Karl strolled through the streets of the Jordaan. Back at his hideaway, he had with the help of maps and street view worked out the route he could take over the rooftops. Now he had to physically see if it was possible to jump the narrow streets or descend easily to street level, and negotiate the four different streets where his targets lived.
Little had changed over the years except that the dilapidated houses he remembered as a kid were replaced by modern flats that did a bad job blending into the rectangular old-style street architecture.
The first was in the Nieuwe Leliestraat.
He approached the three-story building that was probably once a workshop on the ground floor, with two floors of living space above it. Most of the buildings in the street were original, old and full of character. Little had changed here since he was a boy.
The second street was in an unfamiliar part of the Jordaan. He stopped to look around to get his bearings. He thought he had worked it all out, he had somehow lost his orientation. If that happened at night, he could end up on the wrong street and administer the experiment to the wrong person.
Karl turned and walked back a hundred meters, then stopped. Something was not right. The numbers on the houses did not add up. Maybe he took a wrong turn or was on the wrong street, he was not sure.
He looked up at the apartments and wondered where he could have gone wrong. The street was little more than a car wide - and quiet. The odd biker went by, but that was about it.
Karl stopped in the middle of the street and checked his piece of paper. Maybe he made a mistake with the postcode. He turned and walked to the end of the street, looking for number 367B, but the numbers on the street ended at 210, then he headed back down the street once again.
Suddenly a door to his left opened about thirty meters away and two youths came out of a house.
"Looking for something?" The first youth asked, as they strolled towards him. Aged about seventeen or eighteen, with tinted skin, and an accent. Moroccan, Webber thought. His friend, trailing two steps behind him took out his mobile and started texting. They were both taller than Webber, and muscular.
"Just looking for an old friend's house, but I think he's moved."
"You're not looking for a friend," he replied aggressively as he got closer. "What are you looking for, asshole?"
"I told you, I'm looking for a friend."
"You've got no friends here, fucking mongrel."
Karl rolled up the piece of paper in his hand. The youths stopped a little more than a meter away from him.
"What's on the paper?" He asked and reached out with his hand. Karl took a step back.
"Don't touch," Karl warned.
He laughed. "Do you hear that Achmed? Don't touch he said." His friend had finished texting and put away his mobile.
"He's here to cause trouble," the friend said.
The first youth reached out to grab Karl's jacket, but was not quick enough. Karl took another step back. The two youths advanced slowly, smiling, looking confident. Behind him he heard a couple of doors slamming further down the street. He looked around and saw another two youths of similar age heading towards him.
"I think you're here to rob our houses, shit face."
"I told you. I'm looking for an old friend."
"Why don't you meet my friends."
The youth in front of him made eye contact with those now coming up behind him. Karl was suddenly grabbed with one hand by the neck from the rear, then the youth in front of him lunged forward - bringing back his fist to smash into his face.
Karl dropped immediately to his haunches which released the grip on his neck. He turned sideways towards his attacker from the rear and rammed his left fist up into his crotch. As he doubled from the pain he stepped to the right punching the first guy directly in the diaphragm. Karl could see the shock and surprise on his face as he fell forward in agony, and gasped for air. Karl stayed low, and caught sight of the message guy who now looked on bewildered, confused. He leaned over onto his left leg and shot up his right foot to the underside of his jaw, which connected perfectly. The texter lifted about four or five centimeters into the air before falling back. His head hit the concrete with a thud. Karl was sure he heard his skull crack.
The fourth assailant stood for another two seconds with his mouth open in utter shock, then ran when Karl stood up. As he straightened his jacket and walked away, the first two were still bent over and groaning while the third remained flat on the concrete, either unconscious or dead. Karl did not bother to check.
Through the white lace curtains she continued to film on her mobile until the man moved out of sight, then turned back to film her cousin lying on the road in front of her. She was shocked at what happened, but not angry. Her cousin and his pals were the tyrants of the neighborhood and had terrorized her and her friends for years. As time went on they got bolder. Whoever he was, she felt he had just saved her life. They had learned their lesson and would not try anything for a while. She knew it would not be too long before they would go back to their old ways, then the terror would start up again. She stopped filming and went to her laptop. The video had to be kept safe and out of sight. Her brother and her cousin were always checking her mobile, looking for any sign of a boyfriend or anything they could use against her. The problem was where to hide it. She had to think, fast.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Amsterdam Chronicles: Def-Con City Trilogy Part 1 Page 49