Agnelli, O’Brien and Daniken were waiting in the lounge when the two men descended. Van Effen said: ‘Fixed?’
‘Yes. But one thing we overlooked — or I overlooked. I said I’d call them back. I didn’t know whether to ask them to come here or not.’ ‘We’ll let them, know when we move out in the truck.’ ‘Why not call them from here?’
Van Effen, looked at him as if in faint surprise. ‘Do you ever make two consecutive calls from the same phone?’
‘Do I — ‘ Agnelli shook his head. ‘And to think that I thought I was the most suspicious, most security- conscious person around. Do we move now?’ ‘The heating in Dutch army trucks is rather sub-standard. I suggest a schnapps. We have time?’
‘We have. Very well. Until the Lieutenant comes, I assume.’ ‘He doesn’t join us. We join him. That’s why I suggested a schnapps. Takes him a little time.’
‘I see. Rather, I don’t. He’s not going to join
‘He’s leaving by the fire escape. The Lieutenant has a penchant for unorthodox exits. Also, he’s bashful about calling attention to himself.’
‘Unorthodox. Bashful. I understand now.’ Standing by what appeared to be a freshly painted army truck in an otherwise empty, brightly lit small garage, Agnelli surveyed the rather impressive figure of Vasco who was now attired in what was obviously a brand new Dutch army captain’s uniform. ‘Yes, I understand. The desk staff in the Trianon would have found the change rather intriguing. But I thought — um — the lieutenant was a lieutenant?’
‘Old habits die hard. You don’t change a man’s name just because he changes his suit. Promoted last month. Services to Queen and country.’ ‘Services to — ah, I see.’ Agnelli, it was clear, didn’t see at all. ‘And what’s this bright orange dagger flash on the radiator?’ ‘ “Manoeuvres. Do not approach.” ‘
‘You don’t miss much and that’s a fact,’ Agnelli said. ‘May I look inside?’
‘Naturally. I wouldn’t like you to think that you’d bought a pig in a poke.’
‘This, Mr Danilov, is the most unlikely looking pig in a poke that I’ve ever seen.’ Agnelli had inspected the neatly stacked and, in the case of the missiles and launchers, highly gleaming contents of the truck and was now actually rubbing his hands together. ‘Magnificent, quite magnificent. By heavens, Mr Danilov, when George here is given a shopping list I must say that he delivers. I wouldn’t have believed it.’ George made a dismissive gesture. ‘A little assistance from the Lieutenant here. Next time, something a little room difficult. ‘Splendid, splendid.’ Agnelli looked towards the front of the truck and at the heavily side-curtained bench seat behind the front seats. ‘That, too? I see, Mr Danilov, that you share my passion for privacy.’
‘Not I. Senior Dutch army officers on manoeuvres.’
‘No matter. Mr Riordan, I am sure, will be delighted. When you meet him you will understand why. He is. a man of a rather striking appearance and rather difficult to conceal, which is a pity, as he does like his privacy.’ Agnelli was silent for a moment, then cleared his throat and said: ‘In view of all this and the very, very stringent security precautions you have taken, Mr Danilov, I do feel a bit — in fact, very — diffident about asking — but, well, do you mind if Mr O’Brien here carried out a closer inspection’
Van Effen smiled. ‘I’ve often wondered what Mr O’Brien’s function might be. But this? Well, I’m slightly puzzled. If Mr O’Brien knows more about explosives and arms than we three do, then he must be Europe’s leading expert and our services would seem to be superfluous.’ ‘Explosives, Mr Danilov?’ O’Brien was an easy smiler and had a pleasant light baritone voice, a natural for the rendering of ‘When Irish eyes’. ‘Explosives terrify me. I’m an electronics man.
‘Mr O’Brien is being modest,’ Agnelli said. ‘He’s an electronics expert and one of the very best in the business. Security. Alarms. Installation — or deactivating.’
‘Ah. Burglar alarms. Photo-electric rays, pressure pads, things like that. Always wanted to meet one of those. It’ll be a pleasure to watch one at work. Little enough scope, I would have thought, for an electronics man around an army truck. Wait a minute.’ Van Effen paused briefly then smiled. ‘By all means go ahead, Mr O’Brien. I’ll take long odds against you finding one, though.’
‘Finding what, Mr Danilov?’
‘One of those dinky little location transmitters.’
Agnelli and O’Brien exchanged glances. Agnelli said: ‘Dinky little — I mean, how on earth — ‘
‘Because I removed one this morning. Rather, the Lieutenant did it for me.’
Agnelli, as van Effen had said, would never stand in line for an Oscar. He was perplexed, apprehensive and suspicious, all at the same time. ‘But why should one — I mean, how did you suspect-‘ ‘Don’t distress yourself. ‘van Effen smiled. ‘Perfectly simple explanation. You see-‘
‘But this is an army truck!’
‘Precisely. Far from uncommon on Army trucks. Use them on their silly war games, especially at night, when there’s no lights permitted and strict radio silence. Only way they can locate each other. The Lieutenant knew where they were usually concealed and found and detached this one.’ Vasco opened a map compartment by the driver’s seat, removed a tiny metallic object, and handed it to van Effen, who passed it over to O’Brien. ‘That’s it, all right,’ O’Brien said. He looked doubtfully at Agnelli. ‘In that case, Romero — ‘
‘No, no,’ van Effen said. ‘Go ahead and search. Be happier if you do. Damn truck could be littered with them, for all I know. Speaking personally, I wouldn’t know where to start looking.’
Agnelli, trying with his usual lack of success to conceal his relief, nodded to O’Brien. Van Effen and George left the truck and wandered idly around, talking in a desultory fashion. Agnelli, they could see, was displaying a keen interest in O’Brien at work, but none in them. In a far corner van Effen said: ‘Must be an interesting profession being a professional dismantler of alarm systems.’
‘Very. Useful, too. If you want to get at the private art collection of some billionaire or other. Or into a secret army base. Or bank vaults.’ ‘It’s also useful if you want to blow up a dyke or a canal bank?’ ‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so either.’
Although it was only just after i p.m. when they left the garage it could well have been night-time for the amount of light left in the sky. And although it seemed impossible that the amount of rain could have increased, it undoubtedly had: the truck was equipped with two-spec’d wipers but might almost as well have been equipped with none at all. And the wind blew even more strongly from the north. Apart from the occasional triple tram the streets were deserted. One might almost have thought that the efforts and intention of the FFF were wasted: Holland, it appeared, was about to drown under the weight of its own rainfall.
Agnelli had made his phone call from the garage. Shortly after leaving it, at a word from Agnelli, Vasco, who was driving, pulled up outside an undistinguished cafe off the Utrechtsestraat. Two cars were parked there, both small, both Renaults. Agnelli got out and spoke hurriedly to the invisible drivers of the cars: he had need to hurry, he had no umbrella and his gabardine raincoat offered no protection at all to the pitiless rain. ‘Joachim and Joop,’ he said on his return. ‘They are following us to a restaurant just this side of Amstelveen. Even the FFF must eat.’ Agnelli was probably back to his smiling again but it was impossible to say. The inside of the truck was almost totally dark.
‘If they can follow us,’ van Effen said. ‘In this weather, I can see that my precautions were superfluous. I thought we were to meet your brother and Mr Riordan. I must say I shall be most interested to meet your Mr Riordan. If the newspaper accounts are anything to go by, he must be a most extraordinary character. ‘He ignored George’s heavy nudge in the ribs. ‘He’s all that. They’ve elected to remain in the cats — I don’t suppose they fancied getting wet. We’ll meet up in De Groene Lanteerne.’
Riordan was indeed an extraordinary character. For some extraordinary reason — known only to himself — he had elected to dress himself in a sweeping, neck-buttoned, black-and-white shepherd’s tartan cloak with matching deerstalker, of the type much favoured by Highland lairds and Sherlock Holmes. As the cloak ended six inches above his knees and hence made him took even more incongruously tall and skeletal than ever, he couldn’t possibly have been trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He had greeted everyone civilly enough — when he wasn’t declaiming against the IRA he was, it seemed. a normally grave and courteous man — raised his eyes at the sight of Vasco’s uniform, ready accepted its explanation and thereafter remained silent, not from any wish to disassociate himself from those at the table but because he was carrying a large, very intricate and expensive- looking radio and had a pair of earphones clamped to his head. He was listening, Agnelli explained, to weather forecasts and Dutch and international news broadcasts. Agnelli didn’t have to explain why.
