the stage. The band that had been playing there ten minutes previously were still there, but they’re not feeling too good.’
The door opened and Van Veeteren came in.
‘Carry on,’ he said, flopping down onto a chair. The chief of police looked at the clock. Reinhart raised an eyebrow before continuing.
‘Eight people injured, but none of the injuries life-threatening. Twenty or so with minor wounds were admitted to the Rumford and Gemejnte hospitals, but most of them will be allowed home today. There are a few witnesses who saw a man running away from the scene.’
‘Not a lot to go on,’ said Jung. ‘It was dark, and they only saw him from quite a long way off. But all were sure that it was a male person though.’
‘Women don’t behave like that,’ said Rooth. ‘Not the ones I know, at least.’
‘Typical male behaviour,’ said Moreno. ‘I agree.’
Chief of Police Hiller tapped his desk with his Ballograf in irritation.
‘And then what?’ asked Munster. ‘You mentioned cars.’
Reinhart sighed.
‘About half an hour later, somebody – let’s hope it was the same idiot, or we’re dealing with two of them – started shooting at parked cars outside the Keymer church. Probably from somewhere in Weivers Park. That could be heard all over town as well. It only lasted for about fifteen to twenty seconds, and nobody saw a damned thing. An automatic weapon. Two to three salvoes. About thirty shots, at a guess.’
‘Klempje, Stauff and Joensuu are busy crawling around among the cars,’Jung explained. ‘And Krause is taking care of the car owners.’
‘A fun job,’ said deBries.
‘No doubt,’ said Reinhart. ‘Krause could probably do with some help. There are twelve owners concerned, including two German families in transit.’
‘White Mercs,’ elaborated Jung.
Van Veeteren stood up.
‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘I’ve forgotten my toothpicks downstairs in my office. I won’t be long.’
He left the room, and silence reigned.
‘Ah well,’ said Hiller after a while. ‘This is most annoying. What with it being the holiday period and all that.’
Nobody present reacted at all. Jung held his breath.
‘Ah well,’ repeated Hiller. ‘We obviously need to set a few officers to work on this. All available resources. It’s clearly a lunatic who could well strike again. At any moment. Well? Who’s available?’
Reinhart closed his eyes and Munster studied his fingernails. DeBries left for the lavatory.
‘Satan’s shit,’ said Rooth.
‘Okay,’ said Reinhart twenty minutes later, stirring his coffee gloomily. ‘I’ll take care of it. I’ll have Jung and Rooth to help me in any case. And Munster, to start with at least.’
‘Good,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘You’ll soon sort it all out.’
Reinhart snorted.
‘What did the gardener have for you? I heard a rumour.’
Van Veeteren shrugged.
‘Dunno.’
‘Dunno?’
‘No. I thought I’d have lunch before confronting him.’
‘Lunch?’ said Reinhart. ‘What’s that?’
Van Veeteren examined a chewed-up toothpick and dropped it into the empty plastic mug.
‘Do you know Major Greubner?’
Reinhart thought that one over.
‘No. Should I?’
‘I play him at chess occasionally. Sensible fellow. It might be an idea to pick his brains.’
‘About this madman, you mean?’
Van Veeteren nodded.
‘There’s only one regiment based in this town, after all. I don’t think they’ve started selling hand grenades in the supermarkets yet.’
Reinhart stared at the dregs in his coffee mug for a while.
‘But perhaps I’ve got that wrong?’
‘You never know,’ said Reinhart. ‘Do you have his number?’
Van Veeteren looked it up and wrote it down on a scrap of paper.
‘Thank you,’ said Reinhart. ‘Anyway, duty calls. Do have a pleasant lunch.’
‘Thank you,’ said Van Veeteren.
‘Come in,’ said Hiller.
‘I’m in already,’ said Van Veeteren, sitting down.
‘Please take a seat. I take it it’s generally agreed that Reinhart looks after this lunatic?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Hmm. You’re going on holiday at the end of this month, aren’t you?’
Van Veeteren nodded. Hiller fanned himself with a memorandum from the Interior Ministry.
‘And then what? You can’t really be serious?’
Van Veeteren said nothing.
‘You’ve had your doubts before. Why should I believe you’ll actually do it this time?’
‘We shall see,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘You’ll get my final decision in August, but it looks like coming off this time. I just thought I’d better inform you. You like being informed, after all.’
‘Hmm,’ said the chief of police.
‘What did you want me for?’ asked Van Veeteren.
‘Ah yes, there was something.’
‘That’s what Reinhart said.’
‘A chief of police called from Sorbinowo.’
‘Sorbinowo?’
‘Yes.’
‘Malijsen?’
‘No, I think it’s his stand-in while he’s on holiday…’
Hiller took a sheet of paper from a folder.
‘… Kluuge. He sounded a bit inexperienced, and he’s evidently been saddled with a disappearance.’
‘A disappearance?’
‘Yes.’
‘But surely there must be help available closer to home?’
Hiller leaned over his desk and tried to frown.
‘No doubt. But this Kluuge chappie has evidently been instructed to turn to us if anything should crop up. By the real chief of police, that is. Before he went on holiday. A Wilfred Malijsen. Is he somebody you know?’
Van Veeteren hesitated.
‘I have come across him, yes.’
‘I thought as much,’ said Hiller, leaning back in his chair. ‘Because he mentioned you specifically as the man he wants to go there and help out. To be honest… to tell you the truth, I have the feeling there’s something fishy behind this, but as you’ve evidently talked Reinhart into taking on the other business, you might just as well go there.’
Van Veeteren said nothing. Snapped a toothpick in two and stared at his superior.
‘Just to find out what’s going on, of course,’ said Hiller. ‘One day, or two at most.’
‘A disappearance?’ muttered the chief inspector.
‘Yes,’ said Hiller. ‘A little girl, if I’ve understood it rightly. Come on now, what more can you ask for, dammit all? There can’t be a more idyllic place to be in than Sorbinowo at this time of year…’
