immediately by opening a few sluice gates for a few minutes. You might find it instructive to have a helicopter around to take a. few pictures so that the people of the Netherlands may understand what lies in store for them.
‘I do hope you speed up negotiations with the British government.’ ‘That was quite a performance, Mr Samuelson,’ van Effen said. ‘You really do have those two dykes mined?’
Samuelson laughed. ‘Of course not. Why should 1. That pusillanimous lot now take our every word for gospel.’
Van Effen and his two friends drifted unobtrusively into the space between the table and wall controls and opened their satchels while Samuelson and his men talked excitedly and congratulated themselves. In the space of just over two seconds ten gas grenades, fairly evenly spaced around the room, exploded. The effects were spectacular. Within a few seconds everyone was staggering about and most were unconscious before they crumpled to the floor. Van Effen snatched a key from Agnelli’s pocket and the three men hastily left the room, closing the door behind them. Their noses were protected but they could hold their breath for only so long. ‘Five minutes and we’ll be able to go back in there,’van Effen said. ‘They’ll be asleep for half an hour at least.’ He handed Vasco the key. ‘The ropes. Cut Borodin free and tell him to do the same for the others. Explain.’
Vasco entered the cellar and cut an astonished Borodin free, then handed him the knife. ‘Cut the others free. We’re police officers — genuine ones. The one with the scarred face is Lieutenant van Effen of the Amsterdam police.’ ‘Van Effen? Borodin was, understandably dazed. ‘I’ve seen his picture. Mat’s not him. I know his face.’
‘Use your head. So does nearly every criminal in Holland.’
‘But the FFF — ‘
‘Are having a short nap.’ Vasco gathered up the spare ropes and left at a run.
Van Effen approached the man on the seaside missile site. ‘Mr Samuelson wants you. Quickly. Control room. I’ll keep watch.’ The man was just disappearing from sight when van Effen crossed to the other man on the river missile site, his hand round the burgundy Yves Saint-Laurent aerosol with the special fragrance. He lowered the man to the roadway and headed for the helicopter.
The man from the first missile site that van Effen had visited stopped when he saw George, who waved him on encouragingly. As the man passed, George chopped him on the back of the neck. For George, it was just a little chop, but the man, had he retained consciousness would probably have regarded it in a different light. George lowered him gently to the floor.
Van Effen pulled back the curtain and said: ‘Ah, there you are, Joop. Keeping a good watch, I see.’ Joop’s good watch lasted for all of another two seconds before he slumped to the floor. Van Effen produced his Smith and Wesson, waved it in the general direction of Kathleen and Maria and sliced Annemarie’s and Julie’s bonds free. He raised both girls to their feet, helped them free their gags, and, gun still in hand, put his arms round their shoulders. ‘My beloved sister. And my dear dear Annemarie.’ The eyes of Kathleen and Maria were as round as the proverbial saucers. ‘You took your time about it, didn’t you,’ Julie said. There were tears in her eyes.
‘Gratitude was ever thus,’ van Effen sighed. ‘There were problems.’ ‘It’s over?’ Annemarie whispered. ‘It’s all over?’
‘All over.’
‘I love you.’
‘I’ll have you repeat that when you are in a more normal state of mind.’
The two seated girls were still staring at them. Kathleen said: ‘Your brother?’ Her voice was husky, her voice disbelieving. ‘My brother,’ Julie said. ‘Peter van Effen. Senior detective lieutenant of the Amsterdam police force.’
‘It’s a nasty shock, I will admit,’ van Effen said. ‘There may be an even nastier one awaiting you. There are those whom you might like to see or who might like to see you. When they wake up, that is.’
All of the FFF were still sound asleep, bound hand and foot, or in the process of being so bound.
‘Not bad, not bad,’ van Effen said. ‘And what else have you been doing with your time?’
‘Would you listen to him,’ Vasco said. He tightened, with unmistakable enthusiasm, the last knot on the rope binding Samuelson’s legs. ‘To start with, half the police cars and vans in Rotterdam and Dordrecht should be on the dam inside fifteen minutes. I thought that up all by myself.’ ‘A promising officer, as I said.’ Van Effen turned to Kathleen, who was staring at her father, her face ashen with shock and fear. ‘Why, Kathleen?’
Instead of replying, she reached inside her handbag and brought out a small pearl-handed gun. ‘You’re not going to take Mr Samuelson. You didn’t know he was my father.’
‘Yes, Kathleen, I did.’
‘You did?’ Her voice faltered. ‘How did you know?’
‘Julie told me.’
Julie stepped between the gun and van Effen. ‘You’ll have to shoot me first, won’t you, Kathleen. I’m not being brave because I know you could never do it.’
Vasco moved quietly forward, removed the gun from the suddenly nerveless hand and replaced it in her handbag.
Van Effen said again: ‘Why, Kathleen?’
‘I suppose it will all come out, won’t it?’ She was crying openly now. Vasco put an arm around her trembling shoulders and instead of resisting she seemed to lean against him. ‘My father is English. He was a Lieutenant- Colonel in the Guards, not under that name. His father was an Earl, who left him a fortune. His sons, my brothers, went to Sandhurst. Both were killed in Northern Ireland, one a lieutenant, the other a second lieutenant. My mother was killed by a renegade off-shoot of the IRA. He’s never been the same man since.’
‘I guessed as much. He may be tried in this country or be extradited by the British.’ Van Effen sounded as tired as he undoubtedly felt. ‘In either case, diminished responsibility will apply.’
‘You mean he’s mad?’ she whispered.
‘I’m no doctor. Some kind of temporary derangement, I should imagine. Tell me, Maria, had either Romero or Leonardo anything to do with the murder of my wife and children?’
‘No, no, no! I swear it. They wouldn’t hurt a fly. My two other brothers in prison. I know they arranged it. They are hateful, evil men. I will testify to that in court. I promise.’
‘That could mean another five or ten years to their sentence.’ ‘I hope they remain there till they die.’
‘No charges will be brought against you and Kathleen. Accessories are one thing, accessories under duress another. Vasco, be so kind as to release that young lady and put a call through to Uncle Arthur. Tell him all. George, take those four ladies, out for a restorative. There’s bound to be a suitable supply in their mess or canteen or whatever. If not, the helicopter is not exactly bereft. Beware of suicide attempts.’ Julie said; ‘I don’t think that anyone is going to commit suicide.’ ‘Your feminine intuition, I suppose. Well, I agree. And, George, you could bring something back here. I feel very weak.’
George smiled and ushered the four girls from the control room. Vasco was two minutes on the telephone then turned to van Effen, his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I believe Uncle Arthur would like a word with you. May I — ah — join the ladies?’
‘By all means. ‘van Effen picked up the phone as he heard the first sound of screaming police sirens. Colonel de Graaf ‘s congratulations were fulsome in the extreme. So were those of Vieringa, who eventually handed him back to de Graaf.
Van Effen said: ‘I am, Colonel de Graaf, becoming tired of being the handmaiden who does all the dirty washing for you. I want a new job, increased salary, or both.’
‘You shall have both, my boy. An increased salary is inevitably what goes with my job.’ He coughed. ‘Six months, say? A year?’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALISTAIR MACLEAN, the son of a Scots Minister, was brought up in the Scottish Highlands. In 1941 at the age of eighteen, he joined the Royal Navy; two-and-a half years spent aboard a cruiser was later to give him the background for HMS Ulysses, his first novel, the outstanding documentary novel on the war at sea. After the war, he
