A State Of Sin Amsterdam Occult Series Book Two by Mark Hobson (golden son ebook .TXT) 📕

Not that he ever said this to his face of course.

On the Monday morning Tobias turned up for work as normal. As usual, he’d left his van on the north side of the IJ and caught the foot-passenger ferry across the broad river, and then slogged the ten-minute walk to NV Damen through the heavy snow, doing everything as he always did to avoid drawing any suspicion. Changing his routine would only arouse unwanted attention.

He’d left the house early that morning.

After dragging the girl back down into the basement and throwing her into the cage as punishment for trying to leave him, Tobias had spent the rest of the previous day upstairs. And likewise this morning, he had not been down to see her. She could go today without any food, he decided. To teach her a proper lesson, he concluded.

His face still hurt like hell from the scalding hot coffee she had thrown at him, and he had slathered a load of antiseptic cream onto the patchy, red skin, drawing strange looks from the other passengers on the ferry.

Walking down the overgrown path that cut through the allotments, he passed through the gate, mumbling a hello to the dog on his way, and turned towards the dry dock and the large freight barge that he was in the process of working on, his boiler suit and hood in a large canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

Just then a voice called out, causing him to pause mid-stride.

“Hey, Tobias, what you done to your face? You been whacking off again?”

Tobias glanced back over his shoulder.

His boss was standing in the doorway of his portacabin, guffawing at his own joke.

Glowering hard for a few seconds, Tobias turned away and walked on.

Hiding in the brambles and undergrowth of the allotments, Pieter watched the short face-off between the two men, holding his breath as he waited to see what happened. Luckily Vinke didn’t rise to the bait, and Pieter relaxed once more, sinking back down onto his knees.

After yesterday’s shambles and the raid on the empty bungalow – their investigations were still trying to establish whether or not it may have once belonged to Tobias Vinke – Pieter had concluded the best lead they had was the suspect’s place of work. Given the go-ahead from Huijbers, he had arranged a stakeout, to watch and wait for Vinke to put in an appearance.

To be absolutely sure there would be no more cock-ups Pieter had four other men in position. One was hiding nearby in the allotments, another was at the south entrance to Bickersgracht, standing in a doorway and smoking a cigarette, and the other two members of the team were across on the far side of the canal, should their target use the short bridge leading over there.

Their instructions were clear. They were not to apprehend their man under any circumstances unless there was a clear threat to the public’s safety. They weren’t here to arrest him. They were here to trail him. To follow him in the hope that he would lead them to wherever he was holding Nina - back to his lair.

Until Vinke had turned up just now, Pieter was worried that this would end up being yet another pointless exercise. But much to his relief, this part of the information provided to him by Saskia Vinke had turned out to be accurate, and seeing him come slugging through the snow just now left Pieter with a mixed feeling of satisfaction and unease. For the first time, he looked at the person he was now convinced was the twisted killer and kidnapper they were hunting.

Pieter settled in to wait. They could be in for a long and cold day.

◆◆◆

Lotte watched as her Uncle broke the sniper’s rifle down into its component parts and stored each piece into its allotted pockets in the specially designed gun carryall. He zipped it up and then placed a Walter P5 handgun into one of the side pockets. This was his personal sidearm for self-defence should the operation go wrong, which he seemed confident would not happen.

Nevertheless, Lotte was nervous, which was unusual for her.

She’d waited a long time for this. The prospect of revenge, to seek retribution, was making her jumpy and skittish.

Johan glanced across the study at her, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeming to pick up on her anxiety.

“Nothing,” she responded, a little too quickly.

Her Uncle gave a tiny shake of his head, but said nothing back.

Glancing at the time, she told him: “You’d best get going, while I make the call. You know what to do?”

He looked at her, his expression saying seriously?

“Sorry,” she apologized.

She waited as he quietly slipped outside, closing the door after himself. Her eyes followed him through the leaded window as he trudged through the snow covering the ancient courtyard, where the Virgin Mary more and more resembled a snowman. When he passed from sight she pulled her phone from her jeans and opened her contacts list, tapping one of the names.

A little after noon and Tobias felt his phone buzzing. It was in the front pocket of his boiler suit, and to answer it he had to first switch off his blowtorch, remove his hood and pull off one of his thick gloves with his teeth.

He stared long and hard at the screen, the name of the caller once again making him feel queasy.

He’d been expecting this call for several days now, he knew exactly what it was about, the instructions he was about to receive. Tobias felt himself stumble and he quickly walked around the stern of the barge so that he was out of sight of the portacabin, and he leaned his forehead against the steel hull, his body breaking out in a cold sweat.

The phone rang and rang.

He didn’t answer, and after a minute the call stopped.

A few seconds later and it started up again, seeming