keep on going east or he must go through the tunnel. He'll take the tunnel, Amsterdam North isn't being patrolled as heavily as Amsterdam East.'
De Gier shook his head.
'I wonder if they'll see him. He'll be riding slowly. I bet he is even stopping for orange traffic lights.'
'No,' Grijpstra said, 'don't exaggerate. He knows how to handle himself under stress but he shouldn't be riding that motorbike. A white Harley is a white elephant, even in Amsterdam. Patrol cars aren't blind. They might have trouble spotting a white Volkswagen or a blue Fiat, but they are bound to spot a Harley.'
Sientje's voice came through.
'Your motorcycle has just emerged at the other side of the tunnel. A patrol car is after him and its siren is going.'
'You see?' Grijpstra asked.
'Pity we have no siren,' de Gier said and put his foot down. The VW went through a red light. Two cars honked at them and a man on a bicycle shouted something and tapped a finger on his forehead.
'No race,' Grijpstra said, 'I have a lot of children.'
'I have a cat,' de Gier said.
'The VW dived into the tunnel and Grijpstra closed his eyes. De Gier was zigzagging through the tunnel's traffic. The radio had stopped crackling.
'You can open your eyes,' de Gier said. 'Sientje is calling us.'
'One-three,' Grijpstra croaked.
'Were you in the tunnel?' Sientje asked.
'Yes. Did they catch up with him?'
'No,' Sientje said, 'they've lost him.'
'Where?'
'In that new housing development where all the streets have bird names,' Sientje said. 'They saw him last in the Hawkstreet and think he is riding about close by now. The patrol car is still looking for him, but I think they have run into a little trouble. They have dented a mudguard.'
'We'll go there as well,' Grijpstra said, and held on as de Gier made the little car scream through a corner.
'Ha,' de Gier said. 'Probably ran into something, got their mudguard right into a tire, had to stop, get out and pull the mudguard free, and meanwhile van Meteren smiled and got lost.'
'He won't be lost,' Grijpstra said. 'This is the Gold-finchstreet.'
De Gier stopped and switched the engine off.
'No use driving around in circles,' he said. 'Listen! Can you hear the Harley anywhere? It's quiet here and that motorbike has a very remarkable sound, a deep gurgle.'
'No,' Grijpstra said.
'The map,' Grijpstra said suddenly, 'that map in his room!'
'Map,' de Gier repeated, 'map in his room. The map of the Ussei-lake. You think he has a boat?'
'Yes,' Grijpstra said.
'A boat,' de Gier shouted, 'of course! That map is a proper maritime map, indicating depths and so on. Only a sailor would have a map like that. A boat somewhere. But where is the boat?'
'Close by,' Grijpstra said.
'So we hope.' De Gier lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and coughed.
'In Monnikendam,' Grijpstra said, 'closest IJssellake's port to Amsterdam.'
De Gier shrugged. 'Could be Horn as well, or Enkhuizen, or Medemblik.'
'No,' Grijpstra said, 'too far. We have a. lot of rain here and it must be damn uncomfortable on that motorcycle. He bought it because it satisfied some need, made him think of his New Guinea days. But this is a cold wet country. He had plenty of money, so he bought a boat and kept it in a harbor close to Amsterdam. He would ride out there, park the Harley, and get on his boat. A nice comfortable boat with a cabin and a little stove. Could make himself a hot cup of coffee and soup and stew, much nicer than going into a restaurant and being stared at. New Guinea is an island, he may have had a boat out there as well. I think the boat is in Monnikendam.'
'We can ask Sientje,' de Gier said. 'She can phone the chief inspector's house. The chief inspector had van Meteren shadowed for a while.'
'No use,' Grijpstra said and shivered. 'Let's get back into the car.'
De Gier got into the car.
'No use perhaps. Van Meteren knew he was being followed, ever since Verboom died. So he wouldn't have gone near his boat. You are probably right. His boat was his escape, he wouldn't show us where he kept her. In any case, he couldn't let us know that he owned a boat. He wasn't supposed to have any money. If we could have proved that he had money we would have arrested him on suspicion of murder. He jumped out of the window when I mentioned the name of Seket.'
Grijpstra nodded thoughtfully.
'But where is that boat? He must be on her now and the IJssel-lake is big. If he had stuck to the Harley we would catch him easily enough. Every policeman in Holland will be watching for that Harley by tomorrow. He may stick to his boat now, he may have enough food on her to last him for months and we don't know what the boat looks like.'
De Gier called Sientje.
'Headquarters,' Sientje said, 'come in, one-three.'
'We think he has a boat and may be on the IJssel-lake by now. We will be leaving the city soon in the direction of Monnikendam. Please alert the State Water Police.'
'I will,' Sientje said. 'Have a pleasant time. Out.'
'And that,' Grijpstra said, 'is the end of Sientje. Another few minutes and she won't be able to hear us.'
'Two little men in a biscuit tin,' de Gier thought, 'and the biscuit tin is going into nowhere.' He started the car.
They found nothing in Monnikendam's little port. They left the small city and followed the dikes, keeping close to the lake. Half an hour passed. They met no one.
'There's somebody,' Grijpstra said and pointed into the direction of the lake. A small yacht was moored to a jetty.
De Gier put his pistol back into its holster when he got close to the man. The man was tall and had very blond hair.
'Evening.'
'Evening,' the man said.
'We are policemen,' said De Gier, 'and we are looking for a small colored man who rides a big white motorcycle. A Harley-Davidson. We thought you might have seen him.'
'I have,' the man said. 'The motorbike is over there, parked behind that hedge. And your man is on the lake, in his boat, a flat-bottom, a hotter with brown sails. But he isn't sailing, he is using his diesel engine. He left about an hour ago.'
'Beautiful,' Grijpstra said.
'Did he know you were after him?' the man asked.
'He did,' de Gier said.
The man shook his head.
'Strange. He seemed quite calm. He even talked to me for a minute. Said he couldn't sleep and was going to spend the night on the water.'
'Do you know him at all?' Grijpstra asked.
'Not very well, but his boat has been here for about a year now, we share the jetty, it belongs to a retired fisherman. I have often talked to your man, he is a Papuan isn't he? I always thought he was a very likable fellow, I even asked him to come to dinner once but he refused and I didn't try again.'
'Oh, he is a likable fellow all right,' de Gier said, 'but he is suspected of having committed a murder. We'll have to go after him. Can we use your boat?'
The man smiled.
