Zero Hour (2010)

I wanted to make sure that what I’d said had registered. ‘You must keep your back to the canal, OK?’

She nodded.

‘If anything doesn’t feel right, you get up and walk.’

I got no response.

‘Don’t fuck about, Anna. We don’t know what we’re up against. Anything dodgy, just walk away and we’ll sort it out some other way.’

She nodded again.

‘Make sure he takes a seat facing the canal so I can get a good look at him.’

She tucked her phone into the glove compartment and got out of the car.

I gave her a couple of seconds, then went off and bought a ticket. The guy at the bureau de change hadn’t been happy to change so many of my kroner into euro coins, but I’d insisted. I crossed the road and walked along the canal. I stopped to admire the view. I could see Anna was already at a table. She’d taken the one right on the end by the pavement. She had her cigarettes out and a waitress had already pounced on her.

I strolled to one of the seats by the canal, about seventy metres from Anna’s back.

The street was full of young mums with their kids. Even the dogs had shiny hair. Everything was pleasant and ordered. The air smelt of coffee and grilled cheese.

Anna’s brew turned up and she smoked, drank and waited. As I soaked up the atmosphere, I checked for anyone else doing the same, staking out the meeting place before Robot’s mate turned up.

I sat and waited for another ten minutes. A bald head in jeans appeared from the direction of the bridge we’d crossed. He looked like a bouncer or a Russian billionaire. He wasn’t fat, but he could have done with losing a stone. Beneath his black-leather bomber jacket his gut strained against his shirt. He spotted Anna and went straight over. She gestured at the bench opposite her but he wanted to sit alongside.

He was going to search her.

Not a drama, but I’d wanted him facing me so I could do a walk-past, maybe grab a picture or some video footage with the BlackBerry for Jules. I would now either have to get up and walk straight towards them, or wander down Herengracht and then come back. Either way, I’d stick out like a sore thumb.

I could still walk past, then do a full 360 round the block, but I wasn’t going to leave Anna unprotected for that long. It was better to stay put and give up on the photo. Maybe there’d be a chance to follow him after the meet.

They spoke with their faces inches apart. Both of them smoked. He refused a drink when the girl appeared.

After two or three minutes he got out his mobile. He said something to Anna and she nodded. Then she stubbed out the rest of her cigarette.

My view was suddenly blocked by a crimson Lexus 4x4 with darkened windows that had emerged from Bergstraat and pulled up right next to them. I got to my feet and walked towards them.

I crossed the road in time to see her blonde hair and the bald head ducking into the back of the wagon. I couldn’t see if she was doing it voluntarily or under duress.

I was close enough now to hear the door shut, even see my own reflection in the side windows as the Lexus made a left.

I turned up Bergstraat, keeping to a slow tourist amble. But as soon as the Lexus was out of sight, I broke into a run. The women in the windows looked at me like I was a madman.

I jumped into the Panda and hit the ignition, narrowly missing a cyclist as I pulled out. I gunned it towards Herengracht and turned left.

The Lexus had gone.

4

I had to put my foot down and risk running someone over - there was no other way. My eyes were glued to the road ahead. I braked hard at every junction and stared down it for a second or two before continuing. The Panda’s engine screamed its complaint. So did the people on the pavement.

I reached the top of the street. If I went left, I’d be going into the centre. If I went right, it would be to the harbour bay and then out of the city. If I was going to top her, where would I go? I threw it right, jumping a red light. Horns honked. Fuck ‘em.

I snatched up a gear as the rev counter hit red. The traffic lights were suspended on wires across the junction ahead. They were on red too. A long line of vehicles tailed back towards me. There was nothing I could do. I was stuck.

The honkers from the last junction caught up with me and stared daggers. I jumped out and climbed onto the Panda’s roof. The steel buckled beneath my feet, but I caught a hint of crimson near the front of the queue, in the right-hand lane. The Lexus was aiming for the northern, industrial, side of the city.

The lights went green. I jumped back in and pushed forward, willing them not to change again before I got through. I was flapping even more now.

I saw the Lexus turn right as the lights went to amber. I was two cars back from the junction. The one ahead of me stopped. I glanced behind me for bikes and mounted the kerb. I eased my way past. It wasn’t a popular move. Every driver in Amsterdam stood on his horn.

I bumped my way back down onto the road and edged into the traffic heading right. There were two lanes. I pushed into the outside one, trying to get my foot down as I wove between vehicles. The Lexus was maybe four or five ahead. I had a better view of it now we were starting to go downhill. We were heading under the bay.

A sign for the next turn-off showed a graphic of a factory with a smoking chimney and the words Noord 5.

I went into the tunnel, still in the outside lane. About halfway through we all passed a police car on the inside lane. I didn’t know if we were speeding but the Lexus and the rest of the traffic didn’t seem concerned. Nobody slowed. I went for it.

The Lexus manoeuvred across the lanes, reaching the inside as we emerged into daylight. He was taking the turn-off. I glanced over my shoulder as I moved over. The police car was coming up behind me.

The Lexus took a right at the top of the hill just as the lights turned red. I checked my mirror. The police car was right up my arse. I had to sit there. The signs to Noord 5 now showed more little factories with smoking chimneys, this time with boats parked up alongside them.

The lights changed and I turned right. The police car came with me. I stuck to 60 k.p.h. We had left Van der Valk country far behind. The buildings here were local authority two-up, two- down monstrosities surrounded by muddy swathes of what might once have been grass. There were little Dutch touches like dormer windows, but the streets weren’t lined with milkmaids with blonde pigtails and clogs. All I saw were black or South East Asian women, and many more of unknown origin completely burqa’d up. The weather had changed too: Noord 5 seemed to have its own micro-climate. Everyone was wrapped in a long coat to fight the cold and the dark clouds that were gagging to dump on them.

I paralleled the long side of a rectangular market covered with plastic sheeting. Cheap clothes hung on rails next to stalls piled high with big bottles of cola and shampoo. Nearby houses had boarded-up windows and numbers painted on the brickwork because they’d fallen off the doors. Kerbs were choked with rusty, minging old cars. Sink estates are the same the world over. The only difference here was that Iranian or Turkish flags hung from every other sill.

I took the first option at the next roundabout. The police car carried straight on. The Lexus must have come this way, but I didn’t know which of the three exits it had taken.

I headed along the southern end of the market towards another, smaller, roundabout with another three exits. Where now? I had multiple options to cover. All I could do was cruise with my eyes peeled.

I went with the flow. Everyone I saw was in shit state. It was as if they’d been dumped here and forgotten.

I slowed to a crawl and stared down every side street.