Patience, Daniel Cooper told himself. Patience.
At the urging of Cooper, Inspector van Duren went to Chief Commissioner Willems to ask permission to place electronic eavesdropping devices in the hotel rooms of the two suspects. Permission was denied.
"When you have more substantial grounds for your suspicions," the chief commissioner said, "come back to me. Until then, I cannot permit you to eavesdrop on people who are so far guilty only of touring Holland."
That conversation had taken place on Friday. On Monday morning Tracy and Jeff went to Paulus Potter Straat in Coster, the diamond center of Amsterdam, to visit the Nederlands Diamond-Cutting Factory. Daniel Cooper was a part of the surveillance team. The factory was crowded with tourists. An English-speaking guide conducted them around the factory, explaining each operation in the cutting process, and at the end of the tour led the group to a large display room, where showcases filled with a variety of diamonds for sale lined the walls. This of course was the ultimate reason visitors were given a tour of the factory. In the center of the room stood a glass case dramatically mounted on a tall, black pedestal, and inside the case was the most exquisite diamond Tracy had ever seen.
The guide announced proudly, "And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the famous Lucullan diamond you have all read about. It was once purchased by a stage actor for his movie star wife and is valued at ten million dollars. It is a perfect stone, one of the finest diamonds in the world."
"That must be quite a target for jewel thieves," Jeff said aloud.
Daniel Cooper moved forward so he could hear better.
The guide smiled indulgently. "Nee, mijnheer." He nodded toward the armed guard standing near the exhibit. "This stone is more closely guarded than the jewels in the Tower of London. There is no danger. If anyone touches that glass case, an alarm rings - en onmiddellijk! - and every window and door in this room is instantly sealed off. At night electronic beams are on, and if someone enters the room, an alarm sounds at police headquarters."
Jeff looked at Tracy and said, "I guess no one's ever going to steal that diamond."
Cooper exchanged a look with one of the detectives. That afternoon Inspector van Duren was given a report of the conversation.
The following day Tracy and Jeff visited the Rijksmuseum. At the entrance, Jeff purchased a directory plan of the museum, and he and Tracy passed through the main hall to the Gallery of Honor, filled with Fra Angelicos, Murillos, Rubenses, Van Dycks, and Tiepolos. They moved slowly, pausing in front of each painting, and then walked into the Night Watch Room, where Rembrandt's most famous painting hung. There they stayed. And the attractive Constable First-Class Fien Hauer, who was following them, thought to herself, Oh, my God!
The official title of the painting is The Company of Captain Franc Banning Cocq and Lieutenant Willem van Ruytenburch, and it portrays, with extraordinary clarity and composition, a group of soldiers preparing to go on their watch, under the command of their colorfully uniformed captain. The area around the portrait was roped off with velvet cords, and a guard stood nearby.
"It's hard to believe," Jeff told Tracy, "but Rembrandt caught hell for this painting."
"But why? It's fantastic."
"His patron - the captain in the painting - didn't like the attention Rembrandt paid to the other figures." Jeff turned to the guard. "I hope this is well protected."
"Ja, mijnheer. Anyone who tries to steal anything from this museum would have to get by electronic beams, security cameras, and, at night, two guards with patrol dogs."
Jeff smiled easily. "I guess this painting is going to stay here forever."
Late that afternoon the exchange was reported to Van Duren. "The Night Watch!" he exclaimed. "Alstublieft, impossible!"
Daniel Cooper merely blinked at him with his wild, myopic eyes.
At the Amsterdam Convention Center, there was a meeting of philatelists, and Tracy and Jeff were among the first to arrive. The hall was heavily guarded, for many of the stamps were priceless. Cooper and a Dutch detective watched as the two visitors wandered through the rare-stamp collection. Tracy and Jeff paused in front of the British Guiana, an unattractive magenta, six-sided stamp.
"What an ugly stamp," Tracy observed.
"Don't knock it, darling. It's the only stamp of its kind in the world."
"What's it worth?"
"One million dollars."
The attendant nodded. "That is correct, sir. Most people would have no idea, just looking at it. But I see that you, sir, love these stamps, as I do. The history of the world is in them."
Tracy and Jeff moved on to the next case and looked at an Inverted Jenny stamp that portrayed an airplane flying upside down.
"That's an interesting one," Tracy said.
The attendant guarding the stamp case said, "It's worth - "
"Seventy-five thousand dollars," Jeff remarked.
"Yes, sir. Exactly."
They moved on to a Hawaiian Missionary two-cent blue.
"That's worth a quarter of a million dollars," Jeff told Tracy.
Cooper was following closely behind them now, mingling with the crowd.
Jeff pointed to another stamp. "Here's a rare one. The one-pence Mauritius post office. Instead of 'postpaid,' some daydreaming engraver printed 'post office.' It's worth a lot of pence today."
"They all seem so small and vulnerable," Tracy said, "and so easy to walk away with."
The guard at the counter smiled. "A thief wouldn't get very far, miss. The cases are all electronically wired, and armed guards patrol the convention center day and night."