Flight Path: A Wright & Tran Novel by Ian Andrew Page B

day or two, but for now we’re just five and looking for a boat that could be in any one of a dozen harbours, if it’s still here at all. Once we have a plan then Jacob, Tien and I need some kip. We haven’t slept in nearly thirty-six hours.”
     
    ɸ
     
    The two hire cars that Sammi and Chaz had brought from the airport exited the IJTunnel into a wintery sunrise and followed the S116 through Amsterdam Noord. Within ten minutes, the high-rise blocks and closely packed buildings on each side of the road fell away and were replaced by close lines of trees. A few more minutes and the road changed designation to the N247. They were in a heavy, but free-flowing stream of traffic, unlike the nose-to-tail commuter congestion on the other side of the carriageway.
    Tien didn’t notice the state of the roads. Instead, from the front passenger seat of the second car, she gasped as the trees ended and the road entered into wide-open, flat plains that stretched away to unfeasibly far horizons.
    After another twenty minutes, most of which Tien spent as a completely entranced tourist, both cars took the first turn into Volendam. As the road pressed further into the small town the broad horizons began to disappear, crowded out by ever-increasing rows of stereotypical Dutch houses. Tien looked at the distinctly triangular facades and thought they were so much more beautiful than the traditional English terrace houses. Certainly much more attractive than Francis Amberley’s had been. She was especially taken by the older buildings and the pronounced steps to their gable ends. She wondered what the proper term was. Pulling out her mobile she googled it, only to smile to herself when she discovered that it was simply called a stepped gable.
    “What are you smiling at?” Kara said, glancing over from the driver’s seat.
    “Oh not a lot. Just looking up Dutch architectural terms. As you do,” she replied.
    “Well, as you do,” Kara said, her smile broadening. “We good to do this?”
    “Yep,” Tien said and called the lead car. 
    Jacob answered, “Hi, what’s up?”
    “Tell Chaz and Sammi it’s the next turn on the right. Follow down there for about two hundred yards and you’ll hit the Marina Park. See you later and be careful.”
    “You too,” he said and disconnected the call.
    Kara and Tien watched Chaz slow and make the turn. They continued straight past, heading for the historic fishing harbour of the old town. All they had to go on was a potential boat name and the two registration letters, ‘VD’ which according to the international maritime register led them here. There was no guarantee the boat still sailed from this port, no guarantee that it might not be berthed at some other port and no guarantee they would be able to track its owners even if they did find it, but it was all they had.
    No one had responded to Amberley’s text message as yet, and as far as they could be sure, no one had tried to contact him by any other means. Tien had put a call-forward on his landline and directed it to her own mobile, so if anyone tried to phone him, she would know. What had slightly disturbed her was that there was no PC in Amberley’s house. No iPad or other smart tablets, no alternate mobile or smartphone. The man was as off the grid as she could have imagined. She knew it was possible that he had an email account through his workplace, but he had insisted he didn’t and she had been inclined to believe him.
    The police that Franklyn had called in had left a babysitter at the old terrace house, in case contact was instigated by a physical visit to Amberley. Again, Kara and Tien couldn’t do much if the visitor called for him at work, but they had done as much as they could in the time available.
    That left the single lead of the boat’s identity. With such scant information, they knew they would have to go and physically look for it. Volendam was the logical place to start. It was certainly a more manageable search