Hard Rain

by Janwillem Van De Wetering

  "Wah," the commissaris said, sitting down.

  "You're so fierce, sir," Miss Antoinette whispered. "You think they will do all that? Ruin their own careers?"

  "They've been ruined for some time," the commissaris said. "They just needed someone to tell them. Would you send in Cardozo?"

  Cardozo came in and found the commissaris hopping about on his oriental rug. "Sir?" The commissaris jumped to a geometric design half a yard ahead. "I used to do this for hours when I was a child. This rug was in our living room. I pretended the blue parts were swampy spots where crocodiles and other toothy creatures lived, and the green designs were safe ground, but then I would change it all around, and only the red areas were safe, but not for long again. Reality is like that. Changeable, very. Got to adjust your strategy constantly. Never quite know where you're secure. Educated guesses combined with foolhardy courage ..."

  "Yes?" Cardozo asked. "I just saw the chief constable and Halba in the corridor, sir, arguing with each other like crazy. I yelled good morning at them but they didn't notice me at all. Some internal trouble again?"

  "They'll both be leaving us," the commissaris said. "I'm temporarily in charge. The mayor will confirm my position a little later today. I haven't had time to see him yet."

  Miss Antoinette walked toward the phone. "Shall I order the mayor to come here too, sir?"

  The commissaris smiled. "No, we'll revert to normal tactics now. I'll see him at City Hall." He checked his watch. "As soon as he pleases. Now, Cardozo, there was an Indian lady at the club during the rowdy night we all enjoyed so much. A shapely woman with a red dot on her forehead and a bit of bare belly."

  "The one who told me about the Calcutta rats?"

  "I forget her name."

  "Sayukta, sir. I've seen her since, took her to the zoo.

  "Excuse me," Miss Antoinette said, replacing the phone. "The mayor can see you anytime this morning, sir."

  The commissaris looked around. "Thank you, dear. Please raise de Gier, he can drive me over. I don't want to have to deal with traffic today. To the zoo, Cardozo? Why the zoo?"

  "She wanted to," Cardozo said. "She felt caged herself, and wanted to know she wasn't the only being behind bars."

  "I know Sayukta too," Miss Antoinette said. "Willem introduced me to her at the club, we had a bit of a chat. Poor little thing, she was very unhappy."

  "Sayukta wants residency here," Cardozo said. "She needs proper papers. Perhaps you could put in a word for her. She'll do anything, even scrub floors."

  "I scrubbed Carl's floor this morning," Miss Antoinette said. "He's got a lot of floor, she can help."

  "I'll have an apartment too, soon." Cardozo smiled. "Me and Izzy. Maybe Sayukta can come in twice a week. Between the lot of us, we could provide forty hours at minimum wage."

  The commissaris gestured impatiently. "Surely we can find her more suitable employment."

  "She's quite intelligent," Cardozo said, "Perhaps she could go to school."

  "We'll see. So you're friendly with her." The commissaris took out his tin of cigars and put it back in his pocket. "Can you arrange for her to have dinner with us tonight? Are you free, Miss Antoinette? I'd like for a woman to be present. Sayukta must be weary of men, she's only seen us at our worst. I hope you didn't take advantage of her, Simon?"

  "No," Cardozo said.

  "Of course you did," Miss Antoinette said. "Poor helpless little thing, adrift in a strange country."

  "I did not," Cardozo said. "That's Halba's approach."

  "Halba doesn't work here anymore," the commissaris said. "What was that just now about you and Izzy sharing an apartment? I thought the fellow was an AWOL Israeli soldier."

  "My mother took care of that trouble, sir. Izzy will have his Dutch passport again. Mr. Rosenblatt won't oppose the application."

  "The Israeli consul?" the commissaris asked. "I thought he was a fanatic." He mused. "On the right side, of course."

  "My mother spoke to the consul, sir."

  The commissaris thought. "I see. Your mother. And she's letting you go? You're allowed to live apart from her?"

  "She'll still have my brother, Samuel," Cardozo said. "The unemployed genius who can't cook for himself or do his own laundry."

  "Genius," the commissaris said. "You're a bit of a genius too. I don't know what I would have done without your help. That reminds me, Cardozo, how much for the computer?"

  Cardozo mentioned the amount. "But it's ours, sir. Izzy and mine. We'll have some fun. Izzy'Il teach me all the secrets."

  "No, it was used in my private investigation. Maybe it'll be helpful on some future occasion." The commissaris brought out his checkbook.

  Cardozo got up and walked to the door. "No, really, sir."

  "You're sure? Let me pay one-third."

  "No, sir. Where do you want to have dinner?"

  "Any restaurant of Sayukta's choice."

  "She doesn't know about restaurants, sir."

  "Up to you, then. See you tonight. Let's hope she can be trusted." The commissaris turned toward Miss Antoinette. "What do you think? What I have in mind is rather risky."

  "I thought I was your spy," Miss Antoinette said.

  The commissaris shook his head. "Willem must have seen through your playacting by now."

  Miss Antoinette pushed out a moist lower lip. "Playacting, sir?"

  The commissaris walked back to his rug. "I see. So you liked Willem. A loving old man. No, I can't use you now. Besides, Carl may not like it."

  "Carl?" Cardozo asked. "That's right. Why were you scrubbing Carl's floor?"

  Miss Antoinette hid behind a mysterious smile.

  "Yes," the commissaris said, "you were only supposed to take him home last night. Did you like Carl's place? Grijpstra and de Gier were very impressed. An indoor allegorical garden. I'd like to see that collective work of art myself."

  "We'll invite you to dinner, sir, but I'd like to clean up a bit more first. Oh, Cardozo, my apartment is available now. Would you and Izzy be interested? You can take over the lease."

  "Proceeding as planned," the commissaris said, and skipped back to his desk.

  "Your legs don't hurt today?" Cardozo asked.

  "What legs?"

  "Your rheumatism?"

  "Oh," the commissaris said. "Right. That's mostly psychosomatic, Cardozo. I keep telling my wife. It's all of you frustrating me. I can see the world as it should be, but then it never is, and you interfere with my continuous attempts at improving conditions." The commissaris's thin lips tightened. He muttered at a potted palm.

  "I'll get de Gier," Miss Antoinette said. "Can't raise him on the phone."

  "Did he say 'bunch of dimwits' ?" Cardozo asked in the corridor. "Did you hear that too?"

  "Arrogant little man," Miss Antoinette said. "But what do I care? I finally found myself the ideal lover."

  "Carl?"

  "Yes," Miss Antoinette said. "Carl. A true artist. You're all too practical for me. Shallow thinkers. You're out for results. Carl explained that to me last night. There are never results. And nothing matters much, isn't that a relief? I always thought things mattered, and it made me so afraid."

  "De Gier talks like that too," Cardozo said.

  "Bah. De Gier."

  "All women like de Gier," Cardozo said. "You do too."

  Miss Antoinette smiled dreamily. "I won't have to share Carl. I just love his sculptures. They're so sexy, don't you think?"

  "And Carl himself?"

  "Very sexy, and he can't get away." She touched Cardozo's arm. "You guys get away. De Gier took Carl and me to Carl's loft last night, in a sports car. You should have seen him roar off. Disgusting. Carl won't roar off, I'll have to drive him about, he'll be dependent on me. I'll inspire him and we'll be happy forever." Miss Antoinette danced away, swinging her hips.

  Cardozo waited at the elevator. Grijpstra joined him. "Do you know," Cardozo asked, "that some women want to cripple us?"

  "No," Grijpstra said.


  "You don't agree?"

  "No," Grijpstra said. "Not some women. All women want to cripple us. We're objects to be possessed."

  "That's bad."

  "Not bad." Grijpstra pushed Cardozo into the elevator. "It's true. The truth can't be classified, but it can be used."

  "How?" Cardozo asked.

  The elevator stopped at the first floor and Grijpstra rushed off. Cardozo ran along. "How, Adjutant?"

  "If ever I find out I might just let you know," Grijpstra said. "Meanwhile, I'll live alone. Leave me alone too, Cardozo, I've got work to do."

  "Where?"

  "At the airport."

  "What?"

  "A trap," Grijpstra said. "I'm setting up a trap. You'll hear in due course."

  \\ 32 /////

  THE NEXT DAY'S Courier outdid itself in a display of subtle venom without making any outright statements. A front-page article pointed at possible instability of the Banque du Credit. The second page discussed the woes of the Ryder clothing stores, brought about, possibly, by the luxurious life-style and gambling of its president and main shareholder. Ryder's accidental death, already reported on, was covered in more detail, and a photograph showed the remnants of his boat, studied by State Police officers in uniform. The Society for Help Abroad was linked (the word "separately" appeared various times) to a shuffle at Police Headquarters. The commissaris, reading the article to Grijpstra and de Gier, rustled the paper. "I didn't tell him that. Kowsky must have other informants in this building."

  "Good," Grijpstra said. "I like the photographs that illustrate that article. Halba and the chief constable at the club's bar, cavorting with half-naked women. Kowsky must have kept that snapshot up his sleeve. Probably smuggled a photographer in."

  "Kowsky has a minicamera himself," de Gier said. "He showed it to me once. Shall we get busy, sir?"

  The commissaris put his paper down. "Yes. Use all your contacts. I'll work on the Tax Inspection Office. You two can raid the club later this week; I'll assign a chief inspector. The warrant will be for gambling without a license. We'll make it official this time."

  "Chief Inspector Rood, sir?"

  "No. Someone else. Make as many arrests as you can, and see if we can make them implicate Fernandus and de la Faille. I'll work on the Central Bank too, see if they'll send inspectors down. We'll push from all sides and do as much damage as we can."

  "Will the mayor help?" Grijpstra asked.

  The commissaris nodded. "Yes. He wants me to go slow, but I'll ignore that advice, I think." He rubbed his hands. "To work."

  So they worked. The bank came down and was closed behind sealed doors. Warrants for the arrests of Fernandus and the baron were issued, based on statements provided by the Society's manager and waiters, and several employees of the Banque du Credit, but Fernandus could not be located. De la Faille's trail led as far as the Belgian border.

  "Now what?" Grijpstra asked when he saw the commissaris later that week.

  "Wait," the commissaris said.

  "Any news yet from Calcutta?" Cardozo asked. The commissaris read a Teletype message. "Supply from Nepal due soon. Courier ready. Will inform you of flight number and date."

  "We're ready too," the commissaris said. "This is from our narcotics commissioner out there. Where's de Gier?"

  "Gone," Grijpstra said solemnly.

  The telephone rang. "I'm not here," the commissaris said. He placed his elbows on his desk and dropped his chin on his clasped hands. "Gone?"

  "It's the chief of the Tax Inspection Office, sir," Miss Antoinette said, covering the receiver with her hand.

  The commissaris waved impatiently. "This is more urgent, dear. I'm out to everybody." He looked straight ahead. "Gone?"

  Grijpstra harrumphed.

  "Harrumph?" Cardozo asked. "What sort of answer is that? Where is the sergeant?"

  "No sergeant," Grijpstra said placidly. "I don't think de Gier cares for his title anymore. He said he wouldn't come down. He's suspended in thin air."

  "Adjutant," the commissaris said, "de Gier's been reinstated. I had an envelope placed on his desk. His salary will be paid in full with apologies and all. What more does he want?"

  "More." Grijpstra flicked dust off his knee. "The white knight didn't open his envelope."

  "The white knight?" Cardozo asked. "But that's silly. He wasn't serious, was he? The sergeant likes to hold on to a joke."

  "Nojoke."

  "So where is he?" the commissaris asked. "You're closer to de Gier than anyone else. Did he leave the city? Where is his cat?"

  "At my house," Grijpstra said. "He brought it last night, in a Ferrari. I've got his furniture too, it came in a truck. I don't want de Gier's furniture. And he didn't just leave the city, he left the country."

  "So why did you take his furniture? Or did you leave it in the street?"

  "I took it, sir."

  "And what about de Gier's apartment?"

  "I don't know. For rent, I suppose."

  "Evidently he isn't planning to come back," the commissaris said. "He could always get a job here. De Gier's always offered jobs. Has he got money, Adjutant?"

  "Savings."

  "Savings?" the commissaris repeated. "He always complains about his overdraft."

  "Not for the last year, sir." Grijpstra smiled grimly. "He hasn't bought any new clothes for a year. He stayed home for his holidays. Refused to pay for my coffee. Hardly went out."

  "The stock market," Cardozo said. "I've seen him looking at the Financial Times in the canteen."

  "And at maps," Grijpstra said.

  "What maps?"

  "Maps of New Guinea, sir."

  "No," the commissaris said. "That fantasy too? But that goes back years. When that Papuan suspect got away, he sent a postcard later, I believe."

  "What Papuan?" Cardozo asked.

  "A good man," the commissaris said, "who managed to get away. Grijpstra can tell you. This is serious." He picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk.

  "Well, de Gier was suspended, sir," Grijpstra said. "And he's free anyway. If he goes, he goes."

  "Surely." The commissaris let the pencil slide from his hand. "But do we want him to kill the baron? That's not a good start. He might get hurt, too, his ribs haven't healed."

  "He's in pain," Cardozo said. "It hurts him when he breathes deeply. I could see that. De Gier was very careful how he moved."

  "You don't want him to duel with the baron, sir?" Grijpstra asked.

  The commissaris played with his pencil. "No."

  The telephone rang again. Miss Antoinette answered. "State Police, sir, about the accident on the Vinker Lakes."

  "Good luck to them," the commissaris said.

  "He isn't here," Miss Antoinette said into the telephone.

  Cardozo flattened his hair with both hands. "The baron's probably in Spain, at Ten Haaf's estate in Marbella, where Guldemeester is working now."

  "Are we sure?" the commissaris asked. "We know by now that Ten Haaf was financially interested in the Banque du Credit and the Society; he must have dropped some money in the crash. And Fernandus and the baron probably own part of the estate in Marbella. If the baron went to cash in his share, he may not be received very well."

  "Ten Haaf is a helpless junkie now," Grijpstra said. "He used to be big in local crime, but since his retirement, he's changed into a slob. He's happy to have any of his cronies visit. He runs some sort of recreation center for what he calls the Mob. I think the baron would be welcome in Marbella."

  "Another godfather, eh?" the commissaris asked. "A nest of crime up in the mountains? Weary warriors are given a rest. Do I see it all now? Is de Gier going to fight the bad guys in their lair? Racing up in Ryder's Ferrari? In style?"

  "In style," Cardozo said. "That's what he kept saying. I see it too, sir. He has spelled it all out to me, many a time. Police work is too limited; he stayed on only because of you; you were teaching him and so forth, but eventually he would break away and continue his quest on
his own."

  "De Gier's forty-two," Grijpstra said. "Quite a difficult age. I was wondering, when I got into my forties, whether I shouldn't make a change."

  "Coffee, everyone?" Miss Antoinette asked. "Here you are. De Gier is a romantic, Constable Jane is always saying that."

  "What's a romantic, dear?" The commissaris sipped his coffee. "You mean he's a bit crazy?"

  "Like Carl." Miss Antoinette smiled. "Carl says you've got to do things differently. Figure out how everybody does it and then do it otherwise. De Gier is like that too, but he isn't as courageous as Carl. Carl doesn't want an example. De Gier has you."

  "Me," the commissaris said. "How could he imitate me? I live a perfectly ordinary life."

  "Your mind," Grijpstra said.

  "What about my mind?"

  "Well," Grijpstra said. "Perhaps I could explain, but I'll probably annoy you. I've been annoying you lately. Never mind, sir."

  "Go on," Cardozo said. "Annoy the commissaris. You always annoy everybody else."

  "Please annoy me," the commissaris said. "You'll have to, I'm afraid. I have to understand de Gier's motivation before I do anything."

  "What can you do?" Cardozo asked. "If de Gier hasn't opened his envelope, he's on perpetual unpaid leave. If he doesn't come back, he's not under your orders."

  The telephone rang. "The mayor, sir," Miss Antoinette said. The commissaris waved a limp hand. "He's not here," said Miss Antoinette.