'You don't know what goes on here,' Ketchup said. 'When we overhunt the Chinese, they slide up the dike and hang out in Friesland. We recognize two types of suspects, from Singapore and from Hong Kong. They also hunt each other. Let's call it sport. They practice a little karate, some sharpshooting, stick-swinging, artistry with rope. Adjutant Oppenhuyzen is against all sport. He wants them to train here, where there's so much sport already.'
'Take last year,' Karate said. 'Ten dead Chinese in the city. Who notices ten corpses in a town the size of Amsterdam? The reports have been filed away a long time ago.'
In the back of the restaurant, nervous young Chinese men had been arguing loudly. The presence of the burly adjutant seemed to restore their ruffled tempers. 'Laid back, isn't he?' Cardozo asked. 'Same type as our very own Grijpstra. Would the rank of adjutant be a common denominator?'
'Hysterics, both of them,' Ketchup said. 'But they're older than we are, and more used to the affliction.'
Wo Hop brought the bill. The cognac wasn't added in. Cardozo checked the price in the menu and put down more money. 'It all starts with accepting cognac…'
'Right,' Karate said. 'He doesn't bring us any. We always refuse, but he doesn't know you yet. You could accept, of course, but the next thing will be that you're picking up parcels.'
'Parcels?' Cardozo asked.
Karate related how a nameless colleague had been following a nameless Chinese. The Chinese carried a parcel. As he found it hard to carry a parcel and be followed at the same time, the nameless Chinese dropped the parcel. The nameless colleague picked it up.
Cardozo watched Adjutant Oppenhuyzen. The adjutant smoothed Chinese questions away, mostly with gestures that were received with grateful guffaws.
'Well?' Karate asked.
'Ask what was in the parcel,' Ketchup said. 'Go on, be a good fellow.'
'Heroin,' Cardozo said.
'And now you should ask,' Karate said, 'what happened to the parcel.'
'The Chinese got it back,' Cardozo said. 'The nameless colleague got money. He still had some holidays due to him that he could add to his sick days, and he went to a Spanish island.'
'And he's still out in the sun,' Karate said. 'The lucky devil. Our sergeant would never let us get away with such a harmless exchange. Narrow-minded, don't you think?'
'You don't want me to be practical now,' Cardozo said, 'but suppose you're shortsighted enough not to see that the nameless colleague will end up nowhere, then why should I tell you?'
'Nowhere in the sun? Served by naked maidens? Surfing between naps?'
'I went to that Spanish island,' Cardozo said, 'and shit for two weeks. Tainted mussels. I'm better off up here. Playing my favorite game.'
'Looking for a gas can,' Ketchup said. 'Let's say you find it. What will it tell you? Esso or Shell? You're nowhere here, and in the wrong climate. The summer is half rained away. We'll never see the sun.'
'Colleague?'
Cardozo looked up. Adjutant Oppenhuyzen smiled down kindly. He introduced himself and grabbed a chair. The Chinese in the back were also smiling, having rediscovered the joy of detachment. 'Good boys,' the adjutant said, 'but they keep losing their damned papers. I help them a little with their everlasting forms. You can imagine what it's like. They have spent years in the country, making their bowl of rice by working their asses off manufacturing fried chili paste or shrimp crackers, but as they don't know the language and customs, they're always running afoul of our potato-picking authorities. Don't arrest any of them now, you hear? I can vouch for their integrity.'
'That's understood, Adjutant,' Karate said. 'If, by mis- take, I happen to get one in cuffs, it's because he looks like another.'
'And in the event,' Ketchup said, 'that I, through sheer silliness-because I can't remember their names, let's say- happen to catch one, it'll be an error that I'll blame on myself. We'll back you up.'
The adjutant wanted to know if he could buy them a glass of this or that.
'We were just on our way out,' Cardozo said.
'The adjutant is absolutely right,' Karate said outside, 'but I have this bad habit. I just love catching drug dealers without proper papers. I think I'll catch some now. Why don't you assist us, Cardozo?'
Cardozo glanced at his watch.
'Don't leave us when we need you, Symie. We helped you look for the can. You're just what we want. You're looking more civilian than ever. If I didn't know you, and the sergeant wanted suspects again, I would run you in on a charge of vagrancy. We are hindered by our uniforms, and it's hard to get the patrol car through these alleys. Give us a hand. Won't take an hour.'
'Doing what?' Cardozo asked.
'We give you a portophone from the car, and you walk about in the quarter. Slip into the narrowest passages and look a little at what you see. There are two secret societies about that tend to get on each other's nerves-Hong Kong versus Singapore, it seems. They're always on the verge of becoming violent, and when that happens, we like to be in there too. Right now they're more short-tempered than ever, because we've been kicking their members out of the country and arresting recent arrivals, so their supply lines are all mixed up. They both want all the drugs that are left. If you do notice something, breathe into the portophone and we'll be with you in half a minute.'
'That's understood,' Cardozo said.
What lovely ladies, Cardozo thought, shuffling about in the hushed pink light of the prostitution quarter. No Chinese anywhere-a pity, maybe. He did see Adjutant Oppenhuyzen, who, peaceful and content, lumbered out of a red door while the lady he'd enjoyed only a few minutes ago tore open her curtains and arranged herself diligently on the cushions of her wide windowsill. The adjutant winked and was about to comment cheerfully on his recent excitement, but Cardozo turned away. Policemen have the urge too, he was aware of that fact, and if the adjutant happened to be in Amsterdam and was tricked into a slight deviation from the path, between attending to his duties, well… Not well at all, Cardozo thought. I'm not doing it, so why should he? The hell with the bastard.
I won't even look at them, Cardozo thought. I don't have the money anyway. I'm also hindered by having to carry a pistol and a portophone.
He did look a little. No! There She was, not too visible in the rear of a cozy little room, lit from below, in a red glow that warmed her slender shins and billowing thighs. And She returned his stare from one inviting eye; the other was hidden by combed-down thick hair. She wanted him. Her longing made her tremble.
Just another show. Cardozo walked on.
When She offered herself again, She was Thai, from the golden country far beyond bis reach. The ocher- tinted skin of the small, lithe body that writhed toward him was covered only in one spot, by a small square orange silk attached to a cord, moving all the time, covering nothing, really. Will you join me, Cardozo?
And now She was dark, dancing to a rhythm that penetrated through the glass, stretching her long arms, begging him-him, the lover named Cardozo.
An Egyptian slid past in profile, moving out of tapestry, a temple maiden who had cut her white cotton dress so that the priest could ceremonially possess Her. The priest's name was Cardozo.
An icy German ordered him in, dressed in jackboots and an army hat, the whip ready in her small but strong hand. She accepted applications from slaves to work themselves to death in her camp, so that the last feelings of guilt might be dissolved in pain. At this moment She was interested in Simon Cardozo.
Good day to you, Cardozo thought.
Where could the Chinese be?
He found a crescent connecting two lesser alleys, where a surrealist had plied his trade. A toilet bowl, mortared into a crumbling wall, housed a sturdy and healthy goldfish. A baby doll with pointed teeth and long eyelashes, with live worms crawling out of dear little nostrils, was being smothered slowly by ivy. In a burned-out shop window a sign was displayed with a neatly lettered text. Balthazar does not bark, but bites when provoked.
The surrealist himself was available, a trim elderly man in an impeccable three-piece suit, who addressed the passersby. 'Please, dear people, can you tell me where the Bardo Todol is? I've been silly enough to lose my way. I'm dead, you see. Should I turn right or left here? Could you direct me, if you please?'
