I ask."
"I stopped smoking a year ago." Fernandus said. "I've just decided I will break my habit of nonindulgence. You did that to me. You're the tempter. How can you be good?"
The commissaris bent forward. "No, really, tell me, are you having an easy time at being bad?"
"Cigar," Fernandus said.
The commissaris shook his head. "No friendliness. I became your enemy when you were killing Jacqueline by putting poison in her porridge. You can buy cigars in our canteen. One floor down."
"Fuck you," Willem said quietly.
"You suggested that before," the commissaris said quietly.
Fernandus grinned. "That's forty-five years ago. We will delve into the past. To answer your question, no, I don't find it easy to pursue my path. Sure, later on it gets easier. We get sly with age, and once you get the thing going, it gains momentum by itself; you must have experienced that in your career, too."
The commissaris nodded. "But you did have troubles."
"I still have troubles," Fernandus said, "but I take care of them better."
"As in Martin IJsbreker's case?"
Fernandus sighed. "I saw that coming."
"Of course you saw that coming," the commissaris said. "You saw it coming when the constable knocked on the impressive sculptured door of your million-guilder * mansion."
Willem waved the figure away. "Multiply that by two."
The commissaris showed his yellowish teeth. "Martin ran your bank. Did he acquire too much power? Or did he merely have his hand in the till? Did he help run the Society too? More pilfering there?"
"Questions, questions." Fernandus got up and walked over to the commissaris's desk. The commissaris quickly pocketed his cigar case. Fernandus sat down again. "I won't put up with your arrogant prying. I don't have to answer. I'm not a material witness. I was nowhere near Martin's house when he died."
"You ordered the killing," the commissaris said. "Look at you. You appear to me as the archetype of organized crime. You could be cast as the boss in any of a dozen gangster movies. You've got a slimy, self-satisfied expression that somehow mixes well with the false father image that attracts your misguided assistants' loyalty. Does a true father chop down his erring son?"
Fernandus giggled. "I never understood where you
"The collective unconscious," the commissaris said. "We all draw from its symbols. It happens to be Christian on this side of the world. If we were living in the East, you'd accuse me of quoting the Diamond Sutra."
"I'm glad you've kept up on your reading." Fernandus got up. "I'll be right back." He paused at the door. "Provided you admit that I'm here of my own free will. For old times' sake. Yes?"
The commissaris considered. Fernandus waited.
"You're here of your own free will," the commissaris said.
Fernandus came back. "Your canteen only sells cheap brands. I asked your charming secretary to go out and get me some good ones."
"Sit down," the commissaris said. "You think you're here for old times' sake? You're really here to be warned: you'd better face that, Willem. I'm going to get you. I'm trying to fight fair, so I thought you ought to know."
Fernandus laughed. "I always got you before. Remember Miss Bakker's sexy lap?"
"You were talking about watching mice together just now," the commissaris said. "Those mice dethroned me. That was the only purpose you ever saw in those mice. Remember how you sailed through school by copying my homework?"
"Of course I do," Fernandus said. "But you broke off the fight. I thought you'd given in. You were the weaker of us, Jannie. I really thought you saw that when we split up."
"You know," the commissaris said softly, "I never saw it that way. I still think we are of equal strength, but when the same quantities of energy are applied to the good and the bad, the good will eventually win."
Miss Antoinette came in. "Thank you," Fernandus said, "you're wonderful." He turned around. "You're beautiful, too. My good friend here should be very happy that he secured
"I stopped smoking a year ago." Fernandus said. "I've just decided I will break my habit of nonindulgence. You did that to me. You're the tempter. How can you be good?"
The commissaris bent forward. "No, really, tell me, are you having an easy time at being bad?"
"Cigar," Fernandus said.
The commissaris shook his head. "No friendliness. I became your enemy when you were killing Jacqueline by putting poison in her porridge. You can buy cigars in our canteen. One floor down."
"Fuck you," Willem said quietly.
"You suggested that before," the commissaris said quietly.
Fernandus grinned. "That's forty-five years ago. We will delve into the past. To answer your question, no, I don't find it easy to pursue my path. Sure, later on it gets easier. We get sly with age, and once you get the thing going, it gains momentum by itself; you must have experienced that in your career, too."
The commissaris nodded. "But you did have troubles."
"I still have troubles," Fernandus said, "but I take care of them better."
"As in Martin IJsbreker's case?"
Fernandus sighed. "I saw that coming."
"Of course you saw that coming," the commissaris said. "You saw it coming when the constable knocked on the impressive sculptured door of your million-guilder * mansion."
Willem waved the figure away. "Multiply that by two."
The commissaris showed his yellowish teeth. "Martin ran your bank. Did he acquire too much power? Or did he merely have his hand in the till? Did he help run the Society too? More pilfering there?"
"Questions, questions." Fernandus got up and walked over to the commissaris's desk. The commissaris quickly pocketed his cigar case. Fernandus sat down again. "I won't put up with your arrogant prying. I don't have to answer. I'm not a material witness. I was nowhere near Martin's house when he died."
"You ordered the killing," the commissaris said. "Look at you. You appear to me as the archetype of organized crime. You could be cast as the boss in any of a dozen gangster movies. You've got a slimy, self-satisfied expression that somehow mixes well with the false father image that attracts your misguided assistants' loyalty. Does a true father chop down his erring son?"
Fernandus giggled. "I never understood where you
"The collective unconscious," the commissaris said. "We all draw from its symbols. It happens to be Christian on this side of the world. If we were living in the East, you'd accuse me of quoting the Diamond Sutra."
"I'm glad you've kept up on your reading." Fernandus got up. "I'll be right back." He paused at the door. "Provided you admit that I'm here of my own free will. For old times' sake. Yes?"
The commissaris considered. Fernandus waited.
"You're here of your own free will," the commissaris said.
Fernandus came back. "Your canteen only sells cheap brands. I asked your charming secretary to go out and get me some good ones."
"Sit down," the commissaris said. "You think you're here for old times' sake? You're really here to be warned: you'd better face that, Willem. I'm going to get you. I'm trying to fight fair, so I thought you ought to know."
Fernandus laughed. "I always got you before. Remember Miss Bakker's sexy lap?"
"You were talking about watching mice together just now," the commissaris said. "Those mice dethroned me. That was the only purpose you ever saw in those mice. Remember how you sailed through school by copying my homework?"
"Of course I do," Fernandus said. "But you broke off the fight. I thought you'd given in. You were the weaker of us, Jannie. I really thought you saw that when we split up."
"You know," the commissaris said softly, "I never saw it that way. I still think we are of equal strength, but when the same quantities of energy are applied to the good and the bad, the good will eventually win."
Miss Antoinette came in. "Thank you," Fernandus said, "you're wonderful." He turned around. "You're beautiful, too. My good friend here should be very happy that he secured
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