Floodgate

by Alistair MacLean

  ‘And, of course, you’ll tell her that I told you to.’

  ‘No. I must say it’s a sad thing to be held in such low esteem by two ladies you love.’

  ‘The Lieutenant is pleased to be flippant,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Flippancy? Never. You don’t believe me?’

  ‘No, I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I care very much about you. But as a matter of principle and in the interests of discipline, a barrier must remain between the officer class and rankers.’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ The tone was one of pure exasperation.

  ‘The principle doesn’t seem to be standing up very well,’ van Effen said gloomily. ‘And the barrier’s flat. So much for discipline.’

  Annemarie gave no indication that she had heard a word he’d said.

  Julie, polite but reserved, had gone to make coffee, Annemarie had headed for the bath and van Effen spoke to the guard, a man called Thyssen, who assured him that all was quiet and that the man he had relieved had had a similarly uneventful night. Julie entered the living-room just as he did: she was still quiet and unsmiling.

  ‘Julie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I’ve hurt my Julie.’

  ‘You? Hurt? How?’

  ‘That’s right. Make it easy for me. I know you’ve been upset, most likely still are. Annemarie told me.’

  ‘Did she tell you why?’

  ‘No. But it didn’t take my analytical mind, the one you’re always denigrating, very long to figure it out. In retrospect, I could have been more tactful. But things on my mind, lots of things. Apart from those things, you’re upset, Annemarie is upset because you’re upset, and I’m upset because the two of you are upset. I’ve got to go out and see some desperate criminals and I can’t afford to be upset. I have to be careful, crafty, cunning, calculating, watchful and ruthless and I can’t be any of those things if I’m upset, and I’ll only be upset if you insist on remaining upset. So you’ll have me on your conscience for the rest of your life if something happens to me, such as being shot in the head, thrown off a high building or drowned in a canal. Are you still upset?’

  She came close to him; linked her hands behind his neck and put her head on his shoulder. ‘Of course I am. Not because of last night, but because of what you’ve just said. You’re the only brother I have and I suppose I have to love someone.’ She tightened her grip. ‘One of those days the gallant Lieutenant is going to go out into what the gallant Lieutenant calls the dreadful night and the gallant Lieutenant is not going to come back.’

  ‘This is the morning, Julie.’

  ‘Please. You know what I mean. I feel fey, Peter. I feel something dreadful is going to happen today.’ She tightened her grip even more. ‘I do so wish you weren’t going out. I’d do anything in the world to stop you. You know that this is not the first time—that I’ve felt this way, I mean—it’s been three or four times, and I’ve been right every time. Change your appointment, Peter, please, darling. I know, I just know how I won’t feel this way tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll come back, Julie. I love you, you love me, I know you’d be terribly sad if I didn’t come back, so I’ll have to come back, won’t I?’

  ‘Please, Peter. Please!’

  ‘Julie, Julie.’ He smoothed her hair. ‘You lot certainly do wonders for my morale.’

  ‘What do you mean “you lot”?’

  ‘Annemarie’s been at it too. Feeling fey, I mean. Prophesying death, doom and disaster. You can imagine how this cheers me up no end. Tell you what. A compromise. I promise you I won’t be lured astray by any bad men or go anywhere with them from the Hunter’s Horn. I’ll listen to what they say then make my plans accordingly. Basically, I think that I’ll arrange to meet them again at a time and place of my own choosing, this being after I’ve learnt what their plans are for me—or their evil intentions. So, a deal. If you promise me one of your cordon bleu lunches—finest French wines, of course—for one o’clock, I’ll promise I’ll be here at one.’

  Still with her hands linked behind his neck she leaned back and looked at him. ‘You will?’

  ‘Just said so. Your eyes are funny. About to weep salt tears for the gallant Lieutenant?’

  ‘I was thinking about it.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’ll think about the lunch menu instead.’

  Annemarie came in. She was wearing a bathrobe that was much too large for her and a towel wound around her presumably still very wet hair. She smiled and said: ‘It’s difficult to move around this house without interrupting private conversations. Sorry I look such a fright.’

  ‘You can frighten me at any time,’ van Effen said cheerfully. ‘She really isn’t too bad looking, is she, Julie?’

  ‘She’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.’

  ‘In my profession you don’t get to see many girls, beautiful or otherwise.’ He looked at Julie consideringly. ‘You’re not too bad yourself. But, then, I’m used to your face. It’s a toss-up. And who am I to quibble in—or at—such company?’

  ‘It pleases the Lieutenant to be carefree and light-hearted, Julie,’ Annemarie said acidly. ‘He was anything but this morning. What have you done to him?’

  ‘We’ve been conducting a mutual admiration party,’ van Effen said.

  ‘No, we haven’t. And I haven’t been appealing to his better nature either—I wouldn’t know where to look for that. I think maybe we’re slightly unfair to the poor man. Both you and I, it seems, have been full of bad omens and predicting all sorts of awful things that are going to happen to him. He was just suffering from some gloom and despondency, that’s all.’

  ‘He wasn’t the only one,’ Annemarie said. ‘Your cloud seems to have lifted a bit, too.’

  ‘You’re choking me,’ van Effen said.

  ‘Ah!’ She unclasped her hands. ‘Peter says he isn’t going to do anything brave today. Just going to the Hunter’s Horn, meeting whoever is there, make arrangements for another meeting and then leave. Going to find out what their plans for him are. Thing is, he’s going directly there—where he’ll be guarded by heaven knows how many armed detectives—and coming directly back again.’

  Annemarie smiled, her relief as obvious as Julie’s. ‘That is good.’ The smile slowly vanished. ‘How do you know he’ll keep his word?’

  ‘A police officer’s word—’ van Effen began.

  ‘Because he’s coming back at one o’clock. For lunch. Extra special. French wines. He knows what I’m like if anyone is late for my meals, far less misses them. Besides, I’d never cook for him again.’

  ‘Banned for life? No, not that. I’ll be back. Guaranteed.’

  Annemarie said: ‘Is he coming for us or for the lunch?’

  ‘The lunch, of course. Us he can see any time.’

  ‘Not or—and,’ van Effen said. ‘A peaceful hour. I may well be called upon to attend to something about two o’clock. The FFF, I mean.’

  ‘I thought,’ Annemarie said, ‘that they weren’t going to do anything until some undisclosed time tomorrow.’

  ‘I was about to tell you. I was interrupted.’

  Julie said: ‘Somebody interrupted you?’

  ‘She did. She was either being fey, like you, or getting on to me about something or other.’

  ‘What?’ Annemarie said.

  ‘How can one remember one instance out of so many? However. The FFF promise to entertain us at two o’clock this afternoon. Same place on the North Holland canal north of Alkmaar as promised this morning—they say the mines have been planted since yesterday, that they elected not to fire them and defy us to find them—and also the Hagestein sluice.’

  ‘The what?’ Julie said.

  ‘A sluice. Technically, I believe, a regulable weir. Concrete structure to control the flow of water. South of Utrecht, on the lower Rhine. They may attack one or the other, they say, or both, or neither. The old uncertainty principle. Well
, time to dress for my appointment.’

  He squeezed his sister’s shoulders, kissed her, did the same to an astonished Annemarie, said: ‘Someone has to uphold the law,’ and left.

  Julie looked at the closed door and shook her head. ‘There are times, I feel, when someone should pass a law against him.’

  Van Effen, attired as he had been for his visit the previous afternoon, parked his car—not the Peugeot—in a side street three blocks away from the Hunter’s Horn and made his way to the back entrance of the restaurant. As the Hunter’s Horn was situated in a far from salubrious area this door was kept permanently locked. Van Effen had the key. He entered, passed into the semi-darkness of the passageway beyond and had just relocked the door when something hard jabbed with painful force into the small of his back.

  ‘Don’t move.’

  Van Effen didn’t move. He said: ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Police.’

  ‘You have a name?’

  ‘Raise your hands.’ A torch nicked on behind him. ‘Jan, see if he has a gun.’

  Hands fumbled at his jacket and he felt his shoulder-holstered gun being removed. Van Effen said: ‘So. My hands are up. My gun is gone. May I turn round?’

  ‘Very well.’ Van Effen turned. ‘Is that the way, Sergeant Koenis, to teach your men to search for weapons?’ He lowered his hands and hitched up his trousers. There was an ankle holster, each with its Lilliput, attached to each leg. ‘Put on the overhead light.’

  The light came on. The man with the gun said: ‘Good God. Lieutenant van Effen. Sorry about that, sir.’

  ‘Just as long as you didn’t shoot me full of holes, Sergeant. Nothing to be sorry for. Semi-dark, and, with my back to you, my trademarks, scar and black glove, weren’t visible. And, of course, you weren’t expecting me to enter this way. I’m just glad to see that you and your men are so on the alert.’

  ‘I didn’t even recognize your voice.’

  ‘Cheek padding. I must admit it does alter the voice somewhat. How many men do you have here, Sergeant?’

  ‘Five, sir. Two with machine pistols.’

  ‘And in the street outside?’

  ‘Another five. Behind first-floor windows. Another two machine pistols.’

  ‘Very gratifying. To see that the Colonel places so high a value on his Lieutenant.’ He turned to the young policeman who held the gun in his hand. ‘Do you think I could have my property back?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Of course.’ The policeman was highly embarrassed. ‘I won’t make that mistake again.’

  ‘I know you won’t. Go and ask Henri if he’ll come here—Henri’s the sad-looking man behind the bar.’

  When Henri appeared, lugubrious as ever, he said: ‘I hear you’ve been held at gunpoint, Peter. Must have been a rather unusual experience for you. My fault. I forgot to tell the Sergeant that you had your own key. Never expected you to come that way.’

  ‘No harm. Customers. How many?’

  ‘Three only. And, yes, they’re regulars. Any more come in when you and your visitors are talking and I’ll keep them well away. No one will be able to hear a word you say.’

  ‘Except you, of course.’

  Henri almost smiled. ‘Except me. The gentleman who was here said they wouldn’t find the microphone even if they looked for it. He asked me if I could find it and I couldn’t. Not in my own bar. He said he thought it was highly unlikely that they would look anyway.’

  ‘I think so too. Switch on the recorder in the office as soon as they come through the door. I shall be off now and make a respectable entrance through the front door. They’ve probably got someone watching.’

  Van Effen was sitting in the booth nearest the door when the three men entered, Agnelli in the lead. Van Effen stood and shook hands with Agnelli, who seemed no less genial and friendly than he had on the previous occasion.

  ‘Very pleased to meet you again, Mr Danilov,’ Agnelli said. ‘Helmut, of course, you know.’ Paderiwski didn’t offer to shake hands. ‘And this is my brother, Leonardo.’

  Leonardo Agnelli did offer to shake hands. He bore no resemblance to his brother. He was short, squat and had black beetling brows. The brows in themselves meant nothing, he’d just been born that way: in his own ugly way he seemed just as harmless as his brother, which again, of course, meant nothing. Introductions over, van Effen sat down. Agnelli and the other two men remained standing.

  Agnelli said: ‘This is your favourite booth, Mr Danilov?’

  Van Effen looked slightly puzzled. ‘I don’t have a favourite booth. This is—well, it’s just the one furthest away from the rest of the customers. I thought you might appreciate the privacy.’

  ‘We do, we do. But would you mind if we went to another?’

  Van Effen gave them some more of the same puzzled frown. ‘Not at all. But I think I’m entitled to know why. Stop! I have it. The concealed microphone. A splendid basis for mutual trust.’ He appeared to think briefly. ‘Might have done the same myself.’

  ‘You’re an explosives expert.’ Agnelli sounded apologetic. ‘Such people usually—always, I believe—have a considerable knowledge of electronics.’

  Van Effen smiled, stood, moved out into the aisle and waved a hand toward the empty booth. ‘A thousand guilders to the first man to find the concealed microphone which I’ve just spent hours installing under the fascinated gaze of the proprietor and his customers. A thousand guilders for a few seconds’ work. I have a generous nature.’

  Agnelli laughed. ‘In that case, I don’t think we need bother to move.’ He sat and gestured that the other two should do the same. ‘Not joining us, Mr Danilov?’

  ‘When I’m talking I—’

  ‘Of course. I think we’ll all have beer.’

  Van Effen ordered, sat and said: ‘Well, gentlemen, to the point.’

  ‘Certainly.’ Agnelli smiled. ‘That’s the way I prefer it. We have reported to our leader and he seems to approve our choice.’

  ‘I had hoped to see him here this morning.’

  ‘You’ll see him tonight. At the Dam Square. The royal palace, to be precise, part of which, with your expert assistance, we intend to blow up tonight.’

  ‘What!’ Van Effen spilled some of the beer which he had just picked up. ‘The royal palace! You did say the royal palace?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You’re mad. You’re quite mad.’ Van Effen spoke with simple conviction.

  ‘We don’t think so. Nor are we joking. Will you do it?’

  ‘I’ll be damned if I will.’

  Agnelli smiled his easy smile. ‘You have been overcome by a bout of righteousness? A law-abiding upholder of justice and the straight and narrow path?’

  ‘None of those things, I must admit. But you must understand that although I operate mainly outside the law and have a past that wouldn’t bear rigorous examination, in fact, any kind of examination, I’m a pretty normal citizen in most ways. I’ve come to like the Dutch, and, although I don’t know them from Adam, I’ve come to respect, even admire, their royal family.’

  ‘Your sentiments do you credit, Mr Danilov. Believe me, I share them. But I hardly think those are your real reasons for refusing. You said yesterday afternoon that you would not become involved in any operation where there might arise even the danger of risk to limb, far less to life. Is that not so?’ Van Effen nodded. ‘I assure you no such risk will arise tonight.’

  ‘Then you just want to cause a harmless explosion inside the palace—’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘And why in heaven’s name should you want to cause a harmless explosion inside the palace?’

  ‘You are not to concern yourself with that. It is, as you may well guess, a purely psychological gesture.’

  ‘How am I to know it will be harmless?’

  ‘You’ll be able to satisfy yourself on this score when you get there. The explosion will take place inside an empty cellar. There are empty cellars on either side of it. All four doors are lo
ckable and we will remove the keys after they have been locked. There are also empty cellars above. There is absolutely no danger to anyone involved.’

  ‘There’s danger to us. The palace is heavily guarded. Word has it that the guards are likely to ask questions of an intruder after they’ve shot him dead. My aversion to people getting killed includes myself.’

  ‘Please, Mr Danilov. We are not simple-minded. Do I look like a person who would embark upon an operation like this without every detail being meticulously planned in detail beforehand?’

  ‘I’ll grant that. You don’t.’

  ‘Then you may rest assured that we will encounter no trouble. As an additional assurance, both our leader and I will be there with you. We have no more ambition to end up in durance vile than you have.’

  ‘Maybe your records are not so unblemished either.’

  ‘Unblemished or not, it would go hard with anyone caught with explosives within the precincts of the palace.’

  ‘Very neat.’ Van Effen sounded sour. ‘So now you know I have a record whereas I don’t know whether you have or not.’

  ‘It hardly matters, does it?’

  ‘If it does, it escapes me at the moment. It’ll probably come to me when it’s too late. What’s this bomb like?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Agnelli smiled. Van Effen had practically committed himself. ‘I’m not an explosives expert. Such talents as I have lie elsewhere, more in the organizing field, shall we say. I understand that it weighs three or four kilos and is made of some material called amatol.’

  ‘What are the cellars made of?’

  ‘Made of? You mean the walls?’

  ‘What else could I mean?’

  ‘I really couldn’t tell you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it matters. I was just trying to figure the blast effect. If the cellars are deep and have—’

  ‘Those cellars are very deep.’

  ‘So. And with the palace on top they’ll have to support a very considerable weight. I don’t know how old this particular part of the palace may be, I know nothing about the palace, but the walls would have to be pretty stoutly built. Reinforced concrete is unlikely. Dressed stone, I should guess, and of a considerable thickness. Your little firework is hardly likely to dent them. All the people in the palace will be aware of is a slight shake, if that, a tremor that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows at the nearest seismographic station, wherever that may be. As for the sound factor, it would be negligible.’