Floodgate by Alistair MacLean Read Free Book Online Page A

gentlemen. Annelise, I promise, will excel herself.'

When George left de Graaf said: 'Who's Annelise?'

'His wife. Less than half his size. He's terrified of her. A wonderful cook.'

'She is aware of his, what shall we say, extracurricular activities?' 'She knows nothing.'

'You mentioned a Vasco and an Annemarie. Those, I assume, are your informants. George seems to know about them.'

'He knows them pretty well. They're friends.'

'Does he also know that they're working under-cover for you?' Van Effen nodded and de Graaf frowned. 'Is this wise? Is it politic? Is it, dammit, even professional?'

'I trust George.'

'Maybe you do. I don't have to. To say you have the best Bordeaux cellar in Amsterdam is to make a pretty large claim. That would cost money, a great deal of money. Is he into the highjacking and smuggling rackets too or does he earn enough from his extra-curricular activities to buy honestly on the open market?' 'Look, sir, I never said George was a rogue, thief, crook, gangster or whatever. I was only quoting the neighbourhood opinion of him. I wanted you to make up your own mind about him. I do think you already have, only you still have reservations owing to the fact that you have a nasty, devious, suspicious mind which is why, I suppose, you're the city's Chief of Police. Annelise knows nothing about George's extra-curricular activities, as you call them, because there are none. George has never earned an illegal guilder in his life. He's totally straight and if every man in Amsterdam were as honest as he is you'd join the unemployed by nightfall. I was certain you'd caught on to this when you said he thought and spoke like a cop. He is - or was - a cop, and a damned good one, a sergeant in line for his inspectorate when he decided to retire last year. Phone the Chief of Police in Groningen and find out who he'd give a bag of gold for to have back on his staff.'

'I am staggered,' de Graaf said. He didn't look staggered, he just sat placidly puffing his cheroot and sipping his bessenjenever as if van Effen had been discussing the weather or crops. 'Different. Yes, different.' He didn't say what was different. 'Might have given me some kind of warning, though.'

'Thought you'd guess, sir. He's got cop written all over him. At least he had until he grew his moustache after retirement.' 'Any specialities?'

'Drugs and counter-terrorism. I should have said drugs then counter-terrorism.'

'Drugs? The only drug in the province of Groningen comes out of a gin bottle. Here's the place for him. Or, if I take you rightly, was. Why was he taken off. Who took him off?'

'Nobody. Nature took him off. To be a successful drugs cop you have to be able to merge unobtrusively into your background. You've seen him. He wasn't built to merge into anything.'

'What's more, they've never even seen a terrorist up north.' 'They're not all that thick on the ground down here either, sir. Maybe that's why George resigned - no challenge, nothing left for him to do.'

'A waste. An intelligence like that devoting its life to serving up superfluous calories to already overweight Amsterdamers. Could be useful. Maybe there's something to your idea of ad hoc recruitment. In an emergency, could always have him co-opted.'

'Yes, sir. I thought that to co-opt anyone you required a committee, a quorum.'

'There's only one committee and quorum in the Amsterdam police force and I'm it. If you think he could be of help, just ask me. In fact, don't bother to ask me. I'm hungry.'

'Ah, yes. George normally serves up hors d'oeuvre. Maybe he thought there was no urgency.' He surveyed de Graaf's ample frame. 'Superfluous calories. However. . .'He rose, opened a wooden cupboard door to reveal a refrigerator, opened this and said: 'Half a smoked salmon. Smoked trout. Mountain Ham. Gouda, Edam, and a few other odds and ends.' 'There are no limits to the heights you might reach, my boy.' Some time later, the first sharp edge of his appetite temporarily blunted,