Page 18 of The Amsterdam Enigma (The Continental Capers of Melody Chesterton #3)

T he following morning, long before daybreak, Rat once again donned his disguise and made his way back to Entrepotdok.

As he set off, it occurred to Rat that it was a matter of luck that he had been assigned to the warehouse where the coded manifests were arriving.

He might not be as fortunate on a second day.

If he wasn’t, Rat realised his mission would involve more subterfuge than he had hoped for.

Rat stood in the same line that the same foreman was managing. The process was identical to the day before. If nothing else, this boded well for him being given work for the day.

After ten minutes, Rat found himself at the front of the line. The foreman recognised him and said, “Jij bent die Engelsman, toch?”

“English?” Rat answered. “Ja.”

The foreman directed him back to Warehouse Seven.

What a stroke of luck, Rat thought to himself as he made his way to his assigned spot for the day.

Now that he was familiar with the process and the day’s rhythm, Rat had a clearer idea of what he was searching for.

First, he wanted to observe what happened to the crates designated ZKL-3.

Even as this thought crossed his mind, Rat realised that perhaps such crates didn’t arrive at the dock every day .

For the first two hours, Rat believed he was out of luck; there was nothing amiss. Then, just as he pondered whether the day would be a waste of time, the first such crate was unloaded. He had noted where all the other crates were sent, irrespective of their manifests.

As Rat paid more attention, he noticed some other unusual things: the crates marked ZKL-3 were handled differently from the others.

It was subtle, which was why he hadn’t seen it the previous day.

He observed unspoken signals between some dockworkers when those crates came through.

He also noticed there seemed to be a weight discrepancy.

Large crates of nutmeg and other spices should have been heavy, but the ZKL-3 crates appeared to be handled as if they were light. What was inside them?

Then, Rat spotted the man. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed him before, especially considering how much his clothes distinguished him from the other men.

He wore a light grey suit and had a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He held a sturdy wooden board with a brass clip to secure papers in place.

Each time a crate marked ZKL-3 was unloaded, the man made a notation on his papers.

From what Rat could see, the crates were being moved to a separate part of the warehouse.

He wondered whether they were being guarded or if there was an opportunity to investigate during the brief time allotted for the men’s midday meal.

Rat was curious about what the crates contained.

If the manifests were the coded message, was anything of importance being sent through?

He allowed for the possibility that there might be nothing interesting in the crates themselves, but he still wanted to check.

Most of the workers appeared to be Dutch, and they gathered together to enjoy their brief meal. The previous day, this had left Rat sitting alone, and he hoped the same situation would occur again.

When the bell rang across the docks, signalling that the men could take a break, the others huddled together, conversing in Dutch and laughing as they unpacked their meals. Everyone ignored Rat. He glanced around to see where the suited man was, but he appeared to have slipped away.

Rat positioned himself on a crate as far away from the other workers as possible.

His chosen spot was particularly dimly lit and, after a few minutes, when he was certain no one was paying him any attention, Rat slipped further into the shadows and made his way toward the direction the crates had been taken, which turned out to be a separate storeroom.

He’d had the foresight that morning to put his lockpicks in his jacket pocket, but he needn’t have worried; the door to the separate storeroom was unlocked. Was the storeroom empty already? Rat crept in stealthily, regardless.

He had also thought to bring his pocket torch with him, and once safely inside with the door closed again, Rat felt secure enough to turn it on.

The crates occupied about a quarter of the storeroom.

From what Rat could ascertain, the number there probably accounted for that day and the previous one.

On his way into the storeroom, he had grabbed a crowbar that had been lying about.

Now, he approached the nearest crate. It was meant to contain nutmeg, according to the manifest. He opened the top of the crate carefully, hoping he could reseal it afterwards.

Rat shone his torch into the crate and saw hundreds of shiny brown nutmegs. He was about to reseal the crate and try another when a thought struck him. Rat reached into the crate and felt around. As he dug down, he came upon stacks of what felt like paper.

Rat pulled some of the pile out and shone his torch on the top copy.

It appeared to be a type of propaganda leaflet.

It was printed on coarse, greyish paper, with the ink smudged in places as though it had been rushed off a basement press.

A bold black header shouted, “Neutraliteit is een Leugen!” followed by additional text.

Rat couldn’t read it, but he had some idea of what the leaflet was promoting.

Jagged red lines bordered the text, and a crude drawing of a torch over a shattered crown marked the bottom corner.

Rat took one leaflet and stuffed it in his pocket, burying the rest back under the nutmeg.

He then resealed the crate. Could they all be full of propaganda material?

he wondered. The crate he’d opened had been taken off a ship that day.

He moved some crates around to reach one of the earlier ones from the previous day.

Once again, the seemingly innocuous top layer comprised nutmegs, but beneath it, he discovered pieces of equipment. There were fuses, fuse caps, timers, and wires; in fact, most of the components necessary to construct bombs .

Rat examined the pieces he had removed. The fuse cap bore a stamp on the metal.

He inspected it closely, and it appeared to depict a crown with a broad arrow mark beneath it.

Rat wasn’t certain, but he believed that was the symbol found on British government materials, especially military equipment.

It made sense that if Germany wished to place the blame on Britain, or at least on the anarchists it was harbouring, having some form of physical evidence of British origin for parts that might survive a bomb’s explosion would be sensible.

Rat also slipped the fuse cap into his pocket, then quickly repacked the other materials and resealed the crate.

He realised he was in danger of returning to his post late if he wasn’t careful.

Rat returned to his spot in the warehouse just in time. He noted that the man in the suit hadn’t reappeared, but he also saw no more crates marked ZKL-3 unloaded that day. As he continued to work, Rat pondered when the crates in the small storeroom would be collected.

Was it worth staying on after his shift to see what he could observe?

Rat wasn’t even sure how he would go about doing such a thing.

When the end-of-day bell rang, the men would line up for payment.

After that, they filed out through the gates.

He couldn’t imagine how one might remain behind.

Even if he could, where was a suitable place to wait that was discreet enough, yet would provide a clear view of the warehouse?

Eventually, Rat decided to return to the hotel and inform Alessandro and Melody of what he had learned that day, and discuss the next steps.

Rat stood in line for his pay and then exited with the other men.

As he made his way back to the hotel, he thought about what he had discovered.

There seemed little doubt that a plot was afoot to set off a bomb and somehow lay the blame at Britain’s feet.

They knew that the theatre was at least one target, but which theatre, and was it the only one? And when was the planned bombing?

More to the point, what evidence did they need before approaching the Dutch authorities?

On the surface, what he had discovered today appeared damning, but what did it truly prove?

They had British-made parts that could be assembled into a bomb, but they hadn’t yet been.

There were the leaflets, but no definitive evidence that they hadn’t been printed and shipped in by anarchists.

Rat was worried that the conversation the previous evening, which had so inflamed Melody, had hinted at what they needed to do: let a bomb be detonated and then prove the association with Germany.

The thought sickened him, but he did understand that there were larger forces at work.

He just wasn’t sure that was a decision he felt he’d be able to live with.