by Peche, Alec
"After your last experience, Jill, I no longer think that forensic pathology is a safe occupation. Should we call the police here? Should we go shopping for some kind of self-defense item like pepper spray, or should we just all be on alert?” asked Marie.
“Good question. I don’t think we have enough information to go to the police and pepper spray is illegal in Europe. How about the three of us stay on alert for people that are following us. Pay attention to clothing and faces. Jo, I know you're hopeless at paying attention to your surroundings. We will watch out for you,” advised a smiling Jill.
“Hey, don't make disparaging remarks about me,” Jo asserted. “I can pay attention when I need to. Angela, show me his picture and I'll start looking for him everywhere we go. At least, we can hope to bankrupt him with museum admission fees and bus tickets.”
They all stared at the picture on Angela's camera memorizing it. They continued down the street, crossed a bridge over a canal and made a right turn to see Anne Frank's house. They spent a solemn two hours reading about and imagining the life of Anne Frank. It was a very sad time in world history.
After exiting the museum, they walked around the immediate neighborhood looking for a place to eat. They settled on an Indian restaurant. On one hand they felt a duty to eat Dutch food, but the Indian restaurant was packed, and the smells were enticing. The restaurant host approached them.
“Table for four?”
“Yes”
“Please have a seat in our waiting area. It will be about a fifteen minute wait.”
“What do you think we should do next in regards to Laura Peeters?” asked Marie.
“This is our vacation. We should probably do nothing related to her suspected homicide” said Jill.
Her three friends looked at her with eyebrows raised in doubt. She gazed back at them in silence.
“This is Europe and I don't think rocket launching helicopters are going to be attacking us here, but I feel uneasy with doing nothing, especially since that man followed us on the train and then through the town. You know that I am the last person to ever work on a vacation,” said Jo. “However, if we don't, we could unknowingly put our lives at risk. Let's continue sightseeing, watch out for bad people, and spend every spare moment researching this case.”
Jo was right. When she went on a vacation, she never checked in with work. She did not check her e-mail, and made no calls to the office. Vacationing was about fun, friends, relaxation, and sightseeing. If she felt an urgent need to handle the Laura Peeters case in their spare time, then it meant she was really bothered.
Secretly Jill was itching to dive into the case, but respect for her friends and their vacation time had caused her to deeply bury that desire. She was glad that they’d arrived at the conclusion that continuing to research the case would be in all their best interests. So she would lay her cards on the table.
“Thanks, Jo. I think trying to solve this case is the right thing to do,” agreed Jill. “I’ve been dying to help, but I also have great respect for your holiday time and I would never put the job before us enjoying our vacation.”
“Ladies, your table is ready. Please come with me,” said the host as he led them to a table.
The group of friends settled in to study the menu. The server came back with water, and took their drink and food orders. After a fabulous dinner of butter chicken, chicken marsala, daal, chole, and malai kofta, they began walking the streets back to their hotel. They wanted a peek at the notorious red-light district, and they thought it would be crowded enough that they would be safe. The district was just a little out of their way on the walk back to their hotel. While enjoying Amsterdam at night, they still were on guard, watching out for any suspicious strangers.
It was difficult evaluating the people they passed on the street. Added to that were the bicyclists and cars that gave them too many people to watch under the street-lights. In the end, Jill watched the pedestrians, Angela and Jo studied the bicyclists and Marie monitored the cars.
They walked around the area where they thought the district was located, but failed to find it. Finally, they stopped in an ice-cream shop and asked for directions. The young salesperson frowned at them and said there was really nothing to see in the district.
“Yes, I know you’re right, but we have never seen such a thing, so our curiosity is driving us to find the red-light district,” said Marie.
The salesperson provided directions and the women quickly found the area. They didn’t know what to expect. They found women, usually wearing white lingerie, standing under black lighting inside rooms with a red light on the exterior. They appeared to be in a room with a sliding glass door in the front, a door leading to an exit in the back, and there was a bed to one side of the room. The room was also outfitted with a shower, according to the tour book. The women were generally smoking a cigarette or reading and texting on a mobile phone. Some of the rooms were dark, so presumably either its tenant was occupied or it wasn’t staffed that night.
They decided they wanted to watch the street to observe the transactions, and in particular who was buying that evening. They picked a spot where they could observe about eight different prostitutes available to conduct business. While the women were in a cluster talking about this unique Amsterdam industry, Jill noticed that they were being watched by two men. Given that they were in a red-light district, at first she thought perhaps they were being sized up for companionship, but something didn’t seem right.
“Hey, there are two men watching us and I don’t think it’s for the same reason they’re watching the other girls,” Jill murmured. “They seem too alert and they are paying zero attention to the women in the window. Besides we are probably fifteen to twenty years older than those women, and we’re wearing a lot more clothing than them.”
“So what is our plan?” asked Jo.
They looked around the area for a place to take cover. It was decided: first they would move away from this location and if the men followed, they would have their answer. Their biggest problem was, they were not sure of their exact location in reference to their hotel. They had not seen any police in the area either.
“There is a door up ahead on the right side of the street I’ve that I have seen women go in and out of it while we’ve been in this area,” said Marie, using her eyes and words to describe the direction they would take. “There doesn't appear to be a key or other security to get that door open. If we head there now, the men will just follow us inside. I think we should split up into two groups and do a fast walk around those two blocks before heading for that door. If we have enough of a head start, the men won't see us duck into that building.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jill answered as their little group split up. “Angela and I will take the block on the right. See you soon.”
The woman started walking at a pace just short of running. The men were confused initially by the group of women splitting up, and this aided the escape plan. Each twosome had outdistanced the man following it sufficiently that they were out of view when they slid into the door that Marie had pointed out.
Breathing rapidly after the fast pace of the last five minutes, Jill surmised, “I think we escaped notice.”
“Yes, but where are we? This looks like the hotel corridor, with numbered rooms touching the corridor.”
Further down the hallway, one of the doors opened and a woman stepped into the corridor. She walked towards them while shouting Dutch words at them.
“Sorry, we don't speak Dutch,” Jill responded.
“You need to leave this building,” the woman spoke in English. “You are not permitted to be inside. Please leave.”
“We had some scary men following us, so we ducked in here when they were not looking. We can't leave yet. Please, is there a place to hide inside this building in case they open the door and find us standing here?" asked Marie.
“Would you like me to call the constable?”
“They haven't done anything
other than follow us, so I think we would have a hard time explaining that to the police,” declared Jill. “Is there a place to hide in here?”
“Do you know what kind of building this is that you have walked into?”
“No, we just knew the door was unlocked,” said Marie.
“This building is a house of prostitution. Each of these rooms that you see off this corridor faces the street. If you would like to strip to your bra and panties, then you could hide in plain sight as a member of the red-light district. Otherwise there is nowhere to hide in any of the prostitution rooms. Of course, you don't have a license, so you may not accept customers. I've got hats to cover your hair, and then you just need to keep your eyes down as that will not encourage men on the street to hire your services. I think if you stand in the window for thirty minutes, then the men will go away when they can't find you, right?”
“We can do that,” observed Jo with her usual sense of adventure.
“My bra and panties are not matching; won't that look strange?” asked Jill.
“Yes it will look strange, but we don't have spare underwear for you to wear.”
Jill looked at her three friends and said “we are running out of time, I say we implement the suggestion of our new Dutch friend and hang out in the window watching for the men to give up the search.”
The woman directed them to empty rooms and provided them with hats. The hats would provide a disguise, as they were all versions of a cowgirl hat made of felt with varying degrees of bling on the wide rim.
Jo went first, stripping to her underwear wearing the hat. They left the room in shadows except for the black light inside the room, with the red light outside lit for business. The other three quickly followed suit in their own rooms. It was difficult to keep their eyes down because they were trying to watch for the two men to walk by.
They had been at their posts for five minutes when each of the women separately noted the two men that had chased them walk down the street looking for them. They did not see the scantily clad women in the windows. The prostitute had been correct: they were hiding in plain sight.
The women stayed at their posts for another twenty-five minutes, but never again saw the two men. Their new friend from the red-light district had stayed behind to help them close down the four rooms, and then she took them on a series of quiet streets to a taxi stand.
Jill said to the young prostitute, "Thank you so much for your help. Would you be offended if we offered you a tip for your services?”
“It can be a hard life here, so I would just say thank you for the tip,” said the young woman as she walked away with a smile. “And thank you for providing me some entertainment tonight.”
Ten minutes later, they arrived at their hotel. Once they arrived into their suite, Angela made a call to the lobby reception.
“Hello, how may I help you?” said the lobby receptionist.
“We just had an unsettling experience while we were walking about the town. Two men followed us around until we evaded them. We just returned to our suite. We would appreciate if you would put a note on our account that if anyone inquires about us, to say we checked out of the hotel. Can you do this?”
“What a terrible experience. I will make a note on your account that we are to state that you have checked out. We occasionally have celebrities staying here and that is how we protect their privacy, so this should work for you. Would you like us to tell you if someone inquires about your presence? Would you like to talk to our security?”
“Yes to both of your questions. As it is getting late, perhaps we could set up an early-morning appointment with your head of security for tomorrow. Can you confirm an appointment time for us and provide the person's name?”
“Yes madam. I will call your room again in the next thirty minutes with an appointment time.”
“Thank you. You have been very helpful. We will sleep better thanks to your assistance. Good night.”
After the adrenaline rush of the last hour, none of them was ready to go sleep. They’d an experience of a lifetime in the red-light district that would provide fodder for stories for years to come. They opened a bottle of wine that Marie had picked up at a shop near the train station and went to work on their respective areas of research. The hotel’s business center was one floor down in a non-public area, so Jo and Angela felt secure setting up there with their glasses of wine to continue their research on Laura Peeters. The front desk had called and set up an eight in the morning meeting with their head of security. After that early meeting, they were planning to visit six different museums around the city of Amsterdam.
Chapter 7
About an hour after the women split up, they regrouped for an amazing conversation. Marie started things off, she’d pinpointed seven different aliases used by Laura Peeters. They were nowhere near finished given the time it took to investigate each alias, but a picture was forming.
“At an early age, Laura planned to make a career in the gemstone industry,” Marie noted, beginning the conversation with the findings that they had dug up on Laura previously. “She sought and obtained the necessary education and certifications to pursue rating and polishing gemstones. Some two to three years later, after she was working for one of the major diamond houses in Antwerp, she came into contact with blood diamonds.”
“Blood diamonds? Aren’t those diamonds mined by slaves in Africa?” asked Angela.
“Yes. The mines were treacherous from an environmental perspective, and sometimes they used children or enslaved adults to retrieve the diamonds from the earth” responded Marie.
“How did she go from jeweler to diamond thief?” queried Jill.
“It is thought by the law enforcement’s profiler that she confronted her employer about the blood diamonds. When the employer refused to decline shipments from rogue mines, Laura took the matter into her own hands. Her first diamond theft was from her employer and it was estimated to be worth twenty million euros.”
“Why wasn't Laura arrested at the time of the theft?” asked Jo.
“Wise thief that she was, she quit her job four days before the theft was discovered and she disappeared off the face of the earth,” Marie replied.
“Wow, and she eluded police for the next ten to fifteen years? She's pretty good at hiding,” noted Angela.
“She apparently continued to steal gems during this time,” said Jo, then asked, “Did she steal blood diamonds? Did you see any trends in her thefts?”
Marie continued, “The last Interpol Purple Notice listed Laura's modus operandi and gave a list of all the objects she is suspected of stealing. The total euro amount was over four-hundred million.”
“Marie, what is a Purple Notice?” asked Jill.
“From what I can tell, Interpol issues a Purple Notice when it goes to all one-hundred-ninety or so countries that belong to Interpol,” replied Marie. “They divide all of their alerts into one of seven colors based on their need to give or receive different types of information. So far this year, they have issued six Purple Notices.”
“Wow, four-hundred million euros in jewelry. That is a lot of raw stones, necklaces, rings, and bracelets. Does the Purple Notice describe her preference for the type of diamonds she steals?” inquired Jill.
“She began by focusing her thefts on raw diamonds since she had seen them arrive in Antwerp while she was employed. Later she branched into stealing some substantial private collections in which she thought the source of the diamonds was mines in Botswana. She pulled off about four thefts a year,” Marie explained. “She stayed out of the United States and Canada, but pretty much stole in every other country of the world. Interpol thought that she left Canada alone as they had their own diamond mines that were certified as ethical. It is thought she stayed out of the U.S. over fear of being caught.”
“What did she do with the diamonds she stole?” Jill asked. “She likely stole more diamonds than she could wear in a lifetime, and it would seem to go against her code to
keep and wear blood diamonds. It’s not like she was invited to the major events around the world where she could have worn that many diamonds, anyway.”
“I haven't found that out yet.” Marie looked at Jo and said, “I was hoping you could help me with Laura's financials.”
“The first couple hours of my investigation have been spent understanding where financial information can be found in Europe. What is their version of the IRS? What companies calculate credit scores for citizens in this part of the world? Where can I find public records with information like property purchases? I now have that figured out, and with Marie's help I'll start on Laura and her seven aliases tomorrow. I am a little jet-lagged and bug-eyed from staring at the computer too long. I'll be better in the morning.”
“Jo, I’m with you there,” agreed Angela. “The adrenaline rush that I had from our interaction with the stranger has dissipated and now I'm profoundly exhausted. I feel like we've made progress tonight, so I think we should all call it a night. Marie, if you'll bring your iPad with us, you could get some work done if there are any entrance lines at the six museums we’re planning to visit. Just thinking of your desire to multi-task!”
They all said their good-nights, got ready for bed, and the lights were out twenty minutes later. For their peace of mind, the women had moved heavy furniture in front of the suite door and, as they headed to bed, their two bedroom doors. Paranoia might offer them protection going forward.
After a quiet night with no visitors to their hotel room, they were looking forward to meeting with the hotel’s security person and then heading out for the museums.
They were planning on spending two additional nights in Amsterdam and then they would leave for Brussels. The hotel security person would be arriving at any moment and hopefully he or she had advice on staying safe.
The security person arrived and sat down with the four of them in their suite. He had served in the Netherlands municipal police and done a short stint with Interpol before branching off into private hotel security. His name was Nick Brouwer and he managed the security of at least ten hotels in Amsterdam. He was a charming fellow that appealed to Angela’s eye. With him at six-foot-two, she wouldn’t have to worry about towering over him, and his Nordic features reflected in his dimples when he smiled, which was often.
