The Deadly Dutchman Read online

  Rick stiffened.

  “So easy,” the knife-holder whispered.“Easy to chop the t’roat , hein ? Tell Scott.Him.” He jerked his Page 20

  free hand upward. “We want what he has. If he notgive , we chop you./a?” He grinned wolfishly, turned, and was gone in one jump. The door closed softly behind him.

  “Tell Scott we want what he has,” the knife-holder whispered

  It was useless to follow. The youth wouldn’t lethimself be caught, and he had a knife. Rick lay still, sweating. “ ‘So easy,’” he repeated to himself. They had locked the door, and so what? Locks on doors were to keep honest people out, he had heard it said. They didn’t bar thieves and cutthroats. He could testify to that.

  CHAPTER VI

  The Unknown Danger

  Rick and Scotty cleaned up and dressed in silence, both deep in thought. The one thing they had going for them, Rick decided, was that killing Scotty wouldn’t get the unknown enemies the information he supposedly held. He also had to admit that the same reasoning did not necessarily apply to him. Scotty was the key; Rick Brant was incidental. If he got in the way . . . well, the air-pistol shot at Madurodam and the knife at his throat this morning showed how easily he could be removed.

  What were the unknowns after? What was the mysterious “It”?

  There wasn’t a single clue.

  Scotty broke into his train of thought.“Ready to go? I’m hungry.”

  “Okay. Lead on.” Rick slung his knapsack over his shoulder by one strap and followed Scotty into brilliant sunlight. For a moment he blinked, then stared. The pretty teen-ager who had waited on the Vespa was leaning against a tree, just outside the door. She gave them a big smile and held out a slim hand to Scotty.

  “Are you ready to give it to me?”

  Scotty shook his head. “I’d like to, but I don’t know what it is. Tell your friends that. So far as I know, I have nothing that belongs to them. If they can identify it and tell me where it is, I’ll gladly turn it over.

  Okay?”

  The girl’s smile vanished. She looked very grave. Her blue eyes surveyed Scotty with something very like sadness. “You’re cute,” she stated. “You’re much too cute to be cut up over something silly like this.

  Why don’t you give it to me?”

  Rick could see Scotty was making a great effort to keep his patience. “I can’t, because I don’t know what it is. Understand? I do not know! Tell your friends that.”

  She turned and walked away from them, not hurrying. For a moment Rick was tempted to run and grab her, to hold her while Scotty called the police. But yesterday’s reasons still held good. Probably Page 21

  somewhere close by the hoodlum with long hair was waiting for the girl, and he undoubtedly had friends with him. They couldn’t hold her without a fight, and Rick didn’t think it was worth it. Therewas no grounds for police action. She had broken no laws.

  “Let’s eat,” he said. Scotty stopped staring after the girl and joined him. They went into a small restaurant attached to the hostel and ordered cafe complet , the standard Continental breakfast of coffee, rolls, butter and jam.

  Rick found a copy of theLondon Times on the chair next to him, apparently abandoned by a British traveler. It was only a day old. The lead story was about “Peril to the Pound.” It sounded like an armed attack on a dog pound, but it was only about the pound sterling, which was often in peril in the misty realms of international finance. He noted that a Member of Parliament had again raised the age-old question of whether theLondon police should carry weapons. It had been raised many times before, always with the same ending. British opinion refused to allow armed police. Rick thought British criminal opinion probably agreed with the majority. He also noted-apropos of crime -that a man who had dropped dead of a heart attack at Orly Airport in Paris had been identified as a notorious jewel thief named Rilke van Hooch. Rick grinned at the name, remembering that hooch was once the slang name for liquor inAmerica . He wondered if there was any connection between the out-of-date slang and the odd Dutch name.

  The sports section was much more interesting. Test Matches were being held betweenAustralia andBritain . He gathered that said Test Matches were roughly the equivalent of the World Series, only in cricket.

  “Hey, Scotty!Ever see cricket played?”

  “Once.Why?”

  “It says here thatAustralia scored only seventy-three runs in three innings. All due to the skill of a man named Abelard Foote-Cummings, who was the British bowler. Sounds like a cross between basketball and tenpins.”

  Scotty chuckled. “Don’t try to solve the mysteries of cricket by reading a newspaper. You have to be led through the maze by an expert, and then you only get confused.”

  “I believe it.” Rick put the paper down as their breakfast arrived. He looked at his friend shrewdly.

  “You’ve been pretty quiet, buddy. And I’ll bet it isn’t that girl on your mind, even if she does think you’re cute.”

  “She’s pretty cute herself,” Scotty said with a grin. “I think she’d be sorry to see my blood all overHolland . But you’re right. I was beginning to wonder if this is merely a case of misunderstanding.

  Maybe somebody put the finger on me by mistake somewhere along the line. Otherwise, why should they be so persistent?”

  “You’ve gone over every possibility?” Rick asked.

  “Sure.A dozen times. And I’ve gone through my clothes and baggage that many times, too. I even felt the seams and the suitcase handle to be sure there was no tampering. It’s a mistake, all right. But how did it happen?”

  Rick shrugged. “Maybe some bird dog for the gang pointed out the right guy, but the one for whom he Page 22

  was doing the pointing thought it was you he was pointing at. The big question is,What do we do about it?LeaveHolland?”

  “I don’t think it would make much difference. It’s a gang. So far, we’ve seen the hotel prowler, the two who attacked us, the girl, and your buddy with the sticker. There must be others. None of those we’ve seen looked a bit like a gang boss. I’ll bet the gang could follow us intoBelgium orGermany , and we’d never know they were around until they pounced.”

  Rick shuddered. “Watch your language. It reminds me of a cat with a mouse.”

  “We’ve got a cat on our side, too,” Scotty reminded him. “We’ll have to report this to the inspector, and I think we’d better go back toAmsterdam .”

  “Suits me.Only let’s go into town to phone. The only public phone I’ve seen here is within earshot of everyone in the hostel.”

  They finished their breakfast, then checked the Vespas over carefully. There was no sign of tampering.

  They mounted and put-putted off intoThe Hague .

  They found a hotel with a parking area for bicycles and scooters, and left the Vespas there. As they walked up the steps into the hotel, Rick stopped short. A round-faced, rotund little man was just coming out of the hotel. Rick knew that face. For a moment he searched his memory, then his face split in a welcoming grin.

  “Mr. Van der Klaffens!”

  The man turned, frowned in puzzlement, then gave a shout of delight. “Rick Brant! And Donald ScottI Shades of Le Requin Fantome ! What brings you to this corner of the world?My word, what a wonderful coincidence that we should meet like this!”

  They shook hands all around, and Van der Klaffens said, “Now, you come with me and we will have coffee at my shop. No, don’t look so surprised. I am a legitimate man of business now. Please. We must talk, neen ?”

  He shepherded them down the street, around a corner, and stopped at the entrance to a small, but attractive gift shop. He was apparently not only the proprietor, but clerk as well. He unlocked the door, ushered them in, put water on to boil on a hot plate, then turned on lights and raised the blinds, getting ready for the day’s trade.

  Rick looked around with interest. The bulk of gifts in the shop were of South and West Pacific origin, and those fromIndonesia andMalaya dominated. There we
re dozens of intricate, very beautifully carved Indonesian figurines and heads, batik prints from Java, shellwork fromSingapore , tapa cloths fromFiji , along with a selection of Fijian lalis -small rhythm instruments-also typical Maori work fromNew Zealand

  , masks made with paua shell eyes, and good-luck tikis in all sizes.

  For Van der Klaffens to specialize in Pacific handicrafts was natural enough. Rick and Scotty had first met him on the FrenchislandofNew Caledonia . They had liked him very much, and so had Rick’s sister Barby. It had been with some reluctance that they had exposed him as an operator of a highly profitable confidence game, an adventure known as The Phantom Shark -or, as Van der Klaffens had said in French, Le Requin Fantdme . The Dutchman had spent most of his life inIndonesia , and they had assumed he would stay in the Pacific.

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  Van der Klaffens beamed as he stirred American powdered coffee into the hot water. “This is a delightful surprise. But somehow I knew we would meet again. You are young men with-how do Americans put it?-a foot that itches? Ja ? And the world is small. Believe me, I know this. You are both well, obviously. And Rick, how is your lovely blue-eyed sister?A charming girl. Even when she cut open the pearl I couldn’t be angry with her. She was very brave to do such a thing.”

  “She’s just fine, sir. She’ll be pleased to know that we’ve seen you.” The pearl the Dutchman referred to had been the key to the mystery, and Barby’s courage and persistence had brought about the surprising solution.

  “You shall give me your address and I will send her a small remembrance from my shop. Now, what brings you toHolland ?”

  Rick outlined the reason for his trip, and his and Scotty’s vacation plans. Van der Klaffens congratulated Rick on his achievement, and added it was too bad they had not known of each other’s presence in theNetherlands . It would give him great pleasure if they would use his house and shop as their headquarters.

  “It’s very kind of you to offer,” Rick said, “but I’m afraid we can’t stay. We’re going back toAmsterdam right away.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry.But no matter. I must go toAmsterdam tomorrow to pick up a shipment of goods fromDjakarta . If you are free, we will have dinner together, neen ? I know an Indonesian restaurant where rijsttafel is served, in the old-time way.A vanishing art. It will give me great pleasure if you can be my guests.”

  With a glance at Scotty for affirmation, Rick said, “We accept with pleasure, sir.If all goes well.”

  Van der Klaffen’s thick eyebrowsraised . “And why should it not go well?”

  Rick hesitated, glanced at Scotty, who nodded slightly, then took the plunge. “I’ll tell you, sir, because you may have some ideas. Also, we’d like to use your telephone.” He outlined the unknown danger they faced, confident that he was not making a mistake in telling the little Dutchman, He knew that Van der Klaffens was a con man, but not a gangster, and that he hated violence. Also, he trusted Van der Klaffens instinctively-and always had, at least where their friendship was concerned.

  When he finished, the Dutchman was thoughtful. “You need help. I know this man Vandiveer. He is what you would call a good cop, and a smart one. Put your trust in him. I have no ideas about this thing, but I will think about it. Now, use my phone. Call the inspector, and give him my respects. The sooner the police know about the events of this morning, the better it will be.”

  CHAPTER VII

  Police Protection

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  The two motor scooters buzzed merrily along a back road toward the ancient town ofDelft , southeast and only a few kilometers fromThe Hague . Inspector Vandiveer had suggested that the boys visit for another half-hour with their old friend and then return toAmsterdam to see some of the sights of that city.

  The boys had agreed, but insisted upon seeing at least one of the sights in the south, the home of the world-famous Delftware. Vandiveer had approved, provided they did not leave for thirty minutes.

  Both Rick and Scotty knew the reason for the delay. It was obvious that the inspector needed a little time to arrange with his office atThe Hague for some kind of police protection. As they rode towardDelft

  , they watched other traffic, keeping an eye on their rear-view mirrors. There were cars behind, but they couldn’t tell which ones, if any, were trailing them.

  On the outskirts of the town, Rick motioned to Scotty as they approached the Dutch equivalent of a drive-in, and they turned off the road. In front of the refreshment stand they killed their motors and sat for a moment. Three cars passed, two Volkswagens and a Citroen. Three men in the Citroen eyed them as the big car went by, and Rick and Scotty exchanged glances. “Ever see them before?” Rick asked.

  “Nope.All strangers.Hey, look at this!” As Scotty spoke, a little Daffodil, an inexpensive Dutch-made car, pulled into the parking area and stopped. There were two men in it,who looked like respectable Dutch burghers. The men made no move to get out of the car.

  They didn’t look like gangsters. On impulse, Rick walked over, Scotty close behind. The men watched them approach, faces expressionless. The driver was about thirty years old, with reddish-brown hair visible under his felt hat. The other was older, perhaps in his late forties, with gray hair.

  “We stopped for a drink,” Rick said through the open window.

  The driver smiled. “Take your time, Mr. Brant.” His English was accented, but quite understandable.

  “We’re in no hurry. But it would be better if you paid no attention to us.”

  Rick grinned. “All right, Officer.”

  As they walked over to the stand, Scotty commented, “It’s a comfortable feeling to have a couple of bodyguards.”

  “They look capable,” Rick agreed.

  A plump matron waited on them. “Two Cokes,” Scotty requested. She looked blank.

  Rick tried.“Two Cola drinks.”

  The woman shrugged.“ Ik versta het niet.”

  “She doesn’t understand,” Rick said to Scotty. He hauled out his copy of Hugo’s Simplified System.

  There was nothing in it about roadside stands. He turned to “At a Cafe” section. Coke was not mentioned, but there was a phrase for “bring me lemon squash.” “It’slemon squash or nothing,” he told Scotty, and turned to the section on numbers to look up “two.”

  “Go, boy,” Scotty said with a grin.

  “Just a second.”He still had to look up “madam,” and “please.” He found them under the heading

  “Expressions.”Now to put them all together.

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  Rick took a deep breath and plunged in. “ Mev-rouw, als’t u blieft breng mij twee citroenkivast ?”

  The mevrouw beamed. “ Ja , mynheer . Met geno-egen .” She bent under the counter and came up with two bottles of yellow liquid, which she opened and placed before them.

  Rick put a five-guilder note down on the counter. She took it and counted out his change, then beamed again. “Dank u, mynheer .”

  Scotty chuckled. “Congratulations. You have solved the Simplified System.”

  Rick took a drink of his lemon squash. It was un-carbonated lemonade, nothing more. “We’re in good shape,” he agreed.“As long as we want to drink lemonade. Just don’t develop a taste for anything else.”

  “When I heard you say ‘ citroen’ I thought you were ordering an automobile,” Scotty told him.

  Rick nodded. “Funny. I never got the connection before. Citroen or citron is lemon in several Ianguages

  . I wonder why the French named a car for a lemon.”

  “Maybe they like lemons. Come on, let’s go.”

  Rick finished his drink, bowed to the stand-keeper, and followed Scotty to the scooters. They rode intoDelft , parked the Vespas and walked around the town, admiring both ancient and modern examples of porcelain in the color known as “Delftblue,” and in the traditional Dutch scenes and designs. To their surprise, some of theDelft pieces were pink. Mrs. Brant had told them aboutDelft blue, and they had seen examples inAmerica , but
they hadn’t known aboutDelft pink.

  Porcelain, however pretty it might be, was not one of their consuming interests, and within a half-hour they had purchased small pieces as gifts for Rick’s mother and the girls, and felt they had done their duty inDelft . They mounted the Vespas and rode off toward Route 10-E andAmsterdam . The Daffodil, with their police escort, followed at a discreet distance.

  The boys checked in again at theRegina , got their same room back, and recovered their suitcases. They ate a light lunch at a restaurant down the block, then phoned Inspector Vandiveer.

  “No more incidents?” he inquired.

  “Not since this morning,” Scotty reported.

  “Fine.Your friends in the Daffodil have gone back toThe Hague , but you now have some new friends.

  Don’t look for them or try to identify them. Forget they’re around and enjoy yourselves. Have you taken the canal tour? Seen the Rijksmuseum?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I suggest both. There are canalboats that leave every half-hour directly across from your hotel.

  Have a good time and call me if anything develops.”

  Rick had held his ear close to the receiver. He grinned as Scotty hung up. “How does it feel to be the cheese?”

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  “We’ve been bait before,” Scotty reminded him. “Still, I feel more comfortable about it, knowing that some Dutch plainclothesmen are around.”

  “Aye,” Rick agreed. But he had a feeling of suspense, as though they were waiting for something. It was almost as though he were holding his breath without actually doing so.

  On the canal across the street from the hotel were sightseeing boats, long, low motor craft with glass roofs and big windows like sightseeing buses. One boat was already partly filled. They purchased seats and watched as others got aboard. Probably at least one, and perhaps two,were police officers. It was also possible that the gang was represented, even though all passengers looked like innocent tourists.