The Nameless Ones by John Connolly
Chapter XIII
Following the warning from Ross about Armitage’s dealings with the Vuksans, Louis deliberated late into the night before making a series of calls to the Netherlands. The difficulty was that De Jaager, the man about whom he was most anxious, was also his principal contact in the country. De Jaager’s phone went directly to voice mail, which was not unusual: De Jaager, like Louis, preferred to use his cell phone as a mobile answering service, since he regarded the device as being for his convenience, not that of others. Louis then tried Paulus, De Jaager’s nephew, driver, and man-at-arms, and when that number rang out, he resorted to calling Anouk, Paulus’s mother and De Jaager’s sister-in-law. Her phone also went to voice mail. Anouk was in her seventies, so it was not surprising that she might have chosen to turn off her phone before she slept. As for Paulus, his cell phone rarely left his side and was always on. He was his uncle’s right hand and was rarely far from him. Louis tried Paulus three more times over the next hour, until finally the phone stopped ringing, suggesting either that it had been turned off or had run out of power.
Logically, Louis should not yet have been worried. Unlike Charlie Parker, he was not a man to chase after phantoms. But he had learned to trust his instincts, and they told him that something was very wrong.
He had one more person to whom he could turn: the big Dutchman, Hendricksen, who worked as an investigator in the Netherlands, although lately he was devoting most of his time and energy to tracing missing artwork. Hendricksen had no great love for De Jaager, regarding him as a crook, if only on the basis of the company he kept. But Hendricksen was principled and owed Louis a favor, since Louis had helped track down the man responsible for killing one of Hendricksen’s colleagues.
Hendricksen, thankfully, did pick up, although he didn’t sound happy at being woken early on a Sunday morning.
‘Ja, wat is het verdomme?’ were the first words out of his mouth.
‘Is that swearing?’ said Louis. ‘Because it sure sounds like it.’
‘Who is this?’
‘We met at a gas station in Belgium.’
‘You.’
‘Yes, me.’
‘The question stands, maybe without the swearing: What is it?’
‘I think De Jaager may be in danger,’ said Louis, ‘and I can’t raise him or his people on their phones.’
‘How much danger?’ Hendricksen already sounded more awake.
‘The Serbian kind.’
Louis could hear Hendricksen breathing, marshaling his thoughts.
‘Is your phone secure?’ he said.
‘Is any phone secure?’ said Louis. ‘It will have to suffice.’
‘Perhaps I heard rumors down the years,’ said Hendricksen, ‘about the death of a Serb nicknamed Timmerman, a killer for the Zemun syndicate.’
‘Whatever you heard was probably true.’
‘They say he was killed by a black Muslim.’
‘Only fifty percent of that is true.’
‘But at the instigation of someone in the Netherlands.’
‘Certainly true.’
‘A mutual acquaintance?’
‘Again, true.’
‘Jesus.’
‘You asked.’
‘I did,’ admitted Hendricksen. ‘What do you know about the current situation here?’
‘Not enough.’
‘The Netherlands has become a narco state, and is now the logistical center for the world cocaine trade. There are huge amounts of money to be made, but the older generation doesn’t have the will or the ruthlessness to fight for its share. The graybeards are content to leave the shooting and maiming to the young, because otherwise they won’t live long enough to spend the loot they’ve set aside for their golden years. Whatever rules once applied in the Netherlands are relevant no longer. We have teenagers with guns being sent on assassination runs by men not much older than they are. Everyone is a target.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I think perhaps you’re getting worked up over nothing. The Vuksan brothers, Spiridon and Radovan, who’ve been the dominant Serb influence in the Netherlands for the last four or five years, are passing on the torch. They’re not looking for trouble. I hear they’re jaded and want to go home. They’ve sent out signals to the Korps – the Dutch police – informing them that the Vuksans are not going to be a problem in the future. They may even have thrown a few bottom-feeders to the Korps as a gesture of goodwill, a parting gift tied up in a neat bow. It would make no sense for the Vuksans to go settling scores now.’
‘Depends on how you look at it,’ said Louis. ‘To a certain type of mind, now would be the perfect time to settle scores.’
Louis heard Hendricksen yawn.
‘I’m not in Amsterdam at the moment,’ said Hendricksen. ‘I’m in Paris. I’m not due to return to the Netherlands until tomorrow morning, but I can make some calls. I’ll let you know as soon as I have news.’
‘Likewise.’
Louis hung up. He tried each of the three numbers connected to De Jaager one more time, but to no avail. His own phone was now probably compromised, but he would hold on to it until he heard from Hendricksen.
Angel was right: he needed to sleep. He compartmentalized his worries, locking them away so they would not disturb his rest. Before he closed his eyes, he asked the dead girl from his dreams not to bother him.
And she did not.