‘And you are?’
‘Patrick Borst, De Adelaar’ – he knew the rag, the type of tabloid which regularly ran stories about alien abductions, secret conspiracies and pet love-ins. How did people like this even get a press pass? – ‘and I think your man was involved in child pornography.’
Smit was suddenly attune to every tiny air movement in the room. He hadn’t risen to be Chief Inspector by ignoring his instincts, and right now his instincts sensed danger.
Then anger.
This was going to be on the news, and here was someone, some grubby hack who worked for a sensationalist newspaper, about to crap all over it.
‘I’m not sure I follow you, but in any case’ – trying in his manner to imply that nothing worthwhile had just happened – ‘we are vigorously pursuing several active leads and expect to make considerable headway in the next few hours. We will call another press conference when we have an update.’
He reached forward and flipped the microphone’s switch to off, before standing and heading for the door, everyone on their feet, baying like a pack of hounds.
20
Tuesday, 3 January
08.34
‘It’s got to be around somewhere,’ said Jaap looking in the glove compartment. ‘Check the boot, would you?’
Kees got out and checked.
‘Nothing here,’ he said after a few moments.
‘Well, I’m not paying the fine. When you take the car back check who had it last, and why they didn’t leave it.’
‘Probably took it home, I heard someone say they did that.’
The badges exempting unmarked cars from parking tickets had been introduced as a cost-cutting measure. The fact that they blew the car’s unmarked status hadn’t crossed the minds of whichever genius had come up with the scheme.
‘I need to make a call, then we’ll go,’ said Jaap, slamming shut the glove compartment door.
He dialled Karin, his beautiful, confident sister, who’d been working as an army medic for ISAF in Afghanistan. She’d been so excited to be deployed, and he’d seen her off.
Eight months later she came back.
But she hadn’t really returned.
They kept her on meds and gave her therapy, but she still had attacks which only Jaap’s presence seemed able to calm. And on Sunday she’d called, and he could tell by her voice that she was worse than usual. Which was why he didn’t go with Andreas.
But she wasn’t answering her phone now. He knew that sometimes she didn’t get up until well past lunchtime.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ he said to Kees as they started out.
The air, honed overnight like a knife, cut into his face. Earlier Jaap had noticed ice starting to creep in from the canal edges, crooked fingers reaching out for each other. Another few days of the same weather and the fingers would meet in the middle and it might even become solid enough to skate on.
‘What background have you managed to get on Korssen?’ Jaap asked.
‘No record, but that’s not really a surprise. He’s rich, he has to be to live here. And he invests in businesses, often ones which need some kind of help. Carolien van Zandt said that Friedman’s business was in trouble a few years ago and that Korssen got on board to help out.’
They lapsed into silence as they walked and Jaap thought back to Saskia. She’d taken it hard. But then who wouldn’t? Everything was going well, she was with someone she loved and they were about to have their first child. Then her whole world exploded.
I should have gone with Andreas, he thought as they found the address, then he might still be alive.
As they stood in front of the building Kees whistled. The house was a late-nineteenth-century structure and the back would look over Vondelpark, a position which could make even the most level-headed Amsterdammer say Hey to the green-eyed monster.
‘Doesn’t look like he’s short of cash,’ Kees said as he pressed the bell, holding his finger on the button, tip turning white from the pressure.
Two-tone bells oscillated back and forth.
Jaap could feel Kees’ impatience, though he got the impression that was more to do with the fact he’d thought the case was his.
After a few moments the door opened, and a figure, taller than Jaap, wearing a light pink-and-white striped shirt tucked into the kind of jeans that looked messy but cost a fortune, stood there looking down at them.
‘Yes?’ His tone of voice implied that a major inconvenience was taking place.
‘Rint Korssen?’
A siren zoomed behind them, the pitch drooping as it passed by.
‘Yes, are you the police?’
‘Inspector Rykel. And this is Inspector Terpstra.’ Korssen glared at Kees, who’d only just taken his finger off the bell.
‘Come in.’
He stepped aside and once they’d moved over the threshold into the warmth Korssen closed the door behind them.
‘Straight through to the end,’ he said and Jaap walked, followed by Kees, his shoes feeling like they were scratching the highly polished walnut floor.
Sure he can afford to get it fixed, thought Jaap.
The back of the house, as he’d suspected, looked over the Vondelpark, but what he hadn’t expected was that the whole building had been remodelled on the inside, and instead of being made up of several different rooms as it would originally have been, there was now a modern, cavernous space. And the far wall, instead of being brick with a few windows, was a huge sheet of glass giving not so much a view of the Vondelpark, but a feeling of being in it.
Korssen followed them, gestured to a table at the kitchen end of the room and asked if they’d like a drink.
Jaap refused, but Kees had accepted and they now had to watch as Korssen prepared the drinks from a stainless-steel machine which looked like it needed a degree in mechanics to operate.
Jaap took the opportunity to assess him. He was a large man, but not in any way slow. His skin was that of a Scandinavian nudist. Toned arms showed he worked out, and on first glance you might mistake him for a trim forty-year-old. But on closer inspection, a slight bulge of middle-age spread, and the skin on the backs of his hands not being as taut as maybe it could be, led Jaap to believe he was more likely at the upper end of his fifties.
He appeared self-assured – he didn’t feel the pressure to talk, like most people who were confronted with two police Inspectors usually did to hide their nervousness – like a man happy with his place in the world.
Once he’d brought the coffee, served in the most delicate porcelain cups Jaap had ever seen, he sat down opposite and finally turned his attention to them.
‘What do you think?’ he nodded to the cup in Kees’ hand. ‘I’ve got a friend who imports this stuff, hideously expensive of course, but like they say, life’s too short to drink bad coffee.’ He took a sip and sighed before continuing. ‘But anyway, Jaap, you’re obviously here because of Dirk. Big shock to us all. When I heard from Carolien I was …’ He paused, an ostentatious search for the right word with eyes roving the ceiling. ‘… devastated.’
His voice, changed now from its earlier aggressiveness, had the languid speech of those accustomed to getting their own way.
Why are these people always so arrogant? wondered Jaap.
Was it because of their success, or were they successful because of that very arrogance, that quality of self-belief, their assurance that they were better, cleverer, stronger and more ruthless than anyone else?
Whatever it was, Jaap didn’t like it.
‘What was your relationship exactly? I hear you got involved with the business a few years ago, when it was in financial trouble?’
‘Dirk didn’t start out life as a businessman. He was actually a teacher, physical education, I seem to remember, and he inherited the business from his uncle. Totally out of the blue apparently. So there he was one minute running round a field blowing a whistle at some brats playing football or whatever, and the next thing he’s handed the keys to
a business turning over millions of euros. And all credit to him he did become a great front man, though quite how he managed it I don’t know. His previous career choice wouldn’t have led anyone to believe he had the charm or guile needed for that kind of role. But finance was not his strong point, counting goals was probably about the extent of his abilities, and then his divorce cost him more than he could really afford, and he’d taken money from the business to cover it. Big mistake, as that meant he couldn’t meet some of the business’s obligations.’
Jaap watched the self-satisfied smile reach Korssen’s lips, two slugs parting after sex.
‘And so you stepped in?’
‘I was introduced by a mutual friend whom Dirk had asked for a loan. Which he’d refused of course. But he knows that I’m always on the look-out for investment opportunities so we were put in touch.’
‘I’m guessing that you didn’t offer him a loan though.’
‘What am I, a charity?’ he laughed. ‘No, the terms were very clear, I took a controlling interest in the business.’
‘What did Friedman think of that?’
Korssen shrugged. ‘He wasn’t jumping for joy, if that’s what you mean, but he was days away from the business collapsing, having to lay off all the staff, so he didn’t have much choice.’
‘Was the business in trouble because of the recession?’
Korssen took another sip and then dabbed at his lips with a napkin.
‘No more than anyone else. There has been a bit of a slow-down, but really it was financial mismanagement, by Dirk, which caused the problem.’
Jaap sat back slightly in his chair. By the sound of things he would have thought Korssen would be the one in line to be bumped off, not Friedman.
‘So what happens now?’
‘You mean to the business? Well, we had a clause that in the event of either of the shareholders dying his estate would inherit the shares.’
‘In Dirk’s case who would that be?’
‘You’d have to talk to his lawyer about that.’
‘Apparently he doesn’t have any children?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Current girlfriend, partner?’
‘Again, I don’t really know. He divorced before I met him. But like I said, we weren’t close personally, we met once a month to discuss business and that was it.’
I bet, thought Jaap, those meetings were a whole lot of fun.
‘There is one thing though,’ continued Korssen, as if just remembering. ‘I saw him at a restaurant last week, Tuesday I think it was, and he was with someone, a man. And he seemed really uncomfortable, nervous almost. Don’t know why really, I don’t care what sort of road he treads outside business hours, as long as it doesn’t affect his work.’
‘Is that what you had your argument about?’
‘And which one would that be?’
‘The one on Thursday evening, at Friedman’s office.’
‘You are well informed. Or rather, partly well informed. We had a discussion at the office, it’s true, but nothing out of the ordinary. It’s the kind of thing which has to go on in a business every now and then, work out differences, and I’m sorry to say that Dirk was never very good at taking orders – too pig-headed – which is why he ended up in financial difficulty in the first place.’
‘So the argument was about what, specifically?’
Korssen sighed, glanced at his watch.
‘We’ve been planning an expansion for a while now, but Dirk kept putting up reasons why it wouldn’t work. Russians are enjoying a new prosperity, and we need to have a presence there.’
‘And he didn’t agree?’
‘He was coming round to see my side of things.’
‘You can give us the name of this restaurant?’
Korssen gave it to him and Jaap wrote it down, not one he knew. In all probability one he’d never be able to afford to know either.
‘And if it was you who’d died?’ he asked Korssen.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Who would inherit your share?’
Korssen looked at him for a moment, nothing changing in his gaze.
‘I’m not sure how that’s really relevant?’
‘It’s relevant.’
For a moment Jaap thought he wasn’t going to answer.
‘In the event of my death my share would pass to my brother, though he doesn’t know that.’
‘Can I take it you’re not married or in a relationship then?’
The smile which blossomed this time was real and he laughed the laugh of an alpha male, the leader of the pack whose duty it was to always come first in whatever endeavour he undertook.
‘I have what you would call a rich and varied social life.’
‘Meaning that you get through women quickly.’
‘You make it sound so cold, but yes, there is …’ He coughed gently. ‘… a rapid turnover.’
He’s totally in love with himself, thought Jaap, but is he a killer?
He got up to leave, pushing the chair back, Kees doing the same.
‘Last question, where were you Sunday night?’
‘At an event.’ Korssen slipped the watch off his wrist, the right, Jaap noticed, and slid it across the table. ‘One of my other investments is Helmstok.’
Jaap looked at the watch. It was huge, with all sorts of, as far as he could tell, useless extra dials and numbers littering the face. Telling the time on one of these would be problematic at best.
‘We were launching a new watch, and we had a party at the Hotel De L’Europe.’
‘And you were there all night?’
‘It started at eight but I was there from about four making sure that everything was in place, and at the event, which was very successful, by the way, there were at least a hundred and fifty of Amsterdam’s richest people.’
‘And what time did you leave?’
‘Probably about one in the morning. You understand that there was a certain amount of champagne being drunk so it’s hard to be totally exact, but I was with a close friend afterwards, I went to her place, stayed for a couple of hours, and then got a cab home.’
‘You’ll be able to give us the cab company’s number, and that of your close friend?’
Jaap saw his eyelids flicker.
‘To be honest I can’t really remember, I picked one up just outside her place, in the Jordaan.’
‘Did you call for it?’
‘No, I’d decided to walk but then I saw a cab and thought I’d rather do that. I had had a few drinks after all.’
‘So in that case why not just stay there with your friend, whose details I’d like by the way, rather than coming home?’
‘I love women, Inspector,’ said Korssen, stretching his arms over his head, making something click, ‘but I’ve reached the age where I like to sleep in my own bed, you know?’
21
Tuesday, 3 January
08.41
Tanya was sitting on a bed.
A hospital bed.
Her jeans were draped over the back of the chair in the corner of the room. A mobile screen – folds of institution-green fabric against the far wall – partially obscured a frosted window which looked, if she guessed right, out over the car park.
She felt slightly embarrassed by her underwear, firmly in the designed for comfort not looks category, but when she’d dragged herself out of bed, her leg throbbing with each heartbeat and hot to the touch, she’d had other things on her mind.
She had so much to do, talking to Geertje’s husband about the child he saw with the Van Delfts, and then getting down to Amsterdam, a good two-hour drive, to meet Inspector Rykel.
She’d wondered about bandaging the leg up herself, but once she’d flicked the light on and looked at it properly she decided it needed a professional and drove herself straight to the hospital, every time she braked a new shot of pain running up her leg.
The junior doctor was, she had to admit to herself �
� at least on the basis of the last twenty minutes – just the kind of guy she would be happy to spend some time with, if, of course, she was looking.
Which she wasn’t.
Definitely wasn’t.
But still, it was a real shame she’d not put on something at least a little more glamorous, if nothing else just for her own sense of pride. He’d spotted her tattoo, the two-headed snake coiling up her inner thigh, though he’d not commented.
She’d had it done when she was seventeen, an act of defiance which hadn’t gone unnoticed at home. And later, every man she’d been with had been fascinated by it, though she’d never told any of them its real significance.
As he pushed the needle into a spot just above her knee she flinched, her leg jerking upwards, hitting him in the shin.
‘Sorry.’
‘No worries, it’s practically impossible to stop that reflex. I did have a patient a few years ago though, a really old guy, and he didn’t react at all to any injection, it was like he couldn’t feel anything.’ He pulled the needle out, dropped it into the foot-operated bin, and then started swabbing the wound. ‘So one day he was lying down, and I was going to give him the injection as normal, but instead I pinched his other arm, and you know what?’
‘He felt it?’
‘He didn’t just feel it, he jumped out of his skin.’ He pushed back, riding the wheeled stool to the desk behind him, where he picked up the sterile stitch kit and then glided over to her again.
‘Turns out that he was in a camp, during the war? He’d actually been used for what they called “medical experiments” and he’d taught himself not to feel the needles they kept shoving in him. Like he literally couldn’t feel them, blanked it out of his mind somehow, and it stayed. But anything else, stubbing his toe or getting a paper cut, he really felt it.’
‘Amazing. Is that true?’
He looked up, mock shock in his eyes, then he smiled.
‘Hey, you’re the detective, you tell me.’
She gave him a look.
‘Well, okay.’ He stood up and peeled off his latex gloves. ‘You’re good to go, I’ve stitched it up, they’ll dissolve so you don’t need to get them removed.’
After the Silence: Inspector Rykel Book 1 (Amsterdam Quartet) Page 9