His name was De Jaager. He had a first name, although it was rarely used even by close friends, of which he had few. De Jaager was his actual patronym, and translated as ‘The Hunter’. It was only partly accurate as a descriptor. For the most part, De Jaager was a regelaar, a fixer, but that lacked a certain dignity and authority; and he had, when necessary, assumed the role of hunter, although he typically left the final bloodletting to others, and resorted to such extremes only as a last resort. He was also, it had to be admitted, a criminal – by action, nature, inclination, and association – but he had always behaved with honor in his dealings with his own kind, because there was nothing worse than a felon who could not be trusted, and even malefactors required a code of conduct.

But that was all in the past. He was currently in the final stages of leaving behind this condition of malfeasance, just as he would soon surely retire from life itself. He had shed his business interests, both legitimate and otherwise. He had rid himself of warehouses and manufactories, and paid off those who had remained loyal to him over the years, so that most would never have to work hard again. He was a man preparing for the end, discarding the base matter of this world until all that remained were flesh and memories, and death would ultimately take care of those, too. When he was done with his unburdening, he intended to retire to his small cottage in Amersfoort, where he would live in solitude and anonymity, surrounded by books and the remembrance of those he had lost.

Only one extraneous property remained to be sold: the safe house on the Herengracht, which had been used by only a handful of individuals over the years because it was the most secret and secure of his outposts. Most recently it had been occupied by three men who had come to Amsterdam seeking a book. They had left bodies in their wake, along with a legal mess that had required De Jaager to expend considerable effort and funds to clean up. He had also lost one of his own people, a young woman named Eva Meertens, of whom he had been most fond. Her death, in turn, had necessitated arranging the killing of her murderer, an employee of the US government named Armitage. It had all been very complicated and unsatisfactory, not to mention risky, and confirmed De Jaager in his belief that retirement was now the only reasonable option for a man of his advanced years.