‘Nothing. You didn’t do anything. I’m just still tired and upset and I don’t want to be playing lovey-dovey with you tonight.’

  ‘Is that what we’re doing? Playing?’ He was angry and hurt and it sounded in his voice. He had dropped everything and flown to the Netherlands, terrified that she was seriously injured or worse. ‘All this isn’t part of some game to me, Gawn. This isn’t “shag-a-cop week for a hundred bonus points” or something. I thought you knew how I feel about you but I never know where I stand with you. One minute you’re coming on to me like you can’t get enough of me; other times I’m a nuisance. I just get in the way of the great detective. I’m a distraction.’ Bitterness rang through every word although really, it was his fear talking. All the time on the flight over he had been imagining what he would do if she was seriously hurt; how he could cope if he lost her.

  He didn’t realise that with every word he spoke, he was making it harder and harder for her to tell him about Jansen. Is this what commitment means? she thought. Something, that in the bigger scheme of things was nothing – a kiss, an embrace, a momentary temptation. Playing with her head. She couldn’t cope with this. Not today. Not after what had happened. Not with everything that was going on.

  ‘No. You’re not. I…’ She trailed off. She couldn’t explain how she felt without confessing to him how close she had come to cheating on him and she didn’t know how he would react to that. They had never explicitly said they were exclusive and she knew Seb had had lots of girlfriends in the past, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t been with anyone else since they met. At least she didn’t think so. She certainly hadn’t.

  He stood up abruptly and walked across to the pizza.

  ‘I got us something. I thought you might be hungry. And there’s beer or I got you diet soda.’

  He passed her a slice of pizza and opened a can of soda for her. Then he opened a beer from the six-pack and took a long drink of it. He sat down at the window without speaking, clutching the neck of the bottle tightly. It was obvious he was still angry and she wasn’t sure what she could say that would make things better. She bit into the pizza and enjoyed the delicious flavour of pepperoni and anchovies. He had remembered to get her anchovies. Of course he had. He was thoughtful and she was a bitch. He was caring and she was selfish and self-centred and didn’t appreciate how lucky she was to have him. She felt miserable. He stood up and walked over to her, and with a paper napkin, gently wiped the side of her mouth where she had a streak of tomato sauce. She swiped his hand away.

  ‘I’m not a baby. You don’t need to treat me like one.’

  How could he be so kind when she was such a bitch? She didn’t deserve to be loved like this. Then, before he could move away again, she reached out and took his hand and tried to pull him down onto the bed beside her, but he resisted.

  ‘You need to get your rest. You’re due at police HQ at nine. I’ll get a room. I’ll meet you in the morning in reception at 8.30. By the way, I got you a new pair of jeans. They’re in the bag.’ He gave her no opportunity to argue with him. He kissed the top of her head and walked out letting the door close with a thud behind him.

  Chapter 31

  She had woken at seven and was glad she had. It had taken so long to shower and dress. The jeans fitted perfectly. She looked in the mirror as she applied some makeup. She didn’t really like what she saw. She couldn’t look herself in the eye so how could she face Seb? The marks from the airbag had faded, not completely, but enough that she could disguise them with some foundation and concealer. When she was ready, she began the trek to the elevator. Her knee was slightly less painful. She had taken some more of the hospital painkillers and that, plus time and rest, was helping. She hoped.

  When the automatic doors slid open she was faced with a busy foyer. Some people were queued up at the reception desk obviously waiting to check out. A group of tourists stood in the middle of the space pouring over an open map, planning their day’s sightseeing. There was no sign of Seb anywhere. It was only 8.20. Perhaps he wasn’t down yet. His timekeeping was not as precise as hers which had sometimes caused the odd row between them.

  Then she saw him entering from the street. He was carrying a walking stick.

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘I bought it at the apotheker down the street. I thought you might need it to get around.’

  ‘I’m not using that. I’ll look like some decrepit old woman. I can’t arrive at Police Headquarters on a walking stick.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ She could tell from his tone of voice, he was annoyed. He was only trying to be helpful. ‘I have a taxi booked for half past. I’ll travel over with you but my flight leaves at two so I’ll come back and check out. If you want, I can check you out as well and get another ticket. There was still room on the flight last time I checked.’

  ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be.’

  ‘Of course.’ He wasn’t going to push it. ‘You’re a big girl now. You can take care of yourself. You don’t need me to organise your life for you.’

  She couldn’t think when she had ever heard him so bitter.

  ‘York!’ a voice called from the doorway. ‘Taxi for York!’

  * * *

  The journey to Elandsgracht had been tense. They had exchanged only a few words. Suddenly, the taxi had to swerve to avoid another seemingly suicidal cyclist and she was thrown against him and winced as her knee hit against his.

  ‘Alright?’ Concern showed on his face.

  ‘Yes. Fine.’

  The traffic had been heavy but the journey was reasonably short and soon the car came to a halt outside the glass-fronted building. Seb got out and held the door open for her. She slid gingerly across the seat and stepped out, careful to use her good leg to take her weight as she stood up.

  ‘I’ll see you back in Belfast then.’ She reached up and kissed him not too passionately, aware that she was on view to anyone watching out of the windows or passing on the street. ‘Safe flight.’

  His lips responded to hers and for a split second all seemed as it had been between them. Then he stood back. She was so used to seeing his cheeky grin, his face shining with happiness, that the serious-looking man in front of her was almost a stranger.

  ‘Take care, Gawn. Goodbye.’

  Again, no ‘I love you’ from either of them. As his taxi moved away and she waved, she wondered if this really was goodbye.

  Chapter 32

  Hoofdcommissaris Hoedemaker and Commissaris Jani Kuipers greeted her when she was escorted up to an office on the top floor. They had introduced themselves as Jansen’s superior and the officer who had now taken over from him and was leading the investigation. They were extremely solicitous and thanked her so much for coming in to help them.

  ‘How are you, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘I think I was very lucky. More lucky than Hendrik.’ Then she corrected herself. ‘Commissaris Jansen. How is he?’

  ‘He’s making good progress. I rang the hospital this morning and they said he had a good night. Another couple of days and he’ll be out.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that.’

  Pleasantries over, the two men began to question her carefully about what had led her and Jansen to the old farmhouse and what they had seen there. Hoedemaker explained that when the forensics team had arrived at the farmhouse, the barn had been well ablaze. This was the first she had heard of this. The fire brigade had been quickly on the scene and had managed to put the fire out eventually, but a lot of evidence, most of it in fact, had been lost. They had found human blood and the charred finger but they would have to wait for DNA results. They had taken samples from de Bek’s widow and children and anticipated a match.

  If all the evidence at the barn had been destroyed then what she and Jansen had seen was all they had to go on. Kuipers probed to find what else she could remember. His questions were gentle but she was under no illusion that her answers were crucial. The earnest expression on both men’s faces was evidence of that. Gawn explained about the papers. Why hadn’t they taken them with them? She told them that they had felt it was better to leave them in place rather than start interfering with the crime scene. One time when sticking to protocol had worked against them.

  She was surprised to learn they had spoken with Jansen again the previous night. No doubt they felt they could insist on speaking to him. He was after all a serving officer. But she was not and they had had to graciously allow her to wait until this morning. They must be so eager to hear what she had to say and yet they had been patient in their dealings with her. Jansen had been able to give them some indication about the papers but he had only taken a quick glance so he couldn’t tell them too much. They already knew that they included a map of somewhere and some names and dates. Gawn wished she had taken the time to use the camera on her phone to take some pictures of them. They had thought the forensics experts would have plenty of time to go over everything in detail. They didn’t expect to be attacked, didn’t anticipate that everything would simply disappear up in smoke. They had been so busy with what they had found that they hadn’t realized they were being watched. Their attackers must have been watching them and had followed them from the barn, forcing them off the road before going back to set it ablaze and destroy all the evidence of what had been going on and what was planned still to happen. All they had was what she could remember.

  ‘The map was of an area in the north of Ireland.’ She remembered that clearly. ‘It covered Donegal and into County Londonderry,’ she explained. Several places were circled in red or marked with Xs and some roads were marked as well. She thought she could remember some of them but wouldn’t be able to recall them all. She would need to see a map of the area again. Could they get her one? Hoedemaker spoke to someone on the phone making an arrangement to get hold of a map.

  ‘What about the other documents?’

  ‘One was a list with dates and times.’

  ‘Which dates? In the past or in the future?’ Kuipers asked.

  ‘Oh, in the future. Next week mostly, I think.’

  They asked her to write down any dates she could remember and to recreate the page as closely as she could. She would need to think. It would take her some time and they had left her to it.

  Sitting there in the office, Gawn found it all too easy to visualise the scene inside the barn. She could picture the wooden post and the chain where a human being, probably Astrid, had been held like an animal; the deep gouges where she had pulled at the chain trying to escape. She wondered what had gone through the girl’s mind. She had probably been so relieved when she was released and was back with Rudy. She had thought her ordeal was over. Then Gawn focused her thoughts on the papers. She had held them in her hands. She closed her eyes and imagined they were there now. She could almost feel them in her fingers. First, the map. It was old. She could see and feel the rough edges where this section had been ripped from a bigger map or perhaps out of an atlas. This area must be important, specially selected for some reason. She saw the outline of the… for a moment she could not remember the name… but, glancing down at the map on the table in front of her which they had provided for her, she saw it was the Inishowen Peninsula. She didn’t know this area well. Her father had always been wary of travelling to the Free State, as he called it – a throwback to a past time. For a RUC officer it had held dangers, whether real or imaginary. So, even though the Good Friday Agreement had brought relative peace, when she was a small child, they had spent holidays on the east coast, mostly in caravan parks under the majestic blanket of the Mourne Mountains.

  She looked closely at the map the commissaris had provided for her. Derry was clearly marked and she circled it as it had been on the map in the barn. Strabane had been circled too, she remembered, another border region where people would come and go between the two jurisdictions every day, some for work, some for shopping or visiting friends. Nowhere were there any border controls. Police patrols were infrequent and anyone wanting to get something into or out of the country could easily find a way. The road from Strabane heading south had been drawn over with a blue line. She remembered that. On the barn map it had run off the bottom of the page. On this map she could see that it connected to the M1 straight to Dublin. She covered the area directly opposite Magilligan Point across Lough Foyle in red hatching as it had been in the original. She thought that was all she could remember from the map.

  She decided to set it aside and think about the names and dates. She knew one of the dates was next Saturday. She remembered it especially because it had been her mother’s birthday and she usually made a point of leaving flowers on her grave that day. She couldn’t be sure of the others. At least two or three were before Saturday and one after, she thought. But the more she thought, the more she doubted herself and her memory. Then the names. She clearly remembered the Sperrin Valley Spa Resort. She had noticed an advertisement for it in the airport in Belfast before she left. It had a golf course and she knew it was very popular although she had never been there. Large letters “HOXT” were written in red inside the red hatching, so whatever it referred to was in Donegal. Was there a place, a townland maybe that began with those letters? Or maybe it was the beginning of someone’s name. She remembered the red so clearly because they had seen so much of it the previous day at the canal boat. She had no idea what any of it meant but maybe it would mean something to the Dutch police or the Garda for they would have to be informed as well.

  When she was almost finished, the two Dutch detectives returned bringing a cup of coffee with them. Gawn handed Kuipers her notes. Although she had identified a general area for them and some dates, she didn’t feel she’d been much help.

  ‘We appreciate what you’ve been able to tell us,’ Kuipers assured her.

  She noticed a significant look pass between the two men.

  ‘Do you have any idea what HOXT refers to? Might it be someone’s name?’ Hoedemaker asked.

  ‘I’ve never heard of anyone with that name. There’s an area in London called Hoxton and one in Liverpool called Hoxteth, I think. Maybe it refers to one of them. Perhaps someone coming from there to Ireland?’ she suggested.

  ‘Our forensic people recovered a fingerprint from the barn. It was of a man we know only as the Fleischer,’ Hoedemaker said and then waited for her reaction.

  ‘The butcher?’ She translated the word for herself and her brow furrowed.

  ‘The name means nothing to you?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘That is what I would expect. Very few people have. You may have heard of Carlos the Jackal?’ Hoedemaker paused and waited for her reply.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Before your time, Chief Inspector. He was – is – an assassin. He’s still alive serving three life sentences in France for a string of murders and the wounding of over one hundred and fifty people. Or maybe you have seen the film The Day of the Jackal about an assassin in France?’ He paused again.

  This time Gawn nodded to show she had.

  ‘Well, the reason you’ve never heard of the Fleischer is because he is so good at what he does and he is ruthless. He doesn’t leave anything to chance. He covers his tracks and he gets rid of anyone who stands in his way or who could identify him. He works for the highest bidder. He’s been associated with the murder of politicians and businessmen in several countries in Europe and in South America. No one knows what he looks like. He seems to be able to change his appearance so any pictures we have of him are practically useless. But, if he was in that barn and you saw a map of Ireland, it would seem to suggest he is heading your way.’

  Gawn got the impression Hoedemaker was glad that it seemed the Fleischer was not going to be the Netherlands’ problem.

  ‘You think he’s planning to kill someone in Ireland?’

  ‘One or more than one. Who knows? But it is certainly what we suspect. We have already spoken with your Chief Constable and with the Garda Commissioner and I’m sure you will be in demand when you get back. They’ll want to question you,’ Hoedemaker added.

  ‘I see. Yes, of course.’

  ‘Our main priority is solving the murder of the two on the boat and Meyer. We will also be trying to find who attacked you and Jansen, of course, but I believe if we get the man, or more likely, men who did one, we’ll have solved them all and I doubt any of them will be the Fleischer himself. He uses others – cheap muscle and guns for hire – to eliminate any problems for him. Then he carries out the contract killing he’s being paid for himself.’

  ‘Meyer was murdered?’

  He nodded solemnly. ‘Poisoned.’

  ‘You think Astrid de Bek and Rudy and Meyer are all collateral damage for whatever this Fleischer is planning?’ It was hard for her to think of someone organising the killing of three people and the attempted murder of two police officers like that just to cover his tracks.

  ‘Make no mistake about this man, Chief Inspector. He has managed to evade police all over the world. He has carried out assassinations all over the world and got away with it. We know he is a skilled marksman but he generally prefers to kill up close. He likes to be there; to watch the kill. He is meticulous in his preparations. And ruthless. He doesn’t leave any loose ends.’

  ‘Like a military campaign,’ added Kuipers. ‘Which is why it’s thought he may have a military background. Perhaps Foreign Legion or Russian SSO or even your SAS.’

  ‘No one even knows his nationality?’

  ‘No. He is a shadow.’

  ‘And he’s heading our way?’

  ‘Probably already there.’ Hoedemaker stated. ‘He has killed three times here and we shall continue to investigate those killings.’

  Gawn realised just how lucky she and Jansen had been. They hadn’t just been being warned off. The driver’s intention had been to kill them because of what they might have seen. She felt a twinge of pain in her knee and almost welcomed it as proof that she was still alive.

 

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