'Ah! Colonel Gropious, sir?'

'Yes. I am seeing a road block one kilometre east of Sliedrecht. Close up until you have them visually. But not too close.' 'I understand, sir. Target Zero is travelling at a very leisurely pace - perhaps "circ.u.mspect" is the word I'm looking for. just below fifty kilometres. I estimate they should be with you in just under twenty minutes.'

'Thank you, sergeant.'

Ylvisaker leaned back luxuriously in his seat and lit a cigar. 'This,' he said with a sigh, 'is the life. Thank G.o.d we're not aboard that d.a.m.ned helicopter.'

That d.a.m.ned helicopter was b.u.mping and lurching its way in a generally west-by-south direction. 'Generally', because Daniken was at pains to avoid towns, villages or settlements of any size. It was, van Effen thought, a totally superfluous precaution. There was no earthly reason why, say, a lone farmer should report the pa.s.sage of an unidentified and probably unidentifiable helicopter. Helicopters were ten a penny in the Netherlands. Van Effen looked around the gunship. Most of the pa.s.sengers looked distinctly unhappy and their complexions offered an interesting variety of shades of colour. Annemarie and Julie, who were sitting together, had adopted remarkably similar att.i.tudes - clenched fists and eyes screwed tightly shut. Van Effen himself was untroubled: Daniken was a superb pilot. He cupped his hand to Agnelli's ear. 'How much further?' 'About fifteen minutes.'

'Reasonable accommodation?'

Agnelli smiled. 'It's a nice little place.'

judging by the standards of Samuelson's taste, the nice little place, van Effen thought, was probably about the size of the royal palace in the Dam Square.

The blue and yellow sign read: 'ROAD CHECK AHEAD. PLEASE STOP AT THE RED LIGHT'.

Ylvisaker's driver slowed and said: 'What do we do now?' Ylvisaker took a leisurely puff at his cigar. 'Drive on, my man.'

Gropious's driver lowered his binoculars. 'Target Zero for sure, Sir.' He raised his binoculars again. 'And the given number.' F.-K 289

Gropious's vehicle was in the left-hand lane, facing oncoming traffic. On the right-hand side, and slightly behind them, was another troop carrier. Two soldiers, both holding umbrellas, were leaning against their vehicle. Both were smoking cigarettes.

'Would you look at that sloppy bunch,' Ylvisaker said. 'Umbrellas! Cigarettes! I'll bet there's not an officer nearer than Rotterdam. And these, mind you, are the gallant troops sworn to defend NATO to the death.'

As they came to a halt at the red light, Gropious and his two men, all three trailing machine-pistols in their left hands, approached the stolen army truck, Gropious going to the front of the truck and his two men to the rear. Ylvisaker opened his door.

'What's all this then, Corporal?'

'Colonel' An embarra.s.sed Gropious, perceptibly stiffening, executed as military a salute as could be expected from a slovenly corporal. 'Colonel. If I had known -'

Ylvisaker smiled tolerantly. 'What is it, Corporal?' 'Orders, sir. We are under instructions to stop and examine all vehicles, army trucks included, which may be carrying illegally obtained weapons. We were given the registration number of one particular army truck. This is not the one.'

Ylvisaker displayed some mild interest. 'Are you searching for anything in particular?'

'Missiles, sir. Ground-to-ground and ground-to-air missiles. I must admit, sir, that I don't even know what they look like except that they're copper coloured and over two metres long.' 'Duty is duty, Corporal. I see you have two men at the rear. Instruct them to open up and search. just, you know, for the records.' Gropious gave the instructions, the rear doors were opened and no missiles were found.

'My apologies, Colonel,' Gropious said. He hesitated, then produced a notebook and pencil. 'My instructions are to make a note of the identification of every person pa.s.sing through this check-point.'

Ylvisaker reached inside his uniform jacket. Gropious said: 'No, no, sir. In your case, no papers are necessary. just your name, Colonel.' 'Ylvisaker.'

'Colonel Ylvisaker.' Rather laboriously, Gropious wrote down the name in his notebook. How ironic, he thought, that such a confrontation should occur between a lieutenant-colonel posing as a fake corporal and a civilian - and criminal - posing as a lieutenant-colonel. He put his notebook away and lifted his machine-pistol at the same instant as his two soldiers at the rear of the truck.

'Move,'Gropious said, 'and you're dead.'

No sooner had Gropious and his men brought Ylvisaker and his two men out on to the roadside than Sergeant Druckmann's car drew -up behind them. Druckmann and his men got out, Druckmann carrying a considerable number of metal objects in his hand. Druckmann looked at the scruffy corporal with the straggling blond locks and said hesitantly: 'Colonel Gropious?' 'it is indeed.' Gropious removed his hat, took off his wig and threw it beyond the roadside. 'Those d.a.m.n things itch.'

Druckmann said: 'Congratulations, sir.'

Gropious, who without his wig now looked remarkably like a lieutenant-colonel, shook his hand warmly. 'And the very same to you, Sergeant. Your name, please? All I know is that all the police cars were manned by sergeants.'

:Druckmann, Colonel.'

An excellent piece of work, Sergeant Druckmann. Most professional. And what, may I enquire, is all that. ironmongery you're carrying?' 'Handcuffs and leg irons, sir. I understand that those are not standard army issue.'

'Splendid. Kindly have one of your men attach them at once.' He turned to one of his soldiers. 'Instruct all patrols to return to base. I suggest, Sergeant Druckmann, that you instruct one of your men to do the same for the police cars. Emphasising, of course, the need for complete secrecy.'

'At once, Colonel. But there is no need to emphasize secrecy. All of us, myself included, have been threatened by Colonel de Graaf with the equivalent of Devil's Island.'

'Ah! Our redoubtable Chief of Police in Amsterdam.' 'Yes, sir. Whose prisoners are those - yours or ours?' 'They are now the property of the nation. We will drive to my base, call up Mr Wieringa, the Defence Minister, and Colonel de Graaf and see what is to be done with them. Meantime, let's have a look at Ylvisaker's truck - well, his stolen truck.'

Inside the truck Druckmann said: 'I really know very little about what's going on. Those three men are FFF?'

'They are indeed and they face three charges. The first is impersonating army officers. The second is being in possession of a stolen army vehicle.' Gropious opened the lids of the two fake long-range petrol tanks to reveal the squat, cylindrical shapes of two bronze-coloured metal objects. 'The third, of course, is to have them explain how come they are transporting a couple of nuclear bombs along the roads of our fair countryside.'

The lids were lowered and they stepped outside. Druckmann said: 'May I smoke in the Colonel's presence?'

'The Colonel is about to do the same.'

After a few moments, Druckmann said: 'Well, all right. I volunteer.' Gropious smiled. 'To drive this truck to base?'

'I'm a fearful coward, Colonel. I shall take great care.' 'I have a great deal of time for fearful cowards, sergeant. By the time we get there we shall have two US experts from Germany standing by to de-activate those d.a.m.ned things. I shall lead the way, red lights flashing and all that sort of thing, you will follow close behind and your police car will follow close behind you. You have this consolation, Sergeant Druckmann. If you're vaporized, we're all vaporized.' The time was 9.27 a.m.

At precisely 9.27 a.m. Daniken touched down outside another isolated windmill-c.u.m-farmhouse, considerably larger than the one they had so recently left. Two men and two women, umbrellas in hand, came hurrying out to meet them. It was clear that Samuelson and his friends, judging from the smiles on the faces of the four, were not only known and welcome but also expected. With the power shut off the interior of the gunship was almost deathly quiet. Van Effen said to Agnelli: 'Well, yes, you do have a certain gift for organization.'

Agnelli smiled and said nothing.

The living-room of the windmill, which had a similar veranda outside, was considerably larger and even more luxurious than the one they had left behind, There were ten people in the room - Samuelson and the Agnelli brothers, van Effen and his friends and the four girls. Daniken, van Effen guessed, was presumably parking - and concealing - his helicopter in a nearby barn. Riordan had gone upstairs, no doubt to indulge in another bout of meditation and prayer.

Samuelson, relaxed in an armchair before a crackling wood fire, sighed like a man well content with himself.

'Clockwork, my friends, just clockwork. The penultimate stage successfully completed. I know it's still relatively early in the morning, but, then, we shall be having an early lunch. Something in the nature of a soupfon of jonge jenever, I think.'

'An early lunch?' van Effen said. 'We are moving on?' 'Just after two o'clock.' Samuelson gestured towards a TV set. 'After we've seen what happens in the Markerwaard.'

'I see.' Van Effen made it abundantly clear that he didn't see at all. 'Well, wherever.' He shrugged. 'How many of those establishment do you own in the Netherlands?'

'None. The owners of this house, for instance, are presently basking in the sunshine of the Bahamas. The Golden Gate pays well. This, as you are aware, is the dead season for farming. A local farmer, also well rewarded, looks after the cattle and sheep. There are no problems. Do you know where you are, Mr Danilov?'

'I haven't the faintest idea.' Long experience had taught van Effen to he with total conviction: he knew exactly where he was.

'After so short a flight, still somewhere in Holland. Does it matter?' 'You are a singularly incurious person. We are in the vicinity of Middelharnis. You know of it?'

'Middelharnis?' Van Effen frowned then said: 'Over Flakkee.' Samuelson smiled, nodded and said nothing.

Van Effen set down the gla.s.s that Leonardo had just given him. His face was stonily bleak and his eyes very cold.

'The Haringvliet,' he whispered. 'You're after the Haringvliet.' He had been well aware of this for some quite considerable time. The Haringvliet dam was variously referred to as the valve or the sluice gate of Holland. It blocked the entry to the Haringvliet estuary and many waterways beyond. In the late spring and early summer, when the snows in the Alps, Germany and France melted,-it diverted the waters from the swollen Rhine, Waal and Maas rivers past Rotterdam and into the New Waterway which joined the North Sea at Europort simply by keeping its ma.s.sive hydraulically operated, electrically powered gates closed. It could also, when the level of the river water rose too high, and the level of the North Sea was considerably lower, release water directly into the North Sea simply by opening as many of its gates as was deemed necessary. At this time of the year, however, with the river water shrunk to its lowest level, its main task was to keep out the North Sea except at the very latest of neap tides. The flooding, the damage and the deaths that would inevitably result from the destruction of the sluice gate of Holland were incalculable.