"I'll take you," Cardozo said.
"No, thank you, Sergeant, I'd better go alone." He turned to his wife. "It's Willem."
"No." She held his hand. "No. Willem is in jail. That's over, don't go to see him."
"He's in the hospital," the commissaris said. "I've known about Willem's illness since last week."
"Under guard?" Grijpstra asked. "They shouldn't let him out of jail. He'll escape, sir. Think of something, impersonate a doctor, we'll have to go after him again."
"Leukemia," the commissaris said. "He wouldn't go far. I spoke to Dr. Peters in the hospital. He said Fernandus wasn't doing very well."
"Fernandus will fake anything," Grijpstra said. "Let me go with you. We can take care of this."
"We'll take Fernandus for a walk?" the commissaris asked. "Please, Adjutant. The baron didn't survive his walk. Let's leave this to nature."
"Shall I go with you?" Antoinette said. "I rather like Mr. Fernandus."
"Noho," Carl said.
"Sometimes," Mrs. Jongs said, "it's better they dies, but they don't dies easy."
"You're only going to gloat," said the commissaris's wife. "Don't do that, Jan. Leave Willem be. It's a happy ending for you, I don't want you to be happy that way."
"Nothing ever ends," the commissaris muttered. "What do you know? You can be pretty silly, Katrien."
"I'm sorry," she said. "But you were after him so much. You never really go after anyone, but this time… sitting in the garden talking to yourself… up at all hours… cursing and swearing in your bath… I don't want to see you like that, please."
"Maybe you should go, then, sir," Grijpstra said. "You hunted him and now you've got to be in at the kill. It's only fair. He sees that too. That's why he's asking you to come over."
"The cancer is killing him," the commissaris said. "Leukemia is blood cancer."
"No," Karate said, "that's only afterward. You got to die of something. It's like my father-he died of cancer too, but that wasn't it really. He was an engine driver and he made some mistake and he got fired. Couldn't drive his engine no more. Nothing to do. People ask him, 'What are you?' and he says he is nothing. Once you're nothing you got to go, so you got to get sick."
"My father's done nothing all his life," Ketchup said.
"Sure," Karate said. "But now take that away. Tell him he's got to work. He's got to give up doing nothing, right? And doing nothing is all of his life? So he'll break his back or catch his death of cold." The commissaris drove himself over. He waited at the hospital's reception counter until a nurse came to take him up. The nurse smiled sadly at the forlorn little figure waiting in the hall. "You must be his brother," she said. "Please follow me, sir. What a remarkable likeness."
\\\\\ 35 /////
"But I'm dying," Fernandus said, sitting up against his clean, fluffy cushions. "Don't look so nervous, Jan. There's no gun under the sheets. You won. You said you were going to destroy me, and by Jove, you did."
"You believe in Jove now?" the commissaris asked, wondering who would have sent Fernandus the red roses on his night table.
"The nurse brought them in," Fernandus said. "They have lots of flowers here. Nobody would send me flowers."
The commissaris acknowledged the information with a careful smile. Fernandus nodded too. "I could always read your thoughts. Conforming thoughts. The obvious again. You think like the majority. Not amazing at all, the way our lives turned out."
"Can I smoke here?" the commissaris asked.
"Sure. Got a cigar for me?"
The commissaris brought out his tin, holding it close to his chest.
"No," Fernandus said. "I don't believe this. Go on, give me a cigar. You're still punishing me? Thanks. A light too, if you please."
The commissaris looked about the bright room. "No guard?"
"No." Fernandus held the tip of his cigar under his nose and sniffed. "You could buy a better brand. Leave the tin anyway, I'll be gone tomorrow afternoon. At four sharp, they say, got the word today, that's why I called you."
"Back to jail?" The commissaris felt his leg. "If you're dying, they might let you do it here."
"They'll kill me here." Fernandus grinned. "Pain in your legs? Good. Is your trouble getting worse?"
The commissaris got up. "You enervate me, Willem. Mind if I cut this short? Is there anything in particular you want to say?"
Fernandus struggled weakly into a more upright position. "Sit down, Jan, I've got pains too, the pleasure is mutual, you can laugh at me. I've got leukemia, did they tell you that?" He held up a finger. "Listen. I looked it up. Acute forms are fatal within weeks or months. Symptoms include weakness, fatigue, anemia, and hemorrhaging. Leukemia is invariably fatal. This is goodbye. Say goodbye in style."
"Goodbye," the commissaris said. He sat down.
"You don't want to know about the euthanasia?" Fernandus asked.
"So you'll be killed at four o'clock tomorrow," the commissaris said. "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry to hear it?"
Fernandus kept sliding back. "Help me up."
"Maybe you're more comfortable lying flat."
"I'm not." Fernandus grimaced. "Go on. Thanks. A little higher. Push that pillow down. Mind my cigar. So how do you feel about our little war now, eh? I hear you got the baron killed and that Guldemeester has been arrested. Did you mess that up?" He shrugged. "It doesn't always quite work the way we set it up. They fell down together and Guldemeester broke his legs. Or was that the way you planned it? Exterminate everyone who ever associated with me? Stamp out the vermin?"
"Who told you about that happening?" the commissaris asked.
Fernandus pointed at the phone next to the flowers. "Ten Haaf."
The commissaris shook his head. "That was a forced move. De la Faille would have shown up in Holland again; the police are patient."
"Yes." Fernandus nodded at the nurse who came in. "We could have some tea. Thank you, dear, you're looking even prettier today." He looked at his visitor. "So now you're the official again, using proper methods? I took that away from you for a while. Dropped the rules. You should be grateful. You could prove yourself." He reached over and touched the commissaris's knee. "You think you did well?"
The commissaris smiled. "Yes. All things considered."
"No," Fernandus said. "Your motivation was wrong. Do you know that now?"
"Wait," the commissaris said. "Before I forget. What happened to Ryder's car? Did Ten Haaf mention the Ferrari?"
"Ten Haaf's got the Ferrari." Fernandus raised a shoulder. "That's an unimportant detail, Jan. Your man left the car. Your fellow came too late." He lifted an eyebrow. "What was the matter with that sergeant? He couldn't arrest the baron in Spain, or had you arranged for a foreign warrant? Was there time for that?"
"Never mind," the commissaris said.
"But I do." Fernandus thumped his bed. "Must have been something personal too. Like you and me. Your man used a stolen car. Is he still with the police?"
"Rinus is in New Guinea now," the commissaris said, reaching out too, but withdrawing his hand before it could touch Fernandus's leg. "That part of our conflict worked out rather well. I've been wanting de
Gier to strike out on his own for a while now, but he kept clinging to his routine."
"Or to you," Fernandus said. "Halba…" He grinned. "What a lout. You got him to resign, I hear. Stupid ass. Halba said you have a dedicated staff- sort of groupies, you're a father to them."
The commissaris accepted a cup of tea from the tray the nurse was holding.
"You've been drinking?" Fernandus asked after the nurse had left. He sniffed. "Whiskey?" He looked at his watch. "You drink at your office?"
"A wedding party," the commissaris said. "My secretary got married."
"The secretary?" Fernandus's eyes gleamed.