"Are we sure?" the commissaris asked. "We know by now that Ten Haaf was financially interested in the Banque du Credit and the Society; he must have dropped some money in the crash. And Fernandus and the baron probably own part of the estate in Marbella. If the baron went to cash in his share, he may not be received very well."
"Ten Haaf is a helpless junkie now," Grijpstra said. "He used to be big in local crime, but since his retirement, he's changed into a slob. He's happy to have any of his cronies visit. He runs some sort of recreation center for what he calls the Mob. I think the baron would be welcome in Marbella."
"Another godfather, eh?" the commissaris asked. "A nest of crime up in the mountains? Weary warriors are given a rest. Do I see it all now? Is de Gier going to fight the bad guys in their lair? Racing up in Ryder's Ferrari? In style?"
"In style," Cardozo said. "That's what he kept saying. I see it too, sir. He has spelled it all out to me, many a time. Police work is too limited; he stayed on only because of you; you were teaching him and so forth, but eventually he would break away and continue his quest on his own."
"De Gier's forty-two," Grijpstra said. "Quite a difficult age. I was wondering, when I got into my forties, whether I shouldn't make a change."
"Coffee, everyone?" Miss Antoinette asked. "Here you are. De Gier is a romantic, Constable Jane is always saying that."
"What's a romantic, dear?" The commissaris sipped his coffee. "You mean he's a bit crazy?"
"Like Carl." Miss Antoinette smiled. "Carl says you've got to do things differently. Figure out how everybody does it and then do it otherwise. De Gier is like that too, but he isn't as courageous as Carl. Carl doesn't want an example. De Gier has you."
"Me," the commissaris said. "How could he imitate me? I live a perfectly ordinary life."
"Your mind," Grijpstra said.
"What about my mind?"
"Well," Grijpstra said. "Perhaps I could explain, but I'll probably annoy you. I've been annoying you lately. Never mind, sir."
"Go on," Cardozo said. "Annoy the commissaris. You always annoy everybody else."
"Please annoy me," the commissaris said. "You'll have to, I'm afraid. I have to understand de Gier's motivation before I do anything."
"What can you do?" Cardozo asked. "If de Gier hasn't opened his envelope, he's on perpetual unpaid leave. If he doesn't come back, he's not under your orders."
The telephone rang. "The mayor, sir," Miss Antoinette said. The commissaris waved a limp hand. "He's not here," said Miss Antoinette.
Grijpstra stripped a cigar out of its plastic cover, bit off its end, spat, and missed the ashtray. "Yagh," said Miss Antoinette.
Grijpstra grinned and lit his cigar. "Very well. You were de Gier's example, sir. He saw you as a teacher. They call that a guru these days. You were out of reach. You lived on your cloud. In de Gier's eyes, you were-"
"Detached?" the commissaris said. "I don't like that word."
"But why don't you like it?" Grijpstra asked. "Because you'd like to be detached, right? Who wouldn't? But who is?" Grijpstra made wavy movements with his hands and feet, lost his balance, and flopped back in his chair. Cardozo laughed. "Right," Grijpstra said. "We fall back. De Gier claimed you never fell back, sir, that you somehow managed to stay aloft, high up, so high that you could choose your angles from which to swoop down on suspects-or on us."
"But he does that," Cardozo said. "The commissaris does that."
"You still have some faith in me?" the commissaris asked. "That's nice, Cardozo. The adjutant evidently doesn't."
"No," Grijpstra said. "I do."
"You still have faith in me?"
"Some," Grijpstra said. "Some reasonable faith. De Gier's faith was more. Unreasonable, I always thought. I told him that many a time. I said you would disappoint him. And that he wouldn't be able to stand the disappointment. It would break him, I said. He would go crazy."
"Carl is crazy," Miss Antoinette said. "But not all the way. He's also responsible. Do you know that Carl has no debts? I thought all men had debts, that's why they're so boring. They're stuck, having to pay off their debts."
"I see," the commissaris said. He shook his head. "Would you mind blowing your smoke a bit more to the side, Adjutant, please? It isn't twelve o'clock yet." He touched the tin of cigars on his desk.
"Yes." Grijpstra blew smoke at the ceiling. "So then you came down to fight your private enemy, Willem Fernandus. You came down rather heavily. De Gier saw that. You were personally involved. Gurus are never involved. I told de Gier that would happen."
"Willem hates you too," Miss Antoinette said. "You hate Willem, don't you sir?"
"Ah," Cardozo said. "So that's what it was. I was wondering too. I even dreamed about it. One of my horrible insect dreams, they always tear away at each other and their legs are stuck in glue. They sometimes fight in my mouth, and I can't spit them out."
The commissaris started to pick up his coffee cup, but it slipped from his hand and rattled back on the saucer. "I see."
"You do?" Grijpstra asked. "You see foolish de Gier racing his silly tin roller skate up a molehill to challenge a useless moron to a dumb duel?"
"Unfor…" The commissaris cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Unfortunate, very. We have to stop him. De Gier'U probably beat the baron, in spite of his sore ribs. He's clever enough."
"And sneaky," Cardozo said.
"Which he learned from me," the commissaris said. "But de Gier still has sore ribs. I hope he took his gun."
"No," Grijpstra said. "I checked. The sergeant-at-arms has de Gier's gun."
"Oh, dear," the commissaris said. "Just when things were going well. What do you suggest we do, Adjutant? Fly out to Marbella? We may be too late. De Gier's driving a fast car, and there are no speed limits on the Belgian and French freeways."
"No, I don't think we can stop de Gier," Grijpstra said, picking up the ragged end of his cigar and placing it carefully in the ashtray. "I'm sneaky too, sir"-he grinned-"but on my own. My sneakiness is mine. I didn't pick it up anywhere. A phone is quicker than a plane. Miss Antoinette? Could you find out the number of the Ten Haaf estate in Marbella?"
Miss Antoinette picked up the telephone.
"I don't quite see…" the commissaris said. "Isn't that dangerous, Grijpstra? Warning them off?"
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "I wouldn't do that." He got up, picked up the silver thermos flask, and refilled everybody's cup. Miss Antoinette gave him a slip of paper. Grijpstra grinned. "That's the number? Very well. Please dial it and ask for Guldemeester."
"Oh, dear," the commissaris said. "I hope you know what you're doing, Adjutant."
Grijpstra took over the phone. "Hello? Grijpstra here. Can you hear me? What's all the noise?"
"You have a cordless phone? I can hardly hear you. Could you phone back? Yes, I'm at my office." He put the phone down. "Miss Antoinette? Could you ask the girls downstairs to pass the call here when Guidemeester phones back?"
They waited. In a few moments the telephone rang.
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "That's better. You're at the house now? Very well. Listen, I'm phoning about Celine. You've heard, haven't you? Read it in the papers? Right. But it wasn't an accident. Listen, I'm sorry about Celine, just wanted to tell you." Grijpstra held his hand over the mouthpiece. "You see, Guldemeester still loves her, de Gier told me that. Thinks he loves her, anyway. Celine said-" He took off his hand. "What's that? Yes. No accident. Sure I'm sure."
"Yes. I could tell you, but perhaps you don't want to know. Listen, something else. You know about the changes here? Chief constable and Halba gone? You get the Courier there? Okay, then you know…
"Yes. Quite a bit of change. The commissaris is in charge now for the time being…
"You don't like it there?
"I see. I could ask the commissaris. Can't guarantee anything, of course."