‘George, you’re an arms dealer. Heaven knows there are enough of those around, but you’re something special. The king-pin. Mr Big. A Leopard tank? A sAm missile? Even a motor torpedo boat? George is your man. And being Mr Big means you’re important. You talk only to principals. No intermediaries, not even me. Face to face or no deal.’
‘I talk to this Agnelli?’ George smiled widely. ‘You want me on the inside?’
‘I have a feeling that I could do with a little help, sooner rather than later. I’ve no right to ask you, of course. There’s Annelise and your kids. Things might get a little difficult — ‘
‘A little difficult!’ De Graaf could put a nicely sarcastic edge to his voice when he had a mind to. ‘Difficult. I don’t say it’s crazy because nothing’s crazy if there’s a chance, but I don’t like it at all. It’s based on the assumption that they’re not on to you and that’s an unjustifiable assumption. Sure, they’ve gone along with you so far and you with them, but that’s only because, so far, it’s suited you both. But if they are on to you and they decide a time has come when you’re of no further use to them, then when the time comes to discard you it may be in a pretty permanent fashion. Have you we right to ask that of George?’ ‘I’ve just done that.’
The phone rang again and de Graaf picked it up. ‘Ah. Lieutenant Valken … Yes, yes.’ De Graaf ‘s face became very still as he listened. ‘Never mind if you’ve never heard it before. Wait till I get a piece of paper and pen.’ De Graaf wrote down a few words, told Valken goodbye and hung up. He reached for his glass.
Van Effen said: ‘Julie, Annemarie?’
‘Yes. How do you know?’
‘Valken, your face, brandy. Bad?’
‘Bad enough. Phone call from the brothers. They say the girls are as well as can be expected which can mean anything or nothing. They also say they’ve sent a telegram of condolences to Rotterdam.’ He’d picked up the piece of paper he’d scribbled on. ‘To David Joseph Karlmann Meijer.’ Van Effen sipped his brandy and said nothing. George and Vasco exchanged glances of incomprehension. At length George said: ‘And who might he be?’ ‘I forgot,’ de Graaf said. ‘You don’t know, of course. Anne’s — Annemarie’s — father.’
‘Yes,’ George said. ‘I mean no. I don’t understand, Colonel. What about Annemarie?’
De Graaf stared incredulously at van Effen. ‘You mean, you haven’t told them?’
‘I don’t believe I have.’
‘Good God!’ De Graaf shook his head. ‘The need-to-know principle, I suppose. One of those days, Peter, you’re going to forget to remind yourself of something and that will be the end of you.’ De Graaf looked from George to Vasco. ‘Annemarie and Julie — Lieutenant van Effen’s sister — have been kidnapped. The Annecy brothers.’ ‘The Annecy brothers.’ George was silent for a moment. ‘Those murderous fiends. You put two of them away for fifteen years.’ ‘Correction. Lieutenant van Effen put them away and the two that escaped have been threatening to get him ever since. They’ve gone one better. They’ve got Julie.’
‘I know Julie well. And what’s the significance of this message to Annemarie’s father?’
‘The significance lies in her father. You will find it hard to believe, George, but the father of that fearful frump who used to frequent La Caracha is one of the wealthiest men in the Netherlands. Maybe the wealthiest. And a very powerful man. He has the ear of the government. He’s in a position rather similar to Dassault, the plane maker, in France. There are some areas in which they don’t move without consulting him at first or, at least, listening to what he says. He has power and wealth and a daughter and now they have the daughter and may well turn his power and wealth to their own advantage. Anne Meijer is any criminal’s dream hostage come true.’
Van Effen put down his glass and looked at his watch. ‘It’s time, George.’
‘God in heaven! I don’t believe it. You look at your damned watch and say it’s time to go. Doesn’t it occur to you to wonder how in the hell they got that information about David Meijer.’
‘Some sort of persuasion, I suppose.’
‘Persuasion! Torture. They tortured the poor girl!’ ‘What poor girl?’
‘Are you all right, Lieutenant? Annemarie, of course.’ The shake of van Effen’s head was very positive. ‘No. Not Annemarie. The Annecy brothers — or at least the two we put away — never tortured without a reason, however twisted that reason might be. The reason was either revenge or to get information. Why should they revenge themselves on Annemarie — what has she ever done to anyone? And information — what information could they possibly get from her. They don’t know who she is, who her father is. Didn’t, rather. As far as they are concerned she’s only a friend of Julie’s and they took her along for no reason other than the fact that she happened to be there. If they tortured anybody — and I suspect it was only a threat of torture, to get information about me — it would have been Julie. My guess is that Annemarie volunteered that information about herself as a sop to the Annecys, to turn their minds to the thought of unlimited ransom money — maybe she even mentioned her father’s influence with the government although people like the Annecys would almost certainly have been aware of that anyway — anything to distract attention from Julie. Annemarie’s no fool — if she were, I wouldn’t have brought her up from Rotterdam. She knows that the Annecys of this world are above all pragmatists and that anything that would further their plans would be of a great deal more interest to them than hurting me by proxy.’ ‘Cold-blooded fish,’ de Graaf muttered.
‘Pardon, sir?’
‘You could be right or you could be wrong. Damage both ways. If you’re right the Annecys’ hands have been greatly strengthened and David Meijer’s pocket almost certainly lightened, or will be in the very near future. If you’re wrong, you’re putting your head in that charming hangman’s noose that the Annecy brothers put on their postcards. If you’re wrong she’d have talked of” many things, principally that Stephan Danilov is Peter van Effen. I can’t take the chance that you’re not wrong. My orders are that you are not to go through with this.’ George said: ‘Normally, Colonel, I wouldn’t dream of not complying with your wishes. But these aren’t normal circumstances. By refusing your request, I’m not stepping outside the law nor am I making the point that I’m no longer a policeman. I’m just going my own way.’ De Graaf nodded. ‘I can’t stop you. But I can
‘You can force him to go his own way, too,’George said. ‘By resigning. You’d never forgive yourself, Colonel.’
De Graaf scowled, refilled his glass, sank into an armchair and gazed into the fire. Van Effen nodded to Vasco and the three men left the room.
Van Effen and George returned to the Trianon to find that the usual watchdog was not in his usual place. But there was another and, if possible, even more insignificant character seated some distance from the desk and sipping beer instead of jonge jenever. Van Effen had no doubt that this was a replacement from the same stable. The manager called to them as they passed the desk.
‘This message has just come for you, Mr Danilov.’ He handed van Effen a slip of paper which read: ‘May I see you in your room? Two minutes.’ ‘Yes, of course. Thank you. ‘van Effen folded the paper into his pocket and led George to the lift. The promised two minutes later the manager arrived in van Effen’s room. He closed the door behind him, looked doubtfully at George and seemed to hesitate.