Assignment in Amsterdam

by Carrie Bedford

  “I’ll try.” She took a step in the direction of the kitchen, but Max waved the gun at her and shook his head.

  “Sorry,” she said to me. She sat down heavily on the arm of the sofa.

  Max had finished his call and now strode towards the landing. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang. Keeping his gun pointed at us, he lifted the handset to click the front door open. I straightened up, wanting to be ready for whatever came next.

  “Alex, take my place. Keep pressure on the wound.”

  I didn’t know if that would be enough. It seemed like hours since Sam had been shot, although my watch confirmed that it had only been fifteen minutes.

  There were noises on the stairs and then two people came into the living room. The first was a man I hadn’t seen before. Big and muscular, he dwarfed even Max. He was holding Karen by the arm.

  I rushed to her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded but her eyes showed her fear and exhaustion.

  “How did they find you?”

  “I volunteered to meet Max when I got the text from your phone,” she said, taking my hand in hers. Her skin was cold, and she was trembling. “I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything happened to you or to Sam. So, I told him I’d come with the papers. He sent me an escort, as you can see.”

  “Oh Karen, I wish you hadn’t put yourself in harm’s way.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have an aura, you said. I trusted I’d be safe.”

  Her words wrapped a fist around my heart. What if I’d been wrong? What if my aura-sighting capability failed one day? If Karen’s trust had been misplaced? I didn’t have time to dwell on it though because Max started yelling, first at us to stop talking and then at the big man, who stepped out on to the landing with his gun in his hand. From there, he could keep an eye on us and monitor the stairway at the same time.

  Karen let go of me, stood straight and looked around the half-destroyed living room. “So, you’re ransacking Eline’s home again?” she asked Max.

  “I wasn’t the one who did it the first time,” he said. “If I had, I wouldn’t have needed a second attempt. I’m very thorough in my work.”

  It must have been another of Bleeker’s functionaries who turned over the apartment a month ago.

  “It’s not here,” Max continued. “Which means, Karen, that you have it. Did you bring everything?”

  She gave a nod and pulled the large white envelope from her tote bag.

  “Take the documents out of the envelope and lay them down there.” Max pointed to the wall table where the fallen Adam and Eve painting had rested. “Then step back.”

  Karen did as she was instructed, and we watched while Max leafed through the papers with one hand, keeping the gun pointed in our general direction.

  “Everything is here?” he asked Karen again.

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “Maybe if you told us what you’re looking for, I could be of more help.”

  “The list,” he said, as though we were supposed to know what that meant. “The list of current Zeckendorf members. You must have seen it.”

  Karen and I exchanged looks.

  “Why would there be a list of members?” she asked Max. “It would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.”

  “That’s the point, you idiot,” he said. “Tomas wrote it up as insurance in case anything ever happened to him. He told Bleeker about it but didn’t tell him where he’d hidden it, of course.”

  “Did Eline know about it?” I asked Karen.

  “She didn’t,” Max confirmed. “I spent several hours trying to convince her to remember.”

  “You tortured her.” Anger welled up, hot coals in my stomach, when I remembered Detective Nouwen telling me that Eline had ‘other injuries’ apart from the blow that killed her. Karen buried her face in her hands.

  “What about Tessa? Did you kill her too?” I asked. “What did you do? Push her down the stairs?”

  Max smirked. “Stupid woman. She was like you, always prying.”

  He carried on flipping sheets of paper. I glanced over at Sam, who was shifting on the sofa, his aura still swirling over him. Alex stroked his hair back from his face. Her aura was circling fast too, which made me very nervous. If Max didn’t find what he was looking for, was he going to start shooting?

  There was a sudden commotion downstairs, with raised voices and banging on a door. That would be the door from the old kitchen that I’d locked earlier. Was it Bleeker and his men or the police? I dreaded to think what would happen to us if Max and Bleeker joined forces.

  Max yelled at his accomplice on the landing and they exchanged urgent words in Dutch before Max gathered up the papers, folded them roughly and put them in an inside pocket of his jacket.

  He gestured at Alex and me. “Get over here. We’re leaving.”

  “Then go,” I said. “You have what you want. You don’t need us.”

  “You’re right.” He lifted the gun and aimed it at my head. I heard a click as he released the safety. I’d already thought I was going to die today. The fear of a bullet in the head was just as powerful the second time around. I tried to swallow and couldn’t. My legs were threatening to give way.

  “We’ll come with you,” Alex said. “Hostages. To negotiate if the police catch up with you.”

  She put her hand on my arm to pull me towards Max. The feeling of her hand on my arm helped to ground me.

  Max lowered the gun. “Then move fast,” he said.

  With one last look at Sam, I hurried to Max, Alex beside me. But, always full of nasty surprises, Max turned and pointed the gun at Karen.

  “No,” I screamed at him. “We’re coming with you. Leave her alone.”

  The banging below grew louder. The big man on the landing yelled something and sprinted off down the stairs. When Max turned to shout at him, I grabbed a vase from the side table and raised it as high as possible before bringing it down on the back of his head. He lurched away from me, dropped the gun and steadied himself against the wall with both hands.

  Before I could move, he swung around, his colorless eyes iced with fury. I charged at him, head low, and collided with a block of solid muscle. His hands went around my neck. I couldn’t breathe. As my windpipe constricted, I jerked my head up, hard under his chin, and heard his teeth snap together.

  The impact was enough to make him stumble backwards. Seizing the opportunity, Alex and Karen both rushed at him, fists flying. But the advantage was soon lost. He threw a punch at Karen, sending her reeling. He scanned the floor, looking for the gun, gave up, and grabbed Alex by the arm. He dragged her towards the staircase.

  Clutching her head, Karen dropped into an armchair. After a quick glance to check she was breathing, I retrieved the gun that had skidded under the sofa where Sam lay and took off after Max.

  He and Alex were already halfway down the stairs, but Alex was fighting back, twisting and struggling.

  Raising the gun, I screamed at Max. “Let her go or I’ll shoot you.”

  Max turned, that smirk of his twisting his lips. “I don’t think so.” He tightened his grip on Alex’s arm and yanked her forward. “Let’s go.”

  He was right. I couldn’t shoot him. I had no idea how to use a gun, and anyway the chances were that I would hit Alex, not him. I dropped the weapon and raced after them. Alex, for a second, had managed to grab the banister rail, slowing their descent.

  The need to save my friends overwhelmed any rational thought. Yelling a warning at her, I hurled myself at Max like a wild animal. Already moving fast, he lurched forward, lost his footing and began to tumble, still clasping Alex’s arm. She flailed around, her hands seeking the banisters and missing them. I managed to grab her shoulder, but Max hung on to her arm. Off-balance, I stumbled forward. Together, the three of us toppled down seven or eight stairs until we came to a bone-crushing stop on the lobby floor.

  When I opened my eyes, the vaulted ceiling above me blurred into bright light rimmed wit
h gold. Cold air chilled my skin. Was I dead?

  But no, my ears were buzzing, my knee burned as though it was on fire. The front door was wide open. I raised my head to see that I’d come to rest across Max’s legs. Alex lay motionless, face down over his chest. A pool of blood was spreading rapidly on the tiled floor. Was it hers? Panicky, I reached out to put my fingers against her neck. It took a few agonizing seconds to feel a pulse.

  The lobby began to spin when I sat up, and I paused to let the dizziness pass. The blood was Max’s, I could see that now, coming from a gash on his skull. But he wasn’t dead. His eyelids fluttered, and the blood kept flowing.

  Pain shot through my knee as I stood up. Everything hurt to some extent, but I hadn’t broken anything, as far as I could tell. By the time I was on my feet, Karen had rushed down the stairs and was bending to help Alex as she stirred and sat up.

  “Thank God you’re okay. When I heard you fall…”

  And then there was an explosion of noise as the old kitchen door ruptured, split from its hinges, and crashed to the floor.

  I turned my head, terrified I’d see Bleeker standing there. But it was a police officer who stepped through the opening. I let out a quiet cry of pain and joy.

  27

  A flurry of phone calls followed, and it seemed like less than a minute until I heard sirens screaming towards us. Finally, help was coming for Sam. Karen rushed back up the stairs, telling me as she ran that she was going to check on him.

  Still dazed, I put my hand out to support Alex, who was struggling to her feet.

  “Get me away from this madman,” she said, glaring down at Max, who hadn’t moved at all. “I can’t bear to be this close to him.”

  I helped Alex to the bottom stair and crouched down in front of her. She was sheet-white but didn’t seem to have any injuries apart from the ones Max had inflicted earlier. “Your aura has gone,” I said. “You’re safe.”

  Biting her lip, she struggled not to cry.

  The policeman hurried over to us as more officers arrived, crowding through the front door into the lobby. "Don’t move until the medics take a look at you,” he told Alex.

  “Our friend is hurt. He was shot in the leg. He’s upstairs,” I said. “Can you come?”

  “Show me.” The officer beckoned a policewoman over. She sat on the step next to Alex and they started talking in Dutch. Leaving Alex in good hands, I hobbled up the stairs with the officer beside me.

  Karen was kneeling on the floor next to Sam and she leapt to her feet when she saw us. After a quick exchange that I didn’t understand, the officer leaned over to talk to Sam, who was conscious and responded to the officer’s questions. But his aura still circled. I perched on the sofa arm, holding his hand tightly, staring at the moving air. Gradually, it slowed and, when a medical team charged up the stairs with emergency supplies and a stretcher, it disappeared completely, the ripples dissolving until the air was still. The pounding of my heart eased, and I released the pressure on Sam’s hand, realizing I’d been gripping it so hard it must have hurt. Before I could tell him that his aura had gone, the paramedics asked us all to move away from the sofa. From the middle of the room, we watched them lift Sam onto a stretcher.

  “Can I go with him?” I asked as they moved towards the stairs. “I need to tell him something very important.”

  “No.” The policeman held up his hand. “I need to talk to both of you about what happened here.”

  His radio squawked and he listened for a moment before turning his attention back to us. “Give me a couple of minutes.” He eyed Karen’s cheek, which was red and swollen where Max had hit her. “You need some medical attention for that. For now, put some ice on it and sit down. I’ll be right back. And don’t go anywhere.”

  As if to be sure we wouldn’t run away, he left a young officer standing guard at the top of the stairs.

  “Want a cup of tea?” I asked Karen.

  “Yes, please. That’ll do me more good than ice.” She didn’t move though. “Is Sam going to be all right?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  She smiled even though it must have hurt her swollen cheek. “Good.”

  As we walked to the kitchen, I noticed the empty white envelope that Max had left on the side table. I picked it up and took it with me. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I stared at it for a minute. “You said this is Tomas’s handwriting?” I asked Karen.

  She turned from filling the kettle at the sink. “Yes. He wrote ‘Important. Do not throw away.’ A reminder to himself perhaps, or to Eline.”

  I turned the envelope over, checked all the edges and then put my hand inside, running my fingers along the heavy white paper. It felt as though the back was thicker than the front, although the difference was almost imperceptible.

  Carefully, I tore the front away as Karen watched with interest. I gave her the piece I’d torn off and peered at the corner of the remaining part of the envelope. There were two layers, glued together along the edges, noticeable only because of a tiny overlap.

  My fingers shook as I peeled one layer away from the other. Inside was a sheet of paper, so lightweight it was almost translucent. And on it was a handwritten list of names. About fifty of them. I stifled a gasp and scanned it quickly. Most didn’t mean anything to me but, with a jolt of shock, I noticed two I recognized, one the founder of an Italian fashion empire, the other a British energy business mogul, whose high-profile company acquisitions were frequently splashed across the newspapers.

  These people were part of Zeckendorf? No wonder Bleeker wanted this list so badly.

  “This is it.” I showed it to Karen.

  “Good lord.” She abandoned the teacups she’d been setting out. “Detective Nouwen will be happy to get his hands on this. Let’s go find him.”

  28

  “We have Bleeker in custody,” Detective Nouwen said as he sat down on a chair next to me.

  For the second time in three days, I was sitting with Alex in the hospital waiting room, Karen with us this time. Detective Lange had been here too for a while, taking statements from the three of us, which at least had helped pass the hours as we waited for news on Sam’s surgery. I knew he wasn’t going to die, but I wanted to hear that the gunshot wound wouldn’t leave any lasting damage.

  After Lange had gone back to the police station, I’d called Sam's grandmother. It was an emotional call but, always practical, she had quickly taken control of the arrangements for getting her grandson home.

  Lost in my thoughts, I realized Nouwen was still talking. “Cornelius Maximillian Tilmans, aka Max, is here in the hospital being treated for a serious head wound and a couple of broken bones,” he continued. “He’s under permanent guard— not that he’ll be leaving his bed anytime soon.”

  Max had survived his fall down the stairs, unlike poor Tessa.

  “And Pieter?” Alex asked.

  “He’s provided a statement. So far, he’s cooperating fully. Says he didn’t kill Eline or Tessa.”

  “Max did,” Alex said. “He told us.”

  Nouwen nodded.

  “What happened down in the tunnel?” I asked. “The lights going out, all that shooting?”

  The detective’s face tensed. “Pieter says he turned the lights off— he set some sort of timer from one of the computers upstairs— to give you a chance to escape. Which you did. But Bleeker’s men started shooting. It could have been a bloodbath down there. As it is, Sam and one of my officers were injured. One dead on Bleeker’s side.”

  The sliding glass doors opened, letting in a cold draft. Detective Lange strolled back in, dressed as she’d been before in jeans and a chunky sweater. She obviously hadn’t gone home to change.

  “Can we go find some coffee?” she asked no one in particular. “I’ve been working all night.”

  “Yes, please.” Alex pushed herself up gingerly. She had bruises everywhere. Karen, Nouwen and I followed. I was thrilled to leave that plastic chair behind.

  We found a
fairly clean formica-topped table in a corner of the hospital cafeteria, which was surprisingly busy at seven in the morning. Nouwen brought over a tray of coffees and five sad-looking pastries on a paper napkin.

  Lange picked one up and took a big bite. She chewed for a moment, eyes on her notebook, and then looked up at me. “You were brilliant, Kate. Finding that list of names is going to save us months of work.”

  “You need to thank the others too,” I said. “Everyone worked on it, one way or another. But I’m glad it was us who found it and not Max.”

  “Our research team has been examining the list for the last few hours. It’s apparent that many of Zeckendorf’s members are senior executives in giant corporations, banks and trading firms. Some work for weapons manufacturers and petro-chemical companies. It’s going to take some time to fully understand the scope of their activities, although we already had a good idea of what they did. We just didn’t know who any of them were.”

  Nouwen nodded in agreement with Lange. I remembered his telling me at the cafe that he was aware of Zeckendorf, although he hadn’t revealed anything more.

  “Zeckendorf is essentially a white-collar crime organization,” he said now. “Using sophisticated computer-based tools to manage a wide range of illegal operations. Extortion, money laundering, stock manipulation. And Pieter confirmed that they had a team working on some nasty cyber weapons.”

  I glanced at Alex. She’d told us about that.

  “Bloody hell,” she said, which sort of summed up how I felt too.

  “We believe that some, maybe all, of the software engineers fled the country last night,” Nouwen continued. “But we’ll find them.”

  “Pieter is telling you everything?” Karen asked.

  Nouwen and Lange exchanged a look. “He is helping us,” Nouwen said finally. “He has his own reasons.”

  “He was trying to leave Zeckendorf.” Alex’s face flushed pink as she spoke.