we need money too. And Riordan, above all, has to be kept happy, for Riordan above all needs unholy money to achieve his holy purposes.’
‘Unholy money for unholy purposes,’ George said. ‘Split mind. Dichotomy. There must be something in this Irish American connection. We know there are men who are willing to trade heroin for bags of gold to help a so- called worthy cause. Purblindness. That the word?’ ‘Something like that. In medical terms, tunnels as opposed to peripheral vision. We have to accept that it’s an illness and try to treat it as best we can.’
‘How do we go about treating this ailment? The good doctor has something on his mind?’ Despite his vast bulk George shivered in the bitter wind. ‘A prescription? A nostrum?’
‘Too late for medicine.’
‘Surgery? I wouldn’t even know which end of a scalpel to hold.’ ‘You don’t have to. In the best medical parlance, surgery, at this moment, is contra-indicated.’
George cleared his throat delicately, which is no easy thing to do in a gale-force wind. ‘You have suddenly developed a new-found regard for the well-being of murderous villains? Criminals who are prepared to drown God knows how many thousands of our fellow countrymen?’
‘No such sea-change, George. I know they have their quota of hard men and psychopathic nut-cases around here but do you seriously doubt for a moment that we could kill Riordan, Samuelson and Agnelli and get the girls away unharmed?’
‘I know we could — I take back my ludicrous suggestion about your tender heart. Tungsten steel, more like.’
Vasco’s expression didn’t exactly register shock but it did hold a certain amount of apprehension and disbelief.
‘You’re a policeman. Sir. Sworn to uphold the law. I mean, give them a fair trial and hang them in the morning.’
‘I’m my own court of law and I’d shoot them down like wild dogs if I thought it would solve anything but it wouldn’t. Two reasons — one psychological, one practical.
‘The psychological — curiosity, nosiness if you like. I am not convinced that those three are ordinary criminals. I am not convinced that Romero Agnelli is the murderous, ruthless killer we think he is. He bears no resemblance to his two brothers I put behind bars, who were Grade A vicious sadists. The fact that he hasn’t laid a finger on either Julie or Annemarie helps bear that out. Or Riordan. He’s no psychopath. Loony as a nut or nutty as a loon and a demagogue of some note — but only an occasional demagogue. But being loony doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re certifiable: there are quite a number of people tidied up — institutionalized, as they say — in lunatic asylums who are convinced that they are the only sane people around and that there exist great numbers of people, those responsible for wars, hunger, diseases, genocide, heroin pushers and those who talk glibly of nuclear annihilation, not to mention a few other trivial matters, who should be where they are, and who’s to say they’re not right?’
‘And then there’s the factor of demagoguery.’
‘Dema what?’ Vasco said.
‘People who are supposed to go in for ranting and raving. A word that has fallen into disuse. A word associated with the likes of Hitler, Mussolini and a few dozen nationalistic leaders in the world today. There are good demagogues and bad ones.
Originally it meant people who were opposed to established rules of law, usually bad rules. Christ, if you Eke, could have been called a demagogue. Riordan, I admit, is no member of the Holy Trinity, but I believe him to be a sincere and honest demagogue, however misguided. I do not believe him to be evil.
‘Samuelson is the nigger in the woodpile — if one can use such racist language in these days. He’s the real enigma. You know that he’s English?’
Both men shook their heads.
‘He is. A wealthy man. Obviously, a very wealthy man. Sure, rich men are normally under a compulsion to become even richer, but there’s a limit even to that and I believe Samuelson has reached that limit. As sane and stable a man as you could ever hope to meet. Beneath that bonhomie and geniality I think he’s an obsessed man. A driven man. I would like to know what drives him. What do you think of Kathleen?’ Both men stared at him, then George said: ‘Wait a minute.’ He disappeared inside the mill and reappeared shortly afterwards with three very large glasses of brandy in his hands. ‘if we are to continue this discussion in Verkhoyansk temperatures — what do you mean “Kathleen”?’ ‘What I said. How does she strike you?’
‘We hardly know her,’ George said. ‘A lovely child, of course.’ ‘There you go again. You and your middle-aged propensities. Vasco?’ ‘I agree with George. I’ve never seen — ‘ he broke off. ‘She seems kind and gentle and — ‘
‘An accomplished actress? A case-hardened spy?’ Vasco said nothing. ‘The feminine equivalent of the smiler with the knife under the cloak?’ ‘No!”Vasco was vehement.
‘No, indeed. When she was watching that TV announcement tonight, you weren’t. You were watching her. Not that I blame you, she’s as watchable as anyone in the Netherlands. But that’s not why you were watching her. Apropos of nothing, Vasco, I think you’d make an excellent Inspector. Under, of course, the watchful eye of George, whom I hope to persuade to leave his ill-chosen role of restaurateur.’
‘Me?’ George stared at him as if either or both of them had taken leave of their senses.
‘You. You’re wasted. Keep La Caracha, of course. Annelise is the best cook in Amsterdam and you could always hire a couple of thugs, preferably ex-convicts, to take over your distasteful duties as bouncer. But that’s by the by. What did her eyes tell you, Vasco?’
‘Her eyes?’ Vasco was momentarily confused.
‘Kathleen’s. You were watching her eyes, not her face.’ How did you know — ‘
‘A combination of craftiness, cunning, deviousness and experience. Practice is all. Fear, distress?’
‘Something like that. Distinctly unhappy. Edgy. Odd thing was, she was looking like that before the announcement was made. She knew what was coming or thought or was convinced she knew what was coming and didn’t like it one little bit.’
‘Another driven person,’ van Effen said.
‘If we’re talking about drivers and driven people,’ George said, ‘you could also include Maria Agnelli. A great lip-licker is our Maria. We’ve all met people who lick their lips when they’re in a state of sadistic anticipation but when you’re in a state your lips don’t tremble. Hers did. Nervous apprehension. Revulsion, if you like.’
‘I missed that,’ van Effen said.
‘Well, we’ve each of us got only one pair of eyes,’George said reasonably. ‘But you only had to have half an eye to see that Samuelson enjoyed every moment of the broadcast. So what do we have? Three driven people. One of those driven people, Samuelson, is also the driver, going hell-bent, one could say, round a series of hairpin bends down a pretty precipitous mountain slope. The other two are driven, terrified of going over a precipice at the next hairpin.’
Vasco said in a complaining voice: ‘You’re going too fast for me. You make those two girls sound relatively harmless, maybe even nice. Joachim, Joop and those two other baby-faces in the mill here — Baader-Meinhof, RAF or whatever you call them — they are Dot nice.’
‘They wouldn’t agree,’ van Effen said. ‘They arc the new Messiahs, dedicated to the creation of a nobler and better world. It’s mere!y because of the blind folly of this misguided world that assassination and the deployment of tactical nuclear weapons have become their stock-in-trade.’
‘And those two girls are their associates and allies,’ Vasco said. He sounded very bitter indeed. ‘Or do you dip your band into this witches’ brew of murder, mayhem, blackmail, terrorism and theft and bring them out pure as the driven snow?’
‘A little dusting of soot, perhaps. Camouflage. A little coercion here, a little blackmail there, misguided love, misguided loyalty, a warped code of honour, a false sentimentality, a judicious mixture of truth and lies.’
‘ “Conned”, I believe is the word you’re after,’ George said. ‘But they weren’t conning anyone when they kidnapped Julie.’ ‘Of course they were. Sure, they hoped to discourage me, but that was only the ostensible reason. Romero Agnelli would never have thought that up on his own and as for hurting my sister I’ve already given it as my opinion that he would be reluctant to tread on a beetle. The orders came from his brothers Giuseppe and Orlando, that delightful duo I put away all those years ago.’
‘But they’re in prison.’
