Assignment in Amsterdam

by Carrie Bedford

  “Or just tell the police,” I suggested.

  Alex smirked. “Not as much fun, but yeah, we should do that.” She stood up and stretched her arms above her head. “Did Karen say anything about Pieter?”

  “Not much. She only met him briefly at Tomas’s funeral, but she thought my description of him sounded right. Apparently, Eline never mentioned the appointment she and Pieter were supposedly having with Bleeker yesterday evening.”

  “Which means Pieter did lie about that meeting?”

  “It seems like it.” My head was aching. Nothing made any sense. “Who’s Sam talking to?”

  “TBA’s legal chap, Terry. Again.” She looked at her watch. “We’ve got time before my dinner with Willem so let’s all get out for a while. Sam wants to visit the Rembrandt museum. It’s only a short walk.”

  We waited for Sam to finish on the phone. He didn’t take long and soon wandered into the living room.

  “Terry’s anxious to get the feasibility study wrapped up. He wasn’t thrilled to hear about the missing data on the upstairs floors. In fact, he said we should go ahead and break through the panels to see what’s on the other side. TBA will cover all the costs for repairs if the sale doesn’t close.”

  “I don’t know, Sam,” Alex said. “Bleeker was very specific about not making any material changes to the house until he’s got the paperwork sorted out.”

  “I know. But on balance I think Terry is right. We need to see that space for ourselves in order to finalize the plans. If TBA’s willing to take responsibility for any damages, I’m okay with that.”

  “Should we warn Bleeker we’re going to do it?” Alex asked.

  “No way,” I said. “If we were to do everything at lawyer speed and abide by every dot and comma, the world would grind to a halt.”

  “I didn’t think of you as a lawbreaker.” Sam smiled.

  “Yeah, well, I do my best. But my inner felon needs to be let out occasionally. Please don’t tell my dad I said that. He’s a barrister— retired, but he still does everything by the book. He’d be horrified.”

  Just thinking of Dad made me feel tearful. What the hell was wrong with me? Eline’s death had unnerved me, perhaps more than it should have, given that I hardly knew her. I thought of Karen’s anguish over losing her friend. I imagined the pain of losing Sam, the overwhelming grief of his grandmother and sister. Well, it was up to me to make sure that didn’t happen.

  I found myself not caring about the house or the project. Every time I looked at Sam and saw that swirling air, my heart ached.

  “Give me a moment,” he said. “Let me call Terry back. Get him to say that he’s absolutely up for it. If he says it’s okay, then we’ll do it.”

  Sam’s words faded and blared like a radio with a broken volume dial. My head pounded, my skin felt hot, my stomach hurt. I sank into the nearest armchair as Sam headed back to the kitchen.

  “Are you all right?” Alex asked. She knelt down next to me.

  “Not really. Eline died. Tessa died. Sam’s in danger. I’m scared because I have no idea what’s going on.”

  I had rarely felt this out of control. In the past, I’d managed to focus on the task in hand; this last couple of days, I seemed to be working hard but not making any progress. I’d failed Eline. Would I fail Sam too? The thought ricocheted around inside my head, lighting up sections of my brain that seemed to have gone dormant.

  Falling back on old practices, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself. Alex’s hand was cool against mine when she took my fingers in hers and squeezed. It reminded me of how my mother used to console me when I was sad, holding my hand, binding us together, stronger as a single entity.

  “This isn’t all on you,” Alex said. “You’re not responsible for Eline’s death. Or Tessa’s. You can’t hold yourself accountable for Sam’s safety. Or Henk’s, come to that.” She sat back on her heels but kept hold of my hand. “Just because you see it coming doesn’t mean you can stop it.”

  “Then what’s the point?” I asked. My throat hurt. “Why do I see these signs if I can’t do anything to help?”

  “You are helping. We know that Sam is threatened and we’re doing what we can to protect him.”

  I thought about what Karen had said about Eline’s depression. Was it possible she’d committed suicide? That her death was completely unrelated to whatever threatened Sam? But what about the man in the hoodie? He’d been following Eline, and I was sure he was watching us. There had to be a connection. And then there was Pieter. Where did he come into it? He’d lied to us about the meeting, using it as an excuse to take a document from Eline’s room. He certainly couldn’t be trusted.

  “I think we should talk to the police,” I said.

  Alex tilted her head and stared at me. “About what?”

  “All of it. The man who was following Eline. Pieter’s little charade here yesterday. Something’s not right.”

  “I doubt the police would take you very seriously. Pieter is Tomas’s family and he is inheriting the house. I think he had every right to come in and take anything he wanted.”

  “And lying about the meeting with Eline and Bleeker?”

  Alex shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. And the police can’t arrest someone for lying, you know.”

  “Lying about what?” Sam walked back into the living room, mobile in hand.

  “Pieter and that non-existent meeting with Bleeker,” I said.

  “What did Terry say?” Alex asked.

  “No answer. He’s in a meeting.”

  “Let’s wait before breaking in then.” Alex stood up. “I’d feel better knowing someone else is taking responsibility. Besides, I’m done apart from that one area. I think we should get out of this gloomy old building for a while.”

  “Good idea,” Sam said. “I’m sure to hear from Terry sometime today. Assuming he confirms it’s okay, we’ll come back early tomorrow, break through the panel and update the drawings. Then we can hand the keys over to Henk and skedaddle by about ten.”

  “That’ll give Henk time to have his morning coffee,” Alex commented. “So, what do we do now?” Her eyes lit up. “I know. Let’s go for a bike ride.”

  “How about a museum?” I suggested, thinking that would be a safe place for Sam.

  “Bikes,” Sam said. “Come on, Kate. Let’s live a little.”

  Living was precisely what I had in mind, which meant not riding bikes on busy city streets.

  Five minutes later, we were all outside, wandering slowly along the canal side. The waterways were pretty, I thought, but deadly. Eline had drowned in one. I wondered when her funeral would be. Who would organize it? Karen? I would make an effort to come back for it because I’d like to see Karen again. I hoped she was coping with the loss of her friend and decided to call her later to check on her.

  “Watch out!” Sam grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the path of a cyclist, who flew past in a flurry of bike bell ringing and a torrent of impenetrable Dutch. So much for me looking after Sam.

  “Good grief, Kate. You almost got hit. Be careful,” Alex said. She gave my arm a squeeze.

  “I will. Those bikes are scary.”

  “We’ll be safer on a bike than walking,” Alex said. She pointed to a bike rental place on the other side of the street. “Amsterdam is one of the safest cities in the world to ride a bike. Come on.”

  Sam overruled my second round of objections and we were soon equipped with bikes and maps. We rode towards the Jordaan quarter, once working-class and now gentrified, with pretty houses, art galleries and boutiques. It was interesting to see the world from the seat of a bike, zipping past pedestrians and keeping pace with the slow-moving traffic. Amsterdam was incredibly flat, we realized, apart from a few humpback bridges over the canals. But I found being in the bike lane nerve-wracking as experienced cyclists sped past, weaving impatiently through clumps of novice riders like us. My close encounter with a speeding bi
ke had made me jumpy.

  I pulled slightly ahead of Alex and Sam when they slowed to examine the brightly-lit window of a chocolate shop. The aroma of chocolate and vanilla was enticing, but I was intent on overcoming temptation. I rode on and, moments later, heard the trill of a bike bell, yelling, and the clatter of metal hitting asphalt.

  Braking hard, I turned to see a crush of people twenty meters back and glimpsed a bent bike frame lying on the road. I jumped off my own bike, left it leaning against a railing, and ran, pushing my way through a circle of stationary cyclists.

  A woman with nurse’s scrubs under her coat crouched on the ground. Kneeling opposite her, Alex gazed down at Sam’s prostrate figure. She looked up when I called her name, her face a white oval in the encroaching dusk.

  14

  The next few minutes were chaotic. The nurse wasn’t speaking English, so I couldn’t tell if she was saying that Sam was okay or had been critically injured. His eyes were open, but he was very pale. Blood trickled from a cut on his cheek. His aura, barely visible in the fading light, still circled.

  “Alex.” I squeezed her arm. She appeared to have gone into shock. “What is the nurse saying?”

  “What? Oh. She thinks he may have a concussion.”

  I knelt down next to Alex and gripped Sam’s hand, which felt cold and damp in mine.

  “Sam?” I said to him. “Can you hear me?”

  He turned his head to look at me. “Of course I can. I’m not dead.”

  “The nurse thinks you have a concussion,” Alex said.

  Sam moved to get up, leaning his weight on one elbow. The woman gently pushed down on his chest.

  “She said you shouldn’t move yet until they check for broken bones,” Alex told him.

  Someone in the crowd must have called for an ambulance because we soon heard a siren wailing up a nearby street. Finally, it pulled up close by, and three men ran towards us, two of them carrying a stretcher, and the other a large bag. They cleared a space around Sam, making us move back to give them room to work. One of them leaned over him and checked for broken bones while another taped the cut on his cheek.

  A uniformed policeman turned up and talked with the ambulance crew and then with Alex. Once he’d ascertained that no car had been involved in the accident, he hopped back on his bike and rode away. I doubted that every bike crash in the city warranted a police report.

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Sam protested when they started to load him onto the stretcher. “Truly, I feel fine.”

  “It’s just a precaution, for some X-rays and to check for concussion,” Alex told him.

  He was still grumbling when they carried him away.

  Alex thanked the nurse before pulling her own bike up from the ground. “Lucky she was riding past when Sam fell,” she said to me. “They’re taking him to the emergency room at the OVLG on Oosterpark.”

  Around us, the crowd was dispersing, people wandering away on foot or remounting their bikes to continue their journeys.

  “I need my bike,” I said, hoping it would still be where I’d left it. It was, and with some trepidation, I got back on it and followed Alex. The ride only took ten minutes along the Amstel river and we soon braked to a halt outside the hospital.

  At reception, Alex explained who we were looking for, and we were told to wait for more information.

  “What happened?” I asked Alex, after she’d pushed euros into a vending machine and carried two bottles of water over to where I sat on the edge of a hard, plastic seat.

  “I’m not sure. It happened so fast. Someone cut in front of us and snagged Sam’s front wheel. It twisted sideways and the bike went down.”

  “Was it an accident? Did you see the other cyclist?”

  She unscrewed the top off her water bottle but didn’t drink. “No, I didn’t see his face. And I don’t know. It could have been an accident. But it’s too much of a coincidence, right? That Sam is in danger and some maniac knocked him off his bike?”

  I nodded.

  Alex sighed and stood up to pace around the waiting room. I took a few big swallows of water, hoping it would calm the cramping in my stomach. It worried me that the emergency crew had insisted on bringing Sam here. Did they find signs of an injury that we couldn’t see?

  My mind full of bleak imaginings, I massaged my aching temples. Each time a door opened I looked up, hoping to see a doctor who would tell us what was happening. I’d just finished my water and was contemplating getting another when the door swung open again and a nurse strode towards us.

  As she spoke to us in Dutch, I saw Alex’s face relax. She waited until the nurse had gone and then threw her arms around me.

  “He’s all right. No concussion and no broken bones. He hurt his knee and has a few scratches. They’ll be releasing him soon.”

  I felt weak with relief and tried to sit calmly while we waited. Still, another twenty minutes ticked by. Twenty minutes in which I berated myself for going along with the idea of a bike ride in what turned out to be rush hour. I was supposed to be protecting Sam and I was doing an awful job of it. Whether it was deliberate or an accident, Sam had come to harm. On my watch.

  My dark thoughts evaporated when the door opened and Sam appeared. Alex jumped up and ran to him. He had a small dressing on his cheek and seemed to be limping slightly, but I was elated to see him on his feet. His aura still circled though, bursting my little happiness bubble almost at once.

  “No real damage done,” he announced with a grin. “I banged up my knee, and grazed my hand, but my head’s in one piece. I think the bike got the worst of it.”

  “Ah, the bike. We just left it there,” Alex said. “I suppose we should head back to retrieve it and turn everything in at the rental shop.” Her bottom lip quivered. “It’s all my fault. It was a stupid idea to rent bikes in the first place.”

  “Don’t be daft,” Sam said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay.”

  “Did you see who hit you?” I asked, as the hospital doors swished closed behind us. It was dark now, with a sliver of moon barely visible between the clouds.

  “Not really. Someone, a man in jeans and a dark anorak, swerved in front of me, probably to avoid someone else. I didn’t see what happened. But his front wheel hit mine and I ended up on the ground.”

  “Did he stop? Was he one of the people helping back there?” I thought back. Had I seen the man in the grey hoodie anywhere amongst those cyclists? I didn’t think so, but the light had been dim, and I’d been moving too fast.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “The fall took the wind out of me for a minute or two. But the way everyone was driving… is that the right word? Riding, I mean. It was so crowded he probably didn’t even realize he’d knocked me over.”

  I wasn’t so sure. But, then, if someone was trying to kill Sam, knocking him off a bike was a rather feeble way to go about it. Was it supposed to be another warning, like the fallen chandelier? If so, would there be another one? Was Death going to have another go at Sam, and not give up until something fatal happened? I’d let myself hope for a short few minutes that this was a turning point, that because Sam had survived this accident, he was out of danger. But then his aura would have disappeared. And it definitely hadn’t. It was still there, rotating, sickly yellow under the hospital entry lights.

  We collected our two bikes and pushed them to the nearest metro station, where we loaded them on to a train. After a short ride, we walked back to where Sam’s bicycle waited, bent and abandoned. Someone had leaned it up against a wall, where it couldn’t cause any more accidents. At least no one had taken it.

  Our conversation with the rental company didn’t take long. I suspected they were used to dealing with damaged bikes. Sam paid the bill and we flagged down a taxi to take us back to the Janssens’ house where we’d all left our laptops and bags.

  “I should cancel my dinner with Willem,” Alex said as Sam unlocked the front door. “I don’t want to leave you, S
am, not after what happened back there. Besides, there’s not much point.”

  “You should go,” Sam encouraged her. “He’s a friend of your parents and you said you liked his company. It’s not really polite to cancel…” He checked his watch. “With only thirty minutes’ notice.”

  “That’s very proper of you,” Alex said. “But you’re right. Don’t have too much fun without me then.”

  While Alex got ready, Sam and I debated what to do with our evening. Takeaway food and television easily won the argument. We’d go to the hotel and hang out there, waiting for Alex to come back from her dinner. I tidied up the kitchen while Sam put out some dry food for Vincent. On my way to gather my things from the dining room, I heard my phone beep with an incoming text. It was from Karen. She asked if we could meet because she’d been thinking about something Eline had told her.

  I hesitated before answering. Whatever Eline had said to Karen, it probably wouldn’t make any difference to the future of the project. That now seemed to rest in the hands of the mysterious nephew. But Sam was still in danger. The bike event, whether an accident or deliberate, was a stark reminder of that, and I had to follow every lead possible to discover the source of the threat to him. If Eline had said something that would cast any light at all, then I had to know about it.

  Besides, I liked Karen and wanted to see her again. I texted back and suggested that Sam and I meet her in our hotel bar in an hour. We could have a drink with Karen before settling into our takeaway food and television night.

  When Karen confirmed the arrangement, I went into the kitchen to let Sam know. He wasn’t there. The living room was empty too. I did a quick sweep of the guest bathrooms but didn’t find him. Every empty space made my skin prickle. Where was he? Had he left something upstairs?

  I hurried to the staircase, but it was in darkness and there were no lights on at the top, which meant he couldn’t be up there. Glad I didn’t have to investigate the creepy upper floors, I retraced my steps to the kitchen. On the counter, the dish of cat food sat untouched, and I realized we hadn’t seen Vincent since coming back from the hospital. I guessed then where Sam might be. After taking the lift down to the lobby, I found, as expected, that the back door was wide open.