The constable slipped the little form through a hole in the glass window which separated him from the radio operator. He waved at the operator. The operator nodded, shoving two other forms aside.

"Three one," the operator said.

"Three one," Detective-Sergeant de Gier said.

"Straight Tree Ditch Four. Dead man. Bloody head. Name is Abe Rogge. Ask for his sister, Esther Rogge. Over."

Sergeant de Gier looked at the little loudspeaker underneath the dashboard of the gray VW he was driving.

"Straight Tree Ditch?" he asked in a high voice. "How do you expect me to get there? There are thousands of people milling about in the area. Haven't you heard about the riots?"

The operator shrugged.

"Are you there?" de Gier asked.

"I am here," the operator said. "Just go there. The death has nothing to do with the riots, I think."

"Right," de Gier said, still in the same high voice.

"Good luck," the operator said. "Out."

De Gier accelerated and Adjutant-Detective Grijpstra sat up.

"Easy," Grijpstra said. "We are in an unmarked car and that traffic light is on red. They should have sent a marked car, a car with a siren."

"I don't think there are any left," de Gier said, and stopped at the traffic light. "Everybody is out there, everybody we know and a lot of military police as well. I haven't seen a police car all day." He sighed. "The crowd will clobber us the minute they see us go through the roadblocks."

The light changed and the car shot off.

"Easy," Grijpstra said.

"No," de Gier said. "Let's go home. This isn't the right day to play detectives."

Grijpstra grinned and shifted his heavy body into a more comfortable position, holding on to the car's roof and the dashboard at the same time. "You are all right," he said. "You don't look like a policeman. They'll go for me. Crowds always go for me."