Bakker opened his desk drawer hoping to find a pizza slice, empty. He had finished off the last of it a couple of days ago. He slammed the drawer shut, catching the attention of others in the room, then went back to his computer and typed in the name of Karl Webber. Nothing showed up in any of the crime databases. He dug deeper, going back ten years, and got a hit.
Webber had been stopped by traffic police for racing a souped up electric wheelchair through the narrow streets in the Jordaan, nearly colliding with pedestrians and cyclists. Three different incidents and each time he was caught after a wild chase, and only after his battery ran out. He was cautioned twice, but the third time he received a hundred Euro fine. Bakker checked his address. At that time he was in a special care home for handicapped children which was nowhere near the Jordaan.
"So, you lost the baby?" A familiar voice said from behind.
Bakker looked around. Corso stood directly behind him, looking down at what he was doing. He pulled up Wall's empty chair and sat down next to him.
"What?" Bakker could only reply.
"Has the babysitter lost the baby?"
"I'm not his babysitter."
"Or maybe it's the other way round?"
"Very funny.
"So what happened? Gone back to New York?"
"He's out digging up some information on a suspect."
"You've got a suspect?"
"Seems like it, but we are running into dead-ends every time. What are you up to?"
"The usual. Someone has to do the regular work since half the national police force has been drafted in to find this crazy killer. There are still regular robberies and muggings, and domestic violence to deal with. With or without these weird deaths, life goes on."
"So you're out on the beat?"
"More or less what I always do. So who's the suspect?"
"Got a couple of names but we are not too sure at the moment."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, some kid who is meant to be dead. Had some terminal muscular disease, but it appears he's made a dramatic recovery."
"How's that possible?"
"We don't know yet. But we also don't know if it's the same guy. Could be mistaken identity or identity fraud."
Bakker's mobile rang. Wall's number came up.
"Gives me a sec." Bakker answered the call.
"I've got an address of the agency of that temp." Wall said, sounding enthusiastic and impatient. "I think we better get over there together."
"Where are you?"
"I'm at the hospital."
"I'll pick you up in about fifteen minutes. What's the address of the agency?"
"You have to see it, I can't pronounce it."
Fifteen minutes later Bakker pulled up to Wall standing outside the hospital on the Boelelaan. Bakker looked at the address. "Roggeveenstraat," he said, exaggerating the guttural G's.
"Too many G's in there for me. I'd probably need throat surgery if I tried that."
"I think I know where it is, in the Haarlemmerbuurt area, near the old harbor."
Wall took out his iPhone and started up his apps map.
"You drive, I'll do the satnav."
"But I know the way."
"My satnav doesn't know any shortcuts. Last time I nearly launched my lunch all over the inside of your beautiful car. This time I'm going to make sure you take some straight roads."
The Amsterdam Chronicles: Def-Con City Trilogy Part 1 Page 45
