“Do a thorough search of the house?” Siegel suggested.
“We’ll turn it upside down. We have a warrant; it would be a shame not to use it. Take everything that can be useful.”
It took them a couple of hours before all the material they could find had been stowed in boxes and taken to the Kerkstraat offices. Eekhaut reminded Dewaal that they needed to look into the info from Van Gils concerning Eileen’s kidnappers.
“I know. I haven’t forgotten. We assumed we’d catch Maxwell. That didn’t happen. All we have is his stuff. And it will take weeks, maybe months, to sift through it.”
“Eileen might be in direct danger.”
“They won’t kill her, Eekhaut. That would make no sense. Try to calm Prinsen. And let’s concentrate for a moment on Maxwell. When we find him, the problem with Eileen might be solved.”
One of the detectives shouted out for her. “Chief, you have an urgent personal call in your office.”
Dewaal hurried away.
“Her mother isn’t well,” Van Gils said. He surveyed the documents, the boxes, the computers. All of it stacked in the main room on the second floor. “How much time do we have?” he inquired. Thea De Vries, in the same kind of combat vest as Dewaal, said, “The computers are mine. I’m the resident geek.”
Dewaal appeared again. “Your attention, everyone,” she said. “You know I have an informant within the society. Yes, Veneman, I really do. Now, this informant tells me the society is planning an attack tomorrow, somewhere in Amsterdam, with the goal to kill a great many people. That’s all my informant knows at this time.”
She lifted both her hands to silence the sudden murmur in the room. “Quiet, please. This is all we have to go on. Any ideas?”
“At least we know how they’ll use the gas tanker,” Van Gils said.
“You just can’t explode a gas tanker,” Eekhaut said. “You need an explosive device first.”
“As if there aren’t experts in explosives in Amsterdam,” Veneman said.
“Who would they be targeting?” De Vries said. “The people they consider unworthy?”
“To them everybody might be unworthy,” said Dewaal. “Some place where there are a lot of people. Places that draw large crowds.”
“Central Station. Always packed.”
“The Dam, during the afternoon rush and the shoppers. Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Red-light district? A lot of unworthy people there?”
“The Kalverstraat. To get back at consumerism?”
Dewaal again raised her hands. “A lot of interesting ideas, folks, but we can’t have all those places evacuated simultaneously. Where would they park a gas tanker anyway? They would want to hide it, keep it out of sight. They can’t even drive it around. It would be too conspicuous.”
Nobody had any useful suggestions.
“Major problem,” Dewaal said. “I’ll call the minister of the interior and the chiefs of police and the highest level of the AIVD. You all look for something that will lead us to the tanker.”
Colonel Al-Rahman was leaning against a filing cabinet. He already felt at home in the office, despite the fact that so far only a few members of the team had acknowledged him. Apart from Eekhaut and Dewaal, most had ignored him.
“Can’t we get rid of him?” Veneman whispered to Eekhaut.
Eekhaut shrugged. “The chief wants me to babysit him. What can I do? I follow orders like everybody else. That’s what I’m good at.”
“Yeah, sure,” Veneman said. “You should offer him a place to sleep.”
“In my apartment? No way. He’s staying in a hotel, and I’m fine with that.”
“Yep, I heard he’s staying at the Hotel de l’Europe, of all places. Most fancy place in the whole city. And commutes in a taxi.”
“Again, not my problem,” Eekhaut said.
“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him night and day?”
“You pulling my leg or what? I keep an eye on him when he’s here, and I translate for him, and that’s as far as my involvement goes.”
“You know what I’m thinking, Eekhaut?”
“I have no idea, and I don’t care, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“I wonder,” Veneman said, “what the colonel’s real mission is. Investigating the murder of the prince? There’s gotta be more than that. He didn’t come here because someone in royalty was concerned about a murdered nephew. They’ve got plenty of princes over there.”
Exactly what Eekhaut had been thinking.
Eekhaut kept an eye on Prinsen, whose thoughts would be with Eileen and not so much on the case at hand. He would be especially stressed out now that Dewaal had moved against the society and against Maxwell. In Prinsen’s opinion, she was risking Eileen’s life, even if she saw it differently.
Prinsen got up and left the room, while the others were going through the material from Maxwell’s house and offices and Dewaal was in her office, on the phone. Eekhaut followed the young man. Prinsen stood in a hallway, leaning against the wall and making a phone call. He noticed Eekhaut approaching. “That’s not my fault,” he was saying into the phone. “I wasn’t even informed in advance. The chief told us to get to the cars, without so much as a suggestion about what would happen. I would have phoned you, but there was no time.”
He listened and looked at Eekhaut. He nodded. “Now wait a second!” He hung his head. Defeated, he said, “If you hurt her I’ll—” But it was clear the other side had hung up. He dropped the phone in his pocket and looked at Eekhaut. “They’re angry because I didn’t warn them.”
“You explained you couldn’t,” Eekhaut said. “Nothing you could do.”
“Still!” Prinsen glanced over Eekhaut’s shoulder. Dewaal had appeared, as if out of nowhere.
“What’s up?” she inquired.
Prinsen told her.
“I promised you we would look for Eileen as soon as we got Maxwell.”
“We can’t wait,” Prinsen said.
“All right then. Eekhaut, take two men out to Bickersgracht. Do it right now. If Eileen isn’t there, we have to think up a new strategy. And someone ought to speak with Ms. Simson. See what else she knows about Maxwell that she forgot to tell us earlier. I suspect her of having her own agenda.”
45
“NOT SO BRAVE, THAT lover of yours, after we had a talk about his obligations and responsibilities,” the man with the balaclava said. He sounded as if he had a cold, or smoked too much.
That the man continued to wear his disguise gave Eileen hope. They won’t kill me. They won’t. Things will turn out all right. I’m just merchandise in an exchange. Nick will make sure nothing happens to me.
They hadn’t touched her, so she assumed the men were professionals, not amateurs. Working for a fee or something. She knew that much from watching movies. They hadn’t tied her up either. She was free to move about in the room but hadn’t been let out. They seemed convinced she couldn’t escape.
The other man, behind her, said, “But he didn’t respect our agreement, and that’ll be held against him.”
“He’s a cop,” the other said. “He should know how this works. But he isn’t the tough guy we expected. More like a wimp, isn’t he? Are you sure you want him as your boyfriend? A spunky girl like you?”
“That’s not what’s on her mind right now,” the first man said. “She doesn’t even want to think too much, anyway. Thinking hurts under these circumstances. Because she knows horrible things might happen to her if her lover doesn’t cooperate.”
Eileen knew it was better not to react. Not to give them the satisfaction of her doubts. She let them talk. They might let slip clues about what would happen. Or who they were. There were only two of them, but she assumed there must be a third man somewhere, keeping a lookout and contacting Nick.
“She’s not really a talker, is she?” the first man said. “That’s what I like about women, personally, knowing when to shut it. That cop’s a lucky one, isn’t
he?”
“Well, what would you do?” the other one said. “Alone, in a room, with the two of us. You wouldn’t have much to say either, would you?”
“How long will I have to stay here?” Eileen asked.
“Now let’s not get too intimate,” the first man said. He opened the door and walked out into the corridor. She noticed a wall of aged, dirty bricks, with gray light coming from an invisible source. Daylight. Whatever this was, it hadn’t been used in a long time. Maybe a former factory or warehouse.
The first man looked over his shoulder at his partner. “You coming? Or do I lock you in there with the girl?”
The second man left the room. The door closed with the unpleasant echo of old steel against brick. A large, empty, hollow building. If she could make contact with the outside world, this description might be useful.
She was alone again. No more human sounds. She sat on the chair. She had already examined the room for a means of escape but found nothing. She didn’t even know where she was. Maybe still in Amsterdam, maybe abroad. She’d been unconscious when she arrived here, for how long she didn’t know. And she wasn’t going anywhere.
46
“ARE YOU SURE?” EEKHAUT asked. He was worried because the situation wasn’t entirely under control, which he hated. From experience, he knew accidents happened when the situation wasn’t under control.
“Absolutely,” Van Gils said. Eekhaut had sent him to reconnoiter the scene. This area with the hulk of a closed-down factory and empty quays seemed deserted. Decaying would be the better word. From his vantage, it appeared as if no living soul had been here for some time. But Van Gils had found evidence of occupation—and occupants.
“You can’t see them from where we’re standing,” Van Gils continued. “A black Land Rover and two men smoking, as if on a break. There’s a third man somewhere inside. I saw him through the windows. None of them seemed to bother about observing the surroundings. As if they’re sure it’s the perfect hideout.”
“She’s here,” Prinsen said.
“We don’t yet know that, Nick,” Eekhaut warned him. “Let’s be careful about this. There’s three of them, there’s three of us. Whoever these men are, they must be armed. We need assistance if we want to proceed.”
“There might be more of them inside,” Van Gils said. “Although, if it’s only the girl involved, they wouldn’t need more than three men.”
“Calling in assistance takes too long,” Prinsen said.
Eekhaut looked at Van Gils for his opinion. “Armed officers?” Van Gils said. “An hour, at the very least.”
“Can’t we ask Dewaal for help?” Prinsen wanted to know. “It’s her problem we’re solving.”
Not really, Eekhaut thought. It’s mainly your problem, Nick.
“Not with that many people occupied with Maxwell,” Van Gils said. He studied Prinsen carefully.
“What’s in our car?” Eekhaut asked. He knew, from previous experience, that the Bureau’s cars usually held a small arsenal in a hidden compartment in the back.
Van Gils frowned and glanced at the Mazda sedan they’d come in. “This isn’t one of the better-equipped Bureau vehicles. No, there’s no weaponry in there.”
“That means it’s just the three of us, each carrying a pistol.”
“We have the advantage of surprise,” Prinsen insisted. “We don’t need backup.”
“There’s risk involved,” Van Gils said. “We’re not supposed to use force if a hostage is present.”
“What’s the usual operational procedure the Bureau has for such cases?” Eekhaut asked Van Gils.
“We rarely have to deal with a situation like this. There’s no procedure other than whatever’s improvised.”
“Let’s just sneak in,” Prinsen suggested. “How hard can it be? This building’s full of holes.”
“It’s probably full of dangerous situations as well,” Van Gils said.
“Hold it,” Eekhaut said. “I still outrank both of you. So it’ll be my responsibility. We go in. Get Eileen out, shoot the bastards if we need to. Prinsen, you see that wall over there?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a large hole to the left. Go in and proceed toward the men, and make sure you can see all three of them. Then I need a signal from you.”
“What signal?”
“Message on my phone.”
“Right.”
“Van Gils goes to the right and enters the building. I’ll walk up to the men and keep them occupied.”
It wasn’t anything like a decent plan and Eekhaut knew it, but this was the best he could come up with on short notice.
Both detectives disappeared. A few moments later the message from Prinsen pinged on Eekhaut’s phone. It said: I see 2. Not 3.
Can’t be helped, Eekhaut thought. He walked toward the back of the building, turned a corner, and saw two men standing next to the Land Rover. They seemed relaxed, up until they noticed him watching. He had drawn his gun but kept it out of sight. The man who saw him first threw his cigarette away and nudged the other. Both were young, maybe in their thirties, and athletic. Both would be armed.
“This is private property!” one of them said, loud enough to cover the distance.
The other, apparently less confident about the sudden intruder, stepped from behind the car and felt under his coat, presumably for a gun.
Eekhaut raised his weapon. He was familiar with the kind of men who were hired for these purposes. They were a special kind of mercenary who weren’t likely to risk their lives.
“Police officer,” Eekhaut said. “Keep your hands where I can see them. The building is surrounded.” Which sounded hopelessly melodramatic.
The first man’s hand appeared from under his coat holding a gun. It moved upward and would end up pointing toward Eekhaut’s head.
He reacted almost on instinct. He had neglected to hold onto his gun with both hands, and it jerked violently; the bullet seemed to end up nowhere. But this was his lucky day: the man with the weapon didn’t finish his movement but stepped back, two, three steps, then collapsed.
His partner cursed and reached for his own gun. Too late. Eekhaut now grabbed on with both hands and fired his gun a second time. But the man was moving, and he missed.
The man ducked behind the Land Rover, aimed at Eekhaut, and opened fire.
Then two shots came from Eekhaut’s right flank. The man behind the Land Rover fell sideways and didn’t move anymore. Van Gils stood at the other end of the building, gun still raised.
“Did I get him?” he asked.
“Two down,” Eekhaut said.
He saw Prinsen inside the building through a gap. He was moving fast.
Eekhaut went after him, while Van Gils quickly frisked the two men for more weapons.
Inside, the air was cold and stale. Eekhaut heard sounds. Hurried footsteps over concrete and broken glass. He found his way into an enclosed area under a large jagged opening in one wall. Prinsen stood in a corner, pointing his gun at a man who looked eerily similar to the two men outside. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice hard as the glass under his feet. “She’d better be OK.”
Eekhaut stepped closer. “We got the other two, Nick. And Eileen will be around somewhere. Don’t shoot him.”
“She’s over there, behind that door,” the man said.
“Keep an eye on him,” Prinsen told Eekhaut. And hurried toward the door.
Prinsen wanted to ride with Eileen in the ambulance, but Eekhaut told him he was needed elsewhere, and that he needed to face Dewaal now more than ever.
“There’s going to be a lot of explaining on your part, Nick,” he said.
“She’s in on it,” Prinsen said. “It’s not like we did this without her knowledge.”
But he knew what Eekhaut was referring to.
“Eileen will be all right,” Eekhaut replied. “Van Gils will keep her company. After this, we have to go see Ms. Simson. And after that, your aunt will certainly want to
have a word with you.”
Prinsen hung his head.
“It’ll be all right,” Eekhaut said. Although he was sure it would not.
47
THE UNDERGROUND AREA HAD walls and a ceiling of grainy reinforced concrete and steel that appeared able to withstand a nuclear war, but Courier told Baphomet much of this strength was an illusion. “What you see is the support structure, and there’s not much weight on top of it. The weight of the aboveground part and of the whole complex is carried by the external framework, the walls and the arches around the outer walls. All this steel and concrete? Because it’s the cheapest way to build. And it requires no maintenance.”
Baphomet turned toward the gas tanker. He wore black jeans and a sweater of the same color under a dark blue parka, hanging open now. “And why is this underground space so large? Is it used as a parking garage, or what? I don’t see the need for it.”
“It’s used when there are concerts going on aboveground. The stage builders park their trucks here, and the stuff goes into the large freight elevators. Sometimes this is where buses park for visiting groups. I’ve chosen this place because much of the time hardly anyone comes down here. We won’t be disturbed.”
They stood at a distance of no more than fifty feet from the parked tanker, in the middle of the large space. The looming vehicle consisted of a tractor and a semitrailer with a matted steel cylindrical tank sporting the gold-on-red name of a transport company. Metagogeus climbed out of the cab of the tractor and carefully shut the door.
“Any doors or gates we need to lock?” Baphomet asked.
“Four,” Courier said. “They’re already locked. A single entrance will remain open for our use. This facility can be hermetically sealed, Baphomet. Don’t worry. And it will be fully closed once we have set the timer.”
“Nobody gets in once the timer is started?”
“Nobody. I made sure of that.”
Baphomet glanced toward Serena, who stood a couple of yards from them, admiring the tanker. She didn’t seem interested in anything else.
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