Into the Night: Inspector Rykel Book 2 (Amsterdam Quartet) Read Online Free PDF Page B

assaulted me.’
    ‘You let it happen.’
    ‘I thought I was there protecting him from someone else, that’s why it’s called witness protection, not guarding a suspect—’
    ‘I don’t give a fuck
what
it’s called. He was the main witness in a major trial, and you’ve just lost him.’
    Kees was looking out the window. A few clouds had formed high up and were moving fast. His head was hammering, the pulse at his temples felt like it might explode on each beat.
    Shit shit shit.
    ‘I’ve put the call out, so with any luck—’
    ‘I know you put the call out, that’s how I heard about it.’
    It was like the adrenaline had cleared his system out. He wasn’t high now.
    ‘So what do you want me to do?’
    ‘I’m dealing with a whole heap of shit today, and now I’m going to have to call ICTY and tell them
you’ve
lost their main witness.’
    Kees didn’t have anything to say to that.
    ‘Get back to the station and start doing your fucking job,’ said Smit before the line went dead.
    Modern management style
, thought Kees as he headed down the stairs and out to the canal side. He stood by a bin, overflowing with rubbish, and looked down at the canal. The breeze picked up a blue plastic bag from the top of the pile, and floated it down to the water.
    It settled on the surface.
    He’d given him some of his coke, and Isovic sat there and took it.
    He’d been played.
    Anger lashed him. He lunged at the bin, ripped it off the stake it was screwed to, and threw the whole thing back towards the building he’d been cooped up in, narrowly missing a woman cycling past.
    She looked at Kees, then turned away and carried on pedalling.
    He forced himself to think, trying to remember if there was anything that Isovic had said which might be useful.
    The file Kees had been passed before taking on the job had been thin at best, and didn’t tell him any more than Isovic had himself. He was testifying against Matkovic,who he claimed had been involved in mass rape and killings, at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, usually shortened to ICTY.
    Why did he want to escape anyway? It’s not like he was on trial.
    Kees forced himself to think. If he was Isovic, where would he go now? Try to leave the country? Or try to hide here? And why disappear anyway? It didn’t make sense.
    He did mention something about friends in Haarlem
, he thought.
Car repairs, or valeting. Some immigrant shit.
    Kees glanced at his phone. It was coming up to quarter to four. There’d be loads of businesses doing that out there, but as he headed back to the station, he realized that he didn’t have anything better to be doing.
    He signed out a patrol car – all the unmarkeds were out – and called Frits as he left, telling him he needed addresses for all car-related businesses in Haarlem. As he pulled out of Amsterdam – traffic was starting to build up so he slammed on the siren – he wondered what would happen to him if he didn’t find Isovic.
    His phone buzzed, a text message giving him a location for his collection later.
    Kees deleted it one-handed while swerving around a truck which hadn’t moved over for him.
    The collection was going to be tricky. The message he’d sent, via the woman, had not gone down well.
    I could just not go
, he thought.
    He listened to the sound of the siren for a few moments, watched the road ahead.
    Who was he kidding?
    If he didn’t turn up they’d know where to find him.
    And anyway, he seriously needed some more.

7
    Saturday, 8 May
16.18
    Total carnage.
    And that was before Jaap even got anywhere near the body itself.
    He pulled up outside a school playground in the gridded section which joined Amsterdam and its leafy southern neighbour Amstelveen to find it crawling with TV vans. Three uniforms were trying to herd the reporters back but not having much luck.
    As he parked and stepped out of the car a journalist he vaguely knew spotted him and dashed forwards, holding a furry