‘At once, Colonel. But there is no need to emphasize secrecy. All of us, myself included, have been threatened by Colonel de Graaf with the equivalent of Devil’s Island.’
‘Ah! Our redoubtable Chief of Police in Amsterdam.’ ‘Yes, sir. Whose prisoners are those — yours or ours?’ ‘They are now the property of the nation. We will drive to my base, call up Mr Wieringa, the Defence Minister, and Colonel de Graaf and see what is to be done with them. Meantime, let’s have a look at Ylvisaker’s truck — well, his stolen truck.’
Inside the truck Druckmann said: ‘I really know very little about what’s going on. Those three men are FFF?’
‘They are indeed and they face three charges. The first is impersonating army officers. The second is being in possession of a stolen army vehicle.’ Gropious opened the lids of the two fake long-range petrol tanks to reveal the squat, cylindrical shapes of two bronze-coloured metal objects. ‘The third, of course, is to have them explain how come they are transporting a couple of nuclear bombs along the roads of our fair countryside.’
The lids were lowered and they stepped outside. Druckmann said: ‘May I smoke in the Colonel’s presence?’
‘The Colonel is about to do the same.’
After a few moments, Druckmann said: ‘Well, all right. I volunteer.’ Gropious smiled. ‘To drive this truck to base?’
‘I’m a fearful coward, Colonel. I shall take great care.’ ‘I have a great deal of time for fearful cowards, sergeant. By the time we get there we shall have two US experts from Germany standing by to deactivate those damned things. I shall lead the way, red lights flashing and all that sort of thing, you will follow close behind and your police car will follow close behind you. You have this consolation, Sergeant Druckmann. If you’re vaporized, we’re all vaporized.’ The time was 9.27 a.m.
At precisely 9.27 a.m. Daniken touched down outside another isolated windmill-cum-farmhouse, considerably larger than the one they had so recently left. Two men and two women, umbrellas in hand, came hurrying out to meet them. It was clear that Samuelson and his friends, judging from the smiles on the faces of the four, were not only known and welcome but also expected. With the power shut off the interior of the gunship was almost deathly quiet. Van Effen said to Agnelli: ‘Well, yes, you do have a certain gift for organization.’
Agnelli smiled and said nothing.
The living-room of the windmill, which had a similar veranda outside, was considerably larger and even more luxurious than the one they had left behind, There were ten people in the room — Samuelson and the Agnelli brothers, van Effen and his friends and the four girls. Daniken, van Effen guessed, was presumably parking — and concealing — his helicopter in a nearby barn. Riordan had gone upstairs, no doubt to indulge in another bout of meditation and prayer.
Samuelson, relaxed in an armchair before a crackling wood fire, sighed like a man well content with himself.
‘Clockwork, my friends, just clockwork. The penultimate stage successfully completed. I know it’s still relatively early in the morning, but, then, we shall be having an early lunch. Something in the nature of a soupfon of jonge jenever, I think.’
‘An early lunch?’ van Effen said. ‘We are moving on?’ ‘Just after two o’clock.’ Samuelson gestured towards a TV set. ‘After we’ve seen what happens in the Markerwaard.’
‘I see.’ Van Effen made it abundantly clear that he didn’t see at all. ‘Well, wherever.’ He shrugged. ‘How many of those establishment do you own in the Netherlands?’
‘None. The owners of this house, for instance, are presently basking in the sunshine of the Bahamas. The Golden Gate pays well. This, as you are aware, is the dead season for farming. A local farmer, also well rewarded, looks after the cattle and sheep. There are no problems. Do you know where you are, Mr Danilov?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’ Long experience had taught van Effen to he with total conviction: he knew exactly where he was.
‘After so short a flight, still somewhere in Holland. Does it matter?’ ‘You are a singularly incurious person. We are in the vicinity of Middelharnis. You know of it?’
‘Middelharnis?’ Van Effen frowned then said: ‘Over Flakkee.’ Samuelson smiled, nodded and said nothing.
Van Effen set down the glass that Leonardo had just given him. His face was stonily bleak and his eyes very cold.
‘The Haringvliet,’ he whispered. ‘You’re after the Haringvliet.’ He had been well aware of this for some quite considerable time. The Haringvliet dam was variously referred to as the valve or the sluice gate of Holland. It blocked the entry to the Haringvliet estuary and many waterways beyond. In the late spring and early summer, when the snows in the Alps, Germany and France melted, — it diverted the waters from the swollen Rhine, Waal and Maas rivers past Rotterdam and into the New Waterway which joined the North Sea at Europort simply by keeping its massive hydraulically operated, electrically powered gates closed. It could also, when the level of the river water rose too high, and the level of the North Sea was considerably lower, release water directly into the North Sea simply by opening as many of its gates as was deemed necessary. At this time of the year, however, with the river water shrunk to its lowest level, its main task was to keep out the North Sea except at the very latest of neap tides. The flooding, the damage and the deaths that would inevitably result from the destruction of the sluice gate of Holland were incalculable.
‘Yes, Mr Danilov.’ Samuelson must have been convinced that his life was in danger, but he remained outwardly calm. ‘I am, as you say, after the Haringvliet.’
Van Effen nodded just once, briefly. ‘Hence the nuclear weapons. I hope to God they detonate en route and blast Ylvisaker and his friends into outer space.’
‘A most uncharitable wish, to say the least.’ Samuelson sipped his drink: if he was perturbed, he hid the fact uncommonly well. ‘I see you are wearing your Smith and Wesson, Mr Danilov. I have no doubt your friends are similarly armed. Romero, Leonardo and I carry no arms — it’s a point of principle with us. If you choose to shoot me, there’s nothing I can do about it. But wouldn’t you consider it rather unfair to shoot a man merely because you’re labouring under a vast misapprehension?’ Samuelson seemed to be positively enjoying himself. ‘Go on.’
‘The nuclear devices are most definitely not intended for use on the Haringvliet dam and this for three reasons. Firstly, I don’t relish the prospect of vaporizing myself. Secondly I want the sluice gates to remain intact and in perfect working order. Thirdly, I intend to take over the dam.’
Van Effen sipped his drink in silence for a few moments, as if to take time out for thinking. Not only had he known that the Haringvliet was Samuelson’s target, he’d been equally convinced that Samuelson had had no intention of destroying it.
‘How very ambitious. And how do you intend to set about this takeover?’ ‘It’s already half done. About forty hours ago a skilled electrician carried out a very delicate and ail but undetectable job of sabotaging three turbo-generators.’
‘The devil he did. He was an employee?’
‘Naturally.’
‘And Dutch?’
‘Yes. Twenty thousand dollars, I’ve always found, has a most profound influence on even the most patriotic of souls. Besides, he had no idea what we had in mind. He, of course, was given the opportunity to trace the source of those faults and when he failed they called in experts from Rotterdam. Those four are currently lodged m a cellar beneath us. They are being well fed and cared for as you can see for yourself any time you wish.’