Still he received no response, so now he looked around at the circle of seated people, at their inscrutable, demon-masked faces. “None of you will! If the police don’t just kill you first! Listen to me, what she’s doing is crazy, all of this crap isn’t going to bring that thing back to life! She’s just using you, she thinks you’re stupid fools, to be used in her crazy scheme! And when she’s done with you, she’ll just throw you aside! You mean nothing to her, you’re like shit on her shoe!! God damn it, don’t just fucking sit there and let this happen!”
Nothing. Not so much as a flicker of movement. They were as still as the corpse sitting alongside them.
And by now the water was splashing over his legs and arms, and up across his chest and around his hair and jaw.
Pieter yanked at his chains, he twisted and pulled and strained with every bit of strength, and he lifted his head clear of the rising water and craned his neck to lift his shoulders up off the concrete base. The chains didn’t budge at all. He arched his back and kicked back and forth with his legs. He sagged again, noticing the water was close to reaching the level of his face, so he pulled once more, but to no avail.
He sank back down. His breathing was coming fast now as fear seized him, water was gurgling over his cheeks and across his mouth and nostrils, so he spat it out, and lifted his head up as far as he could.
Jesus!
Above him, the circle of onlookers watched in silence.
◆◆◆
In keeping with his style of leadership Dyatlov led the assault from the front.
The three separate teams – Red, Black and Zero 1 – had gathered on the cobbles of Nieuwmarkt, where during the daytime the wooden market stalls stood. At this time of night they had been packed away, and any members of the public strolling across the large open space had quietly but forcefully been asked to leave, and the surrounding streets closed off. Then, with his squad leaders gathered around, the former Russian Spetnaz officer had issued final instructions.
Red Team, which he would lead, were designated the primary assault squad, and were made up of fifteen men. They would enter their target through the large red doors at the front of the building, beneath the big overhanging canopy. They would secure the ground floor and the lower level. Black Team would gain entry through two smaller doors around the back, and their task was to clear the upper floors. Zero 1, consisting of twenty men, were to be held in reserve, and their job was to remain outside and to be ready to offer assistance when and where it might be needed. This team would also cover all possible escape routes out of the large building should any of the bad guys manage to get away. Zero 1 had a number of medics in their squad too, and once Phase 1 of the assault was over these individuals would move in to tend to the wounded. Police casualties were anticipated to be high.
Their target was the huge building that dominated the market square. It had the appearance of a small castle. At the centre was one huge circular turret capped by a massive slate roof pointing into the sky. Positioned at equidistant points around its circumference were four smaller and narrower turrets, with a large square blocky keep jutting out between two of these, which contained the front entrance. Red-shuttered windows covered the whole edifice.
At various times during its life, the building had served as a medieval city gate, where merchants would have their goods weighed. It had also been used as a place where surgeons and medical students performed public dissections. For a while it was the site where murderers and thieves would be executed, their heads lobbed off with a guillotine on the cobbled square. More latterly it was renovated as a popular café where tourists and office workers would gather for lunch. Named The Waag, it was one of Amsterdam’s principal sightseeing spots. Crazy to think that it was currently being used as the main HQ for the most wanted criminals in The Netherlands, who were hiding right in the heart of the city.
With their instructions received and passed on to their men, the two main assault squads quietly took up position. Wearing breathing masks and night-vision goggles, the heavily armed men placed small directional explosive charges on their designated entry-points, and set the timers at ten seconds.
In near-perfect synchronization the charges blew in a huge rippling, explosive blast that crashed out over the square. The shock wave blew out several windows of nearby buildings and set off multiple car alarms. The doors of the building caved inwards, blown off their hinges, and Dyatlov, being the first man, threw in first a flash-bang and then a tear gas/smoke grenade, and went charging through the entrance with his assault rifle tucked into his shoulder. Without needing to look he knew his men were right behind him.
The Waag
◆◆◆
The series of powerful explosions shook the huge building, causing the ancient walls to shudder, and trickles of dust fell from the ceiling of the small room onto those seated below. A grinding and rending noise came from the passage just outside, and more dust billowed through the iron doorway in a dense cloud.
For a handful of seconds nobody moved, frozen rigid with shock.
Then Lotte came to her feet, and her countenance had changed: now a heavy scowl marred her beautiful features, a furious anger bubbling to the surface.
“They’re here,” she spat. “Bart! Arm our people!”
Bart, who was the only one grinning with the thrill of
