by Roy Lewis
‘It is only a short walk from here,’ she announced.
The three of them crossed the canal and walked along its edge. They passed some moored houseboats at the far bank; there was no movement on the houseboats and beyond them a number of cars lined the edge of the canal, perched precariously on the verge between the road and the water, seeming to hover among the trees that lined the road like crouching animals about to leap into the canal. Carmela led Cardinal and Grout away from the canal, and down a side street whose houses leaned in the upper storeys as though trying to catch glimpses of the traffic along the canal. Carmela stopped outside a narrow store window displaying a range of tourist trinkets.
‘In here.’
She walked through the shop, brushed past a surprised assistant and opened the door at the far end of the room. It led to a narrow flight of stairs. There was obviously some kind of warning system in operation below because as they reached the top of the stairs the door opened and the man who stood there beamed a welcome notable for its nervous falsity.
‘Signorina Cacciatore. Your visit is unexpected. And while I am aware that such visits always cause me trouble, you are nevertheless welcome. As always.’
Carmela glanced back to her two companions. Drily, she remarked, ‘You will realize we are old acquaintances. Or should I say adversaries?’
The big man laughed nervously and gestured to them to enter the room at the head of the stairs. ‘Adversaries, never, signorina! Too harsh a description! You know I always co-operate with you, and the colleagues of your group.’
Grout could understand why the man was known as Le Cochon. He was definitely of porcine proportions. He was over six feet tall and built like a massive boar. His eyes were almost buried in deep rolls of fat, his cheeks were covered by a bristly beard, sharply trimmed at the chin, and he seemed to roll as he walked. Even so, for such a big man he was surprisingly light on his feet and in spite of the edge of nervousness he had displayed on their arrival, Grout guessed that this was a man of a measured confidence in his business, and one who knew when to command – and when to co-operate. He clearly had considerable respect for Carmela, probably because he was aware of the investigative power she wielded in the murky world of illicit antiquities. And in his own sphere, among villains, Grout guessed he would be a man to be feared.
Le Cochon ushered them into the room. It was carefully furnished, but Grout noted that the furniture was of a sturdy kind, necessary, he guessed to support the man’s huge frame. Grout guessed the dealer in illicit antiques would weigh at least twenty stone. He had assumed a beaming, expansive smile, as Carmela introduced first Cardinal, then Grout to him. Neither man was fooled by his affability.
He waved them to seats, and as they settled into capacious armchairs, offered them hospitality. They refused the drinks. He did not seem offended. He smiled at Carmela.
‘I must crack the whip over my usual informants,’ he said, displaying expensively cared-for teeth. ‘I had not heard, signorina, that you had arrived in Amsterdam. Normally I am kept well informed with regard to likely visitors to my domain, but this time … I have no secret sources of information that tell me you – and your companions, English policemen no less – are about to visit me. Had you gentlemen not been introduced to me, I would have guessed you would be policemen, not merely because you are in the company of my old friend Signorina Cacciatore. For a man in my line of business it is simply that … shall I say … all policemen have an air, an aura about them. And the English police, they have the brightest aura of all. One needs to be aware of such vibrations, is it not so?’
Cardinal and Grout watched as Le Cochon waddled to a liquor cabinet in the surprisingly luxurious room and poured himself a liberal dose of Schnapps.
‘It is a cliché I understand, that gentlemen such as yourselves do not drink on duty – and the signorina has never accepted a drink from me – but permit me to indulge myself. To calm the nerves, you understand. For Signorina Cacciatore never visits me for social reasons… . The room, you like it?’
He waved his hand to take in their surroundings. Its décor was as flamboyant as the man was huge but Grout had little time to enjoy it, for Carmela was impatient, and came immediately to the point.
‘I thought I’d find you here rather than at your legitimate place of business.’
Le Cochon spread deprecating hands. ‘You make a jest, of course, signorina. You know well that all my business is legitimate. I own this shop and it is necessary that I visit it from time to time in order to keep an eye on it. After all, managers are notoriously unscrupulous and one can so easily be robbed blind by people one foolishly trusts. …’
‘You come here,’ Carmela contradicted firmly, ‘to conduct under the counter deals, sell and buy items of doubtful provenance, and meet some of your less respectable friends. I know it, and you are aware, I know it. You see,’ she added for the benefit of Cardinal and Grout, ‘our friend does indeed have a legitimate business in the diamond trade here in Amsterdam but unfortunately he is of a weak disposition; he cannot resist meddling in activities of a more criminal nature. This is why we have become well-acquainted, over the years. I have not yet managed to pin him down to a prison term, but one of these days. …’
Le Cochon gave a rumbling laugh that ended in a grunt of pleasure. ‘Signorina Cacciatore will have her little joke, as always.’ The big man was smiling but there was a wariness in his little eyes as he looked at the silent men facing him. He sipped at his Schnapps. His glance rested on Cardinal, calculating.
‘I get the feeling it would have to be business of some importance, Carmela, before it will interest our friend here,’ Cardinal murmured, holding the big man’s glance.
‘That is so,’ Carmela replied solemnly.
‘And you say that this gentleman conducts … negotiations on these premises. I wonder why he waits here today,’ Cardinal said as though Le Cochon was not in earshot.
‘It will be something big, I have no doubt,’ Carmela surmised.
‘So it is just as well we pay this call. For it might involve an artefact of great importance. A piece of jewellery, perhaps?’ Cardinal suggested, pursing his lips thoughtfully.
Carmela sat silently, staring at the man with the glass of Schnapps. Le Cochon grimaced, spread his hands wide again, smiled, sipped at his Schnapps and looked at each of his visitors in turn. They sat in a tight half circle, silent for a little while. Le Cochon was smiling into his drink. At last, he murmured, ‘A jewel, you say.’
‘A very important one,’ Cardinal said softly.
‘Very valuable?’
‘Worth the ransom of seven kings,’ Grout said, as if on cue.
Le Cochon sighed, drank his Schnapps with a flourish and looked sadly at the three police officers. ‘Ah … it is such a shame I cannot help you. Expensive, valuable items such as a jewel … what do they have to do with me?’
Carmela leaned forward, almost menacingly. ‘I think we should not waste time in pointless discussion, my friend. We are here because it is my considered view that you – of all people – are the one most likely to be able to help us. But, if you feel you are unable to do this, perhaps I should remind you that there are certain investigations going on at the moment into activities in which, according to my colleagues, there is a suspicion you might be involved. There is the matter of a piece of pottery dating from ancient Greece; we are still tracing the route taken by the famous calyx krater and identifying the hands through which it might have passed. Your name has not yet come up as a member of the cordata but I have been considering adding your name to the list. Of course, that will mean we at the Carabinieri Art Squad will then be forced to undertake extensive enquiries into all aspects of your business here in Amsterdam. I need hardly point out to you that this will lead to police raids, disruption of business, closing down of activities, questioning – out of which may emerge much information important to us and damaging to your enterprises. If not to your health, you could lose considerable
weight, in prison.’ Carmela paused. ‘Of course, all this could be avoided. We have reached an understanding in the past. A little information here, a little there … but if, on this occasion you feel unable to assist me, well, perhaps our little arrangement will necessarily have to come to an end. Trouble could well loom for you then, as you will appreciate.’
Le Cochon sat very still, staring at Carmela almost as though he felt a friendship had been betrayed. Carefully he put down his empty glass, folded his hands across his expansive stomach. He chewed at his blubbery lips, thoughtfully. ‘You are very serious about this. ‘
‘Very.’
‘You speak of a piece of jewellery,’ Le Cochon murmured. ‘Of great value.’ He held her glance. He sighed. ‘It has not come to me, signorina.’
There was a certain hesitancy in his tone. Carmela seized on the unspoken words. ‘You do not have it, but you expect it will be coming to you?’
Le Cochon stared at her almost in dismay. ‘No, no, you must know that is not the way things are … arranged. I do not have what you seek… I don’t think it will even be coming to me.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘But … this piece … it is important … this jewel…?’
‘We think it might be the Eagle of Milan.’
Cardinal glanced quickly at Carmela then at Grout; both men were of one mind. They doubted the wisdom of telling the dealer what they were looking for. But the piggy eyes of Le Cochon had widened in surprise.
‘The Eagle? After all these centuries? I cannot believe … The rumours have been in the air, but it was never said it might be the piece you mention!’ Suddenly there was an edge almost of panic in his tone. ‘Such a piece … the da Vinci brooch. That would be beyond my range, signorina – you must know that.’
‘But there has been talk in the marketplace,’ Carmela insisted firmly.
Le Cochon was suddenly sweating. He took a large handkerchief from the pocket of his voluminous jacket and wiped his hands. He stared moodily at his empty glass and sighed again. ‘Such an item. … Well, yes, there have been whispers of something big, something important. I have to admit there has been talk, and the dealers have started to gather.’
‘At the Bodensee?’
‘That is possible,’ the big man replied, almost distracted. ‘But I have heard only that there is an Englishman involved. …’
‘His name?’ Cardinal asked harshly, unable to contain himself longer.
Le Cochon stared at him, vaguely, almost as though he had barely heard him. ‘The Englishman? I am told, I have heard it is the man who. …’ He took a deep, ragged breath. ‘I think you are looking for a man by the name of Augustus Clifford.’
Cardinal gave a fierce nod and leaned forward. ‘He has the Eagle of Milan? He has been trying to sell it? Has he been here?’
‘No.’ Le Cochon shook his head in denial. He turned to Carmela, almost pleadingly. ‘You must understand, signorina. The world I inhabit, the one you prowl the edges of, it relies on whispers and trust and mistrust. I had not heard it was a matter of the Eagle of Milan … but I had heard the Englishman Clifford was in the marketplace with something valuable. But that is all I know, and I have not met this man Clifford. I tell you this so that you will have confidence in me, signorina, so our arrangements may continue in spite of the slighting remarks you have made of me today. I am an honest man. I desire only to assist the Carabinieri Art Squad, as a legitimate man of business. No, I have not met him, but I have heard that there is … an artefact. One of great value. I have been asked if I was interested in bringing together some dealers, merely as a middleman if you understand what I mean. …’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Carmela replied angrily.
‘I swear—’
‘Don’t perjure yourself,’ Carmela said coldly and rose to her feet. ‘You will be hearing from me and my colleagues.’
‘No, please, we must maintain our relationship. …’
Carmela stood glaring at him, implacable, and the big man wiped his hands again, and sighed. He shrugged. ‘Ah, well, all right. It is of little consequence in any case. Yes, Clifford, or an associate of his, telephoned me a few days ago.’
‘And you arranged to meet him.’
The little eyes flickered from the face of Carmela to Cardinal. ‘An arrangement was made to meet. There were to be … ah … discussions. But he did not say it was to be about the treasure of the Duke of Milan. …’
‘You say there were to be discussions. They haven’t taken place?’ Cardinal queried.
‘You must understand. It was a negotiation only. I would consider handling the … onward transmission of the item, though I assure you I would have done it, only I was made certain that there was nothing illegal about the matter—’
‘Come, come,’ Carmela reproved him. ‘You knew of this man Clifford, and his dealings. It would have had to be a doubtful transaction.’
Le Cochon shrugged uneasily. ‘A man has to live, signorina. But I am being frank with you. We were to meet. If all was well, there would be a further meeting… . Negotiations first, transactions thereafter.’
Cardinal frowned. Something was niggling at him. ‘A moment ago you said that all this is of no consequence in any case. What did you mean by that?’
Le Cochon made no immediate reply but folded his hands once more over his huge stomach and closed his eyes. In a sharp, exasperated tone Cardinal said, ‘Two people have died already and this jewel has been the prize. This is not simply a case of stolen goods, of receiving stolen property. This is a case of murder.’
‘Murder? ’ It came out as a grunt. Le Cochon opened his eyes and they were bright and red, gleaming. He made a negative gesture with his hand, rose with difficulty and lumbered across the room with a slow gait. He stared out to the street and the canal beyond with his back to Carmela and the two men.
‘Murder, you say. This does not surprise me. The Eagle of the Duke … so many years it has flown. …’ His voice took on a more thoughtful tone. ‘You know, signorina, parking space in Amsterdam is so restricted. During the day, and again in the late evening, it is so difficult to find parking spaces. The cars line the canals and from time to time a careless driver does not properly put on his handbrake or engage gear. And it is not unknown for a car to trundle forward, perhaps slip into the canal. I have seen the result. Here, even, from my window. Do you know that Amsterdam has a special service, for recovery of such vehicles?’ He paused, spread his fat hands wide. ‘In fact, a car was pulled out of the Amstel this morning, at dawn, I understand… . There was the body of a man discovered in the interior of the vehicle. A report of the incident appeared in the newspaper this afternoon. It was accurate as far as my own informants have been able to assure me.’
‘Has the man been identified?’ Cardinal asked, as a cold feeling seemed to touch his spine.
Le Cochon waddled somewhat unsteadily across to the cabinet to pour himself another drink. ‘I am told his papers were in order, and recovered. An American tourist, it seems.’
‘What has this to do with your projected meeting with Clifford?’ Carmela demanded, irritated by the big man’s attitude and the manner in which he seemed to be skirting around the fringes of their questions.
Le Cochon shrugged, still staring down towards the canal. ‘This accident, it tells me that Mr Clifford will not be coming to talk to me.’
Cardinal caught the emphasis on the word accident. He rose to his feet angrily and walked across the room. He stood, angrily staring out at the street and the canal. In a harsh voice he said, ‘I don’t understand. What has an American tourist got to do with Clifford?’
Le Cochon turned. His fleshy face was expressionless. ‘According to a statement issued by the police, and the reports in the afternoon newspapers, the dead man’s passport identified him as one Rudolf Kling. But my associates tell me that Rudolf Kling was not his real name, it was merely an assumed identity. A false passport is easily acquired.’ He smiled blandly, savouring the moment. ‘This Rudolf Kli
ng … you will know the man under a different name. …’ His little eyes were fixed on Cardinal. ‘Mr Augustus Clifford.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Amsterdam police did all they could to help but the information they could offer was little enough. Of the fact that it was a case of murder they had no doubt. The car had been discovered at dawn by a boat proceeding along the Amstel and within minutes, the police and the fire engines had arrived. It had taken them well over an hour to winch the car out of the canal and there had been nothing they could do for the man inside.
‘How did he die?’ Cardinal asked brusquely.
‘Of drowning. But he had first been struck on the head. He must have been unconscious when the car entered the water. Trapped inside, he would soon have drowned.’
‘How do you reconstruct the crime?’
The burly Amsterdam detective pursed his lips. ‘We think he had probably met his assailant some distance from the canal, there must have been some sort of argument and as the victim turned away, he was struck from behind, at the back of the head. It could have happened at the edge of the canal but we cannot be certain. He was then dragged or carried the short distance to the car, placed in the passenger seat. The car was driven along the Amstel to a quiet area, the driver parked it at the edge of the road, pushed the unconscious man across the seat, closed the door and pushed the car into the canal. It would have sunk within minutes.’
‘Is there no chance of finding a witness to what happened?’ Cardinal asked.
‘The area where the car entered the water is unfrequented at night. During the day it is used by lorries delivering goods to the nearby warehouses … it is a piece of wasteland. No witnesses.’
‘Whose was the car?’
‘It was a hired car,’ the Amsterdam man replied. ‘It was hired in the name of this man Kling.’
‘Clifford.’
‘As you say. His American passport states the name Rudolf Kling.’
‘It’s Clifford all right.’ Grout had been with Cardinal when the corpse had been identified by him and he had seen the blank loss in Cardinal’s eyes. In a sense Cardinal was feeling defeat; he had wanted to get Clifford, it was an obsession that had driven him for years, and it had almost come to a climax this week.