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.”

“That's a great relief,” Jeff said earnestly. “One can't be too careful these days, can one?”

That afternoon Daniel Cooper and Inspector Joop van Duren called on Chief Commissioner Willems together. Van Duren placed the surveillance reports on the commissioner's desk and waited.

“There's nothing definite here,” the chief commissioner finally said, “but I'll admit that your suspects seem to be sniffing around some very lucrative targets. All right, Inspector. Go ahead. You have official permission to place listening devices in their hotel rooms.”

Daniel Cooper was elated. There would be no more privacy for Tracy Whitney. From this point on, he would know everything she was thinking, saying, and doing. He thought about Tracy and Jeff together in bed, and remembered the feel of Tracy's underwear against his cheek. So soft, so sweet-smelling.

That afternoon he went to church.

When Tracy and Jeff left the hotel for dinner that evening, a team of police technicians went to work, planting tiny wireless transmitters in Tracy's and Jeff's suites, concealing them behind pictures, in lamps, and under bedside tables.

Inspector Joop van Duren had commandeered the suite on the floor directly above, and there a technician installed a radio receiver with an antenna and plugged in a recorder.

“It's voice activated,” the technician explained. “No one has to be here to monitor it. When someone speaks, it wi automatically begin to record.”

But Daniel Cooper wanted to be there. He had to be then It was God's will.

Chapter 33

Early the following morning Daniel Cooper, Inspector Joop van Duren, and his young assistant, Detective Constable Witkamp, were in the upstairs suite listening to the conversation below.

“More coffee?” Jeff's voice.

“No, thank you, darling.” Tracy's voice. “Try this cheese that room service sent up. It's really wonderful.”

A short silence. “Mmmm. Delicious. What would you like to do today, Tracy? We could take a drive to Rotterdam.”

“Why don't we just stay in and relax?”

“Sounds good.”

Daniel Cooper knew what they meant by “relax,” and his mouth tightened.

“The queen is dedicating a new home for orphans.”

“Nice. I think the Dutch are the most hospitable, generous people in the world. They're iconoclasts. They hate rules and regulations.”

A laugh. “Of course. That's why we both like them so much.”

Ordinary morning conversation between lovers. They're so free and easy with each other, Cooper thought. But how she would pay!

“Speaking of generous” — Jeff's voice — “guess who's staying at this hotel? The elusive Maximilian Pierpont. I missed him on the QE Two.”

“And I missed him on the Orient Express.”

“He's probably here to rape another company. Now that we've found him again, Tracy, we really should do something about him. I mean, as long as he's in the neighborhood…”

Tracy's laughter. “I couldn't agree more, darling.”

“I understand our friend is in the habit of carrying priceless artifacts with him. I have an idea that —”

Another voice, female. “Dag, mijnheer, dag, mevrouw. Would you care for your room to be made up now?”

Van Duren turned to Detective Constable Witkamp. “I want a surveillance team on Maximilian Pierpont. The moment Whitney or Stevens makes any kind of contact with him, I want to know it.”

Inspector van Duren was reporting to Chief Commissioner Toon Willems.

“They could be after any number of targets, Chief Commissioner. They're showing a great deal of interest in a wealthy American here named Maximilian Pierpont, they attended the philatelist convention, they visited the Lucullan diamond at the Nederlands Diamond-Cutting Factory, and spent two hours at The Night Watch —”

“Een diefstal van de Nachtwacht? Nee! Impossible!”

The chief commissioner sat back in his chair and wondered whether he was recklessly wasting valuable time and manpower. There was too much speculation and not enough facts. “So at the moment you have no idea what their target is.”

“No, Chief Commissioner. I'm not certain they themselves have decided. But the moment they do, they will inform us.”

Willems frowned. “Inform you?”

“The bugs,” Van Duren explained. “They have no idea they are being bugged.”

The breakthrough for the police came at 9:00 A.M. the following morning. Tracy and Jeff were finishing breakfast in Tracy's suite. At the listening post upstairs were Daniel Cooper, Inspector Joop van Duren, and Detective Constable Witkamp. They heard the sound of coffee being poured.

“Here's an interesting item, Tracy. Our friend was right. Listen to this: 'Amro Bank is shipping five million dollars in gold bullion to the Dutch West Indies.' ”

In the suite on the floor above, Detective Constable Witkamp said, “There's no way —”