gave it to Haas. He said Ollie knew the ropes out there and we didn’t.’
‘Can we pick it up now?’ Bakker wondered. ‘Do we have the right to barge in? I mean—’
Vos’s desk phone rang. He took the call and listened.
The other two watched, sensing something from his manner.
The conversation lasted a minute, no more. Vos put down the phone, thought for a moment, then said, ‘Mia and Kim Timmers were allowed out of a secure institution in Marken yesterday on
some kind of . . .parole or something. They never turned up at the halfway house where they were supposed to stay. The male nurse who was driving them is missing. Perhaps with them. Perhaps
not.’
‘Yesterday?’ Bakker cut in. ‘What time yesterday?’
‘About half past five. Not long after we got that phone call.’
‘Those kids have to be high-security detainees,’ Van der Berg said. ‘They’ve been missing nearly eighteen hours and they tell us now?’
Vos got his jacket. He’d have to call the bar and ask Sofia Albers to look after Sam for longer than usual.
‘The institution said they wanted to make sure. They have to inform us when prisoners abscond. This is our case now. Laura?’
She leapt to her feet, grabbed her phone, her bag.
‘Get someone here to deal with chasing that phone call. I need a car.’
‘You mean
we
need a car?’
‘We need a car,’ he agreed. ‘Dirk can drive.’
Her big eyes widened.
‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘Nothing. But Dirk knows the way.’
13
Twenty minutes later they were in an unmarked police saloon, Van der Berg at the wheel, Vos and Bakker in the rear, going through the suburbs on the way out to Waterland. She
was a country girl, Vos said. She ought to feel at home with the people there.
‘At home?’ Bakker wondered.
‘What he means,’ Van der Berg suggested from the front, ‘is they might open up to you in a way they won’t with us. These places aren’t like Amsterdam. They’ve
got their own way of living. And talking, too.’
‘And because I come from the country I’m supposed to . . . empathize with them?’
‘That would be helpful,’ Vos added. ‘Dirk’s right. It’s never easy when you come out here. They keep everything to themselves. Perhaps . . .’
He stopped. A sudden idea had struck him. What if Marnixstraat had been called into the Timmers case in the first place precisely because someone knew they’d struggle in the foreign,
hostile environment of Volendam?
‘Perhaps what?’ Bakker asked.
‘Perhaps nothing.’
At Broek they left the main road and travelled east into Waterland, not more than a kilometre from the narrow channel where the Kok brothers laboured over a yellow SEAT nose down in thickly
weeded water. Then they rejoined the main road to Marken along the margin of the dyke and finally drove onto the causeway that linked the island to the mainland.
A breeze kicked up sending a couple of gulls scuttling into the bright blue sky. There were yachts bent over in the wind on the lake. Across the water sat Volendam. To its right their
destination, a ragged skyline of rooftops set on what was once so obviously an island.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Laura Bakker said with a smile. ‘I never knew there was anywhere like this so close to the city.’ She clapped her hands then let down her long red
hair. ‘We could cycle here one day.’
Van der Berg’s eyes widened. In the driver’s mirror he looked terrified.
‘One day,’ Vos agreed.
They navigated the winding streets of Marken as Bakker laughed at the cute wooden houses. Then they found the single-track lane to the institution and came up to the security gate by the wooded
entrance. Two minutes later they were in Henk Veerman’s office watching the TV news. The disappearance of Mia and Kim Timmers was the lead item.
‘Who released this?’ Vos asked.
‘Not us,’ Veerman replied. ‘Why would we?’
‘You didn’t tell us for eighteen hours that two dangerous prisoners were
‘Can we pick it up now?’ Bakker wondered. ‘Do we have the right to barge in? I mean—’
Vos’s desk phone rang. He took the call and listened.
The other two watched, sensing something from his manner.
The conversation lasted a minute, no more. Vos put down the phone, thought for a moment, then said, ‘Mia and Kim Timmers were allowed out of a secure institution in Marken yesterday on
some kind of . . .parole or something. They never turned up at the halfway house where they were supposed to stay. The male nurse who was driving them is missing. Perhaps with them. Perhaps
not.’
‘Yesterday?’ Bakker cut in. ‘What time yesterday?’
‘About half past five. Not long after we got that phone call.’
‘Those kids have to be high-security detainees,’ Van der Berg said. ‘They’ve been missing nearly eighteen hours and they tell us now?’
Vos got his jacket. He’d have to call the bar and ask Sofia Albers to look after Sam for longer than usual.
‘The institution said they wanted to make sure. They have to inform us when prisoners abscond. This is our case now. Laura?’
She leapt to her feet, grabbed her phone, her bag.
‘Get someone here to deal with chasing that phone call. I need a car.’
‘You mean
we
need a car?’
‘We need a car,’ he agreed. ‘Dirk can drive.’
Her big eyes widened.
‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘Nothing. But Dirk knows the way.’
13
Twenty minutes later they were in an unmarked police saloon, Van der Berg at the wheel, Vos and Bakker in the rear, going through the suburbs on the way out to Waterland. She
was a country girl, Vos said. She ought to feel at home with the people there.
‘At home?’ Bakker wondered.
‘What he means,’ Van der Berg suggested from the front, ‘is they might open up to you in a way they won’t with us. These places aren’t like Amsterdam. They’ve
got their own way of living. And talking, too.’
‘And because I come from the country I’m supposed to . . . empathize with them?’
‘That would be helpful,’ Vos added. ‘Dirk’s right. It’s never easy when you come out here. They keep everything to themselves. Perhaps . . .’
He stopped. A sudden idea had struck him. What if Marnixstraat had been called into the Timmers case in the first place precisely because someone knew they’d struggle in the foreign,
hostile environment of Volendam?
‘Perhaps what?’ Bakker asked.
‘Perhaps nothing.’
At Broek they left the main road and travelled east into Waterland, not more than a kilometre from the narrow channel where the Kok brothers laboured over a yellow SEAT nose down in thickly
weeded water. Then they rejoined the main road to Marken along the margin of the dyke and finally drove onto the causeway that linked the island to the mainland.
A breeze kicked up sending a couple of gulls scuttling into the bright blue sky. There were yachts bent over in the wind on the lake. Across the water sat Volendam. To its right their
destination, a ragged skyline of rooftops set on what was once so obviously an island.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Laura Bakker said with a smile. ‘I never knew there was anywhere like this so close to the city.’ She clapped her hands then let down her long red
hair. ‘We could cycle here one day.’
Van der Berg’s eyes widened. In the driver’s mirror he looked terrified.
‘One day,’ Vos agreed.
They navigated the winding streets of Marken as Bakker laughed at the cute wooden houses. Then they found the single-track lane to the institution and came up to the security gate by the wooded
entrance. Two minutes later they were in Henk Veerman’s office watching the TV news. The disappearance of Mia and Kim Timmers was the lead item.
‘Who released this?’ Vos asked.
‘Not us,’ Veerman replied. ‘Why would we?’
‘You didn’t tell us for eighteen hours that two dangerous prisoners were
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