"You're right," he agreed. "They probably clamped them over the existing plates, there are some scratches on the edges. They removed them immediately after the hold-up"

Vledder gestured.

"But that would mean that the robbers must have been here very shortly after the hold-up. They may have come here directly. Apparently they thought it too dangerous to keep driving around with the false tags."

DeKok rubbed his face with both hands.

"I wonder," he mused, "if the money was also brought here." Suddenly his eye fell on an irregularly shaped, dark, reddish brown spot on the table top. He looked at it intently. "It looks like blood," he said, astonishment in his voice.

Vledder came closer.

"Where?"

"Here, on the table. They must have been drops of blood. It looks like coagulated blood, you can see the edges of the drops where they were wiped out later."

Momentarily DeKok seemed at a loss. Then he walked with long steps to the beds in the corner. One by one he turned back the covers. The sheets and the pillow of one of the beds were covered with large blood stains.

"Good grief," he exclaimed, "one of the guys is wounded. Constable Bever must have hit somebody, after all."

For a while both stared at the blood stains in the bed.

"I do hope," sighed DeKok, "That the guy had the courage to go see a doctor with that wound..."

He did not finish the sentence.

Vledder looked a question at him.

"Do you really think it's serious?"

DeKok nodded slowly.

"Yes, at first glance it seems that he lost a lot of blood. Without medical attention..." He stopped suddenly. His sharp ears had heard a new sound.

Quickly he indicated to Vledder to position himself next to the door. Softly, without a sound, he went to the switch and turned off the light.

The soft noise of footsteps could be heard from the warehouse s.p.a.ce.

12.

In darkness, backs against the wall, the two Inspectors listened to the footsteps for seconds that seemed to stretch into hours. The footsteps came closer. Undeniably, inevitably. But the sound became less distinct. It was if the steps had become more cautious, more hesitating, as if sensing an unknown danger. They stopped on the other side of the door.

Vledder, who kept his fingers into light contact with the door, felt a slight pressure. Softly the door was pushed open ... farther, a little farther, until it opened all the way. With tensed muscles, like a runner at the starting block, Vledder waited for a sign from DeKok.

Suddenly the light was switched on. Vledder jumped. With all the power and strength of his athletic body he threw himself on the intruding figure. For a split second the shape was clearly delineated against the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was the silhouette of a woman in a fur coat.

In the large detective room, against the grim decor of yellowed folders, dusty binders and much abused furniture, the gray sleuth executed a polite bow with old-world formality.

"As I told you," he said with a winning smile, "my name is DeKok, with ... eh, kay-oh-kay. Please do not consider this conversation as a formal arrest. It's anything but an arrest. But I thought it better to talk here, rather than in the warehouse. I'd just like to talk to you for a while." He gestured with a broad grin. "Not an unnatural desire, after all, don't you agree? Your ... eh, your unexpected visit to Farmer's Alley would naturally arouse our curiosity."

She did not answer. She stared at the two Inspectors. There was a melancholy look in her bright, green eyes, not unlike that of a helpless child looking for protection.

Slowly she unb.u.t.toned her coat and pushed it off her shoulders. It was a studied gesture that indicated refinement and a lot of experience. Only now did it become clear how truly beautiful she was. The dark fur coat had veiled her figure, hid her supple shape.

DeKok looked at her transfixed. She was, he concluded, a ripe, mild beauty, an intoxicating, magical expression of subtle enticement.

"I ... I hope," he stammered, "that ... that my colleague's impulsive attack didn't, eh ... damage you in any way?" He almost blushed because he could not at once find the right words. "After all," he continued, hesitantly, "we ... couldn't have known that ... eh, that..."

She smiled faintly.

"That it would be me," she completed.

She had a rich, deep voice that vibrated melodically.

DeKok swallowed.

"Exactly, that's how it was. We had not expected such a charming visitor. We were prepared for somewhat 'heavier' visitors."

Another smile briefly shaped her lips.

"Please be a.s.sured that the surprise was mutual," she said in a friendly tone of voice. "The last thing I expected to find in that old warehouse was the police. I was looking for my husband."

DeKok's eyebrows seemed poised to ripple, but they merely vibrated slightly. Almost disappointed, Vledder released a small sigh.

"Your husband?" asked DeKok.

She nodded.

"I hoped to find him there. You see, last night he didn't come home at the usual time. I thought it rather strange, I'm not used to that. He's a very precise man, punctual and considerate in all things. If he expected to be late, he would always call. But he did not call last night and after a while I became worried. I had the feeling something had happened. I even searched his desk and checked his pocket calendar and..."

She stopped abruptly. She looked at the old Inspector with wide-eyed fear.

"Has something happened to my husband," she asked apprehensively. "I mean, your presence in that old warehouse could,... eh, did it have anything to do with my husband?"

She looked genuinely concerned.

DeKok smiled.

"How can I tell you, Ma'am. I don't even know who you are."

She blushed.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "You didn't ask, but I should have introduced myself. It was very rude of me, but you understand, the shock. Frankly, the whole business has me a bit confused."

DeKok nodded.

"I understand. But perhaps you would be so good as to correct the oversight?"

She smiled coyly.

"I'm Mrs. Thornbush."

There was a sudden silence. It seemed as if the raucous noises from the street had suddenly been stilled by a giant, hidden master switch. The only sound in the detective room was the clattering of the pen that had fallen from Vledder's hand.

DeKok swallowed his surprise.

"Mrs.... eh, Mrs. Thornbush?"

"Yes."

DeKok swallowed again.

"Your husband is a VP and Corporate Secretary for Bent & Goossens, for B&G?"

She nodded cheerfully.

"You know him?"

DeKok sighed deeply.

"I ... eh, I met him once," he said after a slight hesitation. "That was this morning, at the offices of B&G at the Emperor's Ca.n.a.l. Your husband was most cooperative. You see, my colleague and I have been a.s.signed to investigate the hold-up of the armored truck."

Her face became serious.

"Oh, yes, the hold-up. My husband told me about it. It was rather a bold move, I seem to remember. In the center of the city and in broad daylight. It must be difficult for you to find the perpetrators." She lifted her head toward him, admiration in her open, green eyes. "I've often wondered how the police solve all those crimes. I think it's pretty ingenious."

DeKok rubbed his chin and gave her a broad grin. Meanwhile his sharp eyes looked intently at her face, searched for signs of insincerity. He could not detect any. Mrs. Thornbush was calm and at ease, relaxed. A very nice, attractive and above all, naive lady. His professional suspicion could not reach any other conclusion.

"So, you were looking for your husband?"

"Yes."

"And you found the Farmer's Alley address in his note book, his pocket agenda?"

She made a comical gesture.

"My husband will be furious. Believe me, I know him. When he hears what I've done, there will be the devil to pay. He just doesn't like for me to go through his desk. We have argued about that before."

DeKok coughed.

"No doubt, there were more addresses in the book. What made you decide to go to Farmer's Alley?"

She smiled.

"The date ... the address was listed under today's date."

"Was there any other information? A name, or a time?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"No, just warehouse, Farmer's Alley, Amsterdam," she sighed. "That was all."

"Did you notice ... I mean, did the address appear more than once in the appointment book?"

She grimaced.

"I didn't look any further. I immediately went on my way."

"How were you able to find Farmer's Alley. Did you know where it was?"

She shook her head.

"No, I was born and raised in Amsterdam, but I'd never heard of it. I took a cab at the station." She grinned while she wrinkled her nose. "The driver asked me several times to repeat the address. Apparently he thought it strange that I would want to go there."

DeKok nodded understanding.

"How did you get to the station?"

"Well, I arrived by train from Haarlem. That's where I live."

"Do you live close to a Mr. Bergen, another VP at B&G?"

Her eyes flashed momentarily.

"Bergen lives to the south of Haarlem, we live more to the north of the city."

DeKok scratched the back of his neck.

"But you were sure your husband was no longer in the office? He could have worked late, or perhaps there was a meeting?"

"I called the office," she answered softly. "I reached the security guard. He told me that my husband had left at the usual time, at about the same time as the others."

"Perhaps he stopped over with business relations, or friends ... family perhaps?"

She shook her head.

"We have few contacts with others. We live rather a retiring life."

DeKok sighed.

"So, you haven't the faintest idea about the whereabouts of your husband?"