Seated in the car, he lit a cigarette. The Zippo lighter in his hand shook, and the first drag made him cough. He put the car into gear and moved it out across the tram tracks. With the street to himself, he soon reached the Royal Palace at the Dam Square. He turned left at Raadhuisstraat and a few stop lights later the colossal Renaissance building of Westerkerk with the city’s highest tower emerged in front of him. Crossing the bridge at Keizersgracht and from a distance in the dim morning light, he saw the police car parked on the right blocking the entrance to Prinsengracht.
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