Table of Contents

Title

Prologue

1 - 1 February

2 - 1 March, Bob and Liza Young

3 - 1 March, Jim and Jimbo Jones

4 - 1 March, Helen and Alice Addup

5 - 1 March, Sarah and Bill Averidge

6 - 1 March, The cousins Frank and Paul

7 - 1 March, John Bowman

8 - 1 March, Steve Salfrinch

9 - 1 March, The meeting

10 - 1 March, Steve Salfrinch

11 - 15 March, Liza's talk

13 - 1 April

14 - Frank and Paul

isbn page

The

Christmas

Treasure

Hunt

J.B. te Boekhorst

CD publishers

Prologue

Their assignment seemed straightforward: Travel to the North Pole with the competitors; lie low in a shed for ten days; go and hunt for the Christmas treasure; take the treasure and make off with it. As is often the case, things would turn out differently. Instead of ten days, they stayed for only two days in the shed at Greenland's military airfield, and the time spent at the North Pole would turn into a fortnight. Their client had anticipated unexpected problems, and the two cousins now found themselves standing beneath a grey sky in freezing cold weather, waiting to sneak surreptitiously over a ramp into a helicopter standing by. All that in order to leave the military base as quickly as possible.

The ramp was opened and a small torch shone its light into a very cramped room where the two had to hide until they would land at the North Pole. After the ramp was closed it became pitch-dark. They felt the vibration of the helicopter's motor and heard the swishing of the rotor blades. This fat Sikorsky would take them to the place where they were to make a bivouac within two hours. The participants of the competition they were to sabotage already had started their assignments.

The cousins' months of training was about to finally pay off. Surviving the freezing cold, their client had called it, hammering home that they had to master every aspect of that surviving to perfection. One tiny mistake and the whole operation would fall through. How they had perspired in their thick suits, despite the hard wind the fans produced to make their work that more realistic. 'There will be a fierce wind blowing at the North Pole, making your work all the harder,' their client had told them.

Frank was lying at the back of the helicopter, with his head resting against a wooden crate. He had thought about that period of training a lot lately. Were they sufficiently prepared? Even for unexpected events? What if, for instance, a dangerous animal would appear at their tent, or if they encountered a polar bear when they were sledging through the snow? Going on a sledge with wheels was much easier than sledging through snow with four savage dogs in front of you. Frank also worried about his cousin. Would Paul be able to endure the cold and boredom? Would he, come to that? He was so lost in thought he wasn't aware of his head bumping systematically against the wooden crate. This helicopter flight wouldn't take long. Paul had been given a sedative in his tea without his knowing, to suppress his fear of flying. Frank couldn't see how his cousin was doing at the moment. Even if he talked to him, Paul probably wouldn't hear him for the noise of the rotor blades.

Frank felt a jolt. Their flying taxi seemed to have begun an abrupt downwards movement, as if their client had spotted all of a sudden where the two cousins had to be parked.

The noise of the rotor blades diminished. He now noticed the bumping of his head against the crate, that decreased in the same rhythm.

Unexpectedly, and all too hard to Frank's liking, the helicopter hit the ground. The noise of the rotor blades died away slowly and he heard the doors being opened. With the opening of their ramp the biting cold and the lashing wind immediately beat in his face. Snow drifted from beneath the helicopter and turned a cloudless night into a white, hazy one.

Someone pulled at Frank's anorak and he almost tumbled out of the helicopter. His cousin jumped out rather flexibly, despite having sat still for more than two hours. They glanced around and saw vague outlines. Stars pierced through the drifting snow. Their client pointed to the crates: 'You have one minute to cover all that up with the white fabric and hide underneath it with the dogs until the helicopter has disappeared. Nobody should know you are here, not even the pilots.'

In an experienced manner the two cousins started to work. Both thought about the exercises they had to do over and over again in almost the same circumstances bar the extreme cold. The fabric was fastened to the crates with fat rubber bands. The dogs were happy to stretch their legs. Plying them with chunks of meat, they were directed underneath the fabric with some difficulty. Their client banged the ramp shut and walked to the front of the helicopter.

With a noise that surpassed that of the wind, the large Sikorsky lifted off, leaving both cousins in the cold. Curious as they were, they didn't hide underneath the white fabric. They watched the helicopter leave and kept watching until it was completely gone. There were long, exhausting days to come, spent in the dark for most of the time. Waiting and more waiting, until they could finally execute their assignment. But things would turn out differently.

It wouldn't be long before they met me.

1

1 February

'Can I have your attention, please?' John Bowman looked tired. Two financially difficult years had taken their toll. The economic crisis had left its mark. His face was ashen and hollow-cheeked. For the last three months his eyes had had a desperate look. The sparse hair he had left on a practically bald head had turned grey at the temples during the last two years. He would have liked to step out of it all, throw in the towel. He couldn't see a way out of it, though. If only he could pack it all in. No longer chairing Salfrinch, the reputable toy chain with more than 1,200 branches worldwide. Yet John knew that that wasn't feasible. First he would have to accomplish the impossible this year: take Salfrinch to the top yet again.

John had wound up the formal part of the meeting. The poor figures from the previous financial year had left a profound impression on the assembly, having gathered around the oval mahogany table inlaid with fine mosaic work eight hours before. Eight men, two women and Chairman John, son-in-law of the grandson of Salfrinch's founder.

Two years ago Salfrinch attained a turnover of 900 million. To John it seemed an opportune moment to leave his job as chairman when Salfrinch made a turnover of one billion, possibly in the following year. He would have liked to take a year off and enjoy his hobbies: his children and fly-fishing. Instead of reaching one billion, Salfrinch's turnover plummeted by 15 percent. Last year it went down another 12 percent, resulting in a turnover of 675 million. They had had to hand over their lead as the world's largest toy store to Toytoytoy, a Japanese toy chain that made its fortune in computer games. Salfrinch had to accept that even a second place wasn't attainable. Gimmytoy had surpassed them and now even drew near the Japanese competitor. The difference between their turnovers wasn't that big; being in third place that was much more embarrassing. And that, of all times, in this year, Salfrinch's centenary! John knew that something had to be done. They had to regain their first position, by hook or by crook. The centenary year should be looked back on as the year in which Salfrinch got back at the top of the world's bestselling toy stores. He didn't yet know how to achieve this but there were no two ways about it - it would happen. He would brush up the old name of Salfrinch so fanatically until every single one of the thousand critics who had steamrolled over him lately was silenced once and for all.

'It has been a hard, strenuous day,' John said. 'The figures speak for themselves. We know where we stand. Nevertheless, I want to mention one more thing: our company's centenary. This year provides the perfect opportunity to leave all our competitors behind and become once again the world's bestselling toy store. We cannot do that if we continue our business on the same footing. We will have to cut down even more but what is more important: we need new toys. Merchandise with which we can astonish the world. Now, I want to ask all of you to think of a way we can generate more publicity, market more new products and achieve quick returns to beat the competition.'

For the first time that day there was a buzz of voices. Even the members who had looked out of the window for distraction - the conference room was on the top floor of Salfrinch's head office and was encompassed by three glass walls: the view was phenomenal - showed some excitement. On this early spring-like day the air conditioner worked noiselessly. All day long the sun had been shining brightly. Bowman had pulled down the Venetian blinds several times during the meeting under the guise of blaming 'the annoyingly glaring sun' but in reality one was very much distracted by the breathtaking surroundings in this fine weather.

'I will send you away open-minded. Without any ideas, without any guidelines, without any examples. We will deliberate about how to push Salfrinch upwards for the next few weeks. At the next meeting I expect every one of you to come up with at least two proposals how to tackle the competition.'

Once again there was some agitation. Some members of the board looked startled. There was something actually expected of them!

'That's what advertising companies are for, surely?' exclaimed Winston Schmitts, the incumbent who at 74 years of age was the oldest director on the board. He couldn't imagine himself sitting at home behind his desk, racking his brains over trivial toy-things, as he used to call them.

There was some nodding in assent. It seemed other members were worried about their own creativity as well. Most of all they worried about the time they would have to devote to this task they were given.

'Before we spend our money on an advertising campaign which will set us back millions, I want us to shed some light on alternatives ourselves. All of us here are highly educated, intelligent people, of whom I expect a certain amount of creativity. We can always bring in an advertising company later on, which we'll need anyway when we seek publicity. First, though, we will have a go at it ourselves. It will give you a chance to finally do what Salfrinch is paying you for: thinking about and devising solutions to push the turnover up again. Just as Salfrinch's first board laid the foundation for our multinational a century ago, so will we make certain that Salfrinch will be known once again as the most creative toy store in the world. We will use the next meeting to analyse all the proposals. At the end of that day I want to have at least three good ideas, which we will elaborate on. Next month we should have a starting point with which we can conquer the world once again. If it turns out that this board doesn't possess much resolution and mental capacity, I will have to reconsider its set-up. I wish you all a safe journey home and much creativeness.'

John hit his 100-year-old chairman's gavel on the nicely designed square leather block. For most of the members that was the best sound of the day.

The conference room was empty. John was standing at the window facing south. The sun was setting and its rays slanted through the window from the west, touching his face. His thoughts wandered off to the next meeting in exactly four weeks' time. He didn't expect many creative proposals going to be put forward. During his chairmanship, not one person had ever put forward an actual proposal to increase production or to add a new product to the line. Now he had put them on the spot: creativity or else possible dismissal.

2

1 March, Bob and Liza Young

It was pitch-dark in Bob Young's attic room, even though it was already ten o'clock in the morning on this first day in March. Bob's rooms in the Grotesque building were a mere twenty square metres. This was the space he had to live in, sleep in and eat in. The bathroom was situated in a small adjacent room. Every other weekend his daughter Liza, the apple of his eye, stayed over. On those occasions Bob slept on a mattress on the floor so Liza could use the bed. This morning the skylight was covered with twelve centimetres of snow. To deal with nuisances like this, Bob had bought a large tub, measuring well over the width of the skylight. Carefully he twisted the handle of the window. He tried to apply pressure on the top of the window, so the bottom half would slowly move downwards into the room. The snow glided steadily downwards and dropped into the tub Bob had placed on the table. Most of the snow fell directly into the tub and not onto the plastic sheet he had placed on the carpet for protection. The sun was shining fiercely inside, setting the room ablaze. That's not what I wanted, Bob thought. He closed the tilting window and drew its curtain. That stopped the room from being overexposed like a bad picture. Bob got his cup of coffee, sat down and thought about the coming weekend, when his daughter would be staying with him for two days. He understood that presently she had to do a talk at school. Maybe he could help her. After all, he had plenty of time on his hands.

Two years ago Bob was a manager in a medium-sized supermarket in a small town twelve miles away. Now he was unemployed and awaiting the court's decision regarding a charge of embezzlement of a significant part of the supermarket's turnover for some months. According to Bob, he had been set up by a colleague, who was up to his eyeballs in debt. Indeed was, because since this whole business had started, said colleague had miraculously become debt-free. After one year of lawsuits, the final verdict would be announced in two weeks' time. Should Bob be declared guilty, a prison sentence one year max would be in store for him of. However, according to his lawyer, they had good credentials and a lawsuit against the now ex-colleague would follow suit. Should Bob be acquitted, a tidy amount of money could be expected. A sum he desperately needed to rebuild his life after his divorce.

It was exactly twenty-one months ago to the day that Bob divorced the woman he still loved in spite of everything: Marie-Ann Pickleforth. She had taken her maiden name again. She didn't want to be associated with the nasty business her ex-husband had found himself in over the last two years. Marie-Ann was an interior designer and a most adequate one, judging by the size of her own home. Marie-Ann lived with her daughter Liza in the largest house in the residential area she had settled in after the divorce.

Eleven years of age, with long dark hair and highly imaginative, Liza liked making scale models, especially buildings that had made an indelible impression in history: the pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, the Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building. She had a weakness for towers. She kept up to date meticulously with which tower was the highest in the world and how many people died whilst building them. She was going to give a talk at school in two weeks' time. That was what she enjoyed the most: conveying her love of towers and their fatalities to her classmates. Initially she wanted to talk about the Eiffel Tower, which was built at the end of the nineteenth century. No one was killed during the erection of the tower. Just the one builder but he didn't count, Liza reckoned. He climbed the tower after working hours to show off to his girlfriend. Liza didn't want to devote her talk to someone who had fallen off a tower under construction after working hours, never mind how famous the tower was.

Although something tended to go wrong during the reconstruction of impressive buildings many times, it turned out to be difficult to find a famous building that actually had some workers killed during the process. Fifty-one people were killed during the reconstruction of the cooling towers of the Pleasants Power Station in Willow Island in the United States some thirty years ago, when the men tried to pull up a large tub with cement. This was assumed to be the biggest disaster in construction yet. Who knew about this construction anyway? Hardly anybody. Therefore not a very interesting topic.

Eleven construction workers were killed in February 1937, when scaffolding on the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco collapsed, leaving the men falling through the safety nets. An awkward death but not exciting enough for Liza to talk about to her classmates.

That is why she settled on the Burj Khalifa in Dubai as the subject of her talk. Since 21 July 2007 it had been the tallest building in the world. On 4 January 2010 the tower was festively opened. On that day, the tower was 828 metres high. So far she hadn't found out if any construction workers got killed. The talk would be in two weeks' time. Hopefully she would have gleaned more information by then.

Liza often wondered why she had such a fascination for large buildings and their dead construction workers. Probably because she herself had a fear of heights. She couldn't bear to think about falling down and breaking all her bones. When she stood on the first floor of a building she didn't dare look down. For that reason she was actually glad her father's room only had a skylight. That way she wouldn't be able to look outside - never mind look down - but just up and she wouldn't suffer acrophobia. Thinking of her father's room, her mind wandered off to the scale models she had made and were displayed there. There wasn't much room for furniture in her father's small flat but her mother decidedly didn't want that 'junk' in her large house, on account of her using it as a show home for her activities as an interior decorator. There was no room for an eleven-years-old's trifling work. Her mother's house was always spic and span. Much too clean and tidy, Liza often complained but her mother wasn't too bothered about Liza's complaining. She only had eyes for her work, the accompanied income and of course the expenditures she thus could afford. Liza still didn't get her mother's fascination with shoes and handbags. She had never seen as many of them as in her mother's walk-in wardrobe. Possibly a thousand pairs of shoes and several hundred handbags.

She liked it much better at her father's, despite the lack of room. Whenever she stayed over at weekends, she wouldn't drink anything after eight o'clock in the evening. She hoped she wouldn't have to go to the toilet at night if she didn't drink late at night. For to find her way to the toilet in complete darkness at night was quite a venture, as she had once told her father. In actual fact she was afraid of the dark, even in that small room. Last December was the last time she tried that and she had nearly wet her bed. It had been Christmas Eve and they had had a late dinner and had drunk lots of beverages. She would rather not experience a night like that again. Her father had given her a torch, on that same Christmas Day and had said that she could definitely turn on the lights at night. She felt uncomfortable doing that. She didn't want her father to wake up at night. She knew he often didn't sleep well. Brooding over the lawsuit and over divorcing her mother. Within a few days' time she was going to stay at her father's again and they were going to work on her talk together.

3

1 March, Jim and Jimbo Jones

'Dad, I'm bored.' This was the standard phrase of Jimbo Jones, invariably called 'Jumbo' by his classmates, due to his large ears, as well as his generally ungainly antics during gymnastics. For example, he once managed to run down the pommel horse during vaulting. The springboard in front of the pommel horse provided so much extra speed forwards instead of upwards, that he had no time to put his hands on top of the pommel, push off and land neatly on the other side. For his classmates this had been a hilarious climax but it had been an all-time low for Jimbo. Everyone, including the gym teacher, fell about laughing. Ever since, Jimbo's nickname had been Jumbo, after the elephant that lived more than a hundred years ago and that was famous for its size.

(In 1882, Jumbo was sold for six thousand pounds to the then famous circus of Phineas Taylor. I remember this well. What a gigantic circus that was! It had three rings and in every ring there was something going on. You didn't know where to look first. That's where I saw Jumbo for the first time. I often returned to the circus to see him: a huge elephant with sad eyes.)

Not that Jimbo's classmates knew all this about Jumbo but in this way the name of the great elephant lived on in this fat, spoiled son of self-made billionaire Jim Jones, who owed his fortune to the sale of his telecom empire just before the crisis of 2008. Jim was forty years old at that time and he had no intention to ever work again.

Jimbo didn't have any friends, despite all the money Dad Jim was throwing about. Jimbo was merely the butt of ridicule. Not only because of his size but also because of his laziness and sadistic nature. Jimbo enjoyed torturing animals and killed all the insects he came across. He liked blowing up frogs and pushing tortoises on their backs onto the water.

Dad Jim had been married for just one year. His money, experience of life and intelligence hadn't helped him see Norma using him as a pension insurance. Nevertheless, Jim thought she had been worth the money. After all, she had provided him with an heir. She had renounced her rights to her child for an alimony of forty thousand pounds net per month (!) until her death. Although there were months when she was short of cash, she wasn't entirely unsatisfied with this amount. Every year she tried to increase the amount in court, so far without any luck.

Jimbo was sitting in the TV room, watching a film that hadn't featured in the cinemas yet. Dad Jim made a deal with all the film production companies to send him a copy of every new film directly off the editing table. Of course he had to pay a vast sum for this privilege, ordinarily by co-funding the film with several millions, but he had earned a lot of millions in return. So Jimbo was watching a film. It didn't take him more than ten minutes to decide he didn't like it and he started to look around him wearily. Just fifteen minutes ago he had been in the games room, which housed fruit machines, pinball machines, the Wii and other modern slot machines to entertain dozens of children. Jimbo was easily bored, although today he bettered his record. The slot machines and the Wii had captivated him for no less than twenty-five minutes. By then his concentration was gone and he had decided to watch a film. Presently he was calling his father, who filled his days mostly with staring at a computer screen. Shares had his main interest, as had the financial and economic news. He noticed that the Salfrinch-shares had dropped again. Those shares, worth millions, should have been sold two years ago. Then he wouldn't have made such a big loss today. He read that the company had its centenary this year and decided to take a gamble. He would buy new Salfrinch-shares. That had to go well, since they were so low at this moment. He suspected that Salfrinch would come up with some kind of activity because of their centenary. Maybe he could rake in a nice little return at the end of the year after all.

'Dad, I'm bored.' Jimbo walked into the study and startled his father, who had his mind completely on his Salfrinch-shares.

'I have to finish this first. Shall we go out afterwards? We can go and grab something to eat, or go to the shopping centre.'

'Can I have the latest game for the Wii?'

Jim had no clue as to what game had been issued for the Wii recently but he was pleased that he could keep Jimbo quiet on his day off.

'All right. Let me finish this and then we'll go. Ask Smart if he will drive the Rolls out, so we can leave as soon as I have finished, within a few minutes at the very most.'

Jimbo went downstairs, looking for Smart the butler, happily distracted by the thought of buying something new. Because that was Jimbo's favourite pastime: buying something. Even when he was younger he had enjoyed getting something new rather than actually having it. The joy of unwrapping was many times greater than playing with the present itself. Smart had put his toys on display and every month he swept his feather duster across them to wipe off the dust as best as he could. Once they were set out Jimbo never touched his toys again. There were three rooms full of things he hadn't touched during the past year. After a year Smart obtained Jim's permission to take the 'old' toys to a children's home. That was about the only kindness Jim allowed himself to do.

4

1 March, Helen and Alice Addup

Quite a long distance away from the Jones's residence, more towards the south of the country, was where Helen Addup lived, an accountant who was mad about numbers. As a child she always had the highest grades for arithmetic. She had a penchant for calculating things. For instance, she knew exactly how long it took her to go from home to school via six different routes. Those six routes were split up into public transport, by bicycle, by car and by foot. She even once calculated how long on average it took her family members to get up, have breakfast and go to work or school. As a child she calculated anything and everything and kept records of it in her notebook, or notebooks, to be more precise. In her youth she filled no less than twenty-three of them. Not with stories of her daily routines. Not with secret loves and not with comments on the weather. No, Helen had, as a child, noted everything down she could calculate. From the rise in prices in supermarkets to the differences in night and day temperatures. (A bit about the weather after all.) It was no surprise that Helen wanted to pursue a career in accountancy. She earned every certificate there was to become an accountant. She got a first at university. She could have worked for any of the largest accountancies in the country, or even start her own successful accountancy. Helen was contented working for a medium-sized company, because, although it was hard to imagine, Helen had an even bigger love: her daughter Alice.

There couldn't have been a bigger contrast between mother Helen and daughter Alice. Whereas mother Helen had short dark hair, was engaged in anything that had to do with numbers and was in perfect health, her daughter Alice was quite the opposite: long blond hair, always with her nose in a book, thus preferring letters and not numbers and always sickly, to say the least. Despite her being just thirteen years old, she had been hospitalised six times already. Her muscles didn't always do what she wanted them to do. This resulted in her having had an arm dislocated several times, one time her leg - a painful memory - and even her jaw, caused by a very long yawn. She spent that whole ride to the hospital with her mouth wide open. Afterwards, she and her parents had seen the funny side of that. That hadn't made it any less painful. Nowadays Alice could put her own arm back into its socket. This happened once a month on average. Every year she had to go to hospital for a medical, to test her ligaments. She had had an operation on them twice already. The ligaments were drawn tighter, like curtains on a windy night and then she would be all right for a while, until her arm popped out of its socket and she had to put it back again herself. She always went to the hospital for a check-up afterwards. In a worst-case scenario, she would have to have another operation. It was a never-ending story. Just like in the books she so much loved to read. There were stories she wished would never end. She would rather the author wrote as fast as she read. Every single week a new instalment of the story. The most wonderful stories she loved to read took place in wintertime, with thick layers of snow and ice and wretched, hungry animals that had to be fed. The best were the fairy tales, with non-existent ravenous animals, of which the drawings were so beautiful that she could spend half the day just staring at them. By doing so, her thoughts often wandered off. Just like Liza, Alice liked to hold talks. Whereas Liza stuck to history and reality, Alice liked to think up her talks. Make up a story about non-existent creatures that lived in the bitter cold of Scandinavia, where in the north it could be dark for six months at a time. Where the animals and other creatures could hardly see one another. Stories to dream away by, stories to give you goose bumps, stories that have your classmates think at the ending, it just might be true. Alice would give anything to make a long trip to such a country. She had heard that Siberia had frost the whole year round. She could hardly believe that that was true. How thick would the ice be, if it never melted? Perhaps several miles thick.

In fact, this story wasn't correct, although it is true that Siberia has very cold winters.

Her mind wandered off again. She found herself in the middle of ice, suddenly getting so cold that she dropped her book and looked up startled. Her mother was standing in the doorway, smiling and carrying a mug of hot chocolate. Despite the fact that it was already March it had snowed heavily, some ten centimetres. Alice had been outside very early that morning. It had still been dark. There had been no prints in the snow yet. She had walked down the street, taking care to walk only in the gutter, leaving no visible traces so that it looked as if nobody had walked in the street yet. The snow had been nice and smooth. Today the temperature would rise above freezing, so she had to enjoy that thick layer of snow while it lasted. Beyond their residential area were pastures and a bit of woodland. She had walked to the woods to see if she could find any animal tracks. She liked squirrels the best but in this kind of weather they usually stayed high up in the trees, in their nests. Every now and then she saw tracks of a fox or a fawn. This part of the wood was really too near to civilization, although last winter it had been so cold, that even the roes ventured to the outskirts of the wood to see if the people had scattered something edible.

She had been back home for a while and had started to read her umpteenth book. The hot chocolate her mother brought her was a welcome distraction. Not that the story was boring but after peering for hours at the pages she now had the opportunity to cast her eyes onto something else and relax.

5

1 March, Sarah and Bill Averidge

Whereas Alice would love to visit the distant north, Sarah Averidge and her son Bill preferred to go to the south as far as they possibly could. There the temperature was far better for Bill's asthma. A good long holiday, ideally for the whole of the winter, so Bill's lungs could settle down a bit. Not to be in the moist climate where they were now. To make matters worse, they lived near the sea. The only advantage was that the blowing wind made the air purer than it was inland but the briny sea air strained his weak lungs to their limit. Frequently Bill had to be attached to a respirator. When he was allowed to go to school again afterwards, he made sure he carried his inhaler, which he used almost continuously.

Sarah and Bill had never had such a holiday in a warmer climate. Sarah was on social benefits and worked at night as a cleaner to pay for Bill's additional health costs. Cash in hand that was, otherwise there would be no point in doing it. Because his mother worked so hard for him, Bill felt compelled to work as hard as he could at school. He had to do that anyway because he was, at best, an average student. Averidge by name, average by nature, he sometimes thought. Nothing special, he didn't excel at any subject except when the chosen subjects demanded computer and software knowledge, for he was a wizard with computers. There had yet to be a jammed hard disk he couldn't release again. Hardly a weekend went by without someone making an appeal to him and his computer knowledge. Sometimes it was a printer that didn't work properly, at other times someone's laptop that wouldn't start up or a program that couldn't be installed. Bill could do anything. That made him feel very proud, but he was most proud of the payments he received for his jobs. Every penny of it he gave to his Mum. She even resigned from one night's cleaning job thanks to his financial contributions. Presently Bill was captivated by making his own computer programs. A security program for instance, that enabled you to see from somewhere else, via your mobile or computer, if someone was in your house. Useful for when you went on holiday. Not that he had ever been on a holiday. Three of their neighbours had already bought his program and had it installed on their computers. It really worked! Bill had ambitious plans: establishing his own software development business. He could sell software packages in his home town, maybe even in the whole country. Maybe his earnings would allow them to go on those longed-for holidays to warm, sunny countries, where he and his mother could both get their breath back.

Yes, he and his Mum, because Bill's father died several years ago: just like that, all of a sudden, of a heart attack. In the morning when Bill went to school there had been nothing to indicate something was wrong. His father had gone to work as usual. In the evening Bill had to go straight to the hospital to say goodbye to his father. He had only just been in time. If he had been ten minutes later he would have missed his father's dying words. They were so softly spoken, he had hardly been able to make them out. His father had asked him to look after his Mum. He remembered it as if it happened only yesterday. He couldn't quite understand how a nine-year-old boy could look after his Mum. Now, five years on, he sort of got the message. That it was meant symbolically and that it also meant he should take care of himself. He tried to but keeping an eye on his Mum was far easier than keeping himself in line. He didn't do a lot of crazy stuff, though. Only sometimes he got out of bed late at night, when his lungs prevented him from sleeping and he had to get outside to breathe in a bit of fresh air. His mother would be out cleaning, so he liked to roam the sand dunes by himself. Every now and then he came across something that didn't pass muster. Like a poacher, walking with something large thrown over his shoulder. Or boys on their mopeds, who were driving full speed across the sand dunes. He himself had never done anything that foolish. Walking around was tiring enough. More so when he had to duck away when encountering a poacher or a group of boys. Those kind of movements demanded all his strength. Most of the time he went to bed afterwards even more exhausted. Sometimes he was just in time before his mother got home. He knew she would finish work at two o'clock in the morning. It took her about fifteen minutes on her bike to arrive home. He always made sure he was in bed at ten past two at the latest.

6

1 March, The cousins Frank and Paul

Frank Rich was studying the newspaper. Always on the lookout for announcements of changes of address or obituary notices. In summer he was also looking for companies or individuals who were on holiday. Sometimes people made it only too easy. They virtually advertised their absences in the newspapers. You only had to find the proper address, put it in your satnav and as soon as it was dark you could set off. It had been quite different this past winter. There had never been so much snow in one winter as this year and snow meant a forced stay at home. Any apt burglar - and he counted himself as one - knew it was plain stupidity to operate in the snow. All the police had to do was follow your prints and the game was up. He had made that mistake in the remote past. Ever since, he was on winter break. At one time he even tried to qualify for special benefits, just like house-painters or builders who couldn't do their jobs due to bad weather conditions. He had a hard time trying to make this clear to the desk worker. He couldn't simply say that due to the snow he wasn't able to do his work as a burglar. Now he had reconciled himself with the situation. The moment the first snowflakes whirled down from the sky he stayed in bed. The snow had beaten him. Today was a fine first March day, though, and spring was on its way. Although you wouldn't think so given the thick layer of snow in front of his door. Instead of staying in bed he was cutting out address announcements and obituary notices. One couldn't deny that he had a lack of foresight. The weather forecast said it would be five degrees Celsius today. With a little luck the snow would have thawed away by the evening and he would be able to pay a visit to the people who weren't home.

He looked at the time. He had to fill in his cousin before twelve o'clock about what they were going to do that night. His cousin Paul was a good, big headed lad with a crew cut and a tad too heavy for his height. Or how did they put it: too short for his weight? Paul wasn't exactly bright but he did mean well. That didn't always suit Frank. Indeed, it had cost them a lot of money many times. Frank had a soft spot for Paul, son of his aunt and uncle Groope, who both died in a car accident ten years ago. There were stories circulating that it had been Paul's fault, because he was behind the wheel and had pushed his foot on the accelerator. There had been a sharp bend coming up, a bit too sharp. Wonder of wonders Paul survived, despite having broken several bones. He had got stuck round the steering wheel, fracturing his sternum. His parents died on the spot. Both had been hurled out of the car.

The accident also caused Paul to get overweight. Broken bones and convalescence kept him hospitalised for a year. You didn't lose weight convalescing. Paul couldn't remember any of it happening but it had given him a troubled conscience. The moment that the troubling had stopped, his conscience had also gone away. Instead he had got an exceptionally large and solid body. More body than brains, they used to say sometimes. Paul didn't care. He had left the past behind and had forgotten it for the greatest part. Now he tried to focus as best as he could on the jobs big cousin Frank thought out for them. Although being fairly big himself, Frank was a small boy compared to Paul. While one body was lean and small and the other broad and big, no job was too difficult for them, physically, that is. Intellectually, both their capabilities were lacking. Especially Paul's intelligence let them down at times.

For instance, that time they burgled a place and Frank had stood guard outside, carrying a walkie-talkie. It had been at a large bank. Paul had disconnected the alarm but it had been a long way to the vault. That demanded speed and power. Brainless power and that was Paul's strength. Unfortunately, Paul was always hungry. When he had come across a canteen, he hadn't been able to resist inspecting the fridge and the store cupboard. There he found some goodies. His thoughts had been completely caught up by the food. He forgot all about his assignment and his walkie-talkie was off. The guard who passed by saw the fridge's light shining. Sizing up the situation, he found Paul surrounded by empty wrappers of all sorts of crisps and bars and two empty cans of beer. The sentence Paul served for this burglary turned out to be much shorter than had been expected, because it could not be proven the bank had actually been robbed. After all, the burglar hadn't come any further than the canteen.

Today Frank would inform his cousin Paul about the next job he had his eyes on. Banks and other large buildings that had canteens in them were out of the question. They would simply concentrate on residences and large mansions owned by people who were away for some amount of time. For at least half a day. Frank wanted enough time to have a good look around. At the moment Paul was often the lookout. Although that once went almost wrong too, because Paul was standing guard at the wrong house. When the family came back from a funeral and were let off at their home by the undertakers' cars, Paul showed a keen interest in the make of the cars and their horsepower. It had totally slipped his mind, as he told Frank later, that those were the people living in the house where Frank actually was. Fortunately the front door had made some noise and Frank managed to jump out of a window at the back of the house, onto the lower roof of a kitchen extension. Via the other side of the kitchen and the neighbours' garden he popped up next to Paul, who had been delighted that all had run so quickly and smoothly.

'What did you take?' asked Paul eagerly.

'Nothing, you idiot! Those people came home too early.'

'That's impossible,' said Paul. 'I haven't seen anybody go inside.'

'And exactly where haven't you seen anybody go inside?'

'Well, here at number 52.'

'And who did go inside at number 54?'

'Oh, some people who were brought home by two very large black cars.'

'Well, well,' said Frank, 'two very large black cars. Maybe those people were at a funeral today.'

'Now, there's a coincidence!' exclaimed Paul. 'Two funerals in the same road!'

'Yes,' replied Frank. 'Or maybe I was in the house those people just came home to?'

'Weren't you at number 52, then?'

'Have you seen me go inside there?'

'No but you went round the back, didn't you? I thought you would go inside number 52.'

It was like pulling teeth. One in two jobs failed because Paul made a mistake, didn't pay attention during the explanation, or was distracted on the spot by fancy cars or beautiful ladies. Frank had an easy job in mind for tonight. Provided, of course, that the snow had melted.

7

1 March, John Bowman

John Bowman was standing in the sun lounge of his large residence in one of the city's suburbs. His stomach ached. Not because of the wonderful view. Presently he was looking at the sloping lawn the size of a football pitch, with a frozen oval pond in its centre. Last night's snow had turned his large garden into a wonderful fairy-like scenery. Slowly the sun ascended and altered his garden into a golden vista. The splendid scenery couldn't ease his pessimistic feeling. He spent last night more awake than asleep. His thoughts had been on today's meeting almost constantly. Exactly four weeks ago he sent his executive board and chief executive officers home with a near-impossible task. The future of the century-old toy store Salfrinch hung by a thread. If there weren't any good ideas by tonight he would take a gloomy view of the future. He had sent the assembly home with a threat: creative ideas or else… perhaps redundancy. Of course he himself had been thinking long and hard the last four weeks. He had realised that creativity and a demanding job do not go well together. He used to complain that the directors never came forward with any ideas. Now he understood. When you are too engrossed in your work, there isn't much room for creativity. You had to empty your head in order to fill it with creativity. Most directors held more commissionerships than just the one at Salfrinch's and the executive officers had to pull out all the stops in these hard times to manage their departments. They didn't have the time and perhaps not the capacity either to come up with new products. That could mean that they had to engage an expensive advertising agency, that, for their part, would bring in a product development company. Ultimately there were going to be far too many people involved in launching just a few new products. Maybe he should leave it with an advertising agency to develop a new marketing strategy for Salfrinch. Perhaps that would boost the turnover. The crisis was coming to an end. With a little luck the turnover would increase this year. Maybe he could still resign at the end of the year. Not with the intended turnover of a billion but still with having turned round the downward spiral. Leave it to his successor to reach the turnover of a billion. However, a worldwide company needed more than a little luck to increase its turnover. It took knowledge, creativity and hard work. One thing he definitely knew: today they would take the first step. The meeting was going to be at two in the afternoon. At six he would know how things stood.

Presently it was eight o'clock and time for breakfast. That was to say… Maybe a cup of tea and some fresh orange juice. He didn't feel much like eating. He tried to remain positive and told himself he would have a good reason to go out to dinner with his wife Ava tonight. The last two years he hadn't been his usual jolly self. Problems at work had made him dejected and depressed. The more so because his brother-in-law Steve Salfrinch, great-grandson of Salfrinch's founder and the son of his father-in-law, had tried to make his life a misery. Steve constantly emphasised everything that showed John in an unfavourable light. Steve resented the fact that he, Steve, being the great-grandson of the founder and the company's eponym, hadn't been elected chairman. No, brother-in-law John had been given the chairman's gavel and had steered the company successfully through a couple of difficult years. Steve would never admit he admired John for what he had done: keeping the business afloat despite hard times. All right, maybe they weren't the market leader anymore, that was hardly surprising in view of those low salaries they handed out in Asia. All things considered, John hadn't done too badly. Steve had embraced the crisis as a way to slowly but steadily undermine John's power. Steve wanted to be chairman, by whatever means necessary and perhaps even against his better judgement. He wanted to re-establish the Salfrinch-name. Although, in all fairness, he knew that the job of chairman probably wouldn't suit him well. He was hoping the executive board and executive officers would show enough support that he could last a few years as chairman of the board of the largest toy company in the world.

John knew that Steve was undermining his authority. Up until the crisis he hadn't taken much notice. All departments were running smoothly. There had been no reason for concern. All this had changed. This was a decisive year for Salfrinch, as well as for John.

John heard a sound behind him. His wife Ava entered the room.

'Are you having breakfast?' she said.

'I'll just have a cup of tea and a glass of juice.'

'Then I'll have the table cleared.'

She walked out of the room, looking for the maid-cum-au pair for their two children, John Jr, aged twelve and Annette, aged ten. A good wife, beautiful children, a nice job - if the economy was favourable - and an incredible house. He couldn't have asked for more. Well, good health, perhaps. As far as he knew, he wasn't suffering ill-health. What could go wrong today? At the very most he could lose his job. Another chairman might manage to put Salfrinch in the right direction again. That wasn't what troubled him. In his own mind he would have breached his father-in-law's faith in him if he didn't succeed in making Salfrinch the number one company again. He gazed across the lawn. Slowly everything golden had turned into yellow. He had five hours to think of some ideas himself. Then he would get his car out. It would take him forty-five minutes to get to the head office. His secretary would already have started to get the conference room ready with pens, paper and drinks. No laptops or mobiles, because he didn't want the members being distracted during meetings. Everything would be ready to have a positive meeting with profitable output. He was very anxious to know what kind of ideas would be brought up. Indeed, he was looking forward to it. First he had to scribble something down himself. After all, he had to set a good example. The garden glistened. Droplets trickled slowly from the bare branches. Before he went, the last snow would have melted away and the garden would be green again.

8

1 March, Steve Salfrinch

John Bowman hadn't been the only one waking up with the collywobbles. Half the members of the meeting had slept badly. The month had flown past rather more quickly than expected. One of the few people who had actually slept magnificently was Winston Schmitts, senior member of the executive board and longest sitting member. Aged 74 years, he had no intention to stop yet. These profitable commissionerships allowed him to enjoy a better life than many of his contemporaries. With his Rolls in his garage, his yacht in the harbour and his Havana cigars at his fingertips, nobody could get at him. Not even John Bowman. He had a standing contract until his death, unless he himself wanted to terminate it. He had everything under control and that was the way he liked things to be. Never be dependent on anybody else. Bad moods were bad counsellors. He had learned his lesson in the past. There was no strain or the wearisome chasing of shadows for him. The request, indeed threat, to think about a new toy had never even troubled his mind. How the heck should he know what a ten-year-old liked to play with! Of what importance were his views on that? There were companies to research that kind of thing. Salfrinch stocked more than ten thousand products. His attempts to invent a new toy wouldn't change much. To be on the safe side he had asked his twelve-year-old grandson what he wanted to have for his birthday. What he and his classmates reckoned the most popular toy was at this moment. That way he got more or less a feel of what was hip and happening for children today. What that was, was fairly obvious. Even a boy of twelve and his peers had succumbed to the temptations of electronics. All their wishes involved electronic gadgets starting with an i: iPod, iPad, iPhone and so on. Winston hardly knew what they were on about. He himself owned a Blackberry and he was more than contented with it. As long as he could make calls and keep his diary, he had no use for other i-gadgets. During the meeting he would vent his knowledge, gleaned from his grandson, as common knowledge. That had to be enough. He smiled, pleased with himself. He picked up a newspaper, took one of his largest cigars and settled himself comfortably in the chair by the window. He had two comfortable chairs: one for mornings and one for evenings. In the morning he sat at the west side of the house. In the evening at the east side. Nothing annoyed him more than a blazing morning or evening sun glaring in his eyes while reading the paper. After all, reading the paper was hard work. One had to keep a close eye on shares and other financial news.

Only a few miles away Steve Salfrinch was having his breakfast. Fried eggs with bacon, sausages and fried chips. Steve didn't suffer stomach aches. All this 'very long month' he had looked forward to today. The beginning of the end of his rival-cum-brother-in-law. After today's meeting John Bowman's future wouldn't look promising anymore. Steve had manipulated some of the members into not putting forward too many ideas. The fewer, the better. Without any good ideas there wouldn't be the promise of a higher turnover: therefore, farewell to John and enter Steve Salfrinch, chairman of Salfrinch Incorporated. He had his nameplate made last week. He had even ordered a new gavel. He couldn't bear to think of wielding the same gavel as his rival of all those years. No, there would be a fresh wind blowing. Steve hadn't yet thought how he would bring that about. At the moment he relied heavily on the feigned qualities of his fellow members. It would be a long time before the show began at two o'clock. He would like the morning to pass as quickly as possible. First he was going to sit at the kitchen table and read the newspaper and then head for town and walk into some stores of rival toy companies to see if they had new goods on offer. Drink a latte macchiato at his favourite Starbucks, maybe even two because he was in a happy mood. Subsequently he would have a light lunch at his club. He didn't want to be too full at the meeting. To celebrate his first success he might take his mistress to that gourmet restaurant. His wife wouldn't be there anyway; recently she spent all of her time with whatever activity club.

I was becoming rather anxious for the results of the creative excesses of the directors and executive officers myself and at how the course of the meeting would go. With my special capacities I had made certain I could attend the meeting without being seen. I had managed to persuade Bowman's secretary to allow me to stand inconspicuously in a corner during the meeting and step out of the shadows to do my job every time a member wanted something to eat or drink and then retreat to my spot in the shadow. All through the meeting I would listen in on what the ladies and gentlemen intended to do and hear what magnificent ideas they had thought up.

9

1 March, The meeting

At exactly two o'clock everyone was seated in the conference room on the top floor of Salfrinch's head office. There wasn't much left of that morning's thick layer of snow. The distant trees in the woods were only white in places. Nothing white in this room, though, where some had gone bright red with excitement, or perhaps was it nerves?

Winston Schmitts was the only one present who took his seat apparently not affected at all. Some of them had found the nerve to whisper to their neighbours but most were just sitting there staring ahead of them, waiting for what was to come.

Nicole Ansem, chief marketing, had felt sick all day. Would John expect a marketing strategy of her or a new product? To be on the safe side she had worked out both, which had cost her a few sleepless nights at her desk. Of all of them, she looked the worse for wear as a result.

Hank Origo, chief product development, had read up on his letter of appointment several times in the last weeks. What was expected of him in his position? Surely not that he himself was to develop new products? His most important tasks were supervising the development of new products, give advice, and, together with Nicole, market the products. Hank too had made sure he had thought up an idea.

The only one who could afford to snigger was Steve Salfrinch. He couldn't wait to see John head for disaster. Steve gloated at the very thought. He had made arrangements with three directors and two executive officers to not bring any ideas to the meeting. Including himself, six out of the eleven people present would not be prepared. A fantastic majority. He was so excited, he could hardly contain himself. This afternoon would see the first victory in his hunt for the job of chairman. At least, that was what Steve thought. The reality turned out to be completely different. In the end nobody had come unprepared to the meeting. Even Winston Schmitts had gone deeply into the subject of i-equipment. He hadn't put anything on paper but that made no difference. He never put anything on paper, he always recited everything from memory.

'Welcome,' John began. 'Four weeks ago we broke up in the hope that the future was going to be good and Salfrinch would enjoy a beneficial year. A beneficial year that is going to be constructed on the results of this meeting. As I said four weeks ago, I was adamant to send you home open-minded. No prearranged rehearsed information. Everyone, myself included, had to think about a proposal. An idea for a product or an ad campaign, or a marketing strategy.' He cast a quick glance at Nicole Ansem, whose colour came up in her cheeks immediately. John quickly looked away. He didn't want to discomfit Nicole.

'Who would like to start?'

'How about yourself?' said Winston.

'No, thank you, Winston. As chairman it is my duty to preside over the meeting. Not that I came without any ideas of my own this afternoon. You will learn my input during the course of the meeting.

'Miss Nicolette?' John addressed his secretary, who was working on the minutes. 'I would like to point out, perhaps unnecessarily, that everything mentioned here today stays in this room. Any idea that is brought forward can mean the success or the downfall of Salfrinch. I don't want our rivals' attention drawn to that.'

Miss Nicolette blushed. That was a good sign. It showed she was conscious of how serious the situation was.

'Ladies, gentlemen. To whom may I hand the floor?'

Harry Henderson coughed. For three years he had been a member of the executive board and the youngest person present. He too hadn't slept a wink the previous night. He had been one of the first people who was approached by Steve Salfrinch. At first Harry had agreed not to put forward his ideas. He would be silent and when the chairman would press him about his ideas, he would beat about the bush. His story would get bogged down in vague commonplaces and at some stage John would cut in and call upon somebody else. Harry Henderson looked at John. That, he did deliberately. John was sitting on his left, Steve opposite of him. If he looked directly at John, he didn't have to look at Steve. Steve looked astonished and his jaw dropped when Harry got up to speak.

'That open-mindedness, I didn't think that was a clever idea. It left us in a state of uncertainty. What exactly was it you wanted us to do? Invent a product? Develop a marketing strategy from scratch? And is this our job? I imagine Nicole _ he looked at her and she blushed again. Not because her name was mentioned but because she fancied Harry _ could set up a perfect marketing strategy. I wouldn't be surprised if Hank came up with a new idea for a product and now you expect me, a director, to come up with something but I have no idea what it is exactly you expect from me. I cannot imagine that all of us would come up with dozens of new products. What I have thought about is how we could acquire new products. I suggest we organise a competition, to get the whole country or maybe even the whole world thinking up a new toy for Salfrinch.'

'The whole world, no less! I think that's a bit too much to ask but you opt for a competition. All right. Nicolette will make a note of it, tomorrow you will receive the minutes in your mailbox and we will take a vote about all the ideas. Do you have anything else for us, Harry?' said John.

Harry was rather taken aback that John was satisfied so easily, so he shook his head. If necessary he could at a later time put forward his other ideas. In this way he could keep Steve dangling a little as well.

'All right, that's the first idea taken care of. Who's next?'

John had deliberately left it at that. Harry was always so long-winded and they only had until six o'clock. Besides, John wanted everybody to be able to have their say, to give everybody the opportunity to show some guts. Nobody was aware that they were already in the process of brainstorming. He hadn't used that expression on purpose four weeks ago. Some might consider that an excuse to not do any preparation; others got nervous when they had to shout out 'anything', that was subsequently being put down in the minutes.

Hannah Olsen, chief human resource, got up to speak. 'I can imagine we involve our staff throughout the world. That works both ways. People feel more involved with the company when they know that they can think up a product that could be taken into production. It might win them a reward. That way, it is still an internal affair and the competition doesn't need to know what we are doing.'

Now all of a sudden three people jumped up.

'Nicole is to speak,' pointed John to the chief marketing officer.

'You lose the desired effect when you don't go public with such a competition. It is the intention to let everybody know Salfrinch is organising a competition, surely? Provided that we are organising a competition. Supposing we are, it will be much more interesting to broadcast it. The newspapers will write about it. Other media will take up on it. That will yield free publicity. If it is only an internal affair, you are mounting a huge campaign that no one will know about and that would be a pity.'

'People, listen up. You may not have noticed but everything we are saying, are in fact ideas on which we will elaborate later. So try to be as neutral about what is being said as possible. We will give our opinions in the next meeting. Who's next?'

To everyone's surprise Winston Schmitts took the floor. 'At the next meeting I will give my verdict on everything that's been put forward today. I will contribute to this as well. We have to move with the times where products are concerned. All those i-contraptions that are sweeping the market, we have to get into that as well! Either by making them ourselves, or by selling them under licence. As I've come to understand it there are loads of products like the iPhone or iPad that need special programs. We have to make certain we market them too. Start with an app, that's the name of those programs.'

The younger people chuckled. Almost everyone present owned an i-contraption, as Winston called it, or knew what he was talking about. The old Schmitts came out with it as if he had thought of the cat's whiskers.

'An app about Salfrinch,' proceeded Winston. 'Information on your own phone about our company. If people want to know whether we sell a particular item and where, they can look it up on their phones or tablets. As soon as we have our own company covered, we could market other apps related to toys. I haven't worked out yet how to do that but we could organise a competition for that as well.'

All those present were slightly taken aback. To do him justice, old Schmitts didn't speak out very often but when he opened his mouth, out came useful additions or musings.

'Thank you for your contribution, Winston.' Even before John could ask who wanted to come forward next, Hank Origo raised his hand and fired away immediately.

'As our biggest turnover is always in December, we should think of something, a competition maybe.' He glanced at Harry. 'And that competition should take place in December or just before December. We could link it with a Christmas theme. People tend to be a bit more creative around Christmas. There are even people who make their own Christmas cards, or presents, or things to decorate their Christmas tree with. We could take advantage of that.'

Yet again there was a murmur of assent. Although there wasn't much said specifically yet, John was satisfied with the course the meeting was taking. He found that the assembly took up on what the previous speaker said, instead of only putting forward their own ideas.

However, Steve saw his schemes evaporate into thin air. One by one, everyone he had an agreement with put ideas forward John could take credit for. The awkward thing was that up till now the speakers hadn't brought forward any ideas for new products. They could substantiate that they had kept it 'airy-fairy', just like they agreed. In the meantime John was well on his way to organising a competition.

'If we're going to organise a competition,' Steve tried to thwart him, 'has anybody thought of what would be the award? What people could win? And what about rights? Suppose someone has thought up this fantastic product or toy. Will we buy the rights off them? Do they get a share of the profits? We have to make sound understandings beforehand about that.'

Steve was content with his interruption. He thought that he had caused some doubt and that the others might think that organising a competition wasn't a good idea after all.

'Why shouldn't we start the competition earlier in the year? Just before or after the summer, for instance. That way, we have ample time to execute the designs and get them in the stores. If the competition attracts a lot of attention, we may yield six months of free publicity.' Dean Slowitz, chief purchasing officer, got into his stride. Before he could take it any further, John silenced him.

'That sounds good, Dean. A competition organised six months before Christmas, so that we can benefit quite a long time and get the items in store in time.'

'Yeah, but,' interrupted Steve, 'you can't expect people to think of Christmas during a hot summer!'

John more or less ignored Steve. 'Let's consider this concept of a competition a while longer. What sort of competition should it be?'

Nicole Ansem said, 'You already mentioned items and Christmas. What is more obvious than to think up a kind of toy that you can put under the Christmas tree as a present?'

'You can even widen the scope by involving winter!' shouted old Winston enthusiastically. 'Toys, or something else that reminds you of winter.'

'Winter is only about freezing temperatures,' tried Steve once more. 'Nobody wants that. An electronic snowball that finds its own way? Or a robot that shovels snow? That is never going to work and people have to think about that during the summer!'

'No,' intervened John, in his capacity as chairman, 'but you can think up fun things for winter. Eccentric snow crystals to hang in the window, for example. Or a special thermometer. You can think of a lot more things. People who don't think much of Christmas but who do like winter or snow could become enthusiastic about that and want to participate. You can combine those two things. As long as it is something we can manufacture and sell.'

Eventually everybody had their say and some other ideas were added in the minutes. Miss Nicolette would work out her notes and put the minutes in the members' pigeon holes.

Tired but contented John closed the meeting at a quarter to six. The results were beyond expectation. Everybody had joined in, except for Steve. He hadn't expected anything else from him. Ever since the credit crisis Steve was trying to push him off the chairman's chair. After this meeting John felt that he was sitting a bit firmer in his chair. He would call Ava and suggest they dine out. He wanted to prolong the good vibe he was feeling, even if the meeting hadn't yielded any ideas for new products. He didn't want to return home just yet but have a little celebration first. Although nothing was certain and anything could go wrong at this point, John had a good feeling about it. He thought organising a competition was the best idea. He wanted to elaborate on that himself. How to create free publicity from the moment the competition began until the very last day. That very last day would be Christmas Eve. In that way Salfrinch would milk the publicity till the very end. How to put something like that about? He would think about that tomorrow; first he would call Ava.

10

1 March, Steve Salfrinch

Reluctantly Steve Salfrinch walked out of the office. Just like John Bowman he craved distraction but not with his wife. Lost in thought, he got into his car. Steve too owned a Rolls, just like his brother-in-law. Not that he thought it such a terrific car. He was of the opinion he owed it to himself, being the bearer of the Salfrinch-name, to go to his work in a 'royal' car. At home he had a Porsche and a Maserati. For the fast Sunday afternoons, as he used to say. He never drove faster with the Rolls than sixty miles per hour. The car had to glide through traffic, as it were. He couldn't drive fast in the city anyway but he also liked to make a regal impression on the country roads leading to his estate. He preferred driving himself. Winston Schmitts was the only member of the executive board who had his own chauffeur. Winston's wife passed away years ago. With a chauffeur, at any rate the old Schmitts had someone to talk to.

Steve accelerated and drove to the restaurant where he would meet his new girlfriend Diana Ridge. They were to meet at Misty's, an apt name for his state of mind. He'd rather meet at the Sunny Bar and get plastered. Instead he would eat the Beluga caviar, the Scottish salmon and the homemade tiramisu at the stylish Misty. He would let Diana choose the wine. Maybe that would put a smile on his face. Diana hadn't any knowledge of wines and always chose the same sweet Von Beulwitz, which they didn't serve anywhere. A German Riesling, 2005 was supposed to be a good year. He had bought a couple of bottles but found the wine too sweet for his taste. He'd rather have a refreshing white wine, or a bold red one. Today he would have the refreshing white wine with the salmon.

Diana was waiting outside the restaurant. Whenever she was meeting a man she wouldn't go inside the place by herself. She thought it good manners to wait outside for her date. Steve would have preferred her being already inside the building. He knew that she would kiss him right in front of the prestigious restaurant and he'd rather not do that in public. Diana was a cheerful girl of twenty-nine years, who had been hunting, as she called it, for six years. She thought she did justice to her name. By chance she had found out that Diana is the Roman goddess of the hunt and the youngest of all Roman gods. She found it quite amusing that Diana's favourite weapon was the bow and arrow. Often she pictured herself with a bow and arrow, hunting to bring down another man. A wealthy one, that was. Someone she could enchant with her smile and who would shower her with expensive gifts. After every ending of such a conquest she would sell those presents and put the money into her bank account, so she could save up for a nice retirement.

One of goddess Diana's most important qualities was that she endeavoured to remain a virgin; she was the patroness of chastity. Diana chuckled. In that she hadn't succeeded. She was chaste but only for the first couple of weeks after a new encounter. By chance she found out that men valued her more - indeed financially valued her more - when she didn't put out on the first night. Although most men would have liked her to, they found it intriguing to have to exert themselves to captivate her. Once, for instance, her hotel room had been filled with hundreds of red roses. If she had kept all the bracelets and necklaces they had given her, she could have staged quite an impressive exhibition. It would have been the envy of many jewellers.

She was standing outside Misty's, waiting for Steve Salfrinch, a descendant of the legendary Salfrinch family that owned hundreds of toy stores all over the world. After her first meeting with Steve she had done some research on the Internet. That's what she always did after a first encounter. It depended on her findings whether the man she had met was interesting enough for her to get to know better. There had been ample information about Steve Salfrinch. He was a member of the executive board and worked at the company's head offices in the city. He owned an estate which took up several hectares, possessed a stable filled with race horses and loved fast cars, although it was noticed that in the city he mainly drove a Rolls Royce. It wasn't that often that her lovers took her out in their own cars. They mostly ferried her by taxi. Preferably with blinded windows.

In all her working life - as she considered her conquests hard work - she had never had an affair with an unmarried man. She had several boyfriends when she was younger but they all bored her quite rapidly. Money had never bored her. The more money the men owned, the longer she could put up with them. Although never longer than six months. After six months, it became mere routine.

While thinking about her future, Steve cut her musings short. 'What are you gazing so dreamily at?'

'I was thinking about you and what I shall have for dinner tonight.'

'I think I already know what I want but I'm going to let today's special surprise me. If it's tempting, I might go for that.'

'Don't act so pompously. Your dishes tonight consist of caviar, salmon and tiramisu. Just like all the other nights we've had supper here.'

'O, am I that predictable?'

'No, not at all, darling. I'm supposed to choose the wine again, am I not?'

'Well, if you'd like to.'

'No, thank you. They don't have a Von Beulwitz and I don't care for that other plonk. I'm disappointed that you haven't remarked on that to the manager. A nice Riesling would go down well tonight. How was work today, by the way?'

'I'd rather not talk about that. I was well prepared but somehow I let it slide.'

'Do you still have your eye on your brother-in-law's chair?'

'Now how do you know that?'

'I tend to read the papers every now and then. Especially the gossip column, where they write about you so deliciously negatively. It makes me see a whole different side of you.'

'Don't believe everything you read, love. I'm happy with what I have. I have a pleasant house, a beautiful wife, two sweet children and a good job that doesn't demand too much of me. The most important thing is that now I'm going to have dinner with my best friend in my favourite restaurant.'

'Sure, you mentioned me last in your list of positive things.'

'Yeah, but you know what they say, “Last but not least”? Anyway, you were the last thing to enter my life.'

'Let's order, I'm hungry. Let's discuss your work later on. Maybe I can help you out.'

Steve had an enquiring look on his face. How in Heaven's name can she help me? he thought. Who of standing does she know that I do not?

Diana smiled subtly. She had no idea how she could help him but this way she could keep things exciting between them.

11

15 March, Liza’s talk

For the umpteenth time Bob Young looked at his watch. Not that it would make time go any faster but because he had nothing else to do. His room was tidied up. He had pulled out the mattress from beneath the bed. Made it up and secured the blankets with belts. He had put the mattress behind a cupboard against the wall so it wouldn't be in the way but still easily accessible when they went to bed that night. In about an hour's time Liza would be here. Two long weeks had passed once again.

His phone rang. That's Liza, Bob thought happily. Liza always phoned, she never rang the bell. Giving his daughter some thought, Bob had to admit she was actually a peculiar child. Still she was his peculiar child. She didn't like darkness, she was afraid of heights, she didn't like to ring a bell and she had a predilection for dead builders. Well, maybe not a predilection but she had a keen interest. One might almost believe that she fell down a tower under construction in the dark in a previous life.

Bob hurried downstairs. He could have pushed the button of the intercom and have her come upstairs on her own. He knew she carried a heavy bag and besides, he wanted to see her as soon as he possibly could.

Today Liza had brought two bags. The usual one with a change of clothes and toiletries and a large plastic bag with all the requirements for building a model. She wanted to build the Burj Khalifa this weekend, the highest tower in the world and the subject of Liza's talk next week.

'Good morning, love.'

'Hello, Dad.'

Liza was a girl of few words but her father was used to that. They climbed the stairs together. After Liza finished unpacking they had their lunch.

'No caviar today,' smiled Bob, knowing Liza didn't eat any kind of fish. She had tried caviar once but she found it was like 'swallowing a bite of sea water'. Ever since, she had given up on eating any fish. She wasn't that fond of meat either, though she wasn't exactly a strict vegetarian.

'Still,' stated Bob, 'if I win that lawsuit next week, we will go out and have a fine sumptuous meal!'

'I'll keep you to that!' Liza smiled, although she'd rather sit here eating two sandwiches at this small kitchen table with her father. One sandwich with cheese and tomato and one with fried eggs.

'What have you brought with you?' asked her father.

'I've already started working on the tower. I finished preparing the talk and I have practised it three times. I don't really need the tower but I want to impress my classmates and especially my teacher. It will definitely earn me extra marks. I'm also bringing my old Eiffel Tower. I'm making the Burj Khalifa in proportion to the Eiffel Tower so they can see how small that is, or how big the Burj Khalifa is.

Immediately after lunch they set to work. They worked continuously from one till eight in the evening and only took time out to fetch additional cardboard and glue. Even tea-time was forgotten. At eight the tower was pretty much finished. They had built it in three parts.

'That makes it easier for you to take with you,' said Bob. 'We will finish it tomorrow morning.'

The tower didn't fit in the room. Put together it was almost ten feet tall and the room was only nine feet and a bit.

'If you start dinner, I will clear away the mess,' offered Liza.

They finished their tasks almost simultaneously. Liza laid the table and her father brought in the rice with vegetables and cashew nuts.

'No meat today,' he said. 'It won't be long before that is going to change.'

'Don't count on it too much, Dad, you might lose the lawsuit.'

'I feel good about it. Don't take that away from me. We will talk again next week. I will call you, either with good news or bad.'

The tower was ready before noon the next day. It had turned out quite well, they thought. The three separate pieces could be put together quite ingeniously.

'And they stay put as well!' shouted Liza in surprise when she alternately placed first the bottom two and then the upper two pieces together.

'Try all three together at your mother's,' said Bob. 'Her ceiling is high enough to accommodate the complete tower.'

She got on the bus at six o'clock. All those weekends she had visited her father, her mother never brought or fetched her. It was almost as if she was ashamed to be seen at her father's small apartment, although nobody in this neighbourhood actually knew who she was.

During the next week Liza rehearsed her talk and perfected her tower. At the end of the week the moment of truth had come. She took all her things with her in one big bag. Arriving at school someone slammed the door right behind her, jamming her bag and causing a dent in the uppermost part of the tower. Quite a dent as it turned out, because the uppermost part was now leaning.

'That's not what the Leaning Tower of Pisa looks like,' shouted the boys in her class. They thought Liza a very strange girl, with her models and her dead builders.

Liza was not daunted by this at all. Bending back her tower to make it as straight as possible, she started her talk.

I would have liked to be present at Liza's talk. I did call the school but the headmistress wouldn't assent to the request of letting her 'grandfather' come along to listen to the talk. All the more because Liza had, of course, never mentioned having a grandfather who would like to come along. I must be better prepared next time. Now I had to settle for the bugging devices I had put up in the classroom. Unfortunately Liza walked to and fro most of the time and often had her back turned to the hidden microphone.

It is useless to repeat Liza's talk. Yet I will mention some points I thought interesting. Because I do like tall buildings. More about that later. First Liza.

She was well prepared. She had downloaded an extraordinary video off YouTube which showed a speeded-up reproduction of the construction. She had managed to get hold of some floor plans and of course she had made the model with its snapped top part. The tall tower was still leaning a bit but that didn't discourage Liza in delivering an enthusiastic talk.

'The Burj Khalifa is a skyscraper, situated in Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. The construction started on 21 September 2004 and on 21 July 2007 the Burj Khalifa obtained the title 'tallest building in the world'. The building was inaugurated with spectacular fireworks on 4 January 2010. So far my short introduction,' said Liza. She started the video and kept silent for ten minutes. She enjoyed this part of her talk the most. Everybody loved to watch a video. It wasn't much trouble for her and it prolonged her talk.

When the video was finished Liza talked about how many people had worked on the tower. She enlarged on all the offices in every cluster of floors. She ended her talk with her conjecture on the number of dead builders. That was what preoccupied her classmates the most. Had there, or had there not been builders killed working on this high tower? But Liza didn't offer her opinion on it, because she didn't know it herself. Nothing had been published about fatal accidents during the construction. The only thing she knew was that after the tower had been built, someone had killed himself. The man in question was supposed to have worked for a company situated in the tower. He jumped from the 147th floor and died on the terrace on the 108th floor. Sources inside the police offices had said the man came to this act after he wasn't allowed to go on a holiday.

For the complete talk I refer to her website: www.lizayoung.com/burj-khalifa. Well, enough about that tower. Maybe you are wondering who I am. I might tell you later on.

While Liza held her talk, her father Bob appeared before court. It was a short session. The prosecutor and Bob's lawyer only spoke briefly before the judge pronounced his ruling. With a lot of official sounding words it amounted to the decision being in Bob's favour. Bob had to look to his lawyer to be sure. All those fancy words the judge used made him doubt whether they were spoken for his benefit or to his disadvantage.

'So this means those one hundred thousand pounds are mine?' Bob asked his lawyer. His lawyer only nodded. 'And that the decision is completely in my favour and that the ex-co-worker - Bob still couldn't utter the man's name - will be sued now?'

'Yes, a completely new lawsuit will be filed. You might be called as a witness but this lawsuit has no consequences on this ruling. You will receive the exact amount of money we asked for because we have demanded a reasonable sum. With hindsight one might say we could have asked for a larger sum. Nevertheless I am very content. You're not to pay for the costs of the lawsuit, either.'

'I could kiss you,' said Bob teary-eyed. 'Finally those 21 black months have come to an end. I can get on with my life and go job-hunting, look for a larger flat or maybe even a house… first I will take Liza on a holiday. We both deserve a holiday. Let's file another lawsuit, because I want to have full custody of Liza. I don't think my ex-wife will object. We'll see. We're going to enjoy ourselves first.'

Bob wanted to call Liza immediately but he knew she would be in the middle of her talk. In thirty minutes' time she would have a break and have her mobile switched on. Then he could call and tell her. His hands shook with excitement. He could burst for joy, he was so pleased.

'...and that was the story about the tallest tower at present. Are there any questions?' Liza looked round the classroom. Fortunately, nobody raised their hand. It was a compulsory part of the talk. Normally she didn't mind the questions but it was almost time for a break. Luckily her classmates knew that too. They would think twice before asking a question. Every question meant time off their break. Within a minute everyone rushed out of the classroom. Liza took her mobile from her bag and switched it on. The school had strict rules. It wasn't even allowed to have a mobile phone in the classroom on vibrate mode.

She ran out of the classroom, pressing the mobile close to her body. Before she reached the school playground, the mobile vibrated in her hand.

'Well?' she gasped.

'We are one hundred thousand pounds the richer. Now you can come live with me!'

Liza welled up from happiness. If that could only be true! Her mother probably wouldn't have the slightest objection. She never took much interest in Liza anyway. Days went by without them seeing each other. Her mother often went out to dinner with a client early in the evening and then Liza would have her microwave dinner sitting on her own in front of the TV. Although she wouldn't be surprised either if her mother made it difficult for them, trying to extract money from her father, if she heard he had received quite a large sum.

13

1 April

Unaware of any kind of competition whatsoever, long before the important meeting on 1 April, Jim and his son were at the shopping centre, again looking for new computer games. Jim was always in good spirits whenever he and Jimbo were going to buy a new one, although he didn’t care for games or competitions. As long as he could keep Jimbo contented either in the TV room or with his computer, he didn’t have to pay much attention to the boy. Jimbo could be completely engrossed with World of Warcraft or other time-consuming computer games.

Frequently Jim racked his brains as to why his son didn’t have many friends. Every child had friends, had they not? A question he had asked himself many times over but he still hadn’t found an answer. Maybe he should hire a private detective to report his son’s activities. One thing was clear to him: all those presents, gifts and things he got his son in previous years hadn’t made him any funnier, smarter or nicer. It hadn’t helped him in getting friends, either, or spending his time off more sensibly. Yes, maybe a detective wasn’t such a bad idea. Right after he got home he would look on the Internet for one who lived nearby.

For convenience’s sake Jim ignored the fact that he himself could do much more for Jimbo, take more notice of him, for example. Be more concerned about his life, his school or his interests and spend more time with his son. Instead, he planned to hire a detective to do the job for him. Jim would do much better to spend less time with his computer and keeping an eye on his shares and spend more time with his son. During the weekly visits to the shopping centre Jimbo was in good spirits. According to Jim because he got something new. In reality, Jimbo liked spending time with his Dad. Even when that only amounted to going to a shopping centre, buying something and eating a hamburger.

Helen and Alice Addup’s lives were going well enough. Nearly every day Alice read a book after she finished her homework. When mother Helen came home they both talked nineteen to the dozen about their activities of that day. Sometimes that could take up to one hour before they started cooking together. You wouldn’t think they had that much to talk about, because their lives were nearly the same every day. Helen went to her accountant agency and Alice attended school. Both didn’t live an eventful life but they told each other about the strangest specifics they had encountered that day.

Once again Bill Averidge managed to be in bed exactly one minute before his mother came home. Recently Bill had been restless and this night he had roamed through the dunes again. It had been much colder than he expected, this night in March. The snow was long gone and the countryside was already turning green. During the day the temperature rose to 15 degrees but at night the temperature dropped dangerously close to freezing. Bill was lying in bed, pressing his nose to his inhaler to breathe in extra oxygen. Making sure he was on time had taken a lot of strength and energy. Which he didn’t always have, due to his having asthma. Better keep track of the time more carefully next time.

Tonight his mother didn’t look in on him. She had had a hard night and was tired. Anyway there were no lights on in the house, not even a crack between the curtains. That meant Bill had been home in time, or that he hadn’t gone out at all and spent the night working on his softwareprogram he had told her about. She felt tired and dirty. First a shower and then a good night’s rest.

14

Frank and Paul

Frank Ridge had thought up a straightforward burglary job for this evening. He had looked in the papers, noticing that a company only ten miles away had closed up for a few days due to spring holidays. This installation company had let their customers know that – the cold weather being gone – their employees would all pack up and enjoy the sun in the Canaries. How stupid of them, Frank thought. You make it very easy for people to break in. Undoubtedly there would be a burglar alarm. It took longer and longer for security to come and check nowadays. Often false alarms were raised and the security men didn’t find it necessary to react promptly anymore.

Paul walked in, having his own key.

‘Good afternoon, my son, are you feeling up to it?’ said Frank.

‘Up to what?’ replied Paul.

Frank’s heart sank into his boots. They had talked about it extensively yesterday, that tonight would be a good night to operate. There was no moon and even if there had been, it probably would be cloudy all night.

‘We were going to do this job tonight, weren’t we?’

‘Oh, I thought you meant tomorrow night. Tonight I sort of have an appointment.’

‘An appointment? Why on earth did you make a stupid appointment!’

‘If I had known we were doing a job tonight, I wouldn’t have made the appointment, would I!’

‘We talked about it yesterday, didn’t we, that we would operate tonight?’

‘Yeah but I thought… ’

‘Well, I know what you thought! Who’s the appointment with?’

‘With your sister, Diana.’

‘Oh, good. Cancel it.’

‘You know how mad she gets whenever she doesn’t get her way,’ worried Paul.

‘She will understand when you tell her you forgot you’d already had an appointment and that it concerns work. She knows we are not very well up. At least not as well off as she is.’

‘Can’t you cancel it for me?’

‘Is there anything else you want me to do? Wipe your arse for instance? You do it yourself, my son. Here’s the phone. Call her right now.’

‘There you are, not a problem at all,’ said Frank. ‘She is all for the small entrepreneurs. She is one herself, as it happens. I have some fun in mind for tonight. We will go to Hodgkins’s garage and take two BMWs.’

Paul’s eyes grew as large as walnuts and the corners of his mouth almost touched his ears.

‘One for me as well?’ he asked excitedly.

‘We will have to resell them, of course,’ said Frank.

Paul’s face clouded over.

‘You’re not too disappointed, are you?’

‘No, just a little, though.’

‘Well, it will be good to hear that we’re not heading for Hodgkins’s garage, then. Instead we will go to Trickett’s installation company. They are enjoying a few days in the sun. If they go on a holiday at this time of the year, it means they have done good business during the past winter. A lot of central-heating boilers must have broken down due to the cold. Now they are spending their well-earned money and we are going to help them. They have a safe that is easy to crack. I know one of their employees and if it turns out the safe is empty, then there ought to be some laptops, flat screens and other nice things to take with us. We will need a large van. If there’s no money in the safe, we will load the van.’

‘So no BMW tonight?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe another time, then?’

‘Maybe. Trickett’s first. We will see after that.’

Paul was satisfied with ‘maybe’. It meant that for this year he had the prospect of having a new BMW. Not that they could keep the car but he would be able to tear around in it at least for one night.

‘I will give you the details for tonight now. We will leave at two o’clock in the morning. D’you think you can remember that?’

Paul nodded.

‘All right, I will tell you more tonight. Presently I’m going to get some sleep, then eat something and then we’ll meet.

© 2014 J.B. te Boekhorst

All rights reserved for CD publishers

Coverdesign: Jim Nauya, Utrecht

Text formatting: Click Design, Zutphen

isbn 978 90 821 780 2 9

nur 280

www.cdpublishers.nl