The Unlucky Lottery

‘There’s just one detail left now,’ said Münster when deBuuijs returned. ‘You said that you keep a record of all visits received by the patients in this home. Could you please give me access to that information? I know I’m being a nuisance, but I promise to leave you in peace after this.’

‘No problem,’ said Hedda deBuuijs with her usual enthusiasm. ‘Would you like to follow me?’

They went into the reception area, where deBuuijs knocked on a little glass window. Before long she was handed two red ring binders which she passed on to the inspector.

‘Last year,’ she said. ‘If you need to go further back than that just knock on the glass window and tell one of the girls. There’s something I must see to now, if you’ll excuse me.’

‘Thank you,’ said Münster ‘These two will be fine. You have been very hospitable and of great help.’

‘No problem,’ said Hedda deBuuijs, leaving him again.

Münster sat down at a table and started thumbing through them.

Now, he thought. Now we shall see if everything falls into place. Or if it falls apart.

Five minutes later he knocked on the window and returned the files.

If somebody were to strike the right chord? he thought as he drove out of the car park. That’s what Clara Vermieten had said. It couldn’t be put any better.

‘What the hell do you mean?’ said Reinhart.

‘Don’t bother trying to comprehend what you don’t understand anyway,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Tell me the situation instead!’

‘We’re nearly there,’ said Reinhart.

‘There?’

‘Listen carefully, my dear ex-chief inspector,’ said Reinhart. ‘Münster is up north, and things are going according to plan, if not better. I spoke to him on the phone half an hour ago, and he’d unearthed evidence that points clearly in a certain direction.’

‘Go on,’ said Van Veeteren.

Reinhart sighed and explained patiently what had happened for another two or three minutes until Van Veeteren interrupted him.

‘All right, that’s enough,’ he said. ‘We’ll drive there. You can tell me the rest in the car.’

‘Drive there? What the hell . . .?’ exclaimed Reinhart, but as he did so a warning light started blinking somewhere at the back of his mind. He thought for a moment. If there was a rule he had discovered that was worth following during the chief inspector’s time – just one single rule – it was this one.

Never ask questions when Van Veeteren makes a sudden and apparently incomprehensible decision.

Reinhart had done that a few times. At first. Queried the decision. He had always been proved wrong.

‘You can pick me up outside Adenaar’s five minutes from now,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘No, four minutes. Are you with me?’

‘Yes.’ Reinhart sighed. ‘I’m with you.’

When Münster had finished his dinner at a Chinese restaurant, he sensed once again how tired he was. He drank his usual two cups of strong black coffee as an antidote, and wondered how many years it would be before he had stomach ulcers. Five? Two?

Then he settled up, and tried to concentrate on work again.

On the case. The last act was looming now. About time too: he made a mental note to the effect that he would go to Hiller and demand a week off as soon as it was all over. Or on Monday. Two weeks, come to that.

Then he phoned Maardam from the car, to put them in the picture. He spent ten minutes relating the latest developments to Heinemann, the only person available. Heinemann concluded by urging him to be extremely careful, in his usual long-winded style.

When he had finished with Heinemann, Münster informed the local police authorities. Spoke to Inspector Malinowski, who had some difficulty in catching on at first: but he eventually seemed to have grasped the situation. He promised that everything would be on stand-by by the time he heard again from Intendent Müssner.

‘Münster,’ said Münster. ‘Not Müssner.’

‘Okay,’ said Malinowski. ‘I’ve made a note.’

He started the engine and set off. It was almost six o’clock, and darkness was beginning to settle over the deserted town. A strong wind had blown up again, but there still hadn’t been a drop of rain this long Thursday.

He parked a few minutes later. Remained seated for a while, composing himself. Then he checked he had both his gun and his mobile with him, and got out of the car.

39

‘There’s a film by Tarkovsky,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘His last one. The Sacrifice. That is what this is all about.’

Reinhart nodded. Then he shook his head.

‘Enlighten me,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen it, but it was several years ago.’

‘You should see Tarkovsky’s films several times, if you have the opportunity,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘There are so many layers of meaning. You don’t remember this one?’

‘Not off the top of my head.’

‘He poses a fundamental question in that film. We could put it like this: if you meet God in a dream and make him a promise, what do you do when you wake up?’

Reinhart put his pipe into his mouth.