"A witch," de Gier muttered.
"Yes, she was a good witch."
"Good?" the commissaris asked.
"A good bad witch. Efficient. Knew her job. The herbs helped but they were only part of it. She had learned and practiced and experimented. A dedicated woman. Things like that don't come easy, you know. A lot of trips to and she didn't enjoy going there anymore, not with her family all against her. But it got her somewhere. I don't know where. It gave her power. She could pull people. Me too. Anytime she wanted me to come I came, like a doll on a string."
"So you killed her?" the commissaris asked.
Drachtsma nodded.
His wife poured a cup of tea and helped him to take a sip.
"Yes. I had her killed. I was too clever to do it myself. I thought of it but you would have connected me with her death. I know how to make other people work for me, how to use people. I picked her own brother. I thought that was very clever. I was proud of my intelligence. I have always been proud. Pride is good sometimes, it helped me get away during the war. But it is dangerous too. Pride should be a tool, a man should be in charge of his own pride."
Drachtsma closed his eyes.
"Rammy," he said suddenly. "Rammy was my tool. I willed him into throwing that knife. I gave him the knife. It was my own knife. I had kept it in a box, nobody knew I had it. I worked on Rammy for a long time, told him his sister was evil. A whore. A witch. He had to kill her. lb keep the world clean. He knew where she lived, he had been there once, a long time ago. He hated her, he was jealous of her. She was a real child of his father, he wasn't. Jealousy makes people very easy to handle.
"My wife forgave me," Drachtsma said. "Do you forgive me, commissaris?"
"Yes," the commissaris said.
"There are others, too many others. Rammy is one of them. I can't ask them. And there is no other chance, I would like to have another chance."
Drachtsma drank more tea.
"Shon Wancho," the commissaris said.
Drachtsma's eyes opened again.
"The witch doctor," Drachtsma said. "Yes."
"Did you know him?"
Drachtsma shook his head. "No. I never went to . I didn't want to go and I don't think she wanted me to either."
"What do you think? Is he an evil man?"
Drachtsma shook his head. "No. Not evil."
"A good man?"
"Yes," Drachtsma said. "He warned her. She told me he warned her. She talked about him in her sleep."
"So what did she learn from Shon Wancho?" the commissaris asked.
"Insight," Drachtsma said and coughed. "Just insight."
"And she had to find out what to do with it?"
"Yes. Magical insight. Strong. Can be used the wrong way. She did."
"What happens if you use it the wrong way?" de Gier asked. He couldn't help asking it. He would have preferred to sit quietly, waiting for the ordeal to be over.
"If you use it wrong," Drachtsma said slowly, "you go wrong."
There seemed nothing else to say and the commissaris looked at Mrs. Drachtsma and pointed at the door with his head.
"Yes, commissaris," Mrs. Drachtsma said.
De Gier was at the door when Drachtsma called him. He walked back and bowed down to the slack body in the large bed. The white hand came up slowly and closed on de Gier's wrist.
"Don't win," Drachtsma said. "To try to win is childish."
De Gier wanted to go but the hand held his wrist.
"Sergeant," Drachtsma whispered.
"Yes, Mr. Drachtsma."
"Don't ever try to win. You are still young. You can unlearn a lot."
"Yes, Mr. Drachtsma," de Gier said.