Terror in Amsterdam

Terror in Amsterdam

by

Wolf Wootan

©Copyright 2011, Wolf Wootan

*****

Smashwords Edition

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Foreword by the Author

This book is a sequel to Return of the Assassin, and it begins right at the same moment that Return of the Assassin ended. I realize that some of you have not read that book and those of you that have could easily not remember exactly how it ended. So here is the final page of Return of the Assassin:

* * * * *

Bar-L Ranch, Arizona

Thursday, August 3, 2006

9:04 A.M.

Syd and Hatch were sipping the last of their breakfast coffee in the air-conditioned comfort of the breakfast nook when Hatch’s pager vibrated. He looked at the display.

Hmm. Carmelo wants to talk to me. Wonder what’s up now?

He picked up his Blue Phone and called him.

Ah, Hatch. Glad you got back to me right away. Are you watching television? said Carmelo from his office in Rome.

No. Just finishing breakfast. What’s wrong now?

Some madman in Amsterdam is calling the police every hour on the hour and claiming that he has a big bomb planted somewhere in the city. If the powers that be don’t give him twenty million dollars by five P.M. tomorrow, he’s going to detonate it.

Damn! What kind of bomb? asked Hatch.

He hasn’t said, or if he has, they’re not telling the public. All I know is what I’ve seen on TV. My Interpol contacts don’t have anything yet. Everyone’s in a panic. It could be a suitcase nuke.

This sounds like something we should get involved in. Do we have any field agents in Amsterdam that can find this guy? asked Hatch.

Unfortunately, no. I could dispatch the Lexus strike force, but this is really not their kind of thing. We need someone on the ground who can track his phone, find him, and neutralize the situation quickly.

Hatch smiled. I have just the solution. I’ll get back to you.

He disconnected and told Syd what was going on.

My God! What can we do? she asked.

We have the perfect team already in place. I’ll call them now.

Who?

Proctor and Croft.

They’re not available! Proctor’s back in retirement and Mel’s on extended R & R. She’s not sure if she wants to do this kind of work anymore.

They have to be available. This is an international emergency. It’ll only take them a few hours to take care of this, then they can go back to their love nest.

He opened his Blue Phone.

* * * * *

Now start Chapter 1 of the sequel, Terror in Amsterdam. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

Proctor’s House, Amsterdam, Holland, Netherlands

Thursday, August 3, 2006

6:10 P.M.

Melanie Croft was taking a sip of her favorite Merlot when her high-tech satellite phone—referred to by the few who had them as the Blue Phone —started ringing. She was so startled that she spilled some of her wine on her white tank top. She put the glass down on the table, swiped at her wine-soaked breasts with a napkin, and stared down at the purse by her right foot.

Proctor said, I thought you turned that damned thing off.

I did.

Obviously not.

Don’t call me a liar. This phone can be forced to activate if the right override codes are sent from the satellite.

My apologies. I guess I’ve never learned all the things that thing can do. And don’t tell me—Hatch knows those codes?

"Of course. Actually, so does Syd Lincoln and Marty Winsocki, the CEO of Lincoln Industries. But it’s probably Hatch."

I told him to leave us alone. You’re on vacation.

I am still on his payroll. He’s paying me quite well while we screw around here and enjoy ourselves.

Well, I’m not on his payroll.

He wouldn’t dare call you.

The phone kept ringing. She was sitting at the round table on the covered veranda at Proctor’s house with Proctor and Reggie. They were having cocktails and broiled sate with peanut butter dipping sauce as an appetizer. She had a bamboo skewer with four chunks of meat on it sizzling on the hibachi in the middle of the table. She removed it and put it on her plate so it wouldn’t overcook.

She said finally, It has to be an emergency. Maybe something has happened to my parents.

Don’t answer it. If it were your parents, someone in the CIA would call you. I’m sure they have your number in your father’s file for emergencies.

But my phone’s been off. They wouldn’t be able to reach me.

The phone in her purse started talking. Mel, answer the phone. This is an emergency.

Mel said, He’s activated the speaker phone. That’s Hatch all right. I’ve got to answer it.

Proctor shrugged. You should have thrown that friggin’ phone in the ocean while we were on Marken Island. This means nothing but trouble.

Mel retrieved the phone from her bag and spoke.

Yes, Hatch. What’s going on? Are my parents . . .

Hatch interrupted. Your parents are fine. This is about something else. A world-wide catastrophe is about to happen. Haven’t you been watching TV?

No. We’ve just returned from a short vacation and watching TV wasn’t even on our agenda. And Reggie never watches it. What catastrophe?

The speaker phone was still on and she observed that Proctor and Reggie were listening with interest now.

Some terrorist—or maybe just a madman—has been calling the authorities there in Amsterdam every hour on the hour and saying that he has a bomb planted somewhere in the city. He says he will set it off if they don’t give him $20,000,000 in U.S. currency by five P.M. your time tomorrow. He has to be stopped. It could be a suitcase nuke. Nobody seems to know. Or if they do, they’re not putting it on TV and my sources are still digging into it. There’s already an exodus out of Amsterdam.

Oh my God!

Proctor spoke up. Can’t you handle this without Croft? You’ve got hundreds of people at your beck and call with more experience than she has.

The time frame is too short. I can’t get the right people there for at least ten or twelve hours. We don’t have that much time to waste. Mel can find this guy quickly if he keeps calling every hour. She can lock onto his GPS and go get him.

Proctor spat out, Christ, Hatch, you are one miserable SOB. You know I won’t let her go do that alone. You’re trying to suck me in to your affairs again.

Aren’t you interested in the fact that some asshole is about to blow up your city?

"It’s not my city. It’s just my current hidey-hole. I think Croft, Reggie and I should join that exodus out of town. Let the Dutch AIVD handle it. Domestic intelligence and security is in their domain and they’re not complete imbeciles. Europol is headquartered just down the road in The Hague and they’re supposed to be the intelligence branch for the entire EU. And I’ll bet that Interpol already has their anti-terrorist crew in town. If that collection of talent can’t take care of this, what can they do?"

This may be too big and too fast for them. They don’t have the same equipment that we do. You can’t keep running, Proctor. Sometimes you have to stay and make a stand.

I’ve stood my ground way too many times in my life and you know it. But I don’t carry the troubles of the world on my back. That’s your self-appointed job.

Mel said, Stop it, Proctor. This is serious and I have to try and stop this guy. You do whatever you have to do.

Hatch said, While I’m talking to you, Mel, Syd is on another phone talking to our head satellite comm guy, Ty Grandville, and he’ll set things up to monitor cell phone frequencies there so the satellite system can catch this guy’s next call, which should be seven o’clock your time. That should save you some time. He’ll send the info to your phone as soon as he has it.

Mel took a sip of what was left of her wine and lit a cigarette. Her nerves were jangling.

What do I do when I find this creep? Take him out?

No, no. We have to find out where the bomb is—if there really is one—and how he plans to detonate it. We have to neutralize the bomb, so you have to take him alive. I’ll dispatch Carmelo Cifelli from Rome as soon as I hang up. If you catch this guy, sit on him till Carmelo gets there. He knows how to make a person spill his guts.

She glanced at Proctor, remembering how quickly he got the Italian assassin broker to tell them what they needed to know. So does Proctor.

But it seems that he has opted out of this. Carmelo will probably be there by the time you pin this guy down. Keep your phone on. I’ll get back to you.

Mel disconnected the call and finished off the dregs of her wine. I’m going to change my shirt. Pour me another Merlot please. I’ll be right back.

* * * * *

After she was gone, Reggie said, She’s as nervous as a cat that has used up eight of its nine lives. Are you going to be a bloody fool and let her do this alone?

I don’t want her to do it at all, but she’ll not listen to me. The safest thing to do is get out of town and let Europol and the AIVD handle it.

Safest for whom? What about the people who can be killed if this arsehole sets off a sodding nuke? I for one wouldn’t like that, especially if I did nothing to try and stop it. I’ll go with her on this one and watch her back. You do whatever you want to do.

Reggie got up and went to the wet bar and poured himself another two fingers of gin, then poured Mel another glass of smooth Merlot. Proctor lit a filtered English cigarette, blew smoke at the ceiling. Reggie paced around the table, sipping his gin.

Reginald Reggie Roderick had been a staff sergeant in the vaunted British SAS (Special Air Services) before he resigned to become a soldier of fortune. The lure of the big money was just too great. He met Proctor—who at that time was Philip Brown, ex-Army-Special-Ops officer, also a mercenary—in one of the civil unrests going on in Africa some years ago. When Reggie was severely wounded, they both quit that business and Proctor became an international assassin for hire to support the two of them. He found it to be more lucrative and less dangerous. They had been together ever since. When Proctor had amassed a small fortune, he retired from his work in the nether world of high-priced assassins and immersed himself into his cover story, that of a respected Dutch art dealer, Filip van Dijk, in Amsterdam. He owned the Van Dijk Gallery in the art district and played his part to perfection like the chameleon he was. Then Melanie Croft entered their world and changed everything, especially for Proctor. He had violated a longstanding principle not to get personally involved with a woman. It was dangerous to the life of an assassin, but he was unable to let her go.

Proctor stroked his goatee. Actually, I like that. Then I can lurk around watching the two of you and she’ll never know.

Why don’t you just tell her you’ll bloody go with her on this?

Then she’ll always expect it. I can’t be the one giving in to her whims all the time.

You’re acting like a bloody, pouting teenaged schoolboy. This is not a whim. She feels strongly about this, and so do I. My back doesn’t need watching. Just get your arse out of town and we’ll take care of this.

I’ll be out there somewhere. Just be careful and don’t shoot me. You’ll be amazed at what she can do with that damned phone. Don’t doubt her on that. If you let her get hurt though, you and I will have a face-off.

She won’t get hurt on my watch. That’s more than I can say for the last time you were in charge of her welfare.

Mel entered the room and sat back down at the table. She had changed into a clean, green T-shirt.

What are you two arguing about? This is my problem and my decision and I don’t want it breaking up your long friendship.

Proctor grumbled, It just pisses me off that Hatch is taking advantage of you. He promised you some R & R after we nailed those assassins that were after him.

Look, Proctor, you joined me on that job because you owed him a debt of honor. Well, so do I. He gave me a year of training with all food, housing, and clothing thrown in. I haven’t come close to paying him back for that. I have a debt of honor, too.

That’s not a debt of honor, that’s a debt of money. He saved my life once. That’s a debt of honor. How much do you think you owe him? Let me pay him off and you’ll be free of him.

Melanie jumped to her feet, bent over, and put her face two inches from Proctor’s. How dare you insult me like that? Just because our relationship includes shagging now doesn’t mean you can treat me so shabbily. I came back to Amsterdam with you to see if we had a chance as a couple, and right now you are not improving the odds of that happening. You think only macho men get to define what honor is. I have a sense of honor as strong as any man’s and you’ll not demean me for that just because you don’t agree with me.

She sat back down and relit her cigarette, which had died in the ashtray. Then she took a large gulp of wine. Proctor smiled and took a drag off his cigarette.

I see we have a major snit in progress here.

Well, you are a major snit provoker at times.

Again, I apologize. I’m taking my anger at Hatch out on you. But I’ll not let the illustrious Hatch Lincoln have his way on this by assuming I’ll get involved. He could have called me and asked me to do it.

Now who’s in a snit? Did you get your liddle-widdle feelings hurt?

Reggie spoke up. Never you mind, Mel. I’m going with you on this one. This sod can sit here and sulk for all I care. Let me turn on the telly and see what’s going on.

Thank you, Reggie, but I have Cifelli coming in for backup.

Who knows when he can get here? He’s coming in from Rome, right? I’ll be with you till he gets here. Longer if necessary.

I appreciate that. A real man watching my back. Not a snittish one.

Proctor scowled and sucked on his English cigarette, then exhaled at Croft.

Reggie stood and strode over to the TV and switched it on. He grabbed the remote and went back to his chair. They watched in silence for a bit. The traffic jams were horrendous as all main arteries were clogged with people trying to get out of town. The police were over-taxed in their efforts to control things. The talking heads were pleading with their listeners to be calm. They said the Prime Minister would address the nation soon.

Proctor said, I guess there’s no way to leave at the moment. They’ll have to bring in the military to straighten this mess out.

Mel looked at her watch. It’s a quarter to seven. I’m going to set up my laptop so I’ll be ready when Ty Grandville calls me.

She got up and went to Proctor’s bedroom where all of her things were. She took the computer out of its case and went back to the veranda. She put it on an end table. She powered it up and connected to one of Lincoln Communications’ satellites, then sent a short system message to Grandville telling him she was standing by.

Reggie said, I think I’d better check my weapon. I haven’t used it in awhile. Do you want to go armed, Mel?

Yes. But I’m worried. How do we get through all this police activity with weapons?

Proctor said,