Judas Page 10

  There were others around Cor who’d had dealings with Mieremet.

  One of them said his son was beaten for no reason, and it had caused him to flee the country.

  And of course I’d gotten to know their violent side through the Deurloostraat attack, which proved they wouldn’t even spare wives and children. Because we all knew it wouldn’t end with this first attack, I took the threat very seriously.

  So, I had expected another attempt, but not that he of all people would inform me of it. Betraying his friend by going over to Mieremet’s side was one thing, but lending a hand in icing his own best friend was unbelievable to me.

  And now he wanted to get me involved! Not because he thought I’d be loyal to him (he knew I spent a lot of time with Cor and Sonja) but because he knew I loved those children to death.

  If I said, “Fuck off, I want nothing to do with it,” and something happened to Cor, Sonja, and the kids, I’d regret it for the rest of my life, and I would indeed feel responsible for what had happened to them.

  That’s exactly what he’d intended.

  By uttering the words “it’s on you,” he’d literally put it on me. Of course, I told myself, that makes no sense, but what good would knowing that do if they ended up dead?

  Doing nothing wasn’t an option.

  I had no idea what I should do next. Stalling until a resolution presented itself was the only thing I could come up with. “I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

  “Good.”

  The following morning, I went over to Sonja’s early. I’d tossed and turned all night, searching for a way out of this.

  For one thing, I had to tell Sonja they were all in danger, and from what corner to actually expect the danger.

  Different from before, the relationships were clear now: Wim was in the Mieremet camp and had turned against Cor, his blood brother.

  Sonja began hyperventilating as soon as I told her about the previous night. “What? He’s threatening my children? First they nearly shoot Richie to death, and now they’re threatening my children again? I’m not giving him the address. Is he out of his mind? What should I do, As?”

  “I don’t know. Keep Cor away from here. I’ll say you don’t know the address, and even if you knew, you wouldn’t tell him. I’ll tell him that Mieremet shouldn’t threaten your children. You should be glad you know what his plans are now. At least you’ll be able to see it coming this time.”

  That same evening, he was back on my doorstep. “Well?”

  I told him Sonja didn’t know and she wouldn’t tell him even if she did.

  “Ah, so she’s taking Corry’s side? That’s not so smart. Tell her that.”

  “You can tell her yourself.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not going near there anymore. If anything happens, I want to be far away.”

  In the meantime, Sonja had told Cor that Klepper and Mieremet were at it again and had used Wim as a messenger. He told me and Sonja to keep in touch with Wim and hear what he had to say, wanting to keep his enemy close. I agreed with that and could see the advantages, but I had doubts as well. What if Cor blabbed to someone when he was drunk, and Mieremet, Klepper, or Wim heard about it?

  Cor had sworn that wouldn’t happen. But I wasn’t reassured. Cor often couldn’t even recall what he’d done the day before. If Wim and Mieremet discovered I’d informed Cor, they might have me killed, too. So I had to take into account that Cor would blab at some point. I hedged by telling Wim I only passed on his messages to Sonja at his request. I couldn’t help it if Sonja had passed things on to Cor.

  After that last visit, he didn’t stay away long.

  “Listen, As, I can’t hold this off much longer, you know? What she’s doing is very annoying.”

  He kept delivering the same message. He needed information on the places Cor visited. Me not knowing anything started to bug him. He began to increase pressure on me.

  One day Wim and I were at my mother’s house when she was looking after Richie for Sonja. My mother was in the kitchen. Wim was standing in the living room, and Richie sat on a chair. I sat on the couch, facing Richie.

  Suddenly he stepped behind Richie’s chair, put his arm around his neck, took a gun from his pocket, and pointed it at Richie’s head. “Hey, Richie boy!” he shouted. He looked at me and hissed, “Tell me where he is!”

  Then he let go of Richie, gave me a piercing look with his dark eyes, and shouted cheerfully in the direction of the kitchen, “Bye, Stien, it was nice to see you. I’m going now!”

  He walked out.

  I ran over to Richie and took him in my arms.

  I was astounded. Threatening Richie, his own nephew, my nephew, a seven-year-old child. Why would he do this if he wanted to prevent Sonja, Richie, and Francis from becoming collateral damage for Klepper and Mieremet? For that’s what he’d been claiming: “I’m acting in their best interest, and so should you so I can make sure they won’t get hurt.”

  And suddenly I understood: his intent wasn’t to protect them from Mieremet and Klepper at all. If he had really wanted to protect them and make sure they weren’t murdered along with Cor, he’d never treat Richie like that. He wasn’t worried about Sonja, Francis, or Richie; he was just using them to try to get closer to Cor.

  He was the one who wanted to murder Cor, and he was going this far because he was growing impatient. Things weren’t moving fast enough for him. Cor had to die, and he didn’t mind using Richie to get to him.

  It was him!

  I knew Sonja was on her way over to pick up Richie. After what had just happened, I had to see her immediately. I dialed her number. “Are you almost here?” I asked when she answered the phone. For us, this is code for “Hurry, something’s up.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she said right away.

  “Will you stop pacing up and down and sit down for a second?” my mother said.

  My mother hadn’t seen what Wim had done to Richie, and I couldn’t tell her. It would be too much for her.

  Sonja walked in and looked at me questioningly. I went into the bathroom so Mom and Richie couldn’t hear us, and she followed. I switched on the light and she locked the door. She stood in front of me.

  “Tell me,” she spoke softly.

  I told her what had happened. Sonja’s eyes grew large, and she stiffened and then began to shiver all over. She didn’t speak.

  “Son, what do you think?” No reply. “Hey! Did you even hear what I just said?” I spoke up, hoping to startle her into responding.

  She didn’t speak, just kept staring into the distance. I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Son! Stop it!”

  “What’s going on?” my mother yelled from the living room. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s nothing!” I yelled back.

  “Son,” I said, “cut it out.”

  She was still silent but walked out of the bathroom to Richie, pulled him into her lap, and started to cry.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asked. My mom gave me a puzzled look.

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s nothing. Mom, please stay out of it.”

  “Sonja?” I said, still wondering what she was thinking.

  “I’m done thinking, As,” she said, as she always did when things started to overwhelm her.

  Sonja was as scared as she had been since the first attack. She wouldn’t let Richie out of her sight even for a second. Now that he had revealed himself as the perpetrator by threatening Richie, Wim increased the pressure even more and stopped hiding behind Klepper and Mieremet. He said Yugoslavs had already been flown in. There were people ready for action. By now, they were all aware of Cor’s whereabouts. There was no stopping it now.

  Wim threatened Sonja in increasingly explicit ways, sending his messages through me.

  If she wanted to stay alive, Sonja had “to do this little thing.” She had to leave the blinds open when Cor was there.

  “If she doesn’t, you know what will happen.” He made a gun gesture with hi
s hand. “Go tell her.”

  It became harder and harder to get anything through to Sonja. “Son, are you on medication again?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. She’d increased her dose of Oxazepam.

  “Why are you doing that? You look like a zombie again! Stop it.”

  “No, As, I won’t, or my head will explode. I can’t handle this without meds. The pills help make it all go away.”

  I told her what Wim wanted her to do.

  “I won’t do it,” she answered blankly. “We’ll all just go.”

  The pills were doing their work. Wim had met his match: Sonja had turned as cold as he was, and had become fearless, too.

  I was at home with Richie and Francis when he rang the doorbell. “Come down!” he yelled.

  “Rich, you stay with Fran,” I said.

  “I don’t want to!” Richie shouted in a panic, grabbing hold of me.

  Since the attack on Deurloostraat, he couldn’t be left alone without freaking out. I didn’t want to take him downstairs or anywhere near Wim, though.

  “Fran, keep him here,” I told Francis, and got him off me.

  “Come on, Rich,” Francis said, and pulled him away. Richie tore himself loose and followed me anyway.

  “What’s that kid doing here?” Wim grunted.

  “I can’t get him to leave me. He’s scared, you know.”

  “Hmm,” he said, dismissing the comment.

  The three of us stood in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, Wim and I facing each other, Richie in between us. Wim leaned forward and pulled me toward him. “Well?” he whispered.

  “She won’t do it,” I replied.

  “She won’t do it?” he repeated. I could see him begin to swell with anger, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

  Richie was still standing between us. With his right hand, Wim got a gun out of his pocket, pulled me closer with his left hand, and held the gun over Richie’s head. “She’s still siding with Corry? She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. That’s her choice. You know what will happen.”

  He let go of me. I pushed Richie up the stairs to get him away from Wim as quickly as possible. Wim turned away in a rage, stormed downstairs, and slammed the door behind him.

  Richie hadn’t been aware of what had happened because he’d been standing in between us, but at the top of the stairs stood a child who’d seen it all.

  I told Sonja what had happened because she had refused to help Wim.

  From that moment on, she left the blinds half open, scared of giving the wrong signal by shutting them or leaving them open entirely.

  Sonja had let Cor know it had started again, but Cor did nothing. We didn’t tell him everything, especially about the increased threats, for fear of a war in which we and the children would get killed, too. But Cor knew Wim and Mieremet couldn’t be stopped.

  I couldn’t understand why Cor didn’t take action himself.

  In the meantime, Wim was aware that Sonja wasn’t getting him any closer to Cor. He’d applied maximum pressure by using Richie, but he’d achieved the opposite with Sonja: she froze and didn’t move or respond to anything. At the time, he seemed to let it go.

  He hadn’t dropped by for quite a while when shots were fired at Cor as he was getting out of his car outside his and Sonja’s house on December 21, 2000. He was able to dodge the bullets and get to a safe place because Sonja quickly opened the door for him.

  The next morning she noticed that a bullet had penetrated the wall less than twenty inches from the door.

  Cor immediately said that Wim was behind it.

  In public, Wim always denied any involvement. He claimed it was Mieremet’s doing, as he’d done after the first attack. Back then, I believed him.

  But everything became clear after September 22, 2002.

  On February 26, 2002, John Mieremet was shot on Keizersgracht after meeting with his lawyer, Evert Hingst. It didn’t take him long to realize that Wim and associates were behind the attack; they didn’t want to return the money he had invested with Willem Endstra.

  If Mieremet hadn’t survived the attempt on his life, the truth about the attack on Cor might never have come to light. Mieremet decided his only chance of survival was the publication of an interview with the crime reporter John van den Heuvel in De Telegraaf on September 22, 2002. In it, Mieremet spoke of Endstra’s role as banker to the criminal world, and my brother’s role as the guard of that bank.

  Shortly after the interview was published, van den Heuvel was robbed and his computer was taken. Endstra and Wim had hired a gang of Yugoslavians to break into his house. Wim brought me a printout of van den Heuvel’s notes from conversations he’d had with Mieremet.

  He wanted me to read the notes and give him my impression. What I read shocked me. The notes said that Wim was the one who’d pointed out Cor and Sonja’s house on Deurloostraat to Mieremet and Klepper, before the first attack.

  Everything fell into place: Wim’s behavior after the first attack, his so-called forced switch to Camp Mieremet, introducing me to them, the watches he’d bought them, the fine Sonja had paid him.

  He’d been associated with them all along.

  The Third Attempt

  2003

  ON JANUARY 24, 2003, I WAS IN COURT AND ABOUT TO GO INTO A HEARING. I had a friend with me who had been eager to attend a court session. I remember exactly where I was standing when I got the call: right in front of the Van Oven Hall.

  I answered the phone and heard a hysterical scream. I heard my sister’s voice. She didn’t say anything, she just screamed.

  “What is it! What is going on? What is happening?” I asked. An unknown male voice took over the call.

  He said, “Sonja is here.”

  “Who are you?” I asked. “Where is my sister, what did you do to her?” I was under the impression that this strange man on the phone had abducted my sister. “Let me speak to my sister,” I shouted.

  “As,” said Sonja, and she started screaming again. She scared me.

  “What is it, Son? Tell me what’s wrong!”

  “Cor is dead! Cor is dead!” she yelled.

  The male voice took over the call again and said that Cor had been shot. He’d been standing outside a Chinese restaurant with his friend Robert ter Haak when two men drove up on a motorcycle and fired at Cor with a machine gun.

  “No, no, no! Sonja, where are you?” I shouted.

  “I will go to him,” said the unknown male voice.

  I asked my friend to drive me to Sonja’s house. I was totally beside myself and incapable of driving.

  Sonja called me in the car. “They were wrong, As!” I heard hope in her voice.

  Robert, the man who had been standing next to Cor, had been killed, but Cor was alive and had been taken to the hospital, the police had told her.

  He was still alive!

  I wanted to go to the hospital, too, but I didn’t know which one, and I couldn’t reach Sonja to ask her. Eventually I had my friend drop me off at her house in Amstelveen. Soon after, two policemen came and searched the house.

  I called my mother to come to Sonja’s house, because I didn’t want to leave the two officers alone there and I needed a car to go to the hospital. My mother came to Sonja’s house, and Gerard picked me up to go with me.

  Meanwhile, I kept trying to reach Sonja to find out how Cor was. The male voice picked up again and said coarsely, “Here’s your sister. She has to tell you something.”

  From the way he said it, I knew something was wrong. Sonja came on and said nothing. I just heard her crying softly but uncontrollably.

  “Son, are you there?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  “Is it bad?” I asked, afraid of her answer.

  “Yes, As.” Sonja sounded as if she had no strength left to speak.

  “Is he—?” I couldn’t say the word, afraid she would confirm it. There was silence.

  “Son,” I asked again.

&n
bsp; “Yes, he is—”

  He’s dead, I repeated to myself. He can’t be, he can’t be dead. He had survived two attempts. Twice he had defeated the end death brings, and I was sure that he could do it again.

  We arrived at the hospital. As fast as I could, I climbed the steps to the entrance and ran to the ward where they were keeping him. I was talking to him, afraid I might be too late and his soul wouldn’t hear me. “Cor, you can’t go yet. It’s impossible; you must stay with us. Don’t leave.”

  At the end of the hallway I saw Sonja. I ran toward her and threw myself at her.

  “Son, say it’s not true. Tell me he’s still alive.”

  She shook her head. “He’s dead, As.”

  A doctor came to see us. Talking to him, we saw Francis come in. She had also driven to the hospital thinking that Cor was badly wounded but still alive. At the hospital entrance, a friend of Cor’s had been waiting for her, and she knew enough.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?” she said, and the friend nodded.

  “How is this possible?” she asked the doctor. “You told me he was still alive.”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said, “there has been a miscommunication. The man who was standing next to him is fighting for his life, but your father passed away.”

  It was a mistake that took away any hope of ever seeing her father again.

  “Can we see him?” asked Francis.

  “No,” the doctor said, “he’s not here. He is still in Amstelveen.”

  “In Amstelveen?” Sonja said. “Then we’ll go there. Will you pick up Richie from school before a stranger tells him what has happened to his dad?” Sonja asked Gerard and me.

  “Of course,” I answered. “Should I tell him, or would you rather do that yourself?”

  “Please do it for me, As. I can’t handle that right now.”

  “I will, we’ll go there now.”