The Rattle-Rat

by Janwillem Van De Wetering

  "I could retire on that," de Gier said.

  "Not much at all," the farmer said, "but it's more than I usually carry. You see the fat man over there, with the green cap? That's Kryl. Kryl will be buying for a million in a minute. And Wubbe, over there, the man with the beard and the silver knob on his cane? He'll be spending two million if he can find the right beasts."

  De Gier shook his head slowly. "And they've got all that in cash?"

  "They won't be paying taxes," the farmer said. "We don't like that here. If you pay through the bank, the government is watching. Signing papers." The farmer waved all thoughts connected to signed papers away. "That's good for the likes of you, who live below the dike. Keeps you busy, I'm sure. The busier you are, the better. You were so busy that you didn't watch out for the plague. Lost your cattle, and we'll be selling you new stock. We don't mind making a profit."

  De Gier excused himself, for he had just seen Bald Ary and Fritz with the Tuft, admiring cows in the hall below. Easily recognizable from the photographs de Gier had studied, both suspects strolled about at ease, as lithe as lethal predators in a prairie filled with juicy wildlife waiting to be pounced upon. How wonderful, de Gier thought, that I can watch this, and follow at my ease, and have nothing to do with any of it.

  "Cattle plague," Ary was saying. "Why doesn't anybody ever tell me anything? So there'll be a lot more trading today. And we never prepared."

  "Another serious mistake," Fritz said. 'Today is the day, not next Friday. And we haven't dressed for our parts."

  "The successful know how to control a given situation," Ary was saying. "I say the hell with caution. We'll do it today. This is our luck, let's grab it."

  De Gier was gone. Where were the colleagues? Everybody around wore linen coats and caps and were minding their business. De Gier ran outside.

  Eldor Janssen was herding trucks that tried to squeeze through the wrong gate. Eldor wouldn't give way. The trucks backed up.

  "Eldor," de Gier shouted, "they'll be doing it today, this Ary and this Fritz."

  "Can't be," Eldor said. "I spotted them too, just now. We have their photographs up in our cube. Today they're sup- posed to be scouting, and they'll be back next week and then we'll take care of them."

  •Today," de Gier said. "Because of the vast volume of trading that's going on. There's more loot to be grabbed. Where is your command post?"

  "Aren't they clever fellows?" Eldor asked. "All the cars that belong to the Arrest Team are parked in the rear, where they can't get out. I've been directing trucks that way."

  "Get the trucks out. Find me your chief."

  Eldor said, "The command post is next to the bar. The chief constable is in charge. He's a nobleman, you'll recognize him at once. He's so straight that he leans backward."

  "Now look at that," de Gier said, pointing at Ary and Fritz, who were buying dustcoats at a stall. "They're about ready."

  "Sergeant," the chief constable said. "Not today. Out of the question. Please. Do go away."

  "Should I talk to the suspects?" de Gier asked. 'Tell them to go home and try again next week? When you're ready?"

  "This is only an exercise," the chief constable said. 'The communications gear hasn't even been connected."

  The commander of the Arrest Team reported.

  "You too?" the chief constable asked. "Not today, that's final. We'll do a good job or we'll do nothing at all."

  "My cars are blocked," the commander said. "I have no idea what car the suspects will be using, or which way out they're expected to take. I need an open range so that I can use fully automatic fire."

  "War tactics?" the chief constable asked. "Here? In my city?"

  "Wherever you like," the commander said. "I don't care where I direct my fire. I'll blow suspects to smithereens in any location you will be good enough to suggest. Violence will be used."

  "No violence," the chief constable said. "Violence is to be prevented at all costs."

  "So why call us in?" the commander asked.

  "Listen here, colleague," the chief constable said. "The suspects will commit their armed robbery and subsequently escape, according to our plan. We know what they look like, and they'll be arrested later on."

  "WhatV the commander said. "No, sir, they'll be liquidated with minimal delay."

  "All of this still has to be looked into somewhat," the chief constable said.

  "Sir?" de Gier said. "The suspects are walking over there. Two dangerous and armed criminals. They've just picked up their weapons from their car. The robbery"—de Gier raised his hand slowly—"will begin... about... now."

  "That's all very well," the chief constable said, "but this is not the right time at all. Peak hour. Here we are, hampered by cows milling about, and the streets are clogged with daddies driving to work and mommies walking the kids to school."

  "So what?" the commander asked. "We'll barrel right through any obstruction. That's the way we're trained. Whap, another bicycle flattened, kerblam, another car on its side. All our arms will be aimed at the escapees and our engines will growl with uncontained fierce energy. In cold blood my men will handle their supermodern equipment."

  "This is not really the way I'd been visualizing proceedings," the chief constable said.

  "Should I follow the suspects a little?" de Gier asked.

  "If only I could warn someone," the chief constable said.

  Ary and Fritz drank coffee in the bar. De Gier was at the next table, one ear freed from his exuberant curls.

  "This coat is too large for me," Fritz said, "and the clogs are too small. Did I become a successful gangster to clobber about on clogs?"

  "This cap is oversized," Ary said. "It keeps tipping into my eyes. It'll be hard to see what I'm doing."

  "Why didn't we know earlier?" Fritz asked. "I know just the right atelier that supplies wigs, mustaches, anything. Good thing we brought our guns."

  "Our clients are getting sozzled," Ary said. "Shall we have one for the road?"

  "Just one," Fritz said.

  The waitress brought them Frisian jenever.

  "This isn't nice," Ary said. "It reminds me of my Mary's tea. Would it be some health drink?"

  "It'll stop your cough," Fritz said. "Okay, here's the plan. Money doesn't change hands in the hall below, I've noticed that. Bills are settled up here. You can see it for yourself. Look down there, over to the right. See the two farmers slapping each other's hands? The one rustic keeps walking away and the other doesn't stay close either, but they keep meeting once in a while."

  "Crazy show," Ary said. "Now they're both complaining to their cows. As if the silly beasts care about what prices they'll be fetching."

  "It's all for entertainment," Ary said. "At this stage it is. Now. Right. They slapped for the third time. Third time counts. Now one has to collect money, and he'll be doing it here. Once most of them have come into this bar, we'll start our action. There are only two doors. You take one and I'll cover the other. Guns at the ready. The first shot will be a blank, just to show them what's what. Bit of a bang. You're with me so far? Then we move in and grab their purses table by table?"

  "The purses are attached to their necks."

  "We'll yank them off. Purses into our bags. As soon as the bags are filled we'll be on our way. Into the car and gone."

  Fritz looked about him. "Still too few customers in here. Maybe we can use another herbal beverage for our health. Miss?"

  "Here's how," Ary said. "How," said Fritz. "We Indians are winning."

  De Gier walked through the hall. The chief constable ran by. "Sir?" de Gier said.

  "Not now," the chief constable said. "Try someone else. Any man with a red necktie is a cop," The chief constable jogged off.

  A red necktie came by. "Hello?" de Gier said. "Anyone in charge here on this lower level?"

  "In charge?" the man in the red necktie asked. He draped his arm around de Gier's shoulders. "I bought the sexiest cow, spent my last penny. I'm so tired, but I'm exuber
antly content."

  De Gier stared at him.

  The man repeated his statement in Frisian.

  "I don't speak your language yet," de Gier said, "but I can read it somewhat. I've been reading about a lady called Martha who detests all her men. I'm really after the chief cop in the hall now. Would you mind pointing him out?"

  "I left my chief at home," the man in the red necktie said. "And later today I'll be going to Amsterdam. To hire a better-looking chief, but she won't be as attractive as my cow."

  De Gier ran off. The chief constable had found the commander of the Arrest Team. Both men were shaking their fists. "It can start any minute now," de Gier said.

  "I say grab them here," the commander said.

  "Without using your guns?" the chief constable asked.

  "What's the matter with you?" the commander asked. "You want suspects to be shooting at my men? They're trained to attack, they can't defend themselves."

  "Why don't you have your men shoot suspects beyond the city limits?" de Gier asked.

  "Who is this character?" the commander asked the chief constable.

  "It'll be quite an adventure," de Gier said. "If you open fire here, you're not granting yourself a speedy pursuit. Haven't you been equipped with fast cars?" He pointed. "Look, they can get out now, the trucks have gone. If the chief constable here lets the suspects get away, you can catch them in open country—or not, of course, if your cars are too slow."

  "Too slow?" the commander said. "Too slow?"

  "What you might be doing outside my limits," the chief constable said, "would not be without my blessing."

  "Good country here," de Gier said. "Nothing but narrow, curvy dikes. If you push suspects off the road, they'll land in a moat. Unarmed submerged combat, just die ticket for your men."

  "We're trained with knives too," the commander said.

  "Knives," de Gier said slowly. "I can see it. Fritz and Ary hiding in the reeds, you and your men crawling noiselessly closer, still closer. Glistening steel between your teeth, and then, whish."

  The commander grinned, "You're my sort of fellow. Would you be from Amsterdam?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "One beautiful day we'll invade that city. Rub all black faces into the gutter. Push the furry Far Eastern monkeys up a gable. Liquidate the foreign gangsters. Hunt punks and pimps into extinction. Won't be long now, I bet."

  "You think so, sir?"

  "Not with the way you're not doing things. Go on selling your services to the enemy. Let misery take solid root. Then we'll be called and we'll clean you all up."

  "Right, sir," de Gier said. "I can hardly wait. If you'll excuse me now, I'll go and watch the suspects again. I'm only an observer, I'm not in on this at all."

  Breathing deeply, de Gier strolled along. In the past, he thought, a scene like this would have irritated me considerably, but now I know better. It's a matter of tolerating all-pervasive* stupidity. The individual cannot change the ignorance of the powerful group, but he can learn to go alone and follow his chosen path. By manipulating my private fate, I will rise to dizzy heights and enjoy myself on the way. Live the good life. Like now, for instance, I think I'll have a snack.

  He leaned against the front of a stall. A young woman in a spotless white coat leaned toward him. De Gier ordered fried sole on a bun. Up in the gallery he could look down on the hall. More farmers were slapping hands with each other. What do I see here? de Gier thought. Small-minded greed preyed on by evil. Amused, I follow fateful events that I'm quite free of myself.

  "Coffee with it?" the young woman in the white coat asked.

  De Gier nodded, from far away, for he was soundlessly moving, at speed, in empty space. Yes, why not, some nice fresh hot coffee.

  "Hi," Eldor said.

  "And a nice day to you," de Gier said cheerfully.

  "Anything happening yet?"

  "Any minute now, dear Eldor." De Gier smiled. "Shots will crack in a moment, or one shot to be exact, and it'll be a harmless blank. Further shots might make corpses."

  "Get away," Eldor said. "Corpses in Friesland? I've been a cop six years, and the worst I've ever seen was a husband arguing with his wife. I've also seen cars go against traffic on a one-way street, but that's because of the way we've arranged our transport here. I don't even write a ticket when I see it happen."

  "In Amsterdam..."

  "Yes, sure, in Amsterdam," Eldor said. "But my wife won't let me work there. My wife is a good woman. My kids are good kids. I'm good too. Just look at me."

  Eldor Janssen towered above de Gier. His freshly laundered uniform was an artful combination of pure blues, framing six foot six of rugged manliness. Eldor's eyes reflected an unpolluted, ever-present sea.

  "What do I see?" de Gier asked.

  "Goodness," Eldor said, "is too one-sided for me. I wouldn't mind being bad, but that's impossible in these parts. Ride a horse into a church and rape the bride, I wouldn't mind that. Or be a pirate, swinging through rigging, flashing a curved sword, or astride an old-model Harley-Davidson, in smudgy leather, with 'Fuck You' painted on the back of my jacket."

  "Really," de Gier said. "Eldor!"

  "I just want to be courageous," Eldor said. "On the right side, if need be."

  "Good hasn't won yet," de Gier said, "and as long as it hasn't, there is still much to do."

  "It has won here," Eldor said sadly.

  The fanners began to climb the stone steps to the bar.

  "Watch it now," de Gier said. "The suspects should be taking charge of the doors."

  "You're sure now?"

  "I have never," de Gier said, "been more sure of anything than that that bastard over there, with the dusty curls under the edge of his cap, is Fritz, and the other bastard over there, in the shiny wooden clogs and the dustcoat with the sleeves rolled up, is our Ary. They each have a hand in a pocket, holding a gun, and they have other hands out to hold on to their bags."

  "I'm not to go inside," Eldor said. "The chief constable told me just now. My uniform might just possibly excite the suspects."

  "Oh, I don't know," de Gier said. "They're professionals, they won't be easily upset."

  "Our instructions," Eldor said, "tell us clearly that in a situation like this, we cannot even think of drawing our guns. Three hundred fellow beings pushed together in a bar, and there I would be, maybe firing hard-hitting, long-range rimfire bullets. The bullets will penetrate the guilty party and all the not-guilty parties behind him too."

  "You stay right here," de Gier said, "where nothing outof-the-way can happen."

  A shot cracked, followed by sudden silence, then by the screaming of waitresses and the melancholy lowing of the cattle below. Eldor considered, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. "Maybe I'll just take a look," Eldor said softly. De Gier walked along. Fritz came hurtling out through one of the bar doors, revolver in one hand, filled bag in the other. Eldor pushed himself through the door and the human cluster behind it.

  Ary, interrupted in saying good-bye to his victims, looked around. "No cops here, get out."

  Eldor towered quietly, his eyes ablaze with cold blue power.

  Ary's revolver indicated a moaning waitress. "You want me to do away with this poor innocent woman?"

  Eldor's silence persisted.

  "You don't," Ary said. "So here we go, the poor woman and me. Get going, miss."

  "Just a moment," Eldor said.

  "Listen, cop," Ary said. "I'm serious. You really want me to do away with this lovely lady?"

  Eldor's finger pressed the spring in his holster. Hie gun jumped into his hand. Eldor's arm rose slowly. His pistol's barrel pointed at Ary's nose.

  Ary's revolver pointed at Eldor's wide chest.

  "You," Ary said, "or me."

  "I," Eldor said, "or you." His other arm rose and supported the mighty hand that held his pistol.

  "You're making me real nervous," Ary said.

  "Put your gun on the floor," Eldor said.

  "So what have
I got to lose?" Ary asked. "Think of yourself, dear fellow. A young man with a beautiful wife and cute kiddies playing at her feet. Your career, officer, consider it while you still can consider."

  "I'm going to count now," Eldor said. "Starting with one"

  "You," Ary said, "are making a serious mistake."

  "Two," Eldor's bass voice sang melodiously.

  Ary lowered his revolver.

  "Put it down," Eldor said. "Don't drop it. I'm counting again. One."

  Ary's gun nuzzled Eldor's knee.

  "Two" Eldor sang.

  Ary squatted and placed his gun on the floor.

  Everybody around them cheered and applauded.

  De Gier ran away, through the door, across the gallery, down the stairs. He sped athletically through the hall. He crossed the parking lot. He came to a stop. Two cars, their noses mashed into each other, were silently watched by tall, unhappy-looking men. All the men were heavily armed.

  "A little accident?" de Gier asked the commander.

  "Always an extra problem," the commander said. "How can one ever take all possibilities into account? Some idiot truck, complete with trailer, suddenly shooting off toward the gate. All my routes blocked at once. Car number three, supposedly swerving to the right, totals car number one, which supposedly is the pivot of my pursuit."

  "And Fritz?" asked de Gier.

  The commander waved a tired arm at the gate. "A most unfortunate concurrence of unpredictable circumstances. My car in the middle, pushed out of its course by the truck and trailer, makes a sudden sharp left, and one of my men, ready to shoot, falls on the door handle. The door opens. My man falls out. Fritz, in his Mercedes, coasting toward the gate too, sees the pistol in the hands of my man."

  "You had five cars," de Gier said.

  "Three are in pursuit now," the commander said. "But where is the beauty of a well-planned attack, if two-fifths of my power falls away at the start? If it could only go right once, just once. Why do I always have to improvise within the first five seconds?"

  De Gier found his Volkswagen and drove into Leeuwarden. The streets were busy. Somewhere ahead, in the core of the city, sirens chanted sadly. Threatened by two lanes of oncoming traffic, the Volkswagen found refuge on the sidewalk. A policeman approached. "Lost, colleague?"