sharp knock with the flat of his hand, hitting him in the ribs. As Dorin fell, the commissaris had his pistol out. Dorin picked himself up and sat down again, rubbing his back.
'Very good,' he said. The commissaris was putting his gun back. 'You hadn't loaded your weapon,' Dorin said. 'I think you should do that. I don't mind, I am sure you wouldn't touch the trigger before analyzing the situation properly.'
'I might,' the commissaris said. 'I am an old man, my reflexes are slow. But I will load the next time. Have you and de Gier been playing tricks like this for the last few days?'
'Yes sir,' de Gier said, 'but Dorin is quicker than I am.
'You are catching up,' Dorin said. 'I have been trained like this for several years. There were nine cadet officers in my squad, and whenever we were together we used to attack each other. I have been grabbed while I sat on the toilet, reading a newspaper. My friend came in with door and all, kicking it from the hinges. I was in a Western-style bathroom, and the toilet was away from the door, so fortunately the door didn't hit me, but I was hampered because I had my trousers down.'
'So what did you do?' the commissaris asked.
Dorin smiled self-consciously. 'Well, I couldn't think of anything clever, so I threw the newspaper in his face. It was folded so it didn't just flutter around but really hit him, blocking his view for a moment, and then I jumped forward hitting him in the stomach with my head. I got him in a lock grip afterward. The attacker is really always in the worst position. He leaves many openings; a prepared defender is better off. It is de Gier's turn to attack me now.'
'You take turns? So you are prepared, aren't you?'
'We break the rule all the time. I may attack him again.'
'Don't attack roe,' the commissaris said. 'You'll maim or kill me, and my wife will be upset. Besides, I want to meet these priests. Are we going straight to the monastery?'
'No, we'll stay in an inn close to Daidharmaji. A priest will come to see you tonight and he will bring one of his temple's paintings. He speaks English fairly well. He used to be a tourist guide and he is a graduate in English, not that that means much. It is very difficult for us Japanese to really master a foreign language, I don't know why. We can pass all the written examinations, know everything about grammar, learn twenty thousand words by heart and we still can't speak the language. For me it is different because I grew up in America. My father was a diplomat and I went to American schools and played with American children. I began to think in English when I was a toddler. But this priest never left our islands.'
'Are the yakusa trailing our priest, do you think?'
'They should be,' Dorin said. 'I made a telephone call just now, there are phones on the train, and spoke to an associate in Kyoto. Last night the yakusa made the priest a final offer and he refused, very politely, of course. He didn't make a definite refusal, but said that he had to think about the matter. He ran up his debt to the bar in three consecutive nights, gambling and playing around with the girls. Maybe he owes them a few thousand dollars by now, an amount he can never pay, for priests get only a little money from their administration, just pocket money really. Some of them have extra income, but this particular priest hasn't. So the yakusa thought they had him in the palm of their hand. There's also the blackmail angle. They could tell a high priest about his behavior and he might be sent away. They could do it nicely, by presenting their bill to Daidharmaji's administration office, for instance, but they wouldn't do that easily. If the priest loses his position because he is sent away, there is nowhere for him to go. Japanese society is very closely knit. Everybody would know about him and would be hesitant about employing him. And without his status as a priest he is of no use to the yakusa, for he won't be able to get at the temple treasures anymore.'
'So tonight we may have our first adventure,' de Gier said.
'Your second adventure,' the commissaris said. 'You had one in Tokyo, you remember? You will have to restrain yourself. I don't want a dead man hovering around us, not even a dead yakusa.'
'Sir,' de Gier said, and closed his eyes. The commissaris fell asleep a little later. Only Dorin was left to feel the last impact of the holy mountain, its white dome touching the stratosphere.
\\ 12 /////
'Hold it!' the Adjutant shouted. 'I didn't hear you properly. Start all over again, please.'
'This is the State Police, adjutant. Lieutenant Blok speaking. I am told you are temporarily in charge of the Japanese corpse investigation, and that you are interested in the location of the corpse. Is that right?'
'Yes,' Grijpstra shouted. 'Yes, sir. And you found it?'
'Don't shout, adjutant. Yes, I think we found it. But we haven't dug deeply yet. We have touched the body. So far only a hand is showing. I have told my men to wait for you before they go any further.'
'Where are you, lieutenant?' Grijpstra whispered.
'In the White Horse pub in Abcoude,* adjutant. If you come out right away, you should be here in thirty minutes, it isn't rush hour yet, but you'll have to leave right now or you will take forever.'
'I am on my way, sir,' Grijpstra shouted, and banged the phone down, grabbing bis coat on the way out.
'No,' he shouted at the elderly sergeant in charge of the garage. 'I don't want my own car. I am in a hurry and I want a marked car with a light and a siren. Give it to me.
'But I haven't got one available,' the sergeant explained patiently. 'What's wrong with your own car? We tuned it this morning and took the rattle out of the right door and fixed the horn. We have even put new batteries in the flashlight and we had the carbine checked by the arms room and…'
'Ha,' Grijpstra shouted, as a white VW drove into the garage. 'Give here. Out! Out! you fellows!'
The two uniformed constables looked at him in consternation.
'We are on patrol duty, adjutant, we only came in for gas.'
'Out!' Grijpstra's heavy voice boomed, as he pulled the driver's door open. The constables got out, looking at the sergeant who made a helpless gesture.
'Murder-brigade business?' the driver asked. 'Somebody got shot? I heard nothing on the radio. It's been quiet all afternoon. All we found was a drunken lady pushing a perambulator full of bottles. There was a baby stuck between the bottles and we took the lot to the station. The chief told us to take the baby to the crisis center, but we are almost out of gas. We need that car, adjutant.'
'Take my car,' Grijpstra said. 'The flashlight has fresh batteries and the carbine has just been oiled.'
'But…' the driver said, but Grijpstra was behind the wheel and the car backed out of the garage, its blue top-light flashing. They heard the VW's tires complain as Grijpstra forced it through a half circle in the yard, and the siren began to wail as he drove through the gates.
'What's eating him?' the driver asked the sergeant.
'His girlfriend called,' the sergeant said. 'The hot weather is bothering her and she took all her clothes off and now she feels lonely. Take that gray car over there.'
'But it isn't marked,' the driver said sadly. 'We are supposed to drive a marked car.'
Another VW drove into the garage, driven by a cadet-constable. 'Your rank is higher,' the sergeant said softly.
The driver jumped at the VW. 'Out, you fellow!' he roared. 'We need that car!'
'But I am supposed to do an errand for the chief inspector,' the young constable said. He said it to the sergeant. The car was already leaving the garage.
'Far?' the sergeant asked.
'No.'
'Take a bicycle,' the sergeant said. 'There's a nice one, that one in the corner, with the rusty mudguard. But be quick or somebody will come rushing in and take it off you, and it's a hot day and I am tired.'
Grijpstra parked the car and screwed himself out of the narrow seat. He looked at his watch and smiled.
