Henk van der Werf held his pass up to the light. Brand new, laminated, with a single hole punched through — granting access to Zone D7. There, away from prying eyes and the bustle, was the room where Zauber, through him, would hand over the da Vinci to the receiving party. Cool! Van der Werf was sweating from the sheer weight of his own importance. And he remembered the number of zeros in his commission. All he had to do now was wait. According to the contract, the deal would be done once Susanna was handed over to First Security at Amsterdam's airport and the papers were signed. Just technicalities — but still, a lot of hustle.
He opened his email. A few messages — one from Zauber's security department. Three cars would leave the vault for the airport at the same time, rented from an armored transport service. Which one would carry the canvas would be decided at the last minute. The routes would be finalized the day before, along with the security roster: four men per vehicle, including the driver. Attached to the email was a file with the details on the First Security team that would receive the da Vinci. Henk scrolled through the photos and felt a chill run down his spine — why weren't these guys in Hollywood yet?.. In some horror flick, like "I'll Kill You with My Face."
Today was Friday — time to drink beer with Siegfried. Soon it would all be over, Van der Werf's eyes rolled dreamily. With his commission, he'd have a whole new list of friends — rich, lavish, and not deaf‑mute. But for now, it is what it is — he was still just a hole in the butt. Henk printed the file and tossed it into his briefcase.
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Siegfried was already dead drunk, and Van der Werf felt a sting of jealousy — had that deaf slut found someone else to mooch off?He scanned the pub, hoping to spot a rival, but saw none — just a couple of local faggots pawing each other at the far tables, and a rowdy bunch of drunks with their wives, laughing like hyenas. It was around five; in an hour, you wouldn't be able to drop a pin in here.
"Hey, deaf coat rack!" — he slapped Siegfried on the back, settling onto the next stool. Siegfried turned his bleary eyes toward him, lazily threw up a "Sieg Heil", and greedily sucked down the last of his whiskey:79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpPkS1Evttd
"Ehh... mmm... guh‑guh‑guh..." — which meant: hey old pal, long time no see! Guess what — I had a hooker yesterday! Haven't had that much fun in ages.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ2cdspQL99
"Good for you!" — Henk mouthed.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDzVqgMMGqF
Siegfried got worked up:79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOpBkVD6rvL
"Uhhh... ah‑ee‑uhh!"
"Well, what'd you expect? Only pimples and the clap are free. She give you a senior discount?" (the deaf shook his head furiously) "What a soulless bastard!.. Don't worry," Van der Werf gave him an encouraging slap on the back, "soon I'll buy you the most expensive girl in Europe."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfCZJKmDWTb
"Eeeh!"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3Yu3eiDSV2
"I'm closing the deal!" — Henk patted his briefcase. "Insuring a painting." (Siegfried's eyes went wide) "Yeah! For a hundred seventy million!.. Étienne," — he called out to the bartender, — "the usual, for me and him..."
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An hour and a half later, the pub was packed to the rafters. Henk clung to the bar with one hand, swaying like a metronome, grinning stupidly at his shoes — they looked very far away, both right‑footed, different colors, and someone's drool was dripping onto them. He tried to figure out whose, but the thought kept slipping away. Plop! Got hit again. It wasn't Siegfried — he couldn't land a shot like that... The pendulum's swing was getting wider, and deep down, Henk knew he was down to minutes — every fiber of his being rebelled against spending another night on this floor.
At the other end of the bar, Little Pachèrito flipped through the files on the First Security gorillas, chewing on a cigar stub. One face he knew — Hernández. A guy who'd run errands for him about five years back. Dumb Mexican, looked like an over‑ripe bull. He'd quit later; Pachèrito, as if sensing it, let him go without a fuss. Now fate was cashing in.
Pachèrito shifted his gaze to Siegfried — dead sober Siegfried.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8BYjv83DqC
"Not bad. Where you from, kid?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEOUmmzzrgQ
"AIVD. A long time ago."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtSMgn1hgzo
"That's your intelligence service?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLaWQovLioR
"Yeah."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4CIULofLX5
"And what happened?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjvGndVZjuc
"Casino..."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡedNiWyK8UN
"Lose much?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnpij4cC9sT
"The budget for the Chad station."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpAjy5PEcbT
"I like you," — Pachèrito folded the papers and tucked them into his pocket. "Monthly budget?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbHj53DNOIm
"Yearly."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXBZNgFqp2P
"I like you even more," — Pachèrito gave him a pat on the back and turned to leave.
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At the airport, he waited a long time for the first free payphone. Every bitch in the world seemed to be calling her dog to tell him how much she missed him. Even that one with the round Jamaican ass. Finally, his turn came.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP9qRFJvKDQ
"Remember Hernández?" — the little man got straight to business.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCibUHc8QMt
"Yes, boss."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡog7rl7861J
"Check if his wife left an IOU for four grand. If she did, find the paper — I'll be in by noon, I want it in my hands. And..." — Pachèrito paused.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQOInTOqt2R
"Listening, boss."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5Mmw8HMLhP
"...and attach Miss Hernández to the IOU."
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He'd never had trouble with women — aside from their diseases. Carlos took it philosophically. If you caught the clap, it was karma — meant you'd sinned somewhere, and the Lord was sending a signal. He'd go to the venereologist, pay three bills, get cured, then put a bullet in the source. The world became cleaner; he believed that with all his heart. But with Mrs. Hernández, nothing worked. The first time the sildenafil hit his brain, he raised his gun — but he couldn't finish. Carlos waved it off — enough was enough. The interest faded, leaving only that stupid game of hard‑on against a female. Who was he proving anything to? Himself? It was laughable. He'd already proven everything. Time to retire.
Miss Hernández sat down across from him, took the IOU, and stared at it with fishy eyes:79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5LDmuVmmtG
"Are we in trouble?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1y9PEU9mq9
"No," Carlos shook his head, "but I'd appreciate it if Mr. Hernández stopped by tomorrow at six."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjFmdDMVkUX
No need to explain — any other way, she'd be a widow by seven.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKWtWno44KU
"How are you, cara mia?" — Carlos suddenly felt a wave of paternal tenderness. "Everything okay?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡldV2YwdAig
"Yes," she flushed, "thank you for everything."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCFg7anoSRX
"I'm glad. You can take the IOU. Now go."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡydai3tK9PZ
"Six a.m.?" she clarified.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG92Hw7k56l
Pachèrito sighed — this is why I couldn't come with her...
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In the window of a tiny room bathed in the red glow of a desk lamp, a pretty blonde in panties and a bra was smiling and striking coquettish poses.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRfYlvHaxI2
"Duō shǎo qián?... Duō shǎo qián?..." — a flock of excited Chinese chattered from outside the glass.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmcZJ7NO9so
Günter liked this girl. He often dropped by her room, leaving good money for a simple massage. Julie — that's what he called the blonde. Any pretensions to animalistic sex had died about ten years ago, but to hold a young, firm body in his hands... that wasn't forbidden by the Constitution. Julie spotted him over the heads of the Chinese and gave him a friendly wink. Günter smiled and moved closer.
"Duō shǎo qián?.." — the chirping continued.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqA17caozW7
"Àr shí fēnzhōng yībǎi hélándùn," — he recalled his Chinese lessons out loud — a hundred guilders for twenty minutes.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx3Yj69RLKj
"O‑o‑o‑o!!!" — the Chinese hit the top octave of greed, not even turning to look at the translator.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS9ZOQBZJwj
Günter blew Julie a goodbye kiss. She smiled back and opened the glass door of her room.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQHfZgEzeXO
"Five Chinese for t'ree hundred..." — was the last thing Günter heard in Chinese‑English.
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Dorothy Bingles lived five minutes from the Red Light District. Günter rang the bell.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqwQMiNtwBB
"Hey!" — she was in a beautiful silk robe, happy, her hair tousled. "Come in — I'm not alone, though."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvaNhb5B3Rg
"Seriously?" — he raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "The tax people finally showed up?"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu3K6noukdc
"Oh, yes — with a huge, burning claim!"79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP72S9I9WA0
Günter took off his coat, hung it on the rack, and followed Dorothy into the kitchen. She turned on the coffee machine:79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQj2IpMG1Rm
"Want a cup?"
He'd already opened his mouth to say yes...79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKDohakrOyO
"This is my friend," Dorothy nodded toward the man standing in the kitchen doorway. Günter turned. "His name is..." — she snapped her fingers in the air, "his name is..."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsryrCChFco
"Jedrzej," the man introduced himself. "Jedrzej Pshchedbrzdzhynski."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9k4iWOMdnP
"That's it!" Dorothy clapped her hands in delight.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHPWAqfVGTn
"Pshchedbrzdzhynski is my last name. I didn't have it as a kid."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaXaVkGvT6M
"Good for you," Günter extended his hand. "Honestly, I thought it was the name of some Albanian currency. I'm Günter," — and he shot Dorothy a worried look.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwOhcCUe2Hy
"It's fine, you can talk," she waved, setting a cup of coffee in front of Günter. "He's from the client. How's it going?"
"Fine. Had a hell of a time with the craquelure — faking those little cracks in the oil, making it look like sixteenth century... But the painting's ready. A couple of days to rest, and you can pick it up."79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgPefR4Kq9J
"Good," Pshchedbrzdzhynski sat down across from him. "In a couple of days, find a place to go. Three months. Better yet — three years..."
and then Add to home screen.