mechanisms by turning tiny plastic knobs on their bellies. He placed the beetles facing each other and watched their slow approach. The beetles whirred as they walked; as soon as their front legs touched, they stood up and began to maul each other with toothed jaws. Cardozo pulled his toys apart and made them repeat the performance. "So the investigation has started up," Cardozo said pensively, "and the State is concentrating on the commissaris first. What does that mean?"
"More misery," Grijpstra said.
"Joy," de Gier said. "Pure joy. Ultimate liberty. I always suspected that evil would one day try to catch us from all sides. We're the only good guys left and no longer restricted by what others may think of us. Any decent cop we ever knew has either left the force or gotten himself transferred well away from Amsterdam. Even the old chief constable bowed bis patriarchal head when the bad guys started shoving. Only the commissaris ..."
"And Chief Inspector Rood," Grijpstra said. "Don't exaggerate."
"And Constable-Detectives Ketchup and Karate, maybe," de Gier said.
"Ketchup and Karate mean well?" Cardozo asked. "I've been wondering lately. I saw them just now driving a punky Camaro, with eyeshadow up to their ears."
"They're crazy," Grijpstra said. "Which makes them useful. They don't think very constructively, either, which is an asset again."
"Muddled," de Gier said. "They haven't developed enough yet to be crazy. The commissaris is truly crazy." He made his swivel chair go through a full turn. "Do you know that that is my main fear? That the commissaris isn't really crazy, but merely another good guy? A multiplied Grijpstra?"
"I don't think so," Grijpstra said. "I think he's truly crazy. I've never liked the commissaris either. He isn't serious, he has that funny way of darting around, you can't grab hold of his motives."
"So the leather jackets are trailing the chief?" Cardozo asked. "Would they go after me too? They'd have to do it on roller skates. I'm riding a bicycle again. The garage took my car back, some restriction in the budget."
"So who is the clerk?" Grijpstra asked.
"I won't tell." Cardozo rewound his beetles. "I haven't worked this out yet. All in due time."
De Gier walked to the door. Grijpstra got up heavily and approached Cardozo by sidling along the wall. "Hey," Cardozo said.
"I've been rightfully accused of being an emergency ," de Gier said. "Whoever said that saw deep into my soul. That I've restrained myself a little so far was because normality still threatened me somewhat."
"Cardozo," growled Grijpstra. "Who is that clerk?"
De Gier moved closer to Cardozo too. "But the situation has changed. Even the State is against us now. I can forget my last scruples. I can finally have a good time. I could, for instance"—he quickly grabbed Cardozo by the throat—"kill someone."
"Cardozo," growled Grijpstra, pulling back his fist.
"Okay," Cardozo said.
"There's a good chap," de Gier said, stepping back. "Tell you what, I'll get the coffee, even if it is your turn again. Don't say anything until I'm back."
Grijpstra dialed. "Miss Antoinette? Did the commissaris see who was driving the Corvette that bothered him?"
"Thugs?" Grjjpstra asked. "A description, please?"
He nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear. Leather jackets. Could I speak to the commissaris himself now?"
"A visitor? . . . Who? . . . thank you." Grijpstra hung up.
"Who?" Cardozo asked.
De Gier came back with the coffee on a tray.
"Willem Fernandus," Grijpstra said, "the infamous attorney, the evil genius behind the society that fouls up the city, is in the commissaris's office right now."
"Great," de Gier said. "I hope he's there at our invitation. We have the enemy on a string." De Gier dangled an invisible string from his free hand. He suddenly jerked it, forcing a diminutive Fernandus to face him at eye level. "Hop. There you are. Hello."
"The commissaris has no enemies," Grijpstra said. "I like to think that he's too
"More misery," Grijpstra said.
"Joy," de Gier said. "Pure joy. Ultimate liberty. I always suspected that evil would one day try to catch us from all sides. We're the only good guys left and no longer restricted by what others may think of us. Any decent cop we ever knew has either left the force or gotten himself transferred well away from Amsterdam. Even the old chief constable bowed bis patriarchal head when the bad guys started shoving. Only the commissaris ..."
"And Chief Inspector Rood," Grijpstra said. "Don't exaggerate."
"And Constable-Detectives Ketchup and Karate, maybe," de Gier said.
"Ketchup and Karate mean well?" Cardozo asked. "I've been wondering lately. I saw them just now driving a punky Camaro, with eyeshadow up to their ears."
"They're crazy," Grijpstra said. "Which makes them useful. They don't think very constructively, either, which is an asset again."
"Muddled," de Gier said. "They haven't developed enough yet to be crazy. The commissaris is truly crazy." He made his swivel chair go through a full turn. "Do you know that that is my main fear? That the commissaris isn't really crazy, but merely another good guy? A multiplied Grijpstra?"
"I don't think so," Grijpstra said. "I think he's truly crazy. I've never liked the commissaris either. He isn't serious, he has that funny way of darting around, you can't grab hold of his motives."
"So the leather jackets are trailing the chief?" Cardozo asked. "Would they go after me too? They'd have to do it on roller skates. I'm riding a bicycle again. The garage took my car back, some restriction in the budget."
"So who is the clerk?" Grijpstra asked.
"I won't tell." Cardozo rewound his beetles. "I haven't worked this out yet. All in due time."
De Gier walked to the door. Grijpstra got up heavily and approached Cardozo by sidling along the wall. "Hey," Cardozo said.
"I've been rightfully accused of being an emergency ," de Gier said. "Whoever said that saw deep into my soul. That I've restrained myself a little so far was because normality still threatened me somewhat."
"Cardozo," growled Grijpstra. "Who is that clerk?"
De Gier moved closer to Cardozo too. "But the situation has changed. Even the State is against us now. I can forget my last scruples. I can finally have a good time. I could, for instance"—he quickly grabbed Cardozo by the throat—"kill someone."
"Cardozo," growled Grijpstra, pulling back his fist.
"Okay," Cardozo said.
"There's a good chap," de Gier said, stepping back. "Tell you what, I'll get the coffee, even if it is your turn again. Don't say anything until I'm back."
Grijpstra dialed. "Miss Antoinette? Did the commissaris see who was driving the Corvette that bothered him?"
"Thugs?" Grjjpstra asked. "A description, please?"
He nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear. Leather jackets. Could I speak to the commissaris himself now?"
"A visitor? . . . Who? . . . thank you." Grijpstra hung up.
"Who?" Cardozo asked.
De Gier came back with the coffee on a tray.
"Willem Fernandus," Grijpstra said, "the infamous attorney, the evil genius behind the society that fouls up the city, is in the commissaris's office right now."
"Great," de Gier said. "I hope he's there at our invitation. We have the enemy on a string." De Gier dangled an invisible string from his free hand. He suddenly jerked it, forcing a diminutive Fernandus to face him at eye level. "Hop. There you are. Hello."
"The commissaris has no enemies," Grijpstra said. "I like to think that he's too
Similar Books
