Floodgate Part 30

The FFF's latest announcement had been very simple, direct and to the point. They had now with them, they said - crude words like 'abducted' and 'kidnapped' had been studiously avoided - two young ladies, one of them the daughter of the nation's leading industrialist, the other the sister of a senior police officer in Amsterdam. They had then proceeded to name names. Condolences, the FFF had said, had been sent to both parents and brother, together with a.s.surances that they were being well cared for and expressing the pious hope that they would continue to remain in good health. 'I do look forward to meeting those card players,' George, said wistfully. 'Crafty bunch of devils, aren't they? I wonder what American university - or it could be Irish - offers a combined course in terrorism and psychology?'

'They're not exactly mentally r.e.t.a.r.ded,'van Effen said. 'But, then, we never thought they were. Another push up the back for the arm of the government - and another push into an even more impossible situation. just ending their message with those prayerful good wishes. No threats, no hints of reprisals or what might happen to the girls, no possibility of torture or even death. Nothing. The old uncertainty principle in full operation again. What, we are left to wonder, do they have in mind. That's left to us - and, of course, it's only human nature to come up with the worst possible scenario. Bad enough to have the country threatened with inundation, but for the tender-hearted and romantic - and even among the so-called stolid Dutch there are an uncommon number of those around - the thought of what dreadful terrors may lie in store for two beautiful and innocent young damsels could be a great deal worse.' 'Well, there's one consolation,'Vasco said. He was practising his in extremis voice again. 'I'm sure that's the last threat about your sister's well-being that you'll be getting, Lieutenant.' 'Stephan,' van Effen said.

'Stephan. I know. But I won't apologize this time.' Vasco's voice was back to normal. 'Once I clap eyes on that lot there's not the slightest chance I'll forget.'

'My mistake,'van Effen said. 'I'm the person who's doing the forgetting - about your undercover years. I agree with you -there'll be no more threats to Julie. By the same token, I don't even think they'll bother to try to extract any money from David Meijer. Apart from the fact that they appear to have unlimited funds of their own, David Meijer is much more important to them as David Meijer - the man who, however unofficially, has very much the ear of the government and is in a position to influence them, to swing whatever decision may be under consideration. Not that I think that the government has any decision under consideration. I think that matter has been effectively taken out of their hands now. The ball, in the American phrase, is now very much in the court of the British.'

'I wouldn't very much like to be in the position of the British either.' George said. 'They face a position that, if it's possible, is even worse than the one our government had to face. Are they going to be dictated to, even by proxy, by a bunch of what are essentially no more than terrorists, no matter what lofty motives they may ascribe to themselves? What will happen in Northern Ireland if they did pull out - would there be strife, and murder, even ma.s.sacre that might cost more than any lives that could or would be lost in the Netherlands - and, of course, we can have no idea of how many lives that might be - hundreds or hundreds of thousands. Or do they just dig in, refuse to move and sit back and let the Hollanders drown and make themselves the lepers of the world, ostracised, perhaps for generations to come, by all nations - and although this is a wicked old world there must be still quite a few left - who still subscribe to some ideals of decency and humanity?'

'I do wish you'd shut up, George.' Rarely for him, van Effen sounded almost irritable. 'You put the d.a.m.n thing all too clearly. In a nutsh.e.l.l, it's a toss-up between what value is put on the lives of x number of citizens in Ulster against number of citizens in the Netherlands.' Van. Effen smiled without much mirth. 'It's difficult to solve an equation when you don't even have a clue as to what the factors are. Imponderables, imponderables. The physicists who ramble on about the indeterminates and uncertainties in quantum mechanics should have this one dumped on their laps. Me, I'd rather spin a coin.'

'Heads or tails,' George said. 'What way do you think the coin would land?' 11 have absolutely no idea because, of course, no one eve" knows which face 01 the coin is going to show. But there's one factor that is at 'Least faintly determinate, even although that is wildly uncertain, and that is human nature. So at a wild guess, just as wild as guessing at the toss, I would say that the British would give in.'

George was silent for a few moments, one ma.s.sive hand caressing his chin, then said: 'The British haven't got much of a reputation for giving in. Feed any of them enough beer or scotch or whatever and like as not someone will end up by telling you that no unspeakable foreigner has ever set foot on their sacred soil for a thousand years. Which is true - and it's the only country in the world that can claim that.'

'True, true. But not applicable - or at least of importance -here. This is not a case of Churchill declaiming that we will fight in the streets, hills, beaches or wherever and that we will never surrender. That's for martial warfare and in martial warfare the parameters and issues are clear-cut. This is psychological warfare where the distinctions are blurred out of sight. Are the British any good at psychological warfare? I'm not sure they are. Come to that, I'm not sure that any country is - too many indefinables.'

'I don't think, anyway, that it's a factor of either martial or psychological warfare. If there's any factor that's going to count, it's the factor of human nature. This is how it might just possibly happen. The British will bluff and bl.u.s.ter, rant and rave - you have to admit that they yield first place to none when it comes to that - throw their arms in the general direction of a mindless heaven, appeal for common justice and claim they're as pure and white and innocent as the driven snow, which, at this moment of time and conveniently forgetting their not-so distant b.l.o.o.d.y history, they have some justification in claiming to be. What, they will ask, have we done to precipitate this intolerable situation and why should they, luckless lambs being led to the slaughter etc, be forced to find an impossible solution to an impossible problem which is none of their making? All quite true, of course. Why, they will cry, is no one in the world lifting a finger to help us, specifically those idle, spineless, cowardly, incompetent etc, Dutch who can't bear to separate themselves from their cheese and tulips and gin even for the few moments it would take to eradicate this monster in their midst.

'n.o.body, of course, is going to pay a blind bit of attention to what they are saying. And when I say "they" I don't mean the British people as a whole, I mean Whitehall, their government. And here's where the first real bit of human nature comes in. The British have always prided themselves on their compa.s.sion, fair-mindedness, tolerance and undying sympathy for the under-dog- never mind what a few hundred million ex-subjects of the British Empire would have to say on that subject - and their kindness to dogs, cats and whatever else takes their pa.s.sing fancy. That they may be happily existing in a world of sheer illusion is irrelevant: what is relevant for them is that what other people may regard as sheer hypocrisy is, for them, received truth . It is an immutable fact of life - British life, that is

- so that if we poor Dutch even as much as got our feet wet, their moral outrage would be fearful to behold. Their indignation would be unbounded, ditto their consternation, the principles of all they think they hold dear destroyed, their finer sensible ties trampled in the mud. The Times letter department would be swamped in an unprecedented deluge of mail, all of it demanding that the criminals responsible for this atrocity should be held to account. X number of heads on X number of chargers. John the Baptist raised to the nth.

'And now the second real bit of human nature. Whitehall is acutely aware who the John the Baptists would be. The government - any government, come to that - may regard themselves as statesmen or cabinet ministers but deep down in their cowering hearts they know full well that they are only jumped up politicians strutting their brief hour upon the stage. Politicians they are and politicians in those fearful hearts they will always remain. And in their little egoistic political minds they are concerned, with rare exceptions - our Minister of Defence is one - only with security of tenure, the trappings of office and the exercise of power. Their egos are their existence and if you destroy their egos you destroy their existence or at least consign them to the political wilderness for many years to come.

'There would be a landslide defeat for them at the next election or, much more likely, they would be turfed out of office very promptly. For your average cabinet minister, such a possibility is too appalling for contemplation. So we won't get our feet wet. Motivated not by their own miserable fear, cowardice, greed and love of power but by the overriding dictates of common humanity, Whitehall will gallantly bow its head to the terrorists.'

There was a considerable silence, interrupted only by the hissing and drumming of rain on the window panes and streets and the constant rumbling of distant thunder. Then George said: 'You never did have a very high opinion of politicians, did you, Peter?'

'I'm in the sort of job where I have the unfortunate privilege of coming into contact with far too many of them.'

George shook his head. 'That's as may be. But that's a very, very cynical outlook to adopt, Peter.'

'We live in a very, very cynical world, George.'

'Indeed, indeed.' There was a pause and this time George nodded his head. 'But sadly I have to agree with you. On both counts. About the world. And about the politicians.'

n.o.body had anything more to say until a van drew up before the hotel entrance - it was, in fact, the mini-bus that had been used in the Dam Square the previous evening. Romero Agnelli, who was driving, wound down the window and slid back the door behind him.

Jump in. You can tell me where to go.'

'Jump out,' van Effen said. 'We want to talk to you.' 'You want to - what's wrong, for G.o.d's sake?'

'We just want to talk.'

'You can talk inside the bus.'

'We may not be going anywhere in that bus.'

'You haven't got the -'

'We've got everything. Are we going to stand here all day shouting at each other through the rain?'

Agnelli slid the door forward, opened his own and got out, followed by Leonardo, Daniken and O'Brien. They hastily mounted the steps into the shelter of the porch.

'What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?' Agnelli said. The suave veneer had cracked a little. 'And what the h.e.l.l -'

'And who the h.e.l.l do you think you're talking to?' van Effen said. 'We're not your employees. We're your partners - or we thought we were.' 'You think you -' Agnelli cut himself off, frowned, smiled and hauled his urbanity back into place. 'If we must talk - and it seems we must. - wouldn't it be a little more pleasant inside?'

'Certainly. This, by the way, is the Lieutenant.' Van Effen made the introductions which Vasco hoa.r.s.ely acknowledged, apologizing profusely for the state of his throat. Agnelli, it was clear, had no idea who he was, even going as far as to say that Vasco couldn't possibly be anything else than an army officer. Inside, seated in a remote corner of the lounge, van Effen unfolded his newspaper and laid it on the table before Agnelli. 'I suppose you can see those headlines?'

'Um, well, yes, as a matter of fact, I can.' He could hardly have failed to for the banner headline was the biggest the newspaper could produce. It read, quite simply, 'FFF BLACKMAILS TWO NATIONS' which was followed by a number of only slightly smaller headlines which were concerned primarily with the perfidy of the FFF, the heroic resolution of the Dutch government, the dauntless defiance of the British government and one or two other lies. 'Yes, well, we rather thought you might have read something like this,'Agnelli said. 'And we did think you might have been a little troubled. But only a little. I mean, I personally can see no reason for concern, or that anything has radically altered. You knew what the reasons for your employment - sorry, engagement - were and you knew what we were doing. So what has changed so much overnight?'

'This much has changed,' George said. 'The scope of the thing. The escalation of the plan. The sheer enormity of the matter. I'm a Dutchman, Mr Agnelli. The Lieutenant is a Dutchman. Stephan Danilov may not be Dutch born, but he's a d.a.m.n sight more Dutch than he is anything else and we're not going to stand by and see our country drowned. And country, Mr Agnelli, means people. It is certain that none of us three operates inside the law: it is equally certain that none of us would ever again operate outside the law if we thought that our actions would bring harm to any person alive. Quite apart from that, we're out of our depth. We are not small-time criminals but we do not act at an international level. What do you people want with Northern Ireland? Why do you want the British out? Why do you blackmail our government - or the British? Why do you threaten to drown thousands of us? Why threaten to blow up the Royal Palace? Or haven't you read the papers? Are you all mad?'

'We are not mad.' Agnelli sounded almost weary. 'It's you who are mad - if you believe all that you read in the papers. The papers have just printed - in this instance, what your government has told them to say - in a state of national emergency, and the government do regard this as such, they have the power to do so. And the government have told them what we told them to say. They have followed our instructions precisely. We have no intention of hurting a single living soul.' 'Northern Ireland is still a far cry from blackmailing the Dutch government for a little ready cash,'van Effen said. 'This, we thought, had been your original intention and one with which we'd have gone along. Quite willingly. We have no reason to love the government.' He stared off into the far distance. 'I have no reason to like quite a number of governments.'

'On the basis of what you have told me,' Agnelli said, 'I can quite understand that.' He smiled, produced his ebony cigarette-holder, fitted a Turkish cigarette and lit it with his gold-inlaid onyx lighter, all of which demonstrated that he was at ease, in charge and back on balance again - a.s.suming, that is, that he had ever been off it in the first place. 'Cash is the basis, gentlemen, and only cash. Precisely how it is the basis I am not yet permitted to divulge but you have my a.s.surance that it is the sole and only motivation. And you also have my a.s.surance -which you can take or leave as you choose - that we have no intention of bringing harm to anyone. And, quite honestly, in saying so we are not so moved, perhaps, by humanitarian considerations as you are. Organized crime on a large scale is big business and we run our affairs on a business-like basis. Emotion is nothing, calculation all. Killing not only pays no dividends, it is counter-productive. A robber is pursued by the law, but only within reasonable limits: but he who kills in the process of robbery is relentlessly pursued. No, no, gentlemen, we are in the business of conducting a purely psychological warfare.' George reached across the table and touched another headline. 'Kidnapping young ladies is another form of psychological warfare?' 'But of course. One of the most effective of all psychological forms of blackmail. It touches the strings of one's heart, you understand.' 'You are a cold-blooded b.a.s.t.a.r.d,'George said genially. When George was at his most genial he was at his most menacing and the slight compression of Agnelli's lips. showed that he realized that he was in the presence of menace. 'I wonder how you would like it if your wife, sister or daughter were held with a gun at their heads or a knife at their throats? And don't throw up your hands in horror. Blackmailers never hold hostages without accompanying threats of what will happen if their blackmailing ends are not achieved. As often as not such threats are carried out. What would it be in this case? Turning, them over to some of the less uninhibited among your employees for a few hours' innocent pleasure? Torture? Or the ultimate? We are, as we have repeatedly told you, not men of violence. But if any harm were to come in any way to those young ladies, totally harmless and innocent as we believe them to be, we would be capable of actions that you would regard as being acts of unimaginable violence. I do wish you would believe me, Mr Agnelli.'

Agnelli believed him all right. The atmosphere in the Trianon's lounge was acceptably cool but a sheen of sweat had suddenly appeared on Agnelli's forehead.

George said: 'Why, for instance, did you kidnap this Anne Meijer? Is it because her father runs a minor kingdom of his own and may be presumed to have a powerful voice in government?' Agnelli nodded silently. 'And this' - lie twisted the paper to have a glance at it -'this Julie van Effen. She's only a policeman's sister. There are thousands of policemen in the Netherlands.'

'There's only one van Effen.' Agnelli spoke with a considerable depth of feeling. 'We know there's a nation-wide hunt up for us but we also know who's leading it. Van Effen. If we have his sister, and we do, we may clip his wings a bit.

'You don't sound as if you care for this man very much?' Agnelli said nothing, the look in his eyes said it for him. 'And you still ask me to believe that you wouldn't subject those girls to some subtle or not so subtle forms of persuasion to achieve your ends?'

'I don't really care whether you believe me or not.' Once again Agnelli was beginning to sound more than a little tired. 'I believe you are quite capable of doing what you say you would do if you found out we are deceiving you. I have no doubt that you are heavily armed. I suggest you come along and see and believe for yourselves. That includes seeing our hostages this afternoon. If you don't like what you see you can leave or take any other measures you think appropriate. There's nothing else I can say and I can't speak fairer than that.'

George said: 'Stephan?'

'We'll go along. Mr Agnelli's explanations may be a bit thin, but if we are to believe in the essence of what he says-and I have no reason to think that we shouldn't - then I think we all may have a great deal to lose if we are raising objections to a state of affairs that do not exist. It wouldn't be very bright of us to cut off our own noses. As Mr Agnelli says, let's go and see for ourselves.'

'Thank you, gentlemen,' Agnelli didn't mop his brow, perhaps because he wasn't the brow-mopping kind, but almost certainly because he would not have regarded it as a very politic thing to do. 'I was by no means convinced that you would come to see it my way - you are exceptionally difficult negotiators, if I may say so - but I am glad you have done.' Moderation, reasonableness, courtesy - Agnelli could generously afford all of those now that he had had, as he thought, his own way. 'Now, where's the truck?'

'Nearby garage.'

'Garage? Is it safe-'

'I own it,' George said. 'Goodness sake, do you think this is the first time?'

'Of course. Silly question.'

'We have one or two questions,' van Effen said. 'We're committed now and we've no more wish to take chances than you have. I don't for a moment suppose we'll know where this place is until we get there. Have you a place of concealment for this truck?'

'Yes.'

'How many people are going out there?'