carbine. He loaded and knelt near the swinging doors. Grijpstra had pointed his gun at the sky and fired. The constable fired too, but the bulldozer's great blade had come up and the bullet hit the blade and ricocheted wildly, burying itself in the brick wall and disturbing the leaves of a creeper, which shook its red flowers in feeble protest. De Gier was firing too but his bullets missed as the bulldozer spun around on its left track. The Amstelveen uniformed constables were hesitating near the gate, seeing little point in using their firearms with so much movement in front of them. The bulldozer roared and kept on turning, its gleaming heavy steel blade moving up and down. The blade stopped in a horizontal position, bare and menacing, and the machine sprang forward. De Gier broke out in a sweat. The bulldozer's blade was aimed at the commissaris, a small lost figure in the vast yard. He inserted his spare clip into the pistol and fired again. He saw Bezuur's fat bulk shake as the bullet hit him but the machine didn't falter, plodding on steadily toward the commissaris, who was running to the yard's nearest corner where, panting, he meant to find refuge by flattening himself against the wall bricks.
De Gier held a hand on his shoulder and looked around. Cardozo was squatting next to him, pointing at the other side of the yard. Another engine had come to life, a great mechanical digger was coming forward, grinding the gravel with its huge tracks.
'Zilver,' Cardozo shouted.
'What?'
'Zilver! He's in the cabin of the digger. I asked him to do something. He said he could handle the digger, didn't he?'
De Gier nodded, but he wasn't interested. He looked again at the commissaris, who had now reached the corner and seemed to be tearing at the creepers in a vain attempt to put more distance between his small body and the approaching blade. The corner seemed safe, for the blade scraped the walls at each side without being able to touch him. Creepers and trailers were being torn off the walls and fell on the blade and on Bezuur's seat, decorating the bulldozer with its red and orange flowers and dark green leaves. The bulldozer reversed and jumped forward again, grazing the wall this time, forcing the commissaris to give up his refuge. As the bulldozer turned to pursue the running old man, De Gier almost closed his eyes to blot out the scene. The commissaris didn't have a chance on open ground, he would never be able to outrun the bulldozer. De Gier emptied his clip but the bullets hit the machine, not the man directing its onslaught. When de Gier's pistol clicked he snarled at Cardozo. 'Fire, you fool, fire.'
Cardozo shook his head. 'Grijpstra is behind there, somewhere, look!'
The digger had found the bulldozer and its closed steel-toothed mouth was aimed at Bezuur's body. The digger's engine growled and they could see Zilver in his glass-covered cabin at the rear of the machine, frantically pushing levers. Bezuur felt the danger and made the bulldozer change direction. De Gier jumped up and reached toward the commissaris, who collapsed against him. De Gier picked the old man up and ran to the gate. A constable opened the rear door of the Citroen and de Gier lowered the commissaris onto the back seat.
'I am all right,' the commissaris said. 'Go back, sergeant. Bezuur is wounded already, we don't want to kill him. See if you can't get the digger to overthrow Bezuur's machine.'
'Sir,' de Gier said and ran back. When he got to the yard he saw the digger's teeth hit the back of Bezuur's head. Zilver had pushed his lever suddenly and moved it right over. The pointed spearlike teeth hit Bezuur with the full power of the diesel engine roaring away under Zilver's cabin. The head snapped free and was shot across the yard, hitting the stone and exploding against it. De Gier's legs weakened and he found himself lying in the yard with Cardozo tugging at his shoulders, for the bulldozer kept going along slowly and they were in its way.
'Up, up,' Cardozo shouted and de Gier dumbly obeyed, dragging himself away. Grijpstra ran after the bulldozer, swung himself onto its saddle and turned the key on the small dashboard. Zilver had switched off the digger's engine. It was very quiet in the yard. De Gier heard the sparrows twittering among the creepers.
'Sparrows,' de Gier said. 'They have lost their nests in there.'
'Sparrows?' Grijpstra asked. 'What sparrows?'
De Gier pointed at the wall. The creepers were all down on one side, meshed into the ground by the bulldozer's tracks.
'Who care about sparrows? The fool has lost his head.'
Grijpstra pointed at Bezuur's fat body, lying on its back where it had fallen after the digger's mouth had hit it. Blood was still oozing out of its rump and they could see the heavy neck muscles, torn into a ragged circular edge.
De Gier's legs faltered again and Grijpstra's arm caught his shoulders.
A uniformed constable came running up.
'Are you in charge of this arrest?' the constable asked.
'The commissaris is in the car, constable,' Grijpstra said, 'in the Citroen. He is in charge, but I think you will have to write the report; this is your territory. You witnessed the proceedings, didn't you?'
'Proceedings,' the constable muttered. 'Proceedings! I've never seen anything like it in my life. What are we going to do about the fellow's head?'
'Scrape if off the yard and the wall and put it in a box,' Grijpstra said. 'And the man who handled the digger isn't ours but a civilian. We've got his name and particulars. Don't charge him, we have reason to be grateful; he saved the commissaris' life. I also have the name of the dead man for you.'
Grijpstra took out his notebook, opened it and scribbled. He tore out the page and gave it to the constable. 'If you want me you can reach me at Amsterdam Headquarters. Grijpstra is the name. Adjutant Grijpstra.'
'I'll be wanting you,' the constable said. 'You'll have me on your back for the rest of the week. What a show! If we staged an arrest like this in Amsterdam, we would never hear the end of it.'
'We're from the big city, constable,' Grijpstra said. 'Be grateful you live in the province.'
Another constable had arrived.
'You,' the first constable said, 'get a knife or small spade or something and a box. I want you to collect whatever you can find of the head.'
'Bah,' the other constable said.
Cardozo grinned. The first constable had three stripes, the second only two. Grijpstra grinned too.
'Poor fellow,' Cardozo said.
The sparrows were still twittering as they left the courtyard.
21
'My dear,' she said, as the Commissaris limped into his house. 'Has it got worse again? I thought it had gone when you left this morning; you looked positively spry when you got into the car.'
The commissaris mumbled something in which only the word 'tea' stood out. 'I am fine,' he answered, 'bumped into something, that's all.'
'I'll make the tea in a minute. Oh, your suit!'
The suit was stained, it was also torn. A creeper had stuck to one of the sleeves as he had tried to pull himself free when the bulldozer came at him. He tried to cover the tear with his hand as she pulled him into the light near the window.
'And what's that? Blood?'
He remembered that he had stood close to the corpse.
'Yes,' he said, 'blood, dear, but it'll come off again and I am sure the old tailor can repair the suit. I would like some tea, and a bath. Will you bring up a tray?'
'Yes. Will you be long? You do remember that my sister and her husband are coming tonight? They phoned this morning and I said you were much better.'
The commissaris was halfway up the stairs. He stopped, turned and sat down.
'You won't mind, will you? They are always so nice and he wants to tell us about the firm he took over, a factory somewhere in the South. He's very excited about it.'
'I do mind,' the commissaris said. 'Phone them and tell them I am ill. I want to smoke cigars tonight and sit in the garden and I want you to sit with me. We can listen to the turtle. He's very nice too, and he never takes over anything.''
