He calls Clive and attempts to force him to go to the police, though Clive declines as he is working on his symphony. Their conversation is interrupted by Garmony's wife holding a press conference where she calls Vernon a flea and calls the pictures a private personal matter, while pretending that she was aware Molly took them. Public opinion turns against Vernon and his paper and he is forced to resign. Angered by their conversation, Clive sends Vernon a note telling him he should be fired, which Vernon sees after he is fired and views as Clive gloating. He then calls the police to force Clive to give information about the Lake District rapist but is disappointed that Clive will not face criminal charges. Inspired by an article on euthanasia that he sees in his old paper, Vernon decides to lure Clive to Amsterdam and murder him under the grounds he is mentally unwell. Meanwhile, the composition of Clive's symphony is interrupted by the police calling him to the Lake District. With the symphony permanently ruined, Clive also makes the decision to try and lure Vernon to Amsterdam, where he is rehearsing his symphony, to euthanize him on the grounds he is mentally depraved. Both of the murders go through and each man last hallucinates seeing Molly Lane. Garmony and George Lane are sent out to retrieve the bodies, Garmony on behalf of the government for Clive and George on behalf of Vernon's widow, Mandy. They are under the impression it is a double suicide, caused in part because Clive's symphony was a dud and ends on a heavy plagiarism of "Ode to Joy". Garmony learns it was actually a double murder and informs George, who is pleased. George reflects on the fact that two of Molly's former lovers are dead and Garmony, despite having weathered the scandal, will never be able to rise in the party. He contemplates asking out Vernon's widow Mandy. Reception The novel was well received by critics. In The New York Times, critic Michiko Kakutani called Amsterdam "a dark tour de force, a morality fable, disguised as a psychological thriller." In The Guardian, Nicholas Lezard wrote, "Slice him where you like, Ian McEwan is a damned good writer" and discussed "the compulsive nature of McEwan's prose: you just don't want to stop reading it." In The New York Times Book Review, critic William H. Pritchard