Into the Night: Inspector Rykel Book 2 (Amsterdam Quartet)

by Jake Woodhouse

  He called Ballistics, asked them to check and get back to him if the gun they had matched any of the killings listed on Rutte’s file.

  Then he peered at the photo of Rutte taken at one of his arrests.

  His face was heavyset, thick eyebrows crowded down on his eyes, and his jaw was clenched like he was in pain, or just angry. His hair was low on his forehead, a widow’s peak pointing down towards his nose.

  Glancing up, Jaap spotted Tanya walking into the office, and waved her over. She nodded and changed direction. He turned back to Teeven and Rutte’s files, and wondered just what was wrong with the case, why he couldn’t make any sense of it at all.

  Tanya stepped through the doorway, her red hair snapped back in a tight ponytail.

  ‘Hey,’ he said as he rose. The urge to touch her, hold her, was strong, and he went towards her just as she steered around him, throwing a glance at the glass wall through which he could see Kees was just about to arrive.

  It frustrated him that Tanya was so secretive, but he tried not to show it.

  She pulled up a chair and placed it opposite him, spreading out some papers on the table between them. Kees pushed the door open and walked over, fanning out a set of photos right on top of the files Jaap had already brought in.

  ‘Okay,’ said Jaap, sitting down again. ‘Let’s get to it.’

  He started out by going through the scene reports for each of the two murders, and the autopsy on victim one. All this had come from the new computer system, the images uploaded by the forensic and pathology teams. The switchover from the old Herkenningsdienstsysteem had taken years to implement, but was now fully operational. And much more efficient.

  Then he gave it over to Kees, who explained about the photos he’d got from the CCTV at 57.

  Jaap leaned across the table and looked at the photo of four men. One of them, just as Kees had said, was the man who he’d previously thought was Koopman, while another was Teeven. Of the remaining two, only one’s face was visible; the fourth member of the group was facing away from the camera.

  ‘Did anyone at 57 know these two?’ he asked.

  Kees shook his head, then grimaced, putting a hand up to his forehead.

  The four men had been sitting around a table for a couple of hours, as evidenced by the digital time stamps in the corner of each photo.

  Jaap sat back in his chair. There’d been a few glimpses of something during his morning meditation session, just an illusive flicker of an idea that had stayed tantalizingly out of reach.

  He could almost hear Yuzuki Roshi telling him not to search for what he was searching for. Recently Jaap had been wondering if the whole Zen paradox thing was really worth it, if, in the end, it was just all mind games. Fine if you’re cloistered up in a monastery in Kyoto, but less useful when you’re heading up a multiple murder investigation.

  ‘We’ve got two dead bodies, and the last tweet yesterday hinted there’ll be more,’ said Jaap, picking up one of the photos again. ‘I still can’t see why their heads were removed and their hands burned, or why it’s been advertised on Twitter. The killer’s not made any demands, so why do it?’

  ‘Not yet, anyway,’ said Kees, leaning close to Tanya and jabbing his finger at the photo she was looking at. ‘But if there are going to be more killings then it’s fair to assume it’ll be one of these?’

  Jaap watched as Tanya moved subtly away from Kees. She caught his eye for a second before going back to Teeven’s file.

  Jaap was reminded that Tanya and Kees had gone out when they’d been doing the basic police training course. He tried to stop himself thinking about that, about them sleeping together, even if it was years ago.

  ‘Let’s work on that assumption,’ he said. ‘We need to ID these two as soon as—’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Tanya. ‘Look at this.’

  26

  Sunday, 9 May

  10.48

  Tanya’d been only half listening to what Jaap and Kees were talking about, she’d been looking through Teeven’s file, the man who’d had a picture of her leaving Jaap’s houseboat on his phone. But it wasn’t till she turned to his autopsy photo that things started to click into place.

  The only catch – if Kees was involved, how much could she afford to give away?

  ‘See this here?’ she said, pushing a photo of one of Teeven’s legs towards Jaap. Both Jaap and Kees leaned in to take a look. The image showed an empty ankle holster strapped to the dead man’s calf.

  ‘Kinky leather,’ said Kees.

  ‘The thing is,’ said Tanya, ignoring him, ‘last night I found a knife at a cannabis farm which had been cleared out. And the knife had a round crest on it, with an eagle. That round bit there? It looks the same.’

  Jaap picked up the photo. He had the fast movements of a hunter, everything alert.

  ‘I’ll get the lab to check it out, but I’m sure we’re going to find the roundel on there matches the roundel on the knife I found,’ she said.

  ‘I think it will too,’ said Jaap. ‘I remember looking at it. So you think these four were growing cannabis?’ he asked, pointing to one of the photos Kees had brought.

  She thought back to the name on the logs. This was where things got tricky. If Kees was involved, did she really want to play her hand now?

  Maybe now’s the time to see, thought Tanya.

  She paused for a moment before making her decision. She was going to watch Kees carefully, check his reaction.

  ‘That drug raid I was on yesterday? The crew I was with kept hitting these places where surveillance was sure there was an indoor farm, and every time they got there it’d all be gone. I think they’re somehow getting tipped off.’

  Tanya was looking at Jaap, but she was tuned into Kees, trying to sense if he’d reacted.

  Did he react? she thought. Did he kind of freeze for a second? Or did I imagine it?

  ‘Okay,’ said Jaap. ‘Makes sense. Let’s see if this knife and holster match up. But that still leaves the question, why are they getting killed? Some vigilante? Or someone trying to muscle in on their business? I … Kees, are you all right?’

  Tanya glanced at Kees. He was looking pale. Unhealthily so.

  ‘Yeah, I … I think I just need a drink,’ Kees said, getting up. ‘I’ve been running around and I think maybe I’m a little dehydrated.’

  He left the room, leaving the door open behind him.

  Tanya got up and closed it, wondering if now was the moment to tell Jaap, but he was already talking.

  ‘Let’s divide these up,’ he said, picking up the CCTV images again. ‘I’ll focus on trying to ID these men and see if that pathologist has got any DNA results for the first victim yet. Have you got time to follow up on that knife, see if it is Teeven’s?’

  ‘Yeah, I can do that. If it matches?’

  ‘If it does we should check out their customers, most likely the Coffeeshops. See if anyone recognizes them.’

  Tanya nodded. It made sense, but it would be a huge job.

  ‘And I should speak to the drug squad,’ said Jaap. ‘Who were you working with yesterday?’

  ‘Hank de Vries, do you know him?’

  ‘Hank? Yeah, I knew him at academy. Ironic he ended up in the drug squad, he was always partial to a bit of a smoke.’

  ‘Seriously? He seems to really hate the stuff now. He was rabid when we turned up at that place yesterday and found it had been cleaned out.’

  ‘You got his number?’

  ‘I’ll call him,’ she said, pulling out her phone.

  Jaap listened as she got through and told him what they were after.

  ‘Really?’ she said suddenly, looking up at Jaap. ‘Hang on. They’ve got another tip-off, they’re just about to head there now.’

  ‘I want to be there,’ said Jaap. Tanya handed him the phone.

  ‘Hank? It’s Jaap. I’m going to need to ride with you on this one. Where are you?’

  He listened to the response.

  ‘Okay
,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘I’ll call you when I’m close.’

  He handed Tanya her phone back. Their hands touched, and he held on to her fingers for a moment.

  ‘Listen, I—’

  The glass door swung open behind Jaap before he could say anything, and they both turned to see Frits carrying a large pile of files. He was looking at them intently.

  They’d withdrawn their hands, but Frits looked like he’d noticed.

  ‘Didn’t want to disturb anything …’

  27

  Sunday, 9 May

  11.42

  Jaap stood, itching to get on.

  Smit had caught him just as he was leaving the station and demanded an update. But then he’d asked him to wait outside his office for ten minutes. Jaap had paced around, finally sitting in a chair and trying to read a newspaper he’d found on it. It’d been the business section, a long article about an aggressive takeover bid by some large company. Jaap’s eyes had glazed before Tanya had called to say the knife and holster had been checked and the answer had come back. They matched.

  When Smit had finally been ready for him, Jaap had stepped into his office and briefed him on the current status.

  ‘So you think the victims might be involved in growing cannabis on an industrial scale?’ asked Smit when Jaap had finished.

  Jaap nodded, that was exactly what he’d just told him.

  ‘But why are they then being killed?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out, and I’ve got to get—’

  ‘You’ve seen the media coverage. We – you – need a result on this quickly,’ said Smit as if he’d just laid out the answer to a philosophical question which had been bugging mankind since the dawn of time.

  ‘I know,’ said Jaap. ‘Which is why I really need to go now. And I could use some help.’

  ‘What do you need?’ asked Smit, shooting his cuffs.

  Jaap paused for a moment. What he was about to request would, if she ever found out, make Saskia angry.

  Well, angrier, he thought.

  ‘I’m meeting de Vries from the drug squad. He got a tip-off on another farm, and I want to be there, but I need some help. As it was Kees who came up with the photo of the two victims and the two other men they were hanging around with, I think it should be him. And I know he’s working on another case, but …’

  ‘Okay, you can have him. I’ll give the order he’s taken off Isovic and put someone else on it. Not sure he’s up to it anyway. But I want a result, preferably before we get another body.’

  As Jaap stepped out the front of the police station, he glanced up, looking at the faded blue POLITIE sign jutting out from the building.

  For a second he wondered if any of it was worth it.

  He heard shouting and watched as two uniforms attempted to bring in a man wearing jeans, T-shirt and an orange clown wig.

  The man didn’t appear too keen on entering the station.

  Once they’d managed to get the clown inside and booked, Jaap co-opted one of the uniforms to give him a lift, and twenty minutes later he was dropped off on a street in Nieuw-West. He spotted an unmarked car midway along.

  ‘Hey, long time,’ said Hank, offering up a soul shake as Jaap got into the passenger seat.

  He was more compact than Jaap, but lean and muscular. His blond hair was short, the same length and colour as his full beard. He was wearing a stab vest, a short-sleeve T-shirt and gold-lensed wraparounds. Veins coursed along his arms, and Jaap noticed a scar, knotted with stitch marks, cutting across his left forearm. From the pink scar tissue it looked recent.

  ‘So what brings you here?’ Hank asked once Jaap was settled in.

  ‘Two dead bodies without heads.’

  ‘Oh man, you got that one? Sometimes I’m glad I got out of homicide.’

  ‘Tell me about it. The thing is Tanya’s come up with a possible link between the men that were killed and all these cannabis farms.’

  ‘You have my full attention,’ said Hank, turning his head to face Jaap, who could see himself distorted in Hank’s sunglasses.

  ‘She found a knife at a grow house which matches a holster one of my victims had, and she reckons the reason you keep getting there too late is they’re getting tipped off somehow.’

  ‘They’re sure as shit getting tipped off,’ said Hank. ‘Unless they’ve smoked so much of their own product they’ve developed psychic powers.’

  A fly started buzzing round the back of the car.

  ‘Fuck, that thing’s been driving me crazy,’ Hank said as it flew between them and hit the windscreen. He tried to swat it, but missed, his hand leaving a smudge on the glass.

  ‘Tanya’s smart,’ said Hank, trying to rub the mark off but only making it worse. ‘Smart and pretty hot. If I wasn’t married I’d slide her on to the bonnet and—’

  Jaap didn’t want to hear. ‘Recognize any of these?’ He handed Hank the photos of the two victims and the CCTV shots from 57.

  Hank glanced through them, shook his head.

  ‘So do you have some idea who runs these things?’ asked Jaap as he took them back.

  ‘I’ve got a hunch. There’s this—’

  Hank’s radio crackled into life.

  ‘Two men entering the address now, what’s your call?’

  Hank turned to Jaap. ‘It’s a couple of streets away. Wanna join us?’

  ‘What I really need is the name of whoever you think might be behind this.’

  ‘Tell you what. Help me with this, and one of the people there might be able to tell you themselves.’

  Jaap weighed it up. He suddenly remembered he needed to let Tanya know that Kees was now working with them. She wasn’t going to like it.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, pulling out his phone. ‘I’ve got to make a call on the way.’

  ‘I’m moving now,’ said Hank into the radio. ‘And I’ve got someone with me. Repeat, I’ve got someone with me. I don’t want one of you morons shooting him. Position yourselves at the back. I’ll give you the signal when we’re going in.’

  He reached over to the back seat and handed Jaap a stab vest like his own.

  ‘Just in case,’ he said, as he fired up the car. ‘You armed?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jaap, pulling out his gun.

  There’d been a time when he’d thought he’d never carry a weapon again. But last year had changed all that, and he’d got over his reluctance.

  ‘Your arm, that happen on one of these raids?’ Jaap asked as Hank fired up the motor and yanked the gearstick.

  ‘This?’ said Hank, holding it up laughing. He swung the car out and accelerated faster than Jaap thought was strictly necessary. Sun streamed through the windscreen and they both reached for the sun-guards at the same moment, flipping them down in unison.

  ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘This was the wife.’

  28

  Sunday, 9 May

  11.44

  Kees was splashing water on his face when his phone started ringing.

  ‘Inspector Terpstra,’ said Kees, eyeing himself in the mirror. He’d been trying to get over the shock of seeing that the homeless woman was dead, but the face shower wasn’t really doing it.

  ‘Yeah, hi. We spoke yesterday. At 57?’

  ‘You’re the barman right?’ said Kees, unable to recall his name but recognizing the voice, picturing the goatee.

  ‘Yeah, and I just wanted to say I thought I saw one of those guys last night. From the photo you showed me?’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘I’m not totally sure it was him. It was only this morning I kind of placed him. So I checked the camera we’ve got on the exit, and I reckon he left just after 10 p.m.’

  ‘You there now?’

  ‘Yeah, just cleaning up, but—’

  ‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’ said Kees as he headed down to the carpool at a run, water still dripping off his chin.

  He managed to secure something a bit more butch than the electric car he’d had yes
terday, and was outside the club in less than seven minutes. All the while his mind was racing, faster than the car.

  He might be back on track. If this was a sighting of Krilic it could improve his chances of getting to Isovic.

  The place where Isovic had hit him yesterday, right on the back of his head, throbbed.

  The fact that everyone at the station had heard about it wasn’t any less painful.

  This time he didn’t even bother trying to parallel-park, he simply skidded the car halfway across the road and left it there, siren screaming, lights going berserk and the driver’s door hanging open.

  People coming off the free ferries which linked the old city to the new northern section were watching him as he ran towards the club door, wondering what was going on. He toyed with drawing his gun, just for show, but decided it might freak the barman out a bit.

  But he couldn’t resist hammering on the doors and yelling ‘Police’ as he slapped his ID badge up against the glass.

  ‘Jesus,’ said the barman when he let Kees in. ‘What’s the rush?’

  ‘Let’s just see the tape,’ said Kees.

  29

  Sunday, 9 May

  12.15

  Hank grinned at Jaap as he nosed the car into the street. He slowed to a stop, leaving the motor running. It sounded like someone had souped up the engine.

  The scene out the windscreen was classic Nieuw-West, state housing which ran in terraces. Moroccan and Tunisian flags hung from windows on some of the buildings. A black bin regurgitated junk on to the street for a crowd of unruly gulls, their heads jabbing and pecking in a frenzy of yellow and white.

  This was the area that Mohammed Bouyeri, killer of filmmaker Theo van Gogh, was born and raised in, and it was known for immigrant unrest, many of its residents unhappy that the promised land hadn’t quite turned out like the dreams which had lured them, or their parents, in the first place.

  Jaap had called Tanya as Hank had driven, and told her about Kees, but his reception had gone and he wasn’t sure she’d got the message. He tried to send a text but he still had no coverage. Giving up he pocketed the phone.