'How do you know it's IJsbreker's stuff?' de Gier asked. 'We never saw it.'
'Got to be,' Cardozo panted. 'The Peruvian vases are there too, lined up on a long shelf in the hall. I asked the manager. He says the display only came in a few weeks ago. He doesn't know where from. He says the owners put it up.'
'Who are the owners?'
'He didn't say, and I couldn't ask too much. Got to be Fernandus, and that baron, de la Faille, the guy who took IJsbreker's place at the bank.'
'Hardly conclusive evidence.'
'Good enough, Sergeant. We don't work by the book anymore. Shall we take the art too? That would be fun.'
De Gier stopped and admired the three tall mansions ahead, reaching up into the sky from the narrow quaysides and the canal in between. He checked his watch. 'I'm still early.'
'I'm nervous,' Cardozo said. 'This is different. Nothing to back us up. You think we can do this?'
'Sure,' de Gier said. 'You can do it. I'll be upstairs holding Celine's hand. Smothering her with my charm. May be I should knock her down.'
'No,' Cardozo said.
'Got to knock somebody down,' de Gier said. 'Where's my black knight? Now the final moment is close. The last goodbye.'
'To what?' Cardozo asked.
'To this part of the quest,' de Gier said. 'I now need to perform a symbolic act. In style. Fight my man. Myself maybe, some form of suicide.'
'I'm going crazy too,' Cardozo said. 'There's quite a crowd inside. City councilmen, that Ronnie Ryder character that the commissaris mentioned, with his dogs and sycophants. Stacks of cash on the table, gambling everywhere, associated hoodlums in suede leather and cowboy boots, a nice selection of lovely ladies. Some show. Posh. A lot of jewels on the ladies. Do we rip them off too?'
'Just take the money,' de Gier said. 'Do as you're told. We've been through all this, there's a plan. Why are you going crazy?'
Cardozo adjusted his tie. 'It's too new for me. There's only the commissaris behind us.'
'Maybe that's still too much,' de Gier said. 'I'm going in.'
A Mercedes load of well-dressed, elderly men swooshed through the club's glass revolving doors. De Gier followed.
'Sir?' an athletic black man in an old-fashioned naval officer's uniform asked.
'New member,' de Gier said. He was taken to an antique solid-oak table to pay his fee. The hall, with a floor of red and white flagstones, had an Old Masters flavor, with a touch of baroque. The baroque item was a life-size stone angel, dangling from cables under the hallway's arched ceiling. The club's manager, a blond, long-haired gent in a frock coat and striped pants, smoothly accepted de Gier's three new notes.
'Drinks and snacks on the house, sir. If you feel an urge to be connected to a lady, a waiter will take your fee. Feel free to have a good time.'
'Oh, yes,' de Gier said, 'I'll see what I can do for you.'
The manager smiled. 'All gambling is for cash. In case of trouble, the waiters will take care of things.'
'No trouble,' de Gier said.
The manager's gold fillings sparkled. 'That's good.'
De Gier wandered through rooms and corridors, admiring interior decorations. Cream-colored drapes set off niches in the white plaster walls, each niche holding some treasure: a delicate Buddhist statue; a modern sculpture consisting of a bizarre three-dimensional collage of skulls and driftwood; a single semiprecious stone, artfully framed. Oriental rugs graced marble floors. A fountain rained down on a basin where large goldfish with flowing tailfins swam leisurely between waving water plants. Mahogany wainscoting lined gambling rooms where croupiers sang their mantras in French. A tall woman, with black hair cascading down her naked shoulders above a trim satin blue dress, had changed herself to a cherishable object, standing very still with raised arms, one hand holding a tumbler of wine, the other a slice of caviared toast, breathing 'Hello' when he passed.
'How're you doing?' de Gier asked. 'Seen Celine anywhere?'
The woman unfroze. Her perfume wafted around de Gier. 'I could give you a more intense experience. Like to try me out?'
'I would just love to,' de Gier said, 'but I have to find Celine.' The satin woman drifted off, rustling her dress.
'Not helpful,' de Gier said. He tried another twisting corridor that ended in a large mirror. De Gier checked his appearance. Good. Perhaps his silk scarf needed adjusting. He did that, but then the image doubled. A tall man, as tall as de Gier, stood next to him, leenng into the mirror too. The double adjusted his tie. De Gier smoothed down his curls. The neighbor did likewise.
'Very nice,' the double said softly. 'Are you me? Am I you? Do we reflect? Is your name Baron Bart de la Faille too? Did I split and re-form twice, perhaps? A cloned vision? Was it the better brand of cocaine I just tried, or are we, in bare fact, the other way around, and is what I so fondly consider to be myself a mere projection of another phenomenon I haven't as yet met? Are we frightened or overjoyed?'
'Aha,' de Gier said. 'There you are. You took your time, but I haven't any right now. Where is Celine?'
'Who,' the baron asked, 'are you?'
'My name?' de Gier asked. 'I'll let you know. I'm busy just now.'
'We could penetrate each other's bodies,' the baron asked. 'Turn each other inside out together.' He giggled. 'Like gloves. Ever try that? Make a left glove out of a right and vice versa?'
De Gier walked off. He tried another door. Slender arms twined around his neck from behind. 'That's the ladies', dear, are you drunk?'
'No,' de Gier said, trying to twist free.
'You know who I am?' the female voice whispered.
'Celine?'
'What are you doing here?'
She let go, and he turned around. 'I came to see you.' She pulled his head down and kissed him full on the mouth. 'Hmmm.'
'Let's go upstairs,' de Gier said.
She kissed him again.
He put his hands on her shoulders. 'Upstairs? Let me go and I'll pay the waiter.'
'No charge,' Celine said. 'Be my guest. I'll take care of this.' She looked into his eyes. 'But can we do it a bit later, please? Let me show you around first. Is this the first time you've been here?'
'Yes,' de Gier said, pushing her firmly to a staircase. 'Never mind the tour. I can't wait.'
'But, Rinus…' She half-turned. 'What is this? I didn't even know you remembered me. You're always so cool.'
'Up, up, up.' He grabbed her waist, propelled her up the stairs.
'Let go.' She leaned back.
'No,' de Gier said.
'I'll yell.'
He swung her off her feet and held a hand over her mouth. A door swung open, pushed by his foot. He put her down on the bed.
Celine sat up. 'Why the passion? What's the hurry? We don't close until four A.M., we have all night.'
'Take off your clothes.' De Gier smiled. 'Please.'
'Let's do this later. Why the rush?'
'Because I want you now.' De Gier's large brown eyes shone. 'Ever since that party at your house. I keep dreaming of you. Take off your clothes.'
Celine's face hardened. 'I dreamed of you too, but not like this.' She reached for the telephone next to the bed. De Gier caught her wrist. 'Don't.' His arm pulled back.
'Are you going to hit me?'
'I'll have to,' de Gier said. 'There's no time to be nice. I'm needed downstairs. Don't worry, this will be
