5 A Very Murdering Battle (9 page)

A stranger to the city, Welbeck was nevertheless aware that they were now moving into one of its less salubrious districts. They passed rowdy taverns and groups of men lounging on street corners. Stray dogs were roaming. The quality of the housing declined. Pienaar eventually stopped outside a house and looked in both directions before knocking on the front door. Confident that he hadn’t been seen, Welbeck took up a position on the opposite side of the road. He was unsure what to do. He certainly had no inclination to wait indefinitely on such a raw evening. If he was visiting relatives, Pienaar might even stay the night. Yet it didn’t seem to be the sort of place where such a respectable and fastidious man would care to spend time. Buildings nearby were almost ramshackle and there was a faint hint of danger in the air. Welbeck was persuaded to linger where he was.

His patience was rewarded. Twenty minutes later, the door of the house opened and two people appeared. A man embraced a woman and kissed her full on the lips before rolling drunkenly down the street and singing to himself. After waving to him, the woman closed the door. There’d been enough candlelight for Welbeck to get a good look at her. He’d seen enough. It was time to go.

Amalia was surprised to see a light under the door of the workshop. Her father had finished work for the day, Dopff had gone off to his room and, she assumed, the other assistants had gone home. When she opened the door and peeped in, she saw that Geel was still there, brooding beside his loom. The sudden noise brought him out of his reverie.

‘Oh!’ he exclaimed, turning round. ‘You surprised me.’

‘What are you doing, Nick?’

‘This and that …’

‘I thought you’d left over an hour ago.’

‘No, no, I had some work to finish and some thinking to do.’

Amalia backed away. ‘Then I won’t disturb you.’

‘Please don’t leave,’ he said, going across to her. ‘I need to share my thoughts with someone. I can’t keep them bottled up.’

‘Whatever they are,’ she said, noting the anxiety in his face and voice, ‘they’re obviously troubling you.’

He bit his lip. ‘They’ve kept me awake night after night.’

‘Why is that?’

Her sympathetic smile encouraged him. He couldn’t bring himself to confide in Janssen and Pienaar was unapproachable. Doff, too, was not a person to whom he could turn. Amalia, however, was the ideal person. Simply to be alone with her was a thrill for him. To be able to engage her interest was an added bonus.

‘I keep wondering if I was to blame,’ he confessed.

‘For the theft, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘What possible grounds do you have for saying that?’

‘I don’t know, Miss Amalia, but … I have this feeling of guilt.’

‘We all have that,’ she told him. ‘I feel guilty that I didn’t wake up that night when thieves broke in here and stole the tapestry.’

‘Thank goodness you didn’t! They’d be far too dangerous to confront. My fear,’ he went on, ‘is that I somehow helped them. I can’t honestly think of a time when I spoke about my work here but I can be boastful. I do blurt things out without really meaning to. Did I drink too much one night and say something that I shouldn’t have said? Did I accidentally betray your father?’

‘You didn’t do it accidentally or deliberately.’

‘How can you say that?’

‘I
know
you, Nick,’ she reminded him. ‘Over the years, I saw you change from a keen, young apprentice into an expert weaver. You love working here and would never do anything remotely disloyal.’

He was heartened. ‘Do you believe that, Miss Amalia?’

‘Yes, I do. Father would say the same about you.’

‘Then why do I have this lurking sense of blame?’

‘I can’t answer that. In my opinion, your conscience should be clear. Daniel questioned you and found no reason whatsoever to suspect you.’

He grimaced. ‘It was Captain Rawson who first planted the seed of doubt in my mind. Until then I’d never even considered that I might have been the culprit. I wouldn’t have you think that it happens very often, Amalia,’ he added, keen to avoid her disapproval. ‘In fact, in the last few months, there’s only been the one occasion when I might have had too much to drink. I’m quite abstemious, as a rule.’

She could see how distressed he was. Having known him for so long, however, she couldn’t believe he’d be indiscreet about his work to anyone. Had he been likely to boast about what he did, he’d have done so years before now and, if the information had got into the wrong hands, they might have had valuable tapestries stolen much earlier. Aware of his shortcomings, she knew that they were greatly outnumbered by Geel’s many virtues. Introspection had turned him into a nervous and penitent young man. He needed reassurance.

‘Go home, Nick,’ she said, putting a comforting hand on his arm.

‘Yes, I will.’

‘And stop worrying – you weren’t to blame.’

‘No,’ he said, gratefully. ‘Thanks to you, I don’t need to accuse myself.’

He beamed at her. Amalia had offered him friendship and affection. It was a moment that he’d cherish. When he set off for home, he was sustained by a feeling of exhilaration. The woman on whom he doted had attested his innocence. In convincing him that he was no longer a possible culprit, however, Amalia had raised an obvious question. If Geel didn’t alert thieves to the whereabouts of the tapestry, then who
did
?

Daniel didn’t believe in delay. As soon as he heard Welbeck’s report, he set off into the night with his friend. Surprised to hear that Pienaar had visited a brothel, he was quick to see it as a potential place of betrayal, albeit inadvertent. Welbeck had memorised the way carefully. Having got lost on an earlier expedition, he’d taken care to note every turn that he’d made as he’d followed Pienaar. They pursued the same route until they came to the house that the man had entered. Given the amount of time it had taken for Welbeck to go back to the Janssen home, and to make a return journey with Daniel, it was felt unlikely that Pienaar was still inside the brothel. They could therefore approach it without any fear of meeting him there. Welbeck was quite certain that it was a disorderly house. He’d rousted enough lustful young soldiers out of brothels in his time. It had only served to intensify his dislike and distrust of the female sex.

On this occasion, he was happy to leave it to Daniel to enter the premises. Welbeck stayed close to the house in case his friend needed to call for assistance. Daniel knocked on the door and waited until it was opened by a fleshy woman in her fifties daubed in powder and giving off a powerful aroma of perfume. When she saw her visitor by the light of the candelabra she held, her lips parted to reveal a row of uneven teeth. She gave a low, throaty chuckle. Daniel was evidently much younger and more handsome than her usual clients.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ she asked, running an appreciative eye over him.

‘I came on the recommendation of a friend,’ he told her.

‘Oh – and who might that be?’

‘Aelbert Pienaar.’

‘Ah, yes,’ she said. ‘Dear, dear Aelbert – he comes here once a week. In fact, it’s not long since he left, but he probably warned you that he’d be here today.’ She stood back to let him step into the hall and closed the door behind him. ‘He comes to see Gerda – always Gerda. Nobody else will do.’

As he looked around the dingy interior with its fading walls, tattered carpet and abiding smell of damp, Daniel didn’t condemn Pienaar. If the man was driven by grief and loneliness to seek comfort in the arms of a woman, he deserved pity rather than censure. All that Daniel was there to establish was whether or not Pienaar had been drawn into revealing confidential information. The madame of the brothel was still feasting her gaze on him. Her smile broadened into a grotesquely frank grin. As he nodded back at her, he was aware that they were not alone. Lurking at the far end of the hall was the hulking figure of a man. A gesture from the woman dismissed him and he slunk off into a room. At a glance she’d decided that she needed no protection from her latest client.

‘We have several ladies to choose from,’ she said, sidling closer. ‘All of them are skilled at satisfying your every desire. There is Anneka, Brigitte, Magdalena …’

‘Gerda,’ said Daniel. ‘I’d like to see Gerda.’

She was surprised. ‘Gerda is very popular this evening.’

‘Is she available?’

‘At a price – she does not give her favours away.’

Daniel paid the amount requested. He was then ushered up the staircase and along a passageway. They stopped outside a door. The woman knocked, opened the door and went in alone. Seconds later, she emerged to tell Daniel that he could enter. Gerda would be happy to accommodate him. When he went into the room, he closed the door behind him. The odour of perfume was almost overwhelming and helped to hide the stink of damp. There was a fire in the grate but the room still felt cold. Gerda was seated on the edge of the bed in a provocative pose. Daniel could see why the woman had been surprised at his choice. Gerda was at least fifteen years older than him, a thin, raddled, angular woman with the remains of a youthful prettiness all but obliterated. Candles were artfully arranged so that too much light didn’t fall on her. She wore a taffeta dress that exposed her arms and dipped at the front to display most of her wrinkled bosom.

There had to be much younger and more appealing prostitutes in the house. It seemed strange to Daniel that Pienaar had selected this particular one. There was nothing alluring about her.

‘What is your wish, good sir?’ she asked.

‘I’d like to talk to you, Gerda,’ he replied.

She was disappointed. ‘We can do that afterwards.’

‘I understand that Aelbert Pienaar is one of your regular clients.’

‘Yes, Aelbert comes here every Friday. Why do you ask?’

‘He told me how much he enjoyed his visits here.’

‘He enjoys them more than I do,’ she said, tartly. ‘All that Aelbert wants to do is to talk. In the months that he’s been coming here, he’s never laid a finger on me.’ She gave him an open-mouthed smile. ‘I can see that you’re much more of a man than he is. You want what you paid for, don’t you, sir?’

‘Tell me about Aelbert first.’

She frowned. ‘Why bother about him when we have each other?’

‘Why does he always come to
you
?’

She sighed. ‘I’m the only one with the patience to listen to him.’

‘There must be another reason.’

‘There is,’ she said, rising to her feet and coming to stand close to him. ‘Take your pleasure first and I’ll tell you what that reason is.’

When she reached out for him, Daniel caught her wrists and held them.

‘Tell me now,’ he insisted. ‘Why does Aelbert spurn everyone else? What is it about you that brings him here every Friday?’

‘It’s sheer accident,’ she said with a shrug.

‘Go on.’

‘He says that I remind him of his dead wife.’

Daniel didn’t stay there for much longer. Less than ten minutes after he’d arrived, he left by the front door. Welbeck was waiting for him outside. On the way to Pienaar’s house, Daniel gave his friend details of what he’d learnt in the brothel. Welbeck reached an immediate conclusion.

‘I think she teased the information out of him,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘She’s not that cunning. It’s far more likely to have come from him. Gerda simply let him do the talking and he rambled on. It was as if Aelbert Pienaar was sitting at home with his wife.’

‘I can’t believe that his wife worked in a dreadful place like that.’

‘I’m sure that she didn’t, Henry. There was a resemblance between the two women, that’s all. Or, at least, that’s what Pienaar thought. In the subdued lighting, he’d never have been able to see Gerda properly. He
needed
her to be his wife and that’s what she became.’

Welbeck snorted. ‘It must have been a strange kind of marriage.’

‘You’re wrong. It was a loving union. They were very close.’

‘Then why betray his wife’s memory by visiting a bawdy house?’

‘In his view,’ said Daniel, ‘that wasn’t what he was doing.’

Their footsteps eventually took them into a more prosperous district with better houses and cleaner streets. Nobody lingered in the gloom. They felt quite safe being abroad at night. It was Welbeck’s third visit to the Pienaar residence. This time at least, he told himself, he’d be able to go inside it. That assumption was thrown very much in doubt when a servant opened the door. As soon as Daniel gave his name, Pienaar hurtled out of the parlour and demanded to be left alone. He was fuming. If Welbeck hadn’t put his foot in the way, the door would have been slammed in their faces. It was Daniel who produced the key that gained them entry.

‘We’ve just come from Gerda,’ he said, pointedly.

Pienaar was speechless. His cheeks paled and his eyes were pools of remorse and embarrassment. He rocked unsteadily on his feet. All the anger drained out of him. He looked so pathetic and defenceless that even Welbeck felt sorry for the man. Daniel suggested that they should continue their discussion inside the house and Pienaar agreed, stepping back to admit them. Once in the parlour, he more or less collapsed into his chair. His visitors sat opposite him. Since he had an uncertain grasp on the Dutch language, Welbeck let Daniel do the talking.

‘Let me begin by introducing Sergeant Welbeck,’ said Daniel, indicating his companion. ‘Because he was a stranger to you, I asked him to follow you after work. This is the third evening he did so. You’ll know what he found.’

Pienaar could barely manage a nod. He was writhing with humiliation. The most secret and sensitive part of his life had been exposed to public view. Daniel explained that he’d met Gerda and learnt why Pienaar had been making a weekly visit to the house. He asked how he’d met the woman in the first place. It was minutes before Pienaar was able to summon up an answer. Face taut and hands clasped together, he spoke in a low, apologetic voice.

‘Please don’t judge me harshly,’ he began. ‘I can guess what you must have thought when you saw that house. It’s not the sort of place I ever dreamt of visiting. I was happily married. I never sought or needed what they offered there. To be honest, I wouldn’t even have known where to find such an establishment.’

Daniel believed him. Pienaar might be highly competent as a weaver but there was something unworldly about him. He was a deeply religious man brought up to respect the sanctity of marriage. He had a blend of maturity and innocence that regular visits to a brothel had somehow failed to dispel. Until they’d knocked on his door, he’d persuaded himself that what he was doing was harmless. Now he was squirming with guilt A reassuring weekly event in his life had suddenly been turned into something unwholesome and despicable. The pain was almost unbearable.

‘I met her in the street,’ he said, eyes on the floor. ‘It was a complete accident, I swear it. I thought it was her, you see. When she walked along the pavement towards me, I really did think for a second that it was my dear wife.’

‘Did you speak to her?’ asked Daniel.

‘No, I was too overwhelmed to say anything. But she spoke. I was staring at her so hard that she could see she’d aroused my interest. She told me her name was Gerda. I didn’t realise at the time what she did for a living, of course. Had I done so,’ Pienaar insisted, ‘I’d have walked away in disgust.’

‘But you didn’t,’ said Daniel. ‘She engaged you in conversation. It’s what women like that do. They can be very ingratiating.’

‘She was so friendly and so like my Johanna. I was spellbound.’

Gerda had failed to cast any spell on Daniel. He’d seen her in her true colours. As he recalled her gaunt features and skeletal frame, he decided that Pienaar’s wife must have died of consumption or a similar wasting disease. It would have eaten away at her and left her as decayed and fragile as Gerda. Daniel didn’t want to upset the man further by pressing for details of his wife’s death. The point was that a chance resemblance had hooked Aelbert Pienaar. It was enough to entice him to a brothel, although, Daniel surmised, Pienaar wouldn’t have understood the true nature of what went on there at first. By the time that he did, the pleasure of being with Gerda outweighed his natural revulsion. She was the one person able to soften his bereavement.

‘I won’t ever go there again,’ asserted Pienaar. ‘I promise you that.’

‘I’m more interested in the visits you’ve already made there,’ said Daniel. ‘Did you – in the course of your conversations with Gerda – ever mention anything about your work?’

‘I don’t think so, Captain Rawson.’

‘Does that mean you don’t remember?’

‘We just talked. That’s to say, I came home to my Johanna and told her what sort of a day I’d experienced. There’s nothing wrong in that, is there?’

‘That depends who was listening.’

‘Johanna – Gerda, that is – was the only person there.’

‘She may have been the only person in the room,’ said Daniel, ‘but I suspect that someone may have been listening outside the door. Did you, for instance, ever notice a man lurking in the background?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Who let you into the house?’

‘It was Gerda. I always arrived at the same time on a Friday. She’d be waiting for me and took me straight to her room. There was another woman there but, when I paid her, she left us alone.’ Pienaar pondered. ‘I may have made a casual remark about my work, I suppose,’ he admitted at length, ‘but I don’t recall doing so. I have confided things to Johanna in the past because I trusted her implicitly. She’d never breathe a word of what I said to her.’

‘But you weren’t talking to your wife.’ Daniel reminded him. ‘The woman listening to you was Gerda. In return for money, she gave you what you wanted from her and that was companionship.’

Pienaar was earnest. ‘It was, Captain Rawson. That’s
all
it was.’

‘What’s he saying, Dan?’ asked Welbeck.

‘He can’t be certain,’ said Daniel, speaking in English for his friend’s benefit. ‘He
might
have mentioned the tapestry in an unguarded moment. My guess is that when he starts talking to Gerda, he isn’t sure what he says. He’s so desperate for the intimacy of a marriage that the words just tumble out.’

‘Men always leave their brains outside when they step into a brothel.’

Daniel smiled. ‘Fortunately, I didn’t.’

‘There was one strange thing,’ said Pienaar, searching his memory. ‘It must have been weeks ago now.’

‘Go on,’ encouraged Daniel.

‘Well, when I arrived there one evening, Johanna asked me how far I’d had to come. My wife knows. Why did she want the address?’

‘Did you give it to her?’

A hunted look came into Pienaar’s eye. ‘I must have,’ he said, putting his hands to his head in a gesture of despair. ‘How stupid of me!’ he exclaimed. ‘I betrayed my master. It’s my fault that the tapestry was stolen. I’ll never be forgiven for that. Emanuel will dismiss me.’

When Pienaar burst into tears, Welbeck needed no translation. He exchanged a knowing glance with Daniel who put an arm around the distraught weaver.

‘There’s no reason why Emanuel should ever know about this,’ said Daniel, soothingly. ‘He won’t blame you – especially if you help us to catch these men and reclaim the tapestry.
Will
you help us, Aelbert?’

Pienaar looked up hopelessly. ‘What can
I
do?’

Work had enlivened Emanuel Janssen. When he was at his loom, he could block out any horrible thoughts and concentrate on the job that he loved. Once he finished work, however, doubts and fears rushed in again and made his shoulders sag. As he sat in the parlour of his house, he looked sick and careworn. Amalia was troubled.

‘You should go to bed, Father,’ she said.

‘I feel much better now.’

‘You look ill. There’s no point in forcing yourself to stay up.’

‘I want to hear if they found anything out.’

‘Daniel will come up to your room to tell you.’

‘I’m staying here, Amalia.’

‘Have you taken your medicine?’

‘No – it only makes me feel drowsy.’

‘You need your sleep.’

Janssen was determined. ‘I want to stay down here,’ he said. ‘I want to know what’s going on.’

Amalia could see that her advice was in vain. Nothing could make her father rest. If he went to bed, all that he did was to brood on the situation. Being with her at least gave him some moral support. Distressed at the theft of the tapestry, she was far more concerned about its effect on him. It was an open wound that was still bleeding. The only consolation was that Daniel was staying with them. His presence gave them a chance of recovering the tapestry. Had he been hundreds of miles away on a battlefield, they’d never have been able to survive the crisis. Its impact on Janssen would’ve been far worse, even fatal. Amalia shuddered at the thought.

‘Where have they gone?’ asked Janssen.

‘I’ve no idea, Father,’ she replied.

‘Sergeant Welbeck worries me.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure. How well do you know him?’

‘Not very well – but Daniel has the highest opinion of him.’

‘The fellow always looks so uncomfortable.’

‘He’s a soldier. He’s used to life in camp.’

‘He creeps around the house as if he’s imprisoned here.’

‘That’s just his way.’

‘I’d love to know where he is now.’

Amalia sat up as she heard the front door open. ‘That could be them now,’ she said, hopefully. After a few seconds, the door was shut again and locked. ‘No, I’m afraid that it wasn’t.’

There was a tap on the parlour door and Beatrix entered the room.

‘This came for you, sir,’ she said, handing a letter to Janssen. ‘When I saw it being slipped under the door, I tried to catch the person who delivered it but I was too late. All I saw in the street was a boy running away.’

‘Thank you for trying,’ said Amalia. She turned to her father who was reading the letter. ‘Is it from them?’ He nodded. ‘What do they say?’

‘They want their money within two days,’ he told her. ‘I have to reply to them on behalf of myself and His Grace, the Duke of Marlborough.’

‘How do you get in touch with them?’

‘They mention a place where a letter can be left tomorrow. There’s a warning,’ he added. ‘If anyone tries to follow me when I deliver my reply, they’ll destroy the tapestry. In other words, they’ll be watching, Amalia. There’s nothing we can do.’

‘Daniel will think of something.’

‘You’ve been saying that for days.’

‘Don’t lose faith in him, Father.’

Janssen was agitated. ‘I have the greatest respect for the captain,’ he said, running a nervous hand through his hair, ‘but even he can’t help us this time. He has absolutely no idea who these people are.’

The burly man with the fringe beard let himself into the tavern and peered through the fug. His friend was seated alone at a table. After buying a drink, the newcomer joined him. Frans Tulp gave him a nod of welcome. Tulp was a small, slight ferret of a man with a pointed snout and oily hair slicked back over his head to reach his shoulders. His eyes were always on the move in self-defence. Jan Dekker, by contrast, half Tulp’s age and twice his size, had a strong man’s fearlessness. Nobody would dare to attack someone of his bulk. He took a long slurp of his beer.

‘Did you deliver the letter?’ he asked.

‘I paid a lad to do that.’

‘When do we get a reply?’

‘Tomorrow,’ said Tulp.

‘What if they refuse to pay up?’

‘There’s no danger of that happening.’

‘You never know, Frans.’

‘They want that tapestry back. They’ll be dying to pay. All we have to do is to share the money between the three of us.’

‘What about Hendrika?’

‘What about her?’

‘She first heard about Emanuel Janssen.’

‘But
you
were the one who hid in Gerda’s room after that. Without the details that you picked up from that fool, we’d have got nowhere.’

‘Hendrika deserves something.’

Tulp smirked. ‘Then spend the night with her.’

‘She’s too old for me. She’s more your age, Frans.’

‘I like my women fresher than Hendrika. Forget her. She’s happy enough running the house. When we’ve got our money, we’ll quit Amsterdam altogether and leave her to it.’

Dekker had scruples. ‘That’d be unfair.’

‘Fairness doesn’t matter. We stole that tapestry – you, me and Teunis. We should get the reward.’

‘I might give Hendrika a gift of some kind.’

‘That’s your business. The old sow will get nothing from me.’

Tulp was a hard man. He’d planned the crime and therefore expected to get a larger share of the ransom. Neither Dekker nor the other accomplice argued about that. Tulp was their acknowledged leader. He was more artful and intelligent than either of them. All that they could provide was physical energy. It was Tulp who supplied control and direction. Thanks to him, they had a chance to make a fortune.