De Gier put the phone back. 'Pity.'
Grijpstra picked up the guitar and smashed it against the wall. 'No dope in the guitar?'
'Willful damage,' Huip Fernandus yelled.
'Accidents will happen,' de Gier said. 'I'm sorry.'
'Now,' Grijpstra said, 'what next? The drums? I don't really like to destroy drums. Shall I try the amplifiers first?'
'Wait,' de Gier said. 'Over there, that floorboard is loose. Stamp on this side. Over here. Go on.'
Grijpstra stamped on the floor. The opposite end of the board flew up.
'Well packed,' de Gier said, squatting down, lifting plastic bags from the hole under the board. 'Hashish. That's nice. Pound bags?'
'Five bags,' Grijpstra said. 'We'll have that.'
De Gier picked up two pairs of ear protectors. 'You bastards. Got these on while you made your racket, eh?' He yelled into Heul's ear. 'You hear me?'
Grijpstra shook his head. 'He's crying.' He yelled into Fernandus's ear. 'What's he crying for?'
Fernandus held up his cuffed hands. 'Hold it.'
'Let's get the van,' Grijpstra said. 'We'll have you strip-searched at Headquarters. Find a little coke, maybe. Let's see your arms now. You boys inject too?'
'Hold it,' Fernandus said. 'You're overexcited. Good music does that to lower minds. We've seen it before. Drives the audience wild. Okay, calm down. We don't want trouble. Take the dope. Keep it. There's some money there. Money is good stuff. We'll lose this time. Sometimes a man has to take a loss. Right, Heul?'
Heul nodded, swallowing sobs.
'We'll take the speakers down,' Fernandus said. 'We'll practice nicely from now on. Got to practice. We're musicians. We play for the Society for Help Abroad. We help feed the foreign poor.'
'You don't want trouble with the Society,' Heul whimpered bravely. 'That's big shit. You want your ass kicked, cop?'
The bell rang.
De Gier opened the front door. 'Why, hello,' a young man in a leather jacket said, standing next to what appeared to be his twin brother. 'Just as we thought. A little trouble? Got it all fixed?'
'All fixed,' de Gier said. 'Your Camaro's double-parked. Better get the clunker out.'
'We thought we might be able to help,' the twin said. 'Supply some assistance to colleagues?'
'We've got it all tied up.'
'What did you get, Sergeant?'
'Two and a half ki's of hash, valuable musical instruments, partly damaged now, two suspects, harassment.'
'That's good. Busy night. We saw Cardozo calling on his clerkish friend. In Mad Nun's Alley. He's there now. Number 13, a boarded-up shack.' The leather-jacketed young man kept his voice low. 'Do you think he needs any help?'
'No,' de Gier said. 'Not now.'
'You may not be able to hold the suspects,' the twin whispered. 'Better beat them up. You're fighting rough now. This is our district, we'll back you up.'
'Thanks,' de Gier said. ' 'Bye. Your car is double-parked.'
'It's all right,' de Gier said when he got back into the room. 'I'll get the van. Be right back.'
'Hold it.' Fernandus waved his chained hands. 'We'll find you some cash.'
De Gier softly thumped Fernandus's head while he looked at Heul. 'I'll phone your dad myself tonight and raise a reporter. A councilman's son in big trouble looks nice in print. What else can we put in? Been making any kiddie movies lately?'
'Good stuff,' Fernandus said. 'Care to see our specialties for celibate priests? We'll throw in some videos for voyeurs. Quit kidding, asshole. Let's make a deal.'
'Good.' Grijpstra grinned. 'We'll put in bribery too.'
De Gier backed up the van and opened the side door. Grijpstra pushed the suspects into the car. Fernandus stumbled over the toolbox and fell, dragging Heul down too.
'Oops,' Grijpstra said from behind the wheel.
Heul whined and Fernandus cursed when de Gier lifted the electronic equipment into the van.
'Could we have some quiet back there?' Grijpstra asked.
De Gier threw in the remains of the guitar and the set of drums. The skin of the big drum broke.
'Ooooh,' Huip Fernandus moaned. 'Ooooh.'
'What was that now?' De Gier asked.
'Oooooh,' Fernandus said, 'we'll get you for this, cop.
De Gier slid the side door forward and jumped on the passenger seat. Huip Fernandus climbed across what was left of the drums. He spoke into de Gier's ear. 'We'll get old rattlehead too, plug up her leak.'
\\ 12 /////
The rain struck again. The Commissaris, driving to Headquarters, felt as though he were in a one-man submarine, looking out on an aquatic world. Streetcars glided past his car like gleaming whales, and hundreds of cyclists in their shining plastic coats darting about everywhere could be a shoal of herring. The Citroen's windshield wipers, set at double speed, swooshed helplessly as the rain drove against the windshield. Traffic lights flashed ahead, the eyes of some luminous water beast; telephone wires broken by the storm dangled like the tentacles of a giant jellyfish. The commissaris persisted, guessing at directions, and finally managed to slither through the gates of the police courtyard. He left the. car and splashed through puddles, in galoshes his wife had thoughtfully provided, and thankfully made his way through the building's revolving doors. A uniformed guard saluted inside. 'Sir?'
'And a merry morning to you too,' the commissaris said kindly, trying to ignore the cold drops leaking into his collar.
'Chief constable wants to see you, sir.'
'I think I'll have coffee first,' the commissaris said, pressing the elevator's button.
'And there's some other geezer too. Your rank, sir. State Detection.'
'Two geezers, meeting head on.'
'Didn't mean that, sir.' The guard grinned. 'If you need assistance, sir…'
'What would you do?' the commissaris inquired.
The guard considered possibilities, holding his hand against the elevator's electric eye. 'Trip him up on the stairs? An accident?'
The commissaris smiled. 'We'll try diplomacy first.'
The guard stepped back. 'Good luck, sir, enjoy your coffee. Take your time. I haven't seen you yet.'
Miss Antoinette served the coffee. 'Well, what did you think of my old friend Fernandus, yesterday?' the commissaris asked. 'Did his generous offer lead you into temptation?'
Miss Antoinette blushed.
'Ten times the pay?' the commissaris asked. 'High-priced leisure supplied at irregular hours? A variety of interesting men?'
'I'd like to see the Society's club,' Miss Antoinette said. 'It was designed by Flaubert, the famous interior architect. He's going to do the mayor's room too, in the new City Hall building.'
'You like Flaubert's work?'
'Oh, yes,' Miss Antoinette said. 'I went to his exhibition in the Municipal Museum, they had all the photographs and some maquettes.'
'Of the Society's whorehouse too?' The commissaris studied, holding his head a little to the side, Miss Antoinette's figure. 'You would look irresistible in a split skirt.'
'More coffee, sir?'
