Read Online From Bruges with Love by Pieter Aspe - Free Book Online Page A

that kind of authority anymore. No numbers, no cash. The new rules were set in stone.
    â€œAre you going to get a move on, or do I have time to tell everyone how I came to know Mr. Albert in the first place?” asked Linda as she turned to the customers behind her ready for a fight. Ostijn pretended not to recognize her. The bank clerk, on the other hand, knew that both his boss and Ostijn frequented the Cleopatra. He grabbed the money from the drawer and typed the amount into his computer. At that moment the door flew open. The speed with which Albert Denolf responded to the situation was nothing short of astonishing. He knew why Linda was here, and he knew her temperament.
    â€œMrs. Aerts,” he said, his voice dripping with sweetness. “What a delight to see you. No problems, I hope?”
    Marc returned the money to his drawer and canceled the withdrawal, much relieved.
    â€œNo problems?” she jeered. “Where do I start?”
    â€œLinda,” Denolf interrupted. “If there are problems, we can talk about them in the quiet of my office.”
    His compliant approach worked. Linda suspended hostilities, turned with a flounce, and followed Denolf into his office.
    Ostijn had come to redeem some bonds, collect his daily statements, and pay a pile of bills. The wealthy businessman was old school to the core. Internet banking wasn’t at all his thing. Marc sighed inaudibly. Ostijn’s transactions were likely to take at least fifteen minutes of his time. But their routine exchange was suddenly interrupted by a crash of glass. Ostijn reacted like every right-minded capitalist would: he first slipped his bonds across the counter and only then looked around to see what was happening.
    â€œBut, Linda, for goodness’ sake,” he heard Denolf lament with a suppressed roar. The door to Denolf’s office flew open, and the shards of glass from the smashed ashtray crunched under Linda’s heels.
    â€œThat was our money!” she screamed.
    Denolf was rooted to the spot.
    â€œAnd you gave him the whole thing without batting an eyelid.”
    â€œThe money was in his name, Linda. I tried to make him change his mind, but this is a bank, and my hands were tied—”
    â€œSo your hands were tied,” Linda screeched. “You fucking asshole. Do you know what would cheer me up right this minute?”
    Everyone, including Ostijn, listened with bated breath.
    â€œThe sight of that Catholic wife of yours’ face when I tell the bitch what her respected husband gets up to every month.”
    â€œLinda, please.” Denolf hurled himself at the door, most likely breaking the world indoor triple-jump record in the process. He slammed it shut and pulled out his wallet.
    â€œHere … ten thousand. William will be back in a few days, I’m sure of it. Then we can look for a solution.”
    â€œMake it twenty,” Linda ventured.
    Denolf sucked in so much air in the following few seconds that he was on the verge of hyperventilating.
    â€œWilliam might have stolen our money, but the videos are still in our safe,” she bragged. “Try to picture the malicious delight on the faces of the police as they watch them, Albert,” she blurted out, adding insult to injury.
    Denolf had fallen victim to a nightmare in broad daylight. He gestured that she should wait, grabbed the phone, and called Marc.
    â€œGive Mrs. Aerts twenty thousand francs from my account on her way out.”
    â€œTell him to bring it,” Linda snarled.
    Denolf nodded like the perfect slave. It always worked, with or without the leather outfit.
    â€œLeave it, Marc. I’ll collect it myself.”
    Lodewijk Vandaele welcomed Van In with a jovial handshake. He pointed to the cozy lounge suite close to the window. In contrast to the waiting area, Van In’s new surroundings boasted a magnificent view and a carefully maintained rock garden with a splashing fountain in the