‘Oh, yes. The usual. Parents, sisters, two brothers.’ ‘Brothers and sisters share your interest in law and order?’ ‘Police, you mean. No.’
‘Your father?’
‘Again police?’ She smiled as a person smiles when recalling someone of whom they are very fond. ‘I couldn’t imagine it. He’s in the building business.’
‘Does he know what kind of business you are in?’
She hesitated. ‘Well, no.’
‘What do you mean, well, no? He doesn’t, does he? Why?’ ‘Why?’ She seemed to be on the defensive. ‘He likes us to be independent.’
‘Would he approve of what you are doing? And that was no answer you gave me. Would he approve of his darling daughter mingling with the Krakers?’ ‘Is this what it’s like to be a suspect, sit, and to be grilled? Am I supposed to have done something wrong?’
‘Of course not. Would he approve?’ The entranced Colonel of a few minutes previously could have belonged to another world.
‘No.’
‘You put me in a quandary. I don’t like you being in this. You, apparently, do. Your father wouldn’t. To whom should I listen — you or your father?’
‘The question hardly arises, sir. You don’t know my father.’ ‘Child!’
‘What does that mean. I don’t understand.’
‘I know your father. Very well. We’ve been friends for over thirty years.’
‘Impossible! You can’t know him. You’ve only just met me and you didn’t even know me.’ She was no actress and was visibly upset. ‘This is — this is a trick of some kind.’
‘Annemarie. ‘van Effen touched her arm. ‘If the Colonel says he’s a friend of your father, then he is. Come on, sir.’
‘I know. When next you write or phone, Anne — if you ever do — give my warmest regards to David Joseph Karlmann Meijer.’
Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it again and turned to van Effen. ‘I think it’s my turn for a jonge jenever.’ De Graaf looked at van Effen. ‘My old friend David — we’ve gone sailing, fishing, skiing, hunting over the years — we were even up exploring the Amazon before this young lady here was born — owns a huge construction company. He also owns one of the biggest cement factories in the Netherlands, oil refineries, tankers, an electronics firm and God knows what else. “One has to cam a living, sir,”’ he mimicked. ‘Earn a living! Cruel, cruel landlord throwing the poor orphan out into the snow. Ah!’ He turned to look at the maitre d’ at his elbow. ‘Good evening. The young people will choose for me. But, first, another jonge jenever. ‘He looked at Annemarie. ‘Must have something to cry into. They say gin is best.’ After the orders had been taken and the maitre d’ and his minions departed, van Effen said: ‘You have a scenario, sir, and you don’t like what you see.’
‘I don’t like it at all. Two things. If anything happens to this young lady — well, David Meijer’s wrath is fearful to behold — and it’s considerably worse to be the object of it. Secondly, disguise or no disguise, Anne’s identity may be discovered. It can happen, as you know all too well, Peter: a slip of the tongue, an unguarded reference, some careless action, there are too many possibilities. What a windfall for a penniless Kraker or even worse, a professional kidnapper. Her father would pay five, ten million guilders to get her back. Do you like it, Peter?’
Van Effen made to speak, then glanced at the waiter who stood by his side. ‘Lieutenant van Effen. Phone.’
Van Effen excused himself. De Graaf said: ‘Well, do you like it?’ ‘Not the way you put it but — I don’t want to seem impertinent, sir, to disagree with my boss, but I think you put it too strongly. I’ve been doing this kind of work for some months in Rotterdam and nothing has ever happened to me there. And while there may be no Krakers down there, the criminal element are a great deal tougher than they are here. I’m sorry, Colonel, but I think you exaggerate the dangers. I’m rather good at disguises — you as much as said so yourself. I have a gun. Best, of course, is that no one in Amsterdam knows me.’
‘I know you.’
‘That’s different. Peter says that you know everyone — and you must admit that it was a very remote chance that you knew my father.’ ‘I could have found out easily enough. Peter knows?’ ‘Only my name. Not who I am, not until you spoke about it just now. I must say he didn’t seem particularly surprised.’ She smiled. ‘He could, of course, have been unconcerned or uninterested.’
‘You’re fishing, for compliments, my dear.’ She made to protest but he held up his hand. ‘In your case, indifference is impossible. The Lieutenant cares very much for people. ‘That doesn’t mean he goes around showing it all the time. It’s a learned habit. I know he didn’t know. I’m equally sure Julie does.’
‘Ah. Julie. Your favourite lady in all Amsterdam?’
‘I now have two favourite ladies in all Amsterdam. With the usual provisos, of course.’
‘Your wife and daughters, of course.’
‘Of course. Don’t stall. You’re very good at stalling, you know, Anne, at diverting me from the topic at hand, which is you, and don’t give me those big innocent eyes.’
‘Julie knows,’ she said. ‘How did you know that, sir’ ‘Because I know Julie. Because she’s clever. Because she’s a woman. Living so close to you she’s bound to notice things that others wouldn’t. Clothes, jewellery, personal possessions — things the average working girl wouldn’t have. Even the way you speak. Fine by me if Julie knows, she’d never tell anyone, I’ll bet she’s never even told her brother. You like living there?’ ‘Very much. And Julie, also very much. I think she likes me, too. I have the honour to sleep in the bedroom that used to be Peter’s. I believe he left about six years ago.’ She frowned. ‘I asked her why he’d left, it couldn’t have been an argument, they’re obviously terribly fond of each other, but she wouldn’t tell me, just said I’d have to ask Peter.’
‘Did you ask him?’
‘No.’ She shook her head very firmly. ‘One doesn’t ask the Lieutenant personal questions.’
‘I agree that he does rather give that impression. He’s quite approachable really. No secret about his departure — he left to get married. Marianne. Loveliest girl in Amsterdam, even although I do say it about my own niece.’
‘She’s your niece?’
‘Was.’ De Graaf’s voice was sombre. ‘Even in those days Peter was the best, most able cop in the city; far better than I am but for God’s sake don’t tell him so. He broke up a particularly vicious gang of people who specialized in a nice mixture of blackmail and torture. Four brothers, they were, the Annecys. God knows where they got their name from. Peter put two of them away for fifteen years. The other two just vanished. Shortly after the conviction of the two brothers, someone, almost certainly one or both of the two brothers that had not been brought to justice, placed in Peter’s weekend canal boat a huge bomb wired up to the ignition switch — same technique as was used by the murderers who assassinated Lord Mountbatten. As it happened, Peter wasn’t aboard his boat that weekend. But Marianne and their two children were.’ ‘Dear God’ The girl’s hands were clenched. ‘How awful. How — how dreadful!’
‘And every three months or so since that time he receives a postcard from one of the two surviving Annecy brothers. Never any message. just a drawing of a noose and a coffin, a reminder that he’s living on borrowed time. Charming, isn’t it?’
‘Horrible! just horrible! He must be worried to death. I know I would. Wondering every night when I go to sleep — if I could sleep — whether I would wake up in the morning.’
‘I don’t think he worries much — if he did he’d never show it — and I know he sleeps very well. But that’s the reason — although he never mentions it — why he doesn’t return to live with Julie.