'And you let me have it again? What if I shoot you?'
'You won't.'
She sat on the bed. 'You really weren't afraid? The girls at Headquarters say that you have no nerves. They all adore you. Is it true that you live alone with your cat and that you read a lot and never get involved?'
'How can I live alone if I live with my cat?'
She dropped the derringer into her bag. 'Tell me more about the raid. Who's in on it?'
'Eight of us.'
'The commissaris too? Does he want to steal the Society's cash?'
'I don't think he'll keep it,' de Gier said. 'He's gunning for Fernandus. Some old trouble between the two of them. I haven't quite caught on yet, but it doesn't matter. I'm doing my own thing now.'
'But you're with the commissaris?'
'So far,' de Gier said, 'but I don't think he's with me.'
She sat down gingerly on his knee. 'Shall we fly away?' Her fingertips gently traced his ribs. 'I have such a good fantasy with you. You're an angel, just like the angel here in the hall, and you swoop down and pick me up and then we're off, and we never come down again, your wings take us higher and higher and we waft away until we aren't anywhere anymore.'
'That's good?' de Gier asked, softly stroking her hair.
'I wouldn't mind not being anywhere. Would you?'
He pointed at the bottle standing on the edge of the bath. She fetched it and came back. 'You don't really care for me much, do you? We could have sex. Would that hurt you?'
'Probably,' de Gier said.
She poured whiskey. 'If you lay on your back and I was very gentle? It's always so quick here, I need more time. Jane says you're slow.'
'You discuss my technique?' de Gier asked. 'I thought Constable Jane was shy. She's always shy with me.'
'We act a lot,' Celine said. 'But I do think Jane likes you. So do I. Toine prefers the commissaris. I like him too. Do you know that Toine is with Fernandus now? Isn't that rather a loss? Younger men threaten Toine, but I didn't think she would go for Fernandus. He's all twisted inside.'
'The commissaris isn't?'
'Is he?' Celine asked. 'You know him best. Guldemeester was always jealous of you. Teacher's pet.'
'No,'deGiersaid.
She pushed him onto his back. 'Do you mind? I won't touch your ribs. What do you mean, 'no'? You're not teacher's pet?'
'The commissaris isn't twisted,' de Gier said. 'And if he is, that's up to him. I don't consider myself his student anymore. Ouch.'
'Sorry,' Celine said. 'Okay now? What if I bend back?'
'Better, go ahead.'
'Thanks,' Celine said when she disengaged herself. 'You were very patient. Did you like it too?'
'Didn't you notice?'
'Yes, but it could have been automatic.'
'It wasn't,' de Gier said. 'Shall we go downstairs?'
She dressed. 'You don't still think I'll tell on you?'
De Gier had trouble bending down to pull up his pants. Celine helped. 'You'd be in a mess if I did,' she said. 'There are six waiters and the doorman downstairs, all of them fighters, and the manager throws knives. There's the baron too.'
'The all-around sportsman,' de Gier said. 'I could have the lights turned off at the right moment. There must be a main switch, do you know where it is?'
'I'll show you.' She nestled into his arm. 'Hold me a while.'
The hug lasted until she stirred.
'But what will you tell them afterward?' de Gier asked.
'I don't know yet.'
He rested his chin on her head. 'Tell them I turn you on and that you thought I came for you. You don't have to recognize the others in our team, they're supposed to be disguised.'
\\ 21 /////
In the club's largest room, where half a dozen comfortable couches, upholstered in different materials but all in striking shades of a bright orangy red, were grouped around a roulette table that attracted an enthusiastic crowd, de Gier sat stiffly next to a small gentleman in an old-fashioned but dapper summer suit. The commissaris, hard to recognize under his shock of false white hair, had crossed his legs and was contemplating his highly polished boot. A small hand stroked his full beard, and his pale blue eyes peered at the sergeant through a sparkling lorgnette that he had just, with a delicate gesture, pushed up to the bridge of his thin nose. 'Excellent,' the commissaris said, tapping de Gier's knee. 'That's what I like about working with you, Rinus, you always do so much better than can be expected. So Celine's with us now? You 'turned' her, so to speak?' He glanced at Celine, standing next to Ryder, chattering brightly to the big man, who looked shabby in spite of his white linen jacket and loud checkered pants. Ryder's bulging cheeks dripped with sweat and his bulging eyes stared hungrily at a cluster of thousand-guilder notes, pushed toward him by the croupier's little rake. Ryder's pudgy hands rearranged the money, quickly finding numbered squares. A shiny pendant, a combination of precious stones set in massive gold, dangled from a silk ribbon hung around his neck, as he corrected a choice while the croupier and the crowd waited.
'Rien ne va plus,' the croupier sang out. The wheel turned. A small metal ball jumped musically in the sudden hush that pervaded the room. The crowd applauded. Ryder swept up his profits, impassively dispensed by the croupier's magical instrument. Ryder thanked the powers below with a clumsy bow and proposed a toast. Waiters came running with a silver tray.
'To me!' Ryder shouted. 'To me!' his cronies shouted, grinning and waving. 'To me and all!' Ryder's surprisingly high voice shrilled like a piercing whistle on a lopsided locomotive as he bent down to put an arm around Celine.
'To me and all!' The choir around the pair obediently echoed. The commissaris's and de Gier's glasses were raised too. 'Hurrah,' the commissaris said.
'Hey-ho,' de Gier said softly. 'Hey-ho.'
'And Celine'll let us know?' the commissaris asked. 'Splendid. You really have a way. How do you do it?'
'I was going to knock her out,' de Gier said. 'I didn't do well at all. There were some risks. She could have gotten away, but I'm not good at hitting women. If she had alarmed the waiters, we would have been in a pretty fix again.'
'Not really,' the commissaris said. 'What can they do? This is a shadowy operation, Rinus. A small bubble. We can prick it, and when we succeed we run away from the foul smell.' He touched his flowing beard. 'Itchy. The glue prickles. My wife spent most of the afternoon attaching all this hair. I have to bring this off or she'll be most upset. Doesn't like to waste energy, Katrien doesn't.'
De Gier had spotted the baron hovering at the other side of the room, and excused himself. Cardozo took his place. 'And how did you fare?' the commissaris asked. 'Have you picked your waiter?'
'Yes, sir.' Cardozo reinserted his multicolored tie, which kept jumping out of his waistcoat. 'Your waiter is the fellow with the red sash over there, carrying the smoked salmon. You should try some of that. Do you know they employ slaves here?'
The commissaris observed his waiter, a bowlegged individual with a barrel chest, a low brow, and shaggy tufts sprouting from malformed ears.
'Slaves, Simon?' The commissaris tried to raise his glued-on eyebrows.
'There,' Cardozo said. 'The Indian lady in the sari. Sayukta. She took me upstairs, we talked for a
