Jaap didn’t respond, thinking that at least he’d deleted the same message from his own phone.
‘Well, I’m going to tell you.’ He cracked the knuckles on his left hand. ‘We’re actually upping the charge. To murder.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The gun that killed Andreas has turned up. It was in your houseboat, Jaap. And when they ran a fingerprint check’ – he held his palm out and waggled his fingers – ‘the only ones they found were yours.’
100
Friday, 6 January
14.13
Jaap looked around, at the scuffed and scratched concrete walls, the smell of sweat and fear saturating the air, and wondered what he could do. It was because of Andreas that he was here.
No it’s not, he told himself, it’s because of my inability to let go. It’s because I stubbornly believed that I had to find his killer, that I was the only one smart enough to do it.
Suddenly he wanted to kick something, tear the bench from the wall and smash it on to the floor. He’d been set up. Whoever was behind this had planned for everything. If they failed to kill him, twice, they still had a backup plan. Frame him.
And if he couldn’t prove otherwise he was going to have all the time in the world to go over and over his mistakes. A week ago he was on track to take over from Smit, and now …
It was as if he’d learnt nothing in that year.
Desire causes suffering.
And attachment was a form of desire. He’d become too attached to revenge. Sure he’d called it justice, to himself, but really it was vengeance.
He’d become attached, and now he was suffering.
Simple.
He sat back against the wall, his head against the cold concrete, closing his eyes, the anger from a moment ago gone.
Why could he not figure it out?
Yuzuki Roshi had often told him to be the master of his own mind, not be mastered by it.
He started counting his breaths, trying to let go of his thoughts.
His pulse gradually slowed, as did his breathing.
CCTV.
The planted journalist.
And Andreas’ phone call to the station.
He’d spoken to someone, the length of the call proved that. Jaap had assumed they’d made Andreas wait whilst they tried to get in contact with him, but what if Andreas had spoken to someone, told them what he’d texted Jaap?
Why, he thought as he heard voices moving down the corridor towards his cell, didn’t I think of that before?
A key scraped in the lock.
Jaap looked up, expecting to see Smit, but it was Kees who stepped in, closing the door behind him.
He looked nervous.
101
Friday, 6 January
14.18
Kees needed to swallow, his Adam’s apple felt like a tennis ball stuffed down his throat.
Finding the cell – at least they’d put him in on his own – he’d asked the Duty Sergeant to let him in.
Jaap was sitting on the bench, his back straight against the wall. His eyes were closed and he looked weirdly calm.
‘I –’ started Kees but Jaap cut him off as his eyes opened.
‘This isn’t going to reflect on you, you know.’
‘Sorry?’
‘They know you had nothing to do with it.’
Kees, confused, didn’t know what to say.
‘You look confused.’
‘I am,’ said Kees, cautiously, sensing that there was a glimmer of hope.
Or it might just be a trap.
He needed to swallow; he fought the urge, then tried to hide it with a cough, the noise sounding strange in the cell.
‘Sorry, I should have trusted you right from the start, told you what was going on.’
Kees, unsure if he could trust his voice, had to ask, ‘So what is going on?’, still not sure if he was out of the woods.
‘They checked the CCTV tapes at the morgue and saw me messing with Andreas’ phone, I deleted a message he’d sent me.’
That’s what De Waart was asking me about.
‘So …’ Kees tried to keep the relief out of his voice. ‘… it was Inspector De Waart who had you arrested?’
‘Who else?’ Jaap looked at him. ‘And someone planted a gun, with my prints on it, at my houseboat. The same gun that killed Andreas.’
‘Listen.’ Keen now to get away from the topic, inside a voice kept repeating, He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. ‘Tanya just called for you. She says she’s found the girl, at some shipping company?’
‘Where is she?’
‘She’s there now.’
‘On her own?’
‘I think so.’
Jaap considered this for a second.
‘Okay, there are two things I need you to do for me.’
‘Yeah?’
‘You heard about the press conference, about the journalist who made those accusations? Well I tried to find out who it was, but he didn’t work for the paper he said he did.’
‘So it was a set-up?’
‘Exactly. Whoever killed Andreas planted him there, to make it harder for us to investigate his death. Now that Haak is dead, finding that journalist is the only way we’re going to get them. That journalist would have entered the building by the front, see if you can find someone who doesn’t sign in. He might even have been brought in as an arrest.’
‘Okay, and the second thing?’
Jaap looked at him as if trying to make a decision. The light overhead started buzzing and flickered once, before dying completely.
‘The second thing could land you in a whole lot of trouble.’
102
Friday, 6 January
14.32
Tanya watched as the man pulled out his phone.
He started speaking, something foreign, then laughed. As he hung up he took one last drag on his cigarette, the smoke getting lost in the falling snow. He tossed the butt and ground it with his heel like he was an actor playing a tough guy in a film. Then he unzipped and pissed a pattern in the snow, before shaking, zipping back up and walking away from the door he’d been guarding ever since Tanya had turned up.
She pulled her head back round the edge of the shipping container she was crouching behind and felt for her gun. Taking one last look around, the rows of containers like a strange city, the man’s footprints showing the direction he’d gone in, she dashed across the twenty metres to the door, a small lamp high up on the brick wall framing it in a yellow triangle. The door itself was metal, the surface dull and dented, the number ‘17’ sprayed on in black, and beneath the letters ‘BSC’.
Unholstering her gun, she reached out her hand, slowly closing her fingers round the handle, as if it could be startled, and began very slowly to turn it, afraid that the man would have locked it.
But he hadn’t, it turned freely, and she inched it open, not breathing, her ears straining to hear anything from inside. There was nothing. So she pushed it open a bit further, just enough to get her head in. A large cavernous space, stacked with even more shipping containers and stairs leading down off to her left.
She slipped in and closed the door softly behind her, scanning for movement. The stairs creaked as she descended, even though she was placing each foot with as much care as she could. At the bottom there was another door, marked ‘Private’, and this was ajar, no light showing from beyond. She pushed it open and tried to peer into the darkness, and then crept along the corridor, one hand against the freezing rough concrete, the other holding her gun down by her side.
A little voice started to whisper to her.
You shouldn’t be here on your own.
Then her hand hit metal, another door. The noise caused something to move on the far side. She stopped dead still, holding her breath, waiting to hear it again. But nothing came, and a minute or so later she decided to push on.
The door opened easily, total darkness inside. Her fingers connected with a light
switch on the wall, she threw it, stepped back into the corridor and raised her gun, holding it with both hands. Her eyes reacted to the light, and she had to fight to keep them open.
There was movement, scuffling sounds, but no gunshots or voices. The picture came into focus as her eyes adapted; there were figures, three, bound and gagged, huddled together against the far wall, their eyes bottomless pits of fear.
Two young women, about eighteen Tanya guessed, and in between them a younger girl, shaking her head, feet scrabbling uselessly on the floor.
She had red hair.
It was her.
103
Friday, 6 January
14.48
Seconds before Kees smashed his elbow into the glass panel protecting the fire alarm he reflected that maybe he’d simply swung from one extreme to another, from rat to rebel. The piercing sound cut through the air and he rushed down a flight of stairs to the car pool, got into one, and waited, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
104
Friday, 6 January
14.49
The officer on duty, Laurens, knew Jaap well. He’d been surprised when the two officers had marched him down, demanding that he be put in a cell. But he’d followed orders, just as he’d always done.
His job was to make sure the prisoners didn’t kill each other, or themselves, or escape.
Or die in fires.
The alarm was splitting the air; there’d been no warning of a drill. He had to get the prisoners out of the building, and he had four cells, with nine people in total, ten including Jaap.
He hesitated for a second, then made up his mind.
He unlocked the door.
‘Listen, I need a hand getting some prisoners upstairs.’
105
Friday, 6 January
14.51
All three of the girls were tied to the pipes which lined the back wall.
Tanya scanned the room; there was no one else there. She shut the door behind her, holstered her gun, and approached them.
‘Police,’ she whispered. ‘I’m here to help you.’
All she got was scared looks, she repeated herself in English, and one of the girls nodded.
She untied Adrijana first, loosening the filthy rag cutting into the sides of her mouth, and undoing the ties holding her wrists to the pipes. The pipes themselves were almost too hot to touch. Tanya wanted to hold her, tell her it was going to be all right but she knew they didn’t have much time.
‘I’m going to get you all out of here,’ said Tanya as she reached across and freed the other two girls.
‘They told us’ – the older girl, with shorter hair, started speaking – ‘we’d have jobs, and, and …’
‘Shhh. It’s okay, we just need to get you out of here now. How many men are there around?’
The second girl answered.
‘Only one is here at a time, they sometimes go off for while, but never longer than twenty minutes.’
Tanya tried to count, how long had it taken her to get here, five, ten?
They needed to go, so she helped them all to their feet and told them to follow her, back along the corridor, and up the stairs, Tanya going first, holding Adrijana’s hand.
All seemed to be quiet in the warehouse.
She grouped them together.
‘If anything happens out there you’re all to run, do you get that?’
They all nodded, and Tanya took a deep breath.
She cracked open the door.
The muzzle of a gun kissed her lips.
106
Friday, 6 January
14.53
Jaap raced through the parked cars to the driver’s side, yanking the door open.
‘I don’t want you coming with me, then they’ll know it was you,’ he said as he slid into the seat, reaching for the key.
‘It’s all right, I want to –’
‘No, I’m not letting you ruin your career. You could be a good cop. If you get help – stop the coke.’ He stared at Kees. ‘Get out now, and no one will ever know.’
Kees thought quickly – Jaap was right, he’d probably get away with it. And he had someone of his own to chase. He got out and handed Jaap his phone.
‘Is it on here?’
‘Low res, the best I could get from the surveillance camera.’
Jaap shot the car out of the underground car park, the motor roaring. He tried to look at the tiny screen playing a grainy picture whilst driving, too fast, in thick snow, but gave up after he scraped the side of the car against a parked van, sparks like a miniature firework display.
He reached the port, and parked by the police car that he guessed was Tanya’s. He flipped Kees’ phone on again. He watched the video, fast forwarding. But the faces all looked familiar. He took it right back to the start again. And then he saw something which made him stop. His stomach plummeted. But somehow he wasn’t surprised.
He grabbed his own phone. Niels had been at the press conference, he’d be able to confirm what Jaap had just seen.
‘Niels, it’s Jaap, I haven’t got much time so just listen. I’m going to send you a picture, look at it and call me back.’
Once he’d sent it he snapped the phone shut, got out of the car, and followed the footprints, already filling in with fresh snow.
His phone started buzzing in his hand. It was Niels.
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, I recognize both of them. One of them is Inspector De Waart,’ said Niels.
‘And the other?’
‘The other is that journalist you were asking after. Is there a story in this for me?’
‘There might well be, I’ll call you.’
The so-called journalist had got into the building without a press pass because De Waart had pretended he was an arrest. It had to have been last minute. It was sloppy and De Waart must have known the risk he was taking, but was under enough pressure to go with it.
He thought of De Waart, his switch from aggression, to friendliness, and back again. It should have told him something. He’d been watching Jaap right from the start. It might even have been him who broke down his houseboat door, came for him in the night with the intention of putting a bullet in his head.
And Karin.
Had that been him too?
The gun he’d left on the table.
It was the gun he’d killed Andreas with.
De Waart had been one step ahead the whole time, paying the premium on his insurance policy.
The fucker, he thought as he reached a shipping container where she’d obviously waited, the marks in the snow clear. He’s played me all along.
He peered round the corner. There was a door just across from him, and two men standing outside, their bodies tense, waiting. The one nearest, who had a dirty blond ponytail, was holding a gun in his hand, and when the door in front of him opened slowly, he poked the muzzle into the gap, before the other man, short dark hair and a black leather jacket, lurched forward and grabbed Tanya by her hair.
Jaap wanted to move, but the gun was trained on Tanya’s head the whole time and he couldn’t risk it.
Move it, he willed the man.
The first man opened the door further and Jaap could see two young women. And a girl. She started screaming.
The second man stepped forward and slapped her.
The screaming stopped.
They took Tanya and the girls back into the building, and as soon as the door closed Jaap sprinted across, following her footprints.
It was these, he thought as he ran, that gave her away.
He waited at the door, ear pressed against the freezing metal, and pushed it open as slowly as he could. Once inside he could hear footsteps, the noise echoing up from a staircase. Jaap paused for a moment, quickly checking the rest of the area before descending, weapon drawn.
Stepping off the last tread Jaap just caught sight of the door at the far end closing. Twenty seconds and he was outside the same door, listening again. He could
hear Tanya’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Then one of the men barked something at her, and she fell silent for a few seconds before a scream of pain rang out.
Tanya.
He kicked the door in and sprang through shouting ‘Police’ so hard his vocal cords felt ripped.
The room was small, pipes rising up out of the floor along the back wall, and the captives shoved against them. Jaap could see the ponytail standing over Tanya, her hair wrapped round one of his hands as he yanked her head back, his arm raised ready to pistol-whip her.
He spun round, releasing Tanya, flipping the gun handle deftly back into his hand.
Bad déjà vu. He was back in that tenement block, the woman slumped on the floor in an ocean of blood, Andreas’ voice telling him not to fire, and the man in front of him grinning.
Jaap fired, the sound deafening in the tiny room. He could see the women covering their ears, and the man juddered, his gun arm flailing and releasing the weapon, which flew up into the air in an elegant curve, heading towards Tanya.
There were two men, but before he could do anything he felt a rush of air behind him, then a sickening crunch.
107
Friday, 6 January
14.54
Tanya watched as Jaap shot the first man, and the gun flew out of his hand. It arced downwards towards her and she twisted round, trying to catch it.
It fell just out of reach.
She strained to grab it and a movement caught the corner of her eye.
Her fingers scrabbled on the concrete floor until she managed to clasp the barrel and pull it towards her. She looked up just in time to see Jaap slump forward, revealing the second man, pointing his own gun right at her.
108
Friday, 6 January
14.58
After the Silence: Inspector Rykel Book 1 (Amsterdam Quartet) Page 29