Hendricksen pulled the door of the safe house mostly closed behind him, returned to his car, and stored the wrench and gun in the well beneath the spare tire. He then called Bram De Jong, his closest contact in the Korps. He informed De Jong of what he had discovered in the safe house, neglecting to mention only that he had been required to disable the lock in order to gain access. Admitting to the crime would serve no purpose. The police might have their suspicions, but proving them would be difficult, even if they were keen to pursue the matter, which seemed unlikely.

Hendricksen walked back to the safe house and waited outside for the police to arrive. He was tempted to call Louis, but decided to postpone any contact until later. It would be better if he were not discovered speaking on his cell phone when the investigators came, although he took the trouble to delete the record of the calls to and from New York when he heard the first of the sirens in the distance.

His mouth tasted sour, and his hands were shaking.

He closed his eyes and saw blood.

Later, after Hendricksen had given the police a sanitized version of events – a worried call from a mutual acquaintance, whom he declined to identify, sharing concerns about De Jaager; Hendricksen’s unsuccessful efforts to contact De Jaager and his circle; and finally, the visit to the safe house, about which Hendricksen had heard rumors, and the discovery of the unlocked door and what lay behind it – he phoned Louis in New York.

‘They’re dead,’ he said. ‘All of them.’

Chapter XIX

This is what Hendricksen saw when he opened the door to the kitchen of the safe house.

The floor was awash with blood, and a red stain had spread across the white ceiling. At first Hendricksen attributed it to arterial spray until he realized that the pattern was inconsistent with the opening of an artery, and the blood had instead soaked through from above. Two women lay against the far wall, their nakedness barely hidden by the sheets that adhered to their bodies, the cotton now more red than white. The women – one old, one young – had been positioned with the younger holding the older in her arms, the pinnacled weight of their bodies keeping them upright. The younger woman’s face was visible to Hendricksen, but he did not recognize her. Even though her facial muscles had relaxed in death, her expression was fixed in her final suffering, and her mouth hung open in a silent howl of agony.