Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2)

by Martyn V. Halm

  “There are not many people who can see inside,” Anouk said. “Unless they’re in a helicopter.”

  Katla walked to the long shelf with the sculpture models.

  “Transparency is only at full current.” Anouk turned down the rheostat. “I prefer the milky version.”

  Katla halted before the tiny Dervish. Anouk flipped a switch and the ventilators behind the models started up, their velocity pre-programmed to create a swirling pattern of air that moved the models as if they were stirred by the wind.

  “This office is part workspace, part showroom.” Anouk adjusted the ventilators so they moved in sequence from one model sculpture to the next. “I make the models first, then film them against a CGI background of the location so the buyer can see what the sculpture will look like before they pay full commission. Some request changes, that’s why there are three Dervish models.”

  “I actually like this one best.” Katla pointed to the one on the left. “Less intricate, but the shape and the movement seem more in balance than the other versions.”

  “The customer wanted a more convoluted design. I didn’t agree, but my manager convinced me to compromise.”

  “Still, they’re all beautiful in their own way.” Katla gave her a soft smile. “You’re a great artist.”

  The warmth in her eyes caused a flutter in Anouk’s belly. She felt her cheeks grow hot. To avoid staring at Katla like a lovelorn puppy, she turned away and rummaged through her papers. She felt the heat as Katla moved closer, halting right behind her.

  “So, how did you meet Bram?”

  Anouk turned, her eyes level with Katla’s mouth, the lips slightly parted to allow the tip of her tongue to slip out and moisten her full lips. Her mouth looked soft and inviting, not cruel like before. And so intoxicatingly near.

  “In the street, when he caught a thief.”

  Katla leant against her table, arms folded under her breasts, her head tilted.

  Anouk shrugged. “I used to go by De Munt as often as I could, just to hear him play. He really plays well, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Anyway, I was heading for De Munt and noticed a crowd gathered around Bram. Not the usual few stragglers, but a huge crowd. I couldn’t even see him. I could just hear his saxophone. And it was howling and screeching. So I elbowed my way through the crowd to the front and there he was. Standing with one foot on his closed flight case, screeching with his saxophone in the ears of a guy with his hand caught in the flight case.” She smiled at the memory. “Someone tried to steal from his flight case. Bram had kicked the case shut on his hand and stomped down, breaking the guy’s fingers. And to add insult to injury, he was blowing this deafening noise in the guy’s ear. And this whole crowd was gathering, laughing their asses off while the thief tried to extract his hand.” Anouk shook her head. “I saw the neon-yellow vests of the police approaching down the Kalverstraat, so I broke through the crowd and pushed Bram from his flight case. He stopped screeching his horn and I told him the police was coming to arrest him. I took his flight case and his elbow and fled with him down the Singel, hiding in a store while he told me what had happened. He was really pissed off that someone tried to take advantage of his blindness to steal from him.”

  “If the thief’s hand was really mangled, that would be assault with grievous bodily harm.”

  “Maybe his blindness would’ve been considered extenuating circumstances, but I just wanted to protect him.”

  “The thief must’ve been mad as hell.”

  “He was, but I looked him up, gave him money for the hospital bill and told him not to go near my boyfriend ever again.”

  “And he accepted that?”

  “I told him I could make his life miserable.”

  “Could you?”

  “I would have to pull some strings, but yes, I could.”

  “Did you tell Bram?”

  Anouk shook her head. “I didn’t want him to think I was mixing myself in his affairs. He’s fiercely independent.”

  “And pretty able to defend himself.”

  “Up to a point, sure. But I didn’t want someone walking around with a grudge against Bram.” Anouk shrugged. “Anyway, that’s how we met. I had to court him for another month before we finally slept together.”

  “How long did your relationship last?”

  “Almost two years. Until I screwed it up.” Her mouth twisted. “It’s true what they say, you don’t know how much you’ll miss something until it’s really gone. For three years, every time he smiled at me, I felt this soaring hope that he might forgive me and come back to me. I knew my hope was in vain when he met you. Did you know he was celibate for two years?”

  “He called it ‘in-between relationships’.”

  Anouk shook her head. “He pulled down the shutters and hung up a closed sign. Made him all the more attractive, though. I could see his groupies flirting like crazy, but he ignored all of them. And then you appeared.”

  “How did you screw it up?”

  “I really don’t feel like talking about Bram anymore, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.” Katla grinned. “I had a weird dream about you.”

  “A weird dream?”

  “Well, dreaming about your boyfriend’s ex is always a bit weird, I suppose.” Katla shrugged. “You were running through the woods, naked except for your tattoos.”

  “And you?”

  “I was following you.” Katla grinned. “Like I said, weird.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  “Means?” Katla shook her head. “I’m not into dream interpretation.”

  “Maybe your dream reveals some hidden desire?”

  “Doubtful,” Katla said. “I’ve seen you naked. And I don’t really want to kill you.”

  “Kill me?”

  “I wasn’t just following you.” Katla mimicked propping a rifle against her shoulder, her grin turning wicked. “I was hunting you with my crossbow.”

  -o-

  Katla was glad for the dark visor on her helmet as she puttered past a black Lexus SUV parked rather obtrusively at Kadijksplein. Behind the wheel a young Chinese man smoked a cigarette. Instead of heading down Laagte Kadijk to her home, Katla took the Hoogte Kadijk against traffic and followed it all the way to the Texaco at the Sarphatistraat. Next to the Albert Heijn supermarket on the other side of the intersection stood another black Lexus SUV, equally obtrusive.

  Too obtrusive for surveillance. Probably intended to intimidate. Let her know they knew where she lived, although they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint her apartment.

  For now, at least.

  She had to do something. And quick. First thing to do is to go in full covert mode.

  Katla parked her scooter in the Entrepôtdok underground parking where she kept several covert vehicles. She covered the Vespa with an old tarp and uncovered her ultra-reliable but boring dark-grey Suzuki Burgman 400 scooter. The Burgman was probably the most popular motor scooter in the Netherlands and while her Vespa was sometimes viewed with admiration, the Burgman drew merely disdainful looks from both motorcyclists and vintage scooter riders.

  Katla opened the Burgman’s buddy seat and took the anonymous black Nolan N43 helmet from the storage space. The Burgman purred to life at the first touch of the starter button and glided out of the underground parking, Katla pulled onto the Hoogte Kadijk and rode past the Kadijksplein. She flipped down the Nolan’s integrated sunscreen to hide her face as she trundled past the SUV with the Kau Hong surveillance, mildly wondering how long they would be able to stand the boredom and find something else to do.

  SENTRY

  Zeph studied the fog hovering over the dark water of the IJ, his gaze slipping over Katla sitting in the bow of the Zodiac, legs outstretched and eyes closed.

  Clad in black from head to toe, with a woollen cap pulled over her short brown hair and smudges on her face, Katla looked like a soldier taking a nap between battles, the knee brace
around her right leg strengthening the illusion.

  The thickening fog forced him to shave past the buoys to read the numbers. A bow light came up straight ahead and Zeph swerved to starboard as the angular bow of an old freighter loomed up from the mist and bore down on them. As the Zodiac tilted, Katla opened her eyes and gazed without moving at the dark hull gliding past at a distance of less than two meters, the freighter’s backwash throwing the dinghy to the side. Zeph steered the Zodiac into the freighter’s wake, the dinghy pitching violently before reaching calmer waters. Holding on the guide ropes, Katla pulled herself up into a sitting position and peered after the stern of the freighter being swallowed by the fog.

  “No worry, sista.” Zeph removed the spliff from his lips and tapped the ashes over the side. “This Zodiac is practically unsinkable.”

  “I wasn’t worried about the dinghy, Zeph.”

  He shrugged, stuck the spliff back in his mouth, and consulted his handheld GPS, wishing he had radar to locate other ships in the area.

  “Where are we?”

  He showed her the screen. “Oude Houthaven.”

  Katla sank back to the bottom and folded her arms across her chest, closing her eyes again.

  “Sleepy, sista?”

  “No. Meditating.”

  Zeph smiled to himself, sitting easily on the port side of the Zodiac, his right hand wrapped around the Mercury’s handle, keeping her at half-throttle as they puttered past the Houthavens. He turned the throttle all the way back and they drifted through the dark fog as he checked his GPS again. He should be close to the next buoy.

  Katla opened her eyes. “Trouble navigating?”

  “Just making sure I&I are still on course. Fog make it difficult.”

  “We’re not in a hurry.” Leaving her right leg with the knee brace stretched out, Katla pulled up her left leg and rested her chin on the raised knee. “The fog also swallows the sound of your outboard, making our approach even stealthier.”

  Zeph found the buoy and twisted the throttle again. The Zodiac entered the Mercuriushaven and he kept close to the buoys on starboard, the invisible cranes on the quay creaking in the dark. Lights were visible on shore, but not clear enough to guide him. The damp rising from the water left chilled beads like cold sweat on his face as he piloted the Zodiac past the hulls of berthed freighters into the Vlothaven.

  Katla pushed herself up until she sat on the bow, holding on to the guide ropes while she looked around. “Can you find a ladder? On that side?”

  Zeph crossed the harbour to the other side, watching Katla adjust the straps of her knee brace and flex her leg. As he caught sight of the quay, he pushed the handle of the outboard away to make the Zodiac describe a semicircle and putter along the quay wall. He cut the engine and allowed the dinghy to drift slowly in the direction of a ladder, one of the many set at intervals into the quay wall. The Zodiac jarred to a halt as Katla grabbed one of the bottom rungs and braced herself. While Zeph lashed the Zodiac to the lowest rung, Katla started to climb the ladder, left foot first and dragging right leg after. He finished securing the rope and grabbed one of the rungs when she halted halfway up, looked down and shook her head.

  “Stay here, Zeph. I won’t be long.”

  “You no want my help?”

  “Piloting the dinghy is all the help I need.”

  He halted and watched as she climbed on, stepped onto the quay and disappeared. He sat down again, feeling used. Was this all he was to her? A means of transport?

  It’s a test, a voice inside his head said. She has to learn to trust you to do what she says.

  Yeah, right.

  He gazed at the oil-slicked black water, hawked and spat a white gob over the side of the Zodiac, watching it drift past the bow. No wonder harbours were so unearthly quiet at night. What bird would want to float around in that? He shivered and hawked another gob of spit into the water. He could’ve been at the Roustabout right now, maybe sit in on a jam session, instead of freezing his ass in a fogged-up harbour. The fun of the ‘expedition’ was rapidly fading and silently he urged Katla to hurry up so they could go back to the Mojo and play a game of Aliens.

  From overhead came a scraping sound and he glanced up, expecting Katla to reappear, when an Asian man with a moonlike face stepped into view and pointed a big black gun at him.

  “Good evening,” he spoke pleasantly. “You’re trespassing.”

  “No shoot, mahn.” Zeph tapped the dark screen of his GPS, hoping the Asian wouldn’t regard it threatening and plug him. “I lost the way. This Houthaven?”

  “No. Come here or I’ll sink your boat.”

  It probably wouldn’t be smart to point out that a Zodiac couldn’t be sunk with a bullet. Anyway, he didn’t want any holes in his boat.

  Trembling all over, Zeph climbed the ladder to the quay, fear buzzing his brain like a horde of angry bees. The Asian man stepped back from the edge of the quay, his gun poised at his midriff, unwavering. Almost as tall as Zeph, the Asian was slimmer, or maybe it was his black suit, the unbuttoned jacket exposing a white dress shirt without a tie.

  A smile split his moonlike face in two. “Where’s your partner?”

  “Partner?” Sweat broke out in rivulets all over his body as the placid features of his captor shifted into mask of anger and the gun swung up, the barrel touching the skin between his eyebrows.

  “The one I saw scurrying away from this spot.”

  “I—I be alone, mahn.” The acrid smell of metal and gun oil invaded his nostrils and turned his legs to jelly. He swallowed thickly and added, “I swear.”

  The Asian took the gun from his forehead, smiled and rammed the barrel of the gun hard in the pit of Zeph’s belly.

  Gasping for breath, Zeph doubled over, the crack of his knees on the bricks no comparison to the blinding pain radiating from his stomach to his heart. The Asian fished a metal tube from his pocket and screwed it tot the barrel of his gun. “Last chance, pal. Where’s your partner?”

  “No partner,” Zeph croaked. A dark shape appeared through the fog behind the Asian.

  The Asian chuckled and twirled the gun around his finger. “I’ll shoot you in the kneecaps first and work my way up to your head.”

  Katla appeared like a wraith out of the fog behind the Asian, her pale face calm and determined, her dark eyes narrowed. With gliding steps, she closed the distance, her limp gone, her hospital cane stuck in her belt like a sword. When she was two steps behind the Asian, Katla sank down to her haunches, her knees popping like firecrackers. The Asian whipped around, spiralling clockwise down to the ground, his right arm outstretched, the hand with the gun slicing the air. His gun arm connected with a dull crack against Katla’s right forearm. Her arm wrapped around his arm and her free hand crossed their linked arms in a blur as she hit him in the throat.

  Everything froze for an instant, then the Asian crumpled like a marionette whose strings were cut. He toppled sideways and rolled on his back, his knees sticking up at an angle. Katla remained crouched low, her right foot forward and her left hip turned to the front, her left arm straight out with blood dripping from her clawed hand. Zeph shifted his gaze to the Asian staring glassily at the dark sky, a hole the size of a fist in his throat. Bile floating behind his teeth, Zeph watched Katla glide forward and push the bloody clump in her left hand back in the torn hole, as if that might somehow restore the Asian back to life.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Zeph groaned, biting the knuckle of his index finger to keep from throwing up. Katla wiped the blood from her hand on the dead man’s jacket, her eyes dark pits in her pale face. She rose slowly to her feet, the Asian’s gun still clamped in her right armpit. Like a juggler, she let the gun drop from her armpit and caught it in her right hand.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, moving in his direction. “Did he hurt you?”

  Clutching his belly, Zeph shied away from her bloodstained fingers. His midriff felt crushed as he tried to get to his feet. Katla pulled him up, her arm around
his waist as she steered him away from the corpse, guiding him to the edge of the quay. His wobbly legs almost gave way under him and she sat him down on the edge of the quay, his legs swinging over the side.

  “Stay here, Zeph. Don’t fall into the harbour, I’ll be right back.”

  Katla turned and was about to walk back to the body, when he reached out and grabbed her trouser leg.

  “Katla… Sista, I&I have to go.”

  She looked down at his hand, her eyes dark pits in her pale face, and he released the trouser leg. Her voice was eerily calm and detached. “I’m not finished. If you feel better, go on down and wait for me.”

  “Him dead, sista.”

  Without another word Katla limped back to the dead man and crouched by his side.

  Zeph turned and climbed down a few rungs, then stopped and watched Katla as a small beam of light shone from her hand, playing over the dead man. Looking like a ghoul from a B-movie, Katla opened the dead Asian’s jacket, took his wallet from his inside pocket and slipped it in a side pocket of her bomber. Her fingers delved in the wound and lifted something from the pulped mess. A string connected the object in her hand to the body and she tugged sharply, the string parting with an audible snick. The second load of bile was queuing up to enter his mouth, but he was unable to look away. Katla tore a piece from the lining of the dead man’s jacket and wrapped the object into it before sticking it away in her pocket. As she rose to her feet and turned to the quay, Zeph descended the ladder and sat next to the outboard, closing his eyes and taking shallow breaths to keep from vomiting.

  The Zodiac rocked and he opened his eyes.

  Katla was standing in the bow, untying the nylon rope that held them to the quay. His midriff screaming in agony, Zeph turned to the Mercury and yanked the starter cord. He sat down beside the spluttering outboard engine, his left hand holding the nylon guide rope, while his right held the Mercury’s handle. Paying no attention to him, Katla stretched out in the bow, her legs on the side of the Zodiac, crossed at the ankles. Her bloodstained fingers loosened the straps of her knee brace and she leant back, closing her eyes as the Zodiac puttered away from the quay and was swallowed by the fog. He wondered if she was meditating again. She seemed way too calm for someone who just ripped out someone’s throat. The pain in his stomach got worse and he rubbed his belly softly while he piloted the Zodiac. Katla shuddered and opened her eyes, gazing numbly at her left hand. She looked up at him, a haunted look in her eyes.