Floodgate Part 27

From the cordial, guileless expression Agnelli wore on his arrival, one could see that van Effen was wrong; here, patently, was a man one could trust anywhere. Agnelli had brought three men along with him. His brother Leonardo, looking, if that were possible, an even more genial member of the Mafioso than he had done the last time, and two others whom van Effen had never seen before. One of them, a burly, slightly florid, pleasant-featured character of indeterminate age - somewhere between forty and fifty, van Effen would have guessed, but it was difficult to be sure - was introduced as Liam O'Brien: from his accent, no less than from his name, he had to be Irish. The other, a handsome young man, dark and slightly swarthy, was introduced as Heinrich Daniken: he could have been of any nationality. Agnelli did not see fit to disclose what the function of either man was.

Introductions over, refreshments proffered and accepted, Agnelli said to George: 'Do I call you George or do you have another name?' 'Just George.' He smiled. 'I'm an anonymous person.' Agnelli surveyed the vast bulk before him. 'You, George, are the least anonymous-looking person I've ever seen. Don't you find it rather a drawback in your profession? Whatever that may be, of course.' 'Drawback? It's a positive advantage. I'm a peace-loving who abhors violence but when you're as big as I am no one ever offers it to you.' George, van Effen thought admiringly, was as consummate and convincing a liar as he'd ever known. 'And, of course, everybody, or nearly everybody - I think particularly of those who are sworn to uphold the law - think that everyone who is as big, fat, cheerful and harmless as I am, must be able to get by very well without being able to think. It's a kind of law of nature. Well, I'm no Einstein, but I'm not yet ready to be locked away in;in inst.i.tution for the r.e.t.a.r.ded. But we haven't met here to discuss personalities, Mr Agnelli, have we? Five questions. What do you want? How much or how many? When? Where? Price?'

The slipping of Agnelli's good-humoured smile was so momentary that only the most alert or observant would have noticed it and even then it could have been as much imagined as seen. 'You do get to the point rather quickly, don't you, George? No time for the little business niceties, I see. Well, that's the way I prefer it myself. Like you, I have no time for beating about the bush: like you, I regard myself as a business man.' He produced a paper from an inside pocket. 'Here's my shopping list. Fairly comprehensive, is it not?'

George studied it briefly. 'Fairly. Well within my limited capacities, I should think. Most of the items are straight-forward, especially the explosives. The ground-to-ground wire-guided missiles - these will be anti-tank missiles, although you don't say so - and the sAm ground-to-air missiles are also easily come by, as are the plastic mines, grenades and smoke-bombs.' He paused, sipped some brandy and frowned. 'Something here I don't quite understand, don't even like. I'm not talking about the fact that you seem to be preparing to wage a united war, even although only a defensive one: that's none of my business.' He handed the list over to van Effen. 'Comment?'

Van Effen studied it for no longer a time than it had taken George then returned the list. 'Specifications.'

'Exactly. 'George, not smiling, looked at the four men in turn then concentrated his gaze on Agnelli. 'This is a lethal enough list as it is. But it could be dangerous in other ways, even suicidal, if it got. into the hands of whoever prepared this list.'

Agnelli wasn't smiling either. He looked more than slightly uncomfortable. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'

'Then I'd better enlighten you. Specifications, as my friend Stephan has said. Explosives - no specifications. Missiles, ditto - and that applies to both types. What kind of primers? What kind of detonators? Fuses - you don't even say whether wire or chemical, how slow-burning or fast-acting. No explosives expert ever composed this list. Some amateur did, some bungling incompetent. Who?'

Agnelli studied his gla.s.s for some time then said: 'I'm the incompetent. But I did get some bungling help from my three a.s.sociates here.' 'G.o.d help us all,' van Effen said. 'You're not fit to be let loose with a box of kiddies' fireworks. I have to ask you, not for the first time, where the h.e.l.l are your experts?'

Agnelli smiled ruefully and spread out his hands. 'I'll be perfectly frank with you.' Romero Agnelli, van Effen realized, was about to lie in his teeth. 'We are temporarily embarra.s.sed. The two men on whom we rely have been called away for other duties and won't be back for a couple of days. But we thought -well, you gentlemen are both explosives experts and -' 'That's no problem,' George said. 'We know what to get and can give you simple instructions on how to use them without blowing your silly heads off. The missiles are a different matter. Only a trained man can fire one of those.'

'How long does that take?'

'A week. Ten days.' George was vastly exaggerating, van Effen knew, but the four men's patent ignorance of all things military was so extensive that it was very likely a safe exaggeration. 'And don't ask us, we're no military men, we're no more skilled in those matters than you are.' Agnelli was silent for some time then said abruptly: 'Do you know of anyone who is. Skilled in such matters, I mean?'

'Do you mean what I think you mean?'

'Yes.'

'I do.' The way George said 'I do', in a tone just one degree short of impatience, made it clear that it was quite inevitable that he should know. 'Who?'

George gave him a look of pity. 'He hasn't got a name.' 'You must call him something.'

'The Lieutenant.'

'Why?'

'Because he is a lieutenant.'

'Cashiered, of course.'

'Certainly not. A cashiered lieutenant is no good to me. I thought you would appreciate that a person like myself can only operate at second or third hand. A middleman, if you like. Or two.'

'Ah! I see. Your supplier?'

'Mr Agnelli. You can't possibly be so naive as to expect -me to answer so naive a question. I'll see what can be done. Where do you want this stuff delivered?'

'That depends on how soon you can deliver it.'

'By noon tomorrow.'

'Good heavens!' Agnelli looked incredulous then smiled. 'It looks as if I've come to the right shop. How will it be delivered?' 'By Army truck, of course.'

'Of course.' Agnelli looked slightly dazed. 'This makes things a bit difficult. I thought it would be at least the day after tomorrow. Could I call up tomorrow to finalize time and place? And could you hold up delivery for at least a few hours?'

'That can be arranged.' George looked at van Effen. 'Mr Agnelli can call here? to a.m., say?' Van Effen nodded and

George smiled at Agnelli. 'Can't say yet, but somewhere between ten and twelve thousand dollars. We offer the best discount rates in Europe. Dollars, guilders or deutschmarks. More, of course, if our - ah - services are required.'

Agnelli stood up and smiled, his old relaxed and genial self again. 'Of course. The price, I must say, doesn't seem too exorbitant.' 'One thing,' van Effen said pleasantly. 'You are aware, aren't you, Mr Agnelli, that if I moved to another hotel and registered there under another name, that the chances of your ever finding either of us, again would be remote?'

'Remote? They wouldn't exist.' Agnelli was frowning. 'Why ever should you mention such a thing?'

'Well, a state of mutual trust does exist between us, doesn't it?' 'Naturally. 'The puzzlement still there.

'Well, if it does, call off the watchdogs in the lobby, in the dining-room and outside.'

'My watchdogs?' From the expression on Agnelli's face one could see that, far from being baffled, he was stalling for time.

'If you don't, we'll throw them into the ca.n.a.l - suitably trussed of course - and then move on.'

Agnelli looked at him, his face for once expressionless. 'You do play for keeps, don't you? I really believe you would.' He smiled and put out his hand. 'Shame. Very well, watchdogs retired. Shame. But they really weren't up to it.'

When they had gone, van Effen said to George: 'You really should have taken up a life of crime. Too late now. Anyway, you'd have given Colonel de Graaf apoplexy years ago. I'll bet Annelise has no idea quite how splendid a liar you are. You have Agnelli hooked, outfoxed, outgunned and demoralized, not to say dependent: at least, let's hope so. Will you talk to Vasco later this evening and tell him that you've got an offer of employment for him in the capacity of an army lieutenant -after, of course, he's made suitable alterations to his appearance? We mustn't forget that Agnelli has had the opportunity of studying Vasco at close range.'

'There'll be no problem.' George handed over Agnelli's shopping list. 'I'd give a great deal to see the Colonel's face when he sees what he's got to go shopping for in the morning. You'll be seeing him, I take it, in an hour or so. Has it occurred to you that Agnelli might very well be there along with Riordan and this fellow Samuelson?' 'It's an intriguing thought and, yes, it has occurred.' 'Well?'

'Well, what?'

'Well, what, he asks. We know that Agnelli is Annecy.' 'We're ninety-nine per cent certain. Don't forget that I never saw either of the two Annecy brothers that we didn't manage to catch and put away.' 'The fact that you don't know him doesn't mean he doesn't know you, of course he does - he must have seen your picture in the papers many times during the period of the arrest and trial. How do you think he's going to react when he sees before him not only the dreaded Lieutenant van Effen but the dreaded lieutenant whose sister he's got tucked away in some dungeon, the sister who, for all you know, he spends his leisure time with, testing out the latest model in thumb-screws?' 'Should be interesting.'

'Colonel de Graaf was right,'George muttered. 'You belong a hundred fathoms down. Just a cold-blooded fish.'

'"Your ten cents will help to kill a British soldier. It's a bargain at the price - the best bargain you'll ever get." That's what the collectors say when they go around rattling their d.a.m.n tin cans in the Irish bars in the United States. Especially in the Irish bars in the north-east states. Especially in New York. Most especially of all in the borough of Queens where the Irish are thickest on the ground. Ten cents. That's all they ask, just ten cents. And, of course, they rattle their cans whenever they hold Irish nights, Irish dances, Irish raffles, Irish whatever you like.

'If you've never heard that there are charitable organizations - charitable they call themselves - which collect for arms, then you live in another century or with your head in the sands. They claim that the millions of dollars that they've collected over the years have gone to support the widows and orphans of the IRA members foully shiin by the murderous British. Support widows and orphans! The founder of one such evil organization once made the mistake of telling the truth when he said: "The more British soldiers that are sent back from Ulster in their coffins, the better." Jack Lynch, a former Irish premier, has gone on record as saying that the money is intended for one purpose only - to make widows and orphans. British widows and orphans.' Riordan, an abnormally tall, abnormally thin man, blackhaired, deeply tanned and dressed in a near-ankle-length black raincoat which served only to heighten the looming angularity of the man, was literally shaking with rage as he stood facing his audience, his fists ivory-knuckled on the table before him. His sincerity and outrage were unquestionable, his intensity almost terrifying.

'G.o.d knows it's bad enough that the contributions to these infamous organizations should come from honest, G.o.d-fearing, intensely religious Catholics who are duped into thinking they are contributing to a worthy cause instead of some d.a.m.nable crew-who make Murder Incorporated look like innocent children playing in a kindergarten. The money goes directly to dedicated IRA operatives. Some of it is used to buy guns at black-market sales in New York itself, auctions usually held in razed areas or empty car parks, always by night, nearly always in the Bronx, Queens or Brooklyn. Guns, gentlemen, are rather easily come by in the fair city of New York.' In the depth of his bitterness, Riordan almost spat the words out. 'The rest of the money is used by other operatives who openly travel to the southern and mid-western states where gun permits do not exist. Wherever the guns come from, they all end up in the New York area from where they are shipped out, almost always from New Jersey or Brooklyn, with the warm encouragement and complicity of the stevedore unions and the upright US customs, many of whom are first or second generation Irish and feel blood-brothers to the murderous IRA. As the Customs Service is controlled by the US Treasury Department, it is logical to suppose that those dealers in death operate with the cognisance if not the connivance of the US Government. The Irish influence in Congress is as well known as it is remarkably powerful.'

'A moment, Mr Riordan, if you would.' The interruption came from Aaron Wieringa, the Minister of Defence, a big, florid, blue-eyed and very calm man, a man immensely respected throughout the country and one who would very likely have become premier quite some years ago if he had not been cursed with the unfortunate and crippling handicap, for a politician, of total incorruptibility. 'One appreciates - one can hardly fail to appreciate - that you are a very angry man. We are not, I a.s.sure you, nineteenth-century ostriches and I think it would be true to say that there is not a man in this room who does not understand that your fury is totally justifiable. I would not go so far as to concur in your condemnation of Washington and Congress, but that, in the current and particular circ.u.mstances, is by the by. Your opinion, as distinct from your recital of verifiable facts, is not of immediate concern. 'What is of immediate concern is why your wrath has seen fit to focus itself on our unfortunate country in general and the city of Amsterdam in particular. I cannot, at the moment, even begin to fathom the reason for it, although I am certain we will not be left in ignorance for long. But nothing you have said so far begins to justify your attempt to blackmail us into acting as intermediary between you and the British Government. I appreciate that you may have, and very probably do have, very powerful reasons for wanting all British troops to withdraw from Northern Ireland, but how you can possibly imagine that we have the ability to persuade Britain to accede to your preposterous demands quite pa.s.ses my understanding. No conceivable reason exists why they should so accede.'

'A totally conceivable reason exists. Human tskrian motives. tarian motives on your part and on theirs.'

'Our respective governments would be reluctant to see the Netherlands flooded and countless thousands - maybe hundreds of thousands - drowned in those floods? Before even considering such matters, an answer to my question, please. Why us? Is it that, because of our particular geographical situation, we are peculiarly susceptible to threats of genocide?'

'You have been chosen because Amsterdam is the linchpin in the whole lethal gun-running operation. It is the gun-running centre of Northern Europe and has been for years, just as it has been the heroin centre of Northern Europe. This knowledge is in the public domain, and the continued existence of those two evil practices can only bespeak a deep level of corruption in both government and law-enforcement levels.' An indignant looking Mr Wieringa made to interrupt but Riordan imperiously gestured him to silence. 'There are, it is true, other towns engaged in gun-running, notably Antwerp, but, compared to Amsterdam, Antwerp operates in a minor league.'

This time Mr Wieringa, speaking in almost a shout which was unknown for him, would not be gainsaid. 'You mean you would find it impossible to flood Belgium.'

Riordan carried on as if he had heard nothing. 'Not all the guns pa.s.sing through Amsterdam go to Eire, of course. Some go to the RAF. Others go to -'