Make as many arrests as you can, and see if we can make them implicate Fernandus and de la Faille. I'll work on the Central Bank too, see if they'll send inspectors down. We'll push from all sides and do as much damage as we can."

"Will the mayor help?" Grijpstra asked.

The commissaris nodded. "Yes. He wants me to go slow, but I'll ignore that advice, I think." He rubbed his hands. "To work."

So they worked. The bank came down and was closed behind sealed doors. Warrants for the arrests of Fernandus and the baron were issued, based on statements provided by the Society's manager and waiters, and several employees of the Banque du Credit, but Fernandus could not be located. De la Faille's trail led as far as the Belgian border.

"Now what?" Grijpstra asked when he saw the commissaris later that week.

"Wait," the commissaris said.

"Any news yet from Calcutta?" Cardozo asked. The commissaris read a Teletype message. "Supply from Nepal due soon. Courier ready. Will inform you of flight number and date."

"We're ready too," the commissaris said. "This is from our narcotics commissioner out there. Where's de Gier?"

"Gone," Grijpstra said solemnly.

The telephone rang. "I'm not here," the commissaris said. He placed his elbows on his desk and dropped his chin on his clasped hands. "Gone?"

"It's the chief of the Tax Inspection Office, sir," Miss Antoinette said, covering the receiver with her hand.

The commissaris waved impatiently. "This is more urgent, dear. I'm out to everybody." He looked straight ahead. "Gone?"

Grijpstra harrumphed.

"Harrumph?" Cardozo asked. "What sort of answer is that? Where is the sergeant?"

"No sergeant," Grijpstra said placidly. "I don't think de Gier cares for his title anymore. He said he wouldn't come down. He's suspended in thin air."

"Adjutant," the commissaris said, "de Gier's been reinstated. I had an envelope placed on his desk. His salary will be paid in full with apologies and all. What more does he want?"

"More." Grijpstra flicked dust off his knee. "The white knight didn't open his envelope."

"The white knight?" Cardozo asked. "But that's silly. He wasn't serious, was he? The sergeant likes to hold on to a joke."

"Nojoke."

"So where is he?" the commissaris asked. "You're closer to de Gier than anyone else. Did he leave the city? Where is his cat?"

"At my house," Grijpstra said. "He brought it last night, in a Ferrari. I've got his furniture too, it came in a truck. I don't want de Gier's furniture. And he didn't just leave the city, he left the country."

"So why did you take his furniture? Or did you leave it in the street?"

"I took it, sir."

"And what about de Gier's apartment?"

"I don't know. For rent, I suppose."

"Evidently he isn't planning to come back," the commissaris said. "He could always get a job here. De Gier's always offered jobs. Has he got money, Adjutant?"

"Savings."

"Savings?" the commissaris repeated. "He always complains about his overdraft."

"Not for the last year, sir." Grijpstra smiled grimly. "He hasn't bought any new clothes for a year. He stayed home for his holidays. Refused to pay for my coffee. Hardly went out."

"The stock market," Cardozo said. "I've seen him looking at the Financial Times in the canteen."

"And at maps," Grijpstra said.

"What maps?"

"Maps of New Guinea, sir."

"No," the commissaris said. "That fantasy too? But that goes back years. When that Papuan suspect got away, he sent a postcard later, I believe."

"What Papuan?" Cardozo asked.

"A good man," the commissaris said, "who managed to get away. Grijpstra can tell you. This is serious." He picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk.

"Well, de Gier was suspended, sir," Grijpstra said. "And he's free anyway. If he goes, he goes."

"Surely." The commissaris let the pencil slide from his hand. "But do we want him to kill the baron? That's not a good start. He might get hurt, too, his ribs haven't healed."

"He's in pain," Cardozo said. "It hurts him when he breathes deeply. I could see that. De Gier was very careful how he moved."

"You don't want him to duel with the baron, sir?" Grijpstra asked.

The commissaris played with his pencil. "No."

The telephone rang again. Miss Antoinette answered. "State Police, sir, about the accident on the Vinker Lakes."

"Good luck to them," the commissaris said.

"He isn't here," Miss Antoinette said into the telephone.

Cardozo flattened his hair with both hands. "The baron's probably in Spain, at Ten Haaf's estate in Marbella, where Guldemeester is working now."

"Are we sure?" the commissaris asked. "We know by now that Ten Haaf was financially interested in the Banque du Credit and the Society; he must have dropped some money in the crash. And Fernandus and the baron probably own part of the estate in Marbella. If the baron went to cash in his share, he may not be received very well."

"Ten Haaf is a helpless junkie now," Grijpstra said. "He used to be big in local crime, but since his retirement, he's changed into a slob. He's happy to have any of his cronies visit. He runs some sort of recreation center for what he calls the Mob. I think the baron would be welcome in Marbella."

"Another godfather, eh?" the commissaris asked. "A nest of crime up in the mountains? Weary warriors are given a rest. Do I see it all now? Is de Gier going to fight the bad guys in their lair? Racing up in Ryder's Ferrari? In style?"

"In style," Cardozo said. "That's what he kept saying. I see it too, sir. He has spelled it all out to me, many a time. Police work is too limited; he stayed on only because of you; you were teaching him and so forth, but eventually he would break away and continue his quest on his own."

"De Gier's forty-two," Grijpstra said. "Quite a difficult age. I was wondering, when I got into my forties, whether I shouldn't make a change."

"Coffee, everyone?" Miss Antoinette asked. "Here you are. De Gier is a romantic, Constable Jane is always saying that."

"What's a romantic, dear?" The commissaris sipped his coffee. "You mean he's a bit crazy?"

"Like Carl." Miss Antoinette smiled. "Carl says you've got to do things differently. Figure out how everybody does it and then do it otherwise. De Gier is like that too, but he isn't as courageous as Carl. Carl doesn't want an example. De Gier has you."

"Me," the commissaris said. "How could he imitate me? I live a perfectly ordinary life."

"Your mind," Grijpstra said.

"What about my mind?"

"Well," Grijpstra said. "Perhaps I could explain, but I'll probably annoy you. I've been annoying you lately. Never mind, sir."

"Go on," Cardozo said. "Annoy the commissaris. You always annoy everybody else."

"Please annoy me," the commissaris said. "You'll have to, I'm afraid. I have to understand de Gier's motivation before I do anything."

"What can you do?" Cardozo asked. "If de Gier hasn't opened his envelope, he's on perpetual unpaid leave. If he doesn't come back, he's not under your orders."

The telephone rang. "The mayor, sir," Miss Antoinette said. The commissaris waved a limp hand. "He's not here," said Miss Antoinette.

Grijpstra stripped a cigar out of its plastic cover, bit off its end, spat, and missed the ashtray. "Yagh," said Miss Antoinette.

Grijpstra grinned and lit his cigar. "Very well. You were de Gier's example, sir. He saw you as a teacher. They call that a guru these days. You were out of reach. You lived on your cloud. In de Gier's eyes, you were-"

"Detached?" the commissaris said. "I don't like that word."

"But why don't you like it?" Grijpstra asked. "Because you'd like to be detached, right? Who wouldn't? But who is?" Grijpstra made wavy movements with his hands and feet, lost his balance, and flopped back in his chair. Cardozo laughed. "Right," Grijpstra said. "We fall back. De Gier claimed you never fell back, sir, that you somehow managed to stay aloft, high up, so high that you could choose your angles from which to swoop down on suspects-or on us."

"But he does that," Cardozo said. "The commissaris does that."

"You still have some faith in me?" the commissaris asked. "That's nice, Cardozo. The adjutant evidently doesn't."

"No," Grijpstra said. "I do."

"You still have faith in me?"

"Some," Grijpstra said. "Some reasonable faith. De Gier's faith was more. Unreasonable, I always thought. I told him that many a time. I said you would disappoint him. And that he wouldn't be able to stand the disappointment. It would break him, I said. He would go crazy."

"Carl is crazy," Miss Antoinette said. "But not all the way. He's also responsible. Do you know that Carl has no debts? I thought all men had debts, that's why they're so boring. They're stuck, having to pay off their debts."

"I see," the commissaris said. He shook his head. "Would you mind blowing your smoke a bit more to the side, Adjutant, please? It isn't twelve o'clock yet." He touched the tin of cigars on his desk.

"Yes." Grijpstra blew smoke at the ceiling. "So then you came down to fight your private enemy, Willem Fernandus. You came down rather heavily. De Gier saw that. You were personally involved. Gurus are never involved. I told de Gier that would happen."

"Willem hates you too," Miss Antoinette said. "You hate Willem, don't you sir?"

"Ah," Cardozo said. "So that's what it was. I was wondering too. I even dreamed about it. One of my horrible insect dreams, they always tear away at each other and their legs are stuck in glue. They sometimes fight in my mouth, and I can't spit them out."

The commissaris started to pick up his coffee cup, but it slipped from his hand and rattled back on the saucer. "I see."

"You do?" Grijpstra asked. "You see foolish de Gier racing his silly tin roller skate up a molehill to challenge a useless moron to a dumb duel?"

"Unfor…" The commissaris cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Unfortunate, very. We have to stop him. De Gier'U probably beat the baron, in spite of his sore ribs. He's clever enough."

"And sneaky," Cardozo said.

"Which he learned from me," the commissaris said. "But de Gier still has sore ribs. I hope he took his gun."

"No," Grijpstra said. "I checked. The sergeant-at-arms has de Gier's gun."

"Oh, dear," the commissaris said. "Just when things were going well. What do you suggest we do, Adjutant? Fly out to Marbella? We may be too late. De Gier's driving a fast car, and there are no speed limits on the Belgian and French freeways."

"No, I don't think we can stop de Gier," Grijpstra said, picking up the ragged end of his cigar and placing it carefully in the ashtray. "I'm sneaky too, sir"-he grinned-"but on my own. My sneakiness is mine. I didn't pick it up anywhere. A phone is quicker than a plane. Miss Antoinette? Could you find out the number of the Ten Haaf estate in Marbella?"

Miss Antoinette picked up the telephone.

"I don't quite see…" the commissaris said. "Isn't that dangerous, Grijpstra? Warning them off?"

"Yes," Grijpstra said. "I wouldn't do that." He got up, picked up the silver thermos flask, and refilled everybody's cup. Miss Antoinette gave him a slip of paper. Grijpstra grinned. "That's the number? Very well. Please dial it and ask for Guldemeester."

"Oh, dear," the commissaris said. "I hope you know what you're doing, Adjutant."

Grijpstra took over the phone. "Hello? Grijpstra here. Can you hear me? What's all the noise?"

"You have a cordless phone? I can hardly hear you. Could you phone back? Yes, I'm at my office." He put the phone down. "Miss Antoinette? Could you ask the girls downstairs to pass the call here when Guidemeester phones back?"

They waited. In a few moments the telephone rang.

"Yes," Grijpstra said. "That's better. You're at the house now? Very well. Listen, I'm phoning about Celine. You've heard, haven't you? Read it in the papers? Right. But it wasn't an accident. Listen, I'm sorry about Celine, just wanted to tell you." Grijpstra held his hand over the mouthpiece. "You see, Guldemeester still loves her, de Gier told me that. Thinks he loves her, anyway. Celine said-" He took off his hand. "What's that? Yes. No accident. Sure I'm sure."

"Yes. I could tell you, but perhaps you don't want to know. Listen, something else. You know about the changes here? Chief constable and Halba gone? You get the Courier there? Okay, then you know…

"Yes. Quite a bit of change. The commissaris is in charge now for the time being…

"You don't like it there?

"I see. I could ask the commissaris. Can't guarantee anything, of course."

Grijpstra coughed. "Sorry. My cigar. Terrible weather here. AH the windows closed. Yeah, I'm alone. Why?

"Celine's accident? You sure you want to know? You may not like it…

"Okay. It's like this. The Society-you were wrong there, you know-bunch of assholes, they abused Celine. She didn't like it there. .. Abused how?

"Well, I don't have the details, but that's what she said. No, not to me, but we've got ways of hearing things…

"Yes, we had someone there. Anyway, your wife didn't like her job at the club. Wanted out, but they wouldn't let her, see. Bunch of killers too, you should have known that…

"Of course. The junkies, IJsbreker and so forth, and now this Ronnie Ryder too, you must have seen that in the paper. And Heul. Remember Heul? They shot him full of smack and dumped him in the commissaris's car…

"Yes. A mess. Celine found out, and she was going to tell us…

"Sure. They ran her down. Twice. Hit her from the side and then reversed the car and ran over her. She was still alive when we found her. Lots of internal damage…

"Yes. she told us who…

"Want to know? I can tell you…

"You're ready? Okay, but listen, be careful. The baron…

Grijpstra waited, holding the phone.

"Yes. Absolutely. No doubt in my mind…

"You'll get him?

"Yes, I thought he was with you in Marbella now. Wanted to warn you…

"Well, listen. I heard that you wanted to come back to us, and if the baron finds out, you'll be in danger…

"Don't mention it. Want some advice?

"Okay, here's what you do. Take him for a walk. I know Marbella, spent a holiday there. Didn't like it. Bad place. There are paths there with steep cliffs…

"Okay, now remember. The baron fell. Slipped. You didn't see him slip. He was there, and then he wasn't. Stick to that. Just tell one story. Keep it short. I don't have to tell you that. You've been in the business a long time yourself…

"Right. Good luck… No, that's all right. My pleasure. We've worked together for years. Just thought I'd let you know. 'Bye now. 'Bye."

Grijpstra replaced the receiver.

"Shit," Cardozo said. "Grijpstra…"

The commissaris checked his watch. "Eleven-fifty." He took a cigar from his tin and lit it.

"Good for you," Miss Antoinette said, touching Grijpstra's arm.

"Yes," the commissaris said. "Good for you, Grijpstra. I don't think I could have done that."

Grijpstra got up. "Yes, sir, you could."

"Maybe… but it would have taken me some time."

Grijpstra stood near the door. "It took me some time too, sir. I've thought about it ever since de Gier said good-bye at nine o'clock this morning. By the way, he sends his best wishes to all of you. I was only supposed to tell you tomorrow, to give him a bit of a start."

"And he'll go from there to New Guinea?" the commissaris asked.

"From Barcelona, sir, by freighter. He's not in a hurry. The trip will give him time to reflect on his future."

"Oh, dear," the commissaris said. "I hope he'll make it. Ten Haaf may have a bunch of bodyguards up there."

"He'll make it, sir. I'll be in my office if you need me." Grijpstra closed the door with some force. The bang made the commissaris shiver.