by Mark Hobson
He found Huijbers standing near the gate.
“Where the hell is Dyatlov?” He was livid, his face all red and blotchy. “This is impossible. They’ve got away twice now, first at the other house and now here. Between the two of you, Van Dijk, you’ve royally screwed this up.”
“Now just a minute-” Pieter began, unable to bite his tongue any longer, but then one of the other men was shouting and gesticulating at something out across the water beyond the small pebble beach.
“Sir, look sir!”
Pieter and Huijbers both looked across the slate-grey expanse in unison.
“It’s a boat sir!”
Pieter spotted it after a moment, a small motor launch bobbing about and nearly lost in the waves. It was about half a kilometre offshore and increasing the gap with every second, but even at this distance he could make out the three people onboard, two adults and a shorter person. A child, without a doubt a child. All three of their faces were looking back towards the house.
Huijbers headed onto the beach, his boots crunching over the pebbles, and Pieter was racing alongside him when he caught a strange flash coming from the boat followed by a very faint sound, a bit like a zipper on a coat being pulled up. He frowned in puzzlement, and at the same time saw the surprised expression that appeared on Huijbers face, and the man’s mouth opened like he was going to whistle. A red dot appeared on his forehead, a tiny hole, and then his baseball hat was flying back through the air like a strong gust of wind had caught it. In the next instant, he was walking forward on legs that seemed all rubbery, he was cutting a strange diagonal course over the beach, his arms were at his sides and his feet were twitching away like he was auditioning to be in Riverdance.
Pieter stood transfixed as Commissaris Dirk Huijbers fell onto his knees and then toppled face-first into the pebbles.
Chapter 25
Ijsselmeer Sea
Carefully, Pieter laid Huijbers’ head back onto the ground and his hands came away all sticky and bloody. He remained kneeling there for several moments, looking at his fingers, his mind numb with shock. Then he wiped the gore onto his trouser leg and came unsteadily to his feet.
Several of the men had gathered around the Police Chief’s body, their mouths agape and their faces white, not knowing what to do.
Pieter recognized Vries amongst them and he grabbed his sleeve and drew him to one side.
“Get Dyatlov on the radio,” he instructed him in quiet tones. “Tell him what’s happened and inform him that the suspects are making a break for it across the water and that it looks like they are heading for the eastern shore. He needs to order the other strike-team to return to that side and try and cut them off. Tell him that they have Nina with them”
Even as he was saying this he knew it was a futile gesture. The boat could be making for any point on the far shoreline, there were dozens of spots where they could come ashore. All they needed to do was run the motor launch up onto the sand dunes, and they could be away in minutes. But they had to do something as in the space of just a few short moments the whole operation was turning into a shambles.
“What about you? What will you be doing?” Vries asked in his no-nonsense voice.
Pieter looked past the man’s shoulders, his eyes drawn up towards the roadway, and the helicopter parked there.
“I’m going out there after them.”
Pieter set off at a jog along the pathway that led around the small harbour, making for the concrete jetty on the far side.
Running with all his gear on, the flak-jacket and waist holster and helmet, was not easy. He felt clumsy and cumbersome. Plus the ground underfoot was icy and treacherous, and he had to skirt around numerous frozen puddles. By the time he reached the other side he was badly winded, and he had a severe stitch.
On the way over he’d noticed a pathway winding from the jetty up the flank of the dam incline. It led to the roadway running along the top. He made towards it. Thankfully there was a handrail, which he used to haul himself upwards.
At the top he paused briefly to get his breath and then slipped through the gate that led out onto the roadway and ran over towards the blue helicopter.
The pilots had kept the twin engines running at low power, enough for the rotors to keep turning slowly, and when they saw him coming over one of them gave him a thumbs-up through the cockpit window and somebody in the main passenger compartment slid open the side door.
Pieter clambered into the back. There were several armed men strapped into their seats, their faces set with grim determination. He moved by them and poked his head between the pair of pilots’ seats.
“Get us in the air fast.” He jabbed his forefinger towards the motor launch out at sea, which was now nothing but a tiny speck in the grey expanse. “Can you catch them?”
“You watch this baby move,” one of the two pilots replied, and they both reached for the controls.
Pieter found a spare seat and fastened himself in. He left the sliding door in the open position, and when the helicopter lifted off a minute later, he watched as the roadway seemed to drop away, and then slide beneath them in a grey blur, and he had to take a deep breath to fight against the sudden nauseous feeling in his stomach.
The road surface soon gave way to the white frozen shoreline alongside the dam, and then they were skimming low across the choppy waves of the Ijsselmeer.
The noise of the engines slapped his eardrums painfully, making him grimace, so someone handed him a pair of ear protectors. Pieter removed his helmet and slipped them over his head.
He heard a tinny voice come through the headset.
“Looks like they are altering course.”
Pieter leaned out through the doorway to get a better view of the motor launch up ahead, the cold wind sucking the air from his lungs. He could just make the boat out, which now seemed to be heading in a southerly direction, towards the dam. It passed out of view below the helicopter as it moved further to the right, and so he leaned forward in his seat, straining against the safety harness, to look out of the cockpit window.
He still couldn’t see because of the instrument panel, and he shouted in frustration.
“Where are they? I can’t see them!”
One of the pilots tapped the side of his aviation helmet, indicating he couldn’t hear Pieter clearly. “Use your mike, Inspector,” came his voice in Pieter’s ear.
Pieter found the tiny microphone attachment on the front of his headset and he twisted it up towards his mouth.
“Where the hell are they?” he repeated. “What are they doing? Are they making for the dam?”
The pilot craned forward to look downwards through the cockpit window, and then he gave a shake of his head.
“They went inshore to one of the small fishing jetties sticking out from the dam. It looks like they dropped someone off, but now the boat’s heading back out across the water again.”
“Who did they drop off? Dammit, speak to me!”
“I can’t tell from this distance, sir. What should we do? Stay with the boat, or follow whoever just got off?”
Pieter gritted his teeth, wondering what the hell Lotte and her accomplice were playing at. They were trying to confuse them, to draw them away, that’s what they were doing. Were Lotte and the girl still in the boat? Had they taken her ashore? Where was the sniper? Still onboard, or making a run for it on land?
“Sir, what do you want us to do?”
“Shit!” Pieter shouted loudly, and then came to a decision, praying he’d chosen the correct one. “Stay with the boat!”
They swooped even lower, the undercarriage of the chopper seeming to be perilously close to the white-topped waves. They were travelling very fast now, the pilots working in perfect sync as they adjusted and manipulated the throttle and collective controls to thrust them forward, their feet gently pressing the pedals to control the main rotors and tail rotors to alter their direction.
Within a few minutes Pieter caught sight of the motor l
aunch once more. It was much closer now, but whoever was using the outboard motor was hunched forward, making it impossible to see their features, and the spray flying up in the boat’s wake as it kept changing direction obliterated his view further so that he couldn’t even be sure how many people were onboard.
Up ahead he saw the distant shoreline, the land flat and barren, with the white-painted Urk Lighthouse standing out against the backdrop of dark clouds.
He turned to one of the crewmen in the back of the chopper.
“Do we have a winch?” he shouted, not sure if he was miked up or not
“No sir. We’re not a search and rescue helicopter.”
“Pilot, get us right over the boat, as low as you can.”
“I can’t risk going much nearer. We don’t have skids, just retractable wheels. If the swell gets us, we’re in trouble. And this wind is a bitch.”
“Okay, okay, just get us as close as possible.”
They closed the gap still further, chasing after the frothy wake thrown up by the small vessel, and Pieter thought he caught a glimpse of blonde hair streaming in the wind.
Closer still, until they were right above the boat and keeping pace with it.
“Take us down!” Pieter shouted.
“Christ!” the pilot bellowed back angrily, but he did as he was told, grimacing as he adjusted their altitude.
Now they were barely a dozen feet above the speeding boat, the chopper swaying and bucking, and Pieter could feel spray from the sea dashing against his face.
He could see clearly that the boat had only one occupant, and even before the person turned their face to look upwards at the helicopter flying right overhead he knew it was Lotte, because of the slim and petite form.
In a repeat of the previous night, during the shootout at the Begijnhof, his eyes locked onto hers, and unbelievably she was smiling and laughing with her head thrown back.
The chopper dropped within six feet of the speeding vessel.
Charlotte Janssen screamed with exhilaration.
The thrill of the moment was exquisite, with the boat speeding over the choppy waters and the wind and spray blowing into her face. She felt so alive that every nerve in her body seemed to send electric vibrations through her being, and when she turned again to look up at the helicopter flying just feet above her head, seeing Pieter seated in the open doorway, she could not stop herself from laughing.
She wasn’t sure if it were an outburst of joy or the rapture of madness, the ecstasy of uncontrollable delight, or the white-hot burn of insanity. Whatever it was, it felt intoxicating.
As soon as it became clear the police were coming, her Uncle Johan had insisted they grab the girl from the basement and make a bolt for it. It was all over the internet, with news crews on the spot streaming live footage of the convoy of vehicles coming racing across the dam from both directions.
He’d run down the basement steps. In the few moments he was gone, she had made a quick phone call – “Mr Trinh, I require your services once more” - and then her uncle reappeared with the girl, dragging her by her wrist through the kitchen and into the parlour. She was screaming and crying, her stupid little face wet with tears, and so Lotte had stepped over and slapped her once, the stinging blow leaving a red mark on her cheek, instantly cutting off her bawling. After that, she had remained silent, her body rigid with shock, and so getting her down the beach and into the small boat had proved easy, and off they had set just moments before the first police trucks arrived.
Part way over the water Johan had removed the sniper’s rifle from the canvas carryall, and Lotte had watched as he had effortlessly fired one single round back towards the house, the rocking and bouncing boat no impediment to his marksmanship.
Then he had shouted across to her, telling her to steer towards the dam, towards a small wooden jetty. He would take the girl and draw the police away, while she tried to make it as far as the opposite shoreline.
Dropping them off, Lotte had once more set a course eastwards, but only moments later she’d heard the familiar thrumming sound of a helicopter approaching fast.
Now she was looking directly at Pieter, and she smiled.
Without giving himself time to think of the risks, and hoping he had judged it right, Pieter snapped open his seat’s safety harness and pulled off his headset and then jumped straight out of the door.
His leap lasted maybe a second, no more, but it was the most terrifying single second of his life.
He just had time to register the look of total surprise on Lotte’s face before he landed on top of her. He heard her muffled scream, followed by a howl of pain which he realized came from his own lips as his jaw hit the wooden side of the boat. Momentarily stunned, he shook his head to clear his senses and then turned to grab her.
Lotte was pushing and shoving, her legs trying to find a purchase on the seat. She’d let go of the rudder stick on the boat’s engine, and now she grabbed at Pieter’s hair, then clawed his face and eyes, and he had to swipe her arm away. Her face was pushed close to his own and he saw her brown eyes now blazed with insanity.
Quickly using his greater strength he rolled her over and forced both of her arms behind her back, giving them an upward twist which made her scream, and then he reached for the cuffs hanging on his belt and he snapped them over her slender wrists.
She was panting and he was panting, but the brief fight was over.
Pieter sat back in the boat and looked at her as she twisted and glanced back over her shoulder at him, smiling that insane smile once more.
The roar of the helicopter just feet above them and the waves crashing over the sides of the motor launch drowned out all further thought, so he came to his feet in the rocking boat and hauled her up. Turning around he saw the chopper was now at head height, and the crewman was leaning down with his arm outstretched.
Together they managed to manhandle Lotte through the doorway. Pieter clambered in after her, his foot catching the outboard motor on the way up, sending the empty boat into a crazy spin so that it turned in quick circles, creating a whirlpool like a miniature version of the Lofoten Maelstrom.
Pausing in the hatchway, he gave her a hard shove into one of the seats. Immediately three or four guns were levelled at her.
Sliding the door shut – the sudden drop in engine noise and the violent downdraft from the rotors was wonderful – Pieter stood with his legs braced for balance, one hand grasping a metal stanchion. Without once taking his eyes off her he reached for his discarded headset and spoke into the small microphone.
“Take us down onto the dam.”
Pieter could taste blood in his mouth and he guessed he had lost a couple of teeth from the whack he’d taken. He was also soaking wet and freezing cold and physically spent. But there was still a job to do. They’d got Charlotte Janssen into custody, but Nina Bakker was still somewhere down there, still a captive and frightened little girl.
The pilots spun and pitched the helicopter downwards and they quickly slid sideways towards the dam below, and moments later they touched down on the centre of the road.
Pieter opened the door again and pulled Lotte out of her seat and pushed her outside onto the tarmac. He kept a firm hold on her arm as he jumped down behind her.
He pointed at two of the armed men in the back of the helicopter.
“You two, come here. Pilot, get your bird back into the air and start searching for the man and the girl. Switch back over to the police radio frequency and guide me in when you spot them.”
He tossed his headset back through the doorway, and he, Lotte and the two policemen stood back and watched them lift back up into the sky.
Walking Lotte across the road he quickly unfastened one half of the handcuffs and then closed it over the metal guardrail along the roadside overlooking the frozen shore below. He locked it again, but stayed crouched alongside her, his eyes looking into hers.
“Why?” he asked quietly in the sudden calm. “Why did you take her?
Why did you kill her parents? If it was me you wanted, why not just come and kill me?”
Lotte laughed gently, but she had tears in her eyes.
“You fool. I don’t want to kill you. That would be too easy. I want to destroy you, Pieter. To take the silly girl, kill her while the whole world is watching, and see you suffer forever.”
Pieter gave a tiny shake of his head and he reached up and gently rubbed away the dampness on her cheek with his thumb.
“I don’t think you want that at all.”
Lotte twisted her face away to dislodge his hand, her chin trembling, and then gazed off into the middle distance with her watery eyes, seeing but not seeing the real world.
A double cracking sound brought Pieter to his feet, and at the same time one of the policemen shouted a warning: “Gunshots sir! From the beach!”
Pieter instinctively ducked, braced for the rounds to hit one of them, but when nothing happened he realized they were not the sniper’s target.
“Oh God!” came the cry.
Above them, the helicopter was turning, twisting around in mid-air, and as it pointed back towards them they could clearly see the two small bullet holes in the front of the cockpit canopy and one of the pilots slumped over his controls.
His colleague was desperately wrestling with the joystick, and he had a look of sheer terror on his face as the machine continued to spin around and lose altitude fast.
Those on the ground could do nothing but watch helplessly as the helicopter now shot upwards, pointing straight at the sky, but their brief flickerings of hope lasted just seconds as now it pitched all the way over and came skidding and shaking through the air towards the dam. At the last second, it spun sideways, and then hit the roadway about two hundred yards away, the fuel tank exploding in a bright orange fireball. The ground shook and flaming debris scattered outwards, while the main rotor blades came free and cartwheeled over the sea beyond the far side of the dam.
Pieter and the two policemen cringed back from the blast of heat that rolled over them, and they shielded their faces as a second explosion rippled outwards, shaking icicles loose from the guardrail.