The Amsterdam Chronicles: Def-Con City Trilogy Part 1
Page 7
After nailing the second thief, Wall ran in the direction he knew the third had taken, and just caught sight of him going over a busy bridge at the top of the Rozengracht. From a distance, he followed him through the maze of streets in the Da Costa area, then watched him disappear into a bar on the corner of the Helmersstraat. Wall checked his wallet for cash - he had enough. Five minutes after the thief went into the bar, he stepped in through the door.
The bar seemed to be a brown caf? he had read about. At least three people sat at various tables at the rear and a couple next to the windows on the left. Two men sat at one end of the semi-circular bar to the right. The brown was obviously from years of nicotine that had built up on the walls and ceiling. He knew smoking was banned in bars and public places just like back home in New York, but it did leave its imprint.
?The thief had taken a solitary seat at the opposite end of the bar, well away from the other customers. Wall could see he was older than the other two, early thirties and obviously more experienced. Amsterdam was not New York. There he knew what to expect when he entered a bar like this, something he would normally never do without his gun. Right now, he felt strangely naked and unprotected, like missing a third arm, and one that had the bigger punch. To add to the complications, they spoke a different language he did not understand, and could be used to his disadvantage. He would have to be a little more careful.
?Two men at the bar, late forties or early fifties, and judging by their soiled clothes, construction workers, glanced up as he entered. They kept their eyes on him longer than they usually would in New York. It suddenly dawned on him that he noticed few black people on the streets of Amsterdam, in fact just a fraction of what he was used to in New York. Maybe he was a curiosity, yeah, he liked the sound of that; it was nice to be different than the rest. At home, he was just another black cop. Here, he stood out from the rest.
Wall strolled casually past them, catching a whiff of a strong tobacco smell. He made his way down to the end of the bar, and stopped right next to the thief, who had already finished half a glass of beer.
"How are you doin' pal?" he said, flashing a smile at the unsuspecting robber, who immediately stopped scrolling through his mobile.
Wall carefully pulled up a stool next to him, and gently sat down. No sudden movements, everything relaxed and friendly. He gestured to the bartender for a beer, then turned and smiled at the thief, who looked away. Definitely not in the mood for conversation, Harvey thought. He knew he was going to enjoy playing the tourist.
"Just got into Amsterdam city from New York today. Amazing place you've got here. Everything is so old. I've seen buildings with dates like 1650, 1700 and all that shit. Ain't that just the coolest thing? And it's got the sort of atmosphere you can touch, don't you think?"
The thief reluctantly turned slightly towards Wall. "Sure," he said, then turned back.
"Say, you from around here? I was expecting some big cosmopolitan city like London or Paris or something like that, in fact, it's like a cute little town. Just goes to show I don't know shit. And that's how I came to be here, I don't know where I am. Just drifting through the streets, getting to know the area, getting to know the locals, like you. Know what I mean?"
There was no reply from the thief.
"I have to admit, it's good to meet you pal."
The thief moved uncomfortably on the bar stool. "Yeah," he mumbled, without looking up at Wall.
"Let me get you another beer."
"I don't want another beer." The thief replied, in a near whisper. Wall reached out and slapped him gently on the back.
"Come on, Sure you do. Have a drink on me. I bet you've done a hard day's work and you're beat, right?"
The thief, obviously irritated by the intrusion, turned and stared at Wall, searching him with his eyes. Harvey just gave him a big innocent smile, waiting for any sudden move. Then the thief sighed deeply, relenting to the situation.
"Yeah, busy day, maybe I'll just have one more."
"That's my boy." Harvey said, patting him once again on the back. "Bartender, another beer for my friend here."
The thief shifted once again on his stool and relaxed.
"Man, I really do love the buildings here."
"What are you? An architect or something?"
"No," Wall replied. "But you could say I'm into preservation and restoration."
The beers arrived, and Wall handed the barman a five Euro note.
The thief took a mouthful - he eyed the large black American. "You work in a Museum?
"Some people would say that," Harvey replied, and nodded. "Say, how about you showing me around town." He leaned in close and winked at him. "Some of the places the regular tourists like me don't get to see, know what I mean?"
The thief took another couple of gulps of the beer, nearly emptying the glass.
"I bet you could show me places that would totally freak me out."
The thief stared at him blankly.
"I'll make it worth your while," Wall said, and gestured to the change the barman left in front of him, "keep the change pal," then downed the beer in one shot.
"Sorry," the thief replied, agitated. "Just let me buy you a beer and call it quits, okay?"
"Seems fair to me." Wall held up the glass. "Damn small beer you got here," he said, studying the typical Dutch narrow glass - only about an inch and a quarter in diameter and at least a third of it was foam. "My whiskey glass back home is bigger than this."
The thief ordered two beers in Dutch, then took a ten euro note out of his pocket. Wall leaned in close once again.
"That's some strange money you got here. Can I have a look?" He grabbed the note before the thief could utter a word, and held it up to the light.
"Funny money our kids would call it, and this one's red, not like our dollars. We've got no real color like this shit. I bet you use these little babies in the red light district, right?" Harvey Wall laughed and jestingly nudged the thief, whose irritation was now reaching boiling point. Time to twist a few screws. He held the note in front of the thieves face then crumbled it in his massive fist.
"Even feels kind of funny," Wall remarked.
The bartender placed the two beers in front of them. The thief put out his hand to take the money, but Wall quickly pulled away. Holding the money to his nose he inhaled deeply, then slammed the note down with a hard smack before the barman.
"There you go," he said aloud, accompanied with a broad smile. "Keep the change."
Surprised, the bartender grabbed the note. "Thank you very much," then turned and headed to the other end of the bar. The thief looked on in shock.
"That was my money," he gasped.
"You know it even smelled funny." Wall remarked, adjusting himself carefully on the bar stool. "As if it had been baked..." He put his fingers to his nose and sniffed. "Like?pizza or something."
The thief suddenly went quiet, and looked suspiciously at Wall. He grabbed his beer, drank half of it, and left his bar stool.
"You leaving already?" Wall asked, as he headed out the door and turned to the right. Wall slowly finished his beer, slid off the bar stool, then followed. In the distance, he could see him walking over a low bridge that straddled the busy street and cross to the other side.
?Harvey Wall had not been counting the hours since the robbery but now it was quickly turning dark, he knew he had to resolve this soon. Further up he saw the thief turn left at the traffic lights. Wall went into a sprint and reached the corner within seconds; stopping outside a bright yellow painted lock and key shop.
He peered around the corner and saw him roughly forty meters away. He took note of the street name; the Kinkerstraat, Wall was surprised to see exclusive bicycle lanes that ran along the edge of the sidewalk, separated by a hand high concrete barrier from the rest of the busy traffic. Definitely something they could do with back in New York. Just in front of the traffic lights he watched in amazement as cyclists negotiated with uncanny ease the numerous tra
m tracks laid into the street coming together at the junction. One wrong move and the thin bicycle wheels could drop into the grooves of the steel tram lines embedded into the street.
Wall looked around to get his bearings. His orientation was generally good, but how was he going to get back to the hotel? Taxis did not seem to cruise the streets as they did in New York, and he had no idea as to where the trams were going. What the hell, he thought, this is definitely one way of getting to know the city. His iPhone could guide him back to the hotel if he really needed it, but preferred to do it the old-fashioned way. This way he could get to know the city quicker - feel how everything looked and shifted, the vibes, the rhythm, the mood. Right now, Amsterdam felt surprisingly relaxed and easy going, it was a good sensation.
He left the corner and followed the thief up the Kinkerstraat.
Chapter Eight