Free Hard Rain by Janwillem van de Wetering

the adjutant's ponderous entry. Two other shapes straightened up in the semidarkness of the room. The barman shuffled close.
    "Morning," Grijpstra said benevolently. "Still this side of death, Bert?"
    "Oh, yes." The old man grinned, showing his toothless gums. "Looking on, you know. Jenever, gents?"
    "Good idea," Grijpstra said. "I prefer an early start. A good beginning may last until deep in the night." Grijpstra and de Gier carried their glasses to the far table. Two young men in jeans and leather jackets got up and shook hands.
    "Ketchup," Grijpstra said.
    "Karate," said de Gier. "It was you on the phone?"
    "Hello," the detectives whispered, looking over their shoulders.
    "Cloak-and-dagger again?" de Gier asked. "That's all right. Want us to whisper too? Let's have the reason for your call, colleagues."
    "Jimmy the junkie," Karate said. "We know everything, but you shouldn't send out inquiries like that on the open circuit. We're under surveillance. The charge is innocence. We're the last innocents in our entire district."
    "And phones are out altogether now," Ketchup said. "All phones are tapped by State Detection."
    "And State Detection isn't innocent, either," Karate said. "They're the other side too." His polished fingernails shone in the sparse light of the pub. His made-up eyes gleamed.
    "Gay?" de Gier asked.
    Ketchup's hennaed hair gleamed too. "We're promoted now. Our rules prescribe the gay disguise. If one doesn't want to draw attention to oneself, one looks like this."
    "My dear," Grijpstra said, "gays don't look like that anymore. Haven't you been told?"
    Ketchup offered his tobacco pouch. De Gier rolled a cigarette, having trouble with hard green particles that broke through the paper. "Dope," Karate said. "Here, let me do it. Part of our new I.D. If we aren't stoned, the bad guys aren't supposed to believe in us. We're doped all the time. So are the State Detection cops. We caught two the other night. They were gliding around in their convertible Corvette. We drive an old Camaro, wax polished of course, but not quite the same thing. State Detection is special. So we arrested them on a charge of dealing and they had to tell us all. We're buddies now. They told us about your phones."
    "You're first," Ketchup said. "An honor, in a way. The Corvette is supposed to follow your commissaris, but since your chief hardly moves, the state cops hang out in this part of town. More amusing."
    "Not good," Grijpstra said. "This jenever is excellent, however. Your health, Sergeant." He looked at Karate. "Did you tell them that what they are doing is not good? They should go after Halba, and the chief constable himself. They're our worst. Gambling debts and blonde dollies. And after Adjutant Guldemeester. And most of Narcotics. The Gambling Department. The Aliens Branch. We're okay."
    "No," Karate said. "Let's not be retarded, Adjutant. It's the other way round. The bad guys are winning. State Detection has gone over too. That's what the dicks said. They're okay, to balance things again, but they're up in the air."
    "I can smoke this?" de Gier asked, studying his joint.
    Ketchup lit a match. "Don't inhale too deeply or you'll fall over. This is dope provided by the state; we spread it around and make lots of friends. Rather strong. Pure pure."
    "I like that," Grijpstra said. "The simile of the seesaw. Us good guys are up, the very few of us. The view is better from up here. Now what about Jimmy?"
    "Zen," Karate said. "Jimmy was into Zen. We got to start with Buddhism here, or you won't follow our lead so well. Do you understand Zen?"
    Grijpstra kept up one hand. Karate nodded. "You're the one. And all. And that's the sound."
    "Hello?" de Gier said. "Am I still in this, too? Modern mysticism isn't quite my field. Am I missing something? Did Grijpstra give the secret sign?"
    "The adjutant disposes of insight," Ketchup said. "That's what matters now, it's important."
    Grijpstra put his tulip-shaped glass down. "The sound of one