by Graham Brack
He paid his bill and stomped to the bar where a disgustingly trim looking Valentin was reading a newspaper while sipping a glass of water.
‘That’s not the paper you write for,’ said Slonský accusingly. ‘Are you pinching a story for tomorrow’s issue?’
‘My story is filed,’ replied Valentin with dignity. ‘Top of page two, since you ask. And why are you behaving like a boar with his snout in a trap?’
‘I’m not. Just a bit of indigestion, that’s all.’
Valentin squinted at him. ‘I can see you’ve lost some weight.’
‘Five kilos. Not bad for two weeks.’
‘Three weeks,’ Valentin corrected him.
‘Three very stressful weeks. In case you hadn’t noticed I’ve got a quadruple murder to solve.’
‘I wasn’t going to ask about that, since it obviously isn’t going too well.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘If you’d arrested someone you’d have tipped off your best and oldest mate. Like you promised,’ Valentin added with emphasis.
‘That doesn’t mean we’re not making progress.’
‘Out of respect for confidentiality I won’t ask how Navrátil is getting on, but how is Doležal doing?’
‘He’s frustrated. His colleagues don’t seem to be trying too hard to clear this up.’
‘Isn’t that just the provincial way? Let the big shots from Prague do it and if they fail we’ll just giggle behind our hands.’
‘There’s always an element of that, but there’s more to it. Look, have you got your notebook with you?’
Valentin produced it from his pocket and licked the tip of his pencil. ‘Never go anywhere without it. Speak on.’
‘The local head of crime is a man called Vondra. Captain Vondra — don’t know his first name. I want to know if there’s anything at all that I can use to get some leverage with him. I don’t care if it’s a parking ticket in 1990. There’s probably nothing in your files, but just in case, would you take a look? The same goes for the deputy mayor of Holice, a man called Veselý. He’s setting up a big property deal to build an enormous shopping and housing complex on land he’s got cheap from the local council, but we don’t know how he’s funding it. Just between us there’s a chance that it’s Russian money, but we need to find out how he came to the Russians’ attention. There has to be a link of some kind, someone who acted as a go-between. Anything you can find would be appreciated.’
‘Forgive me for pointing this out, but if you’re looking for criminality, wouldn’t the police records be a better bet?’
‘I’ll look in there first thing tomorrow. Or I’ll get Mucha to do it, which is pretty much the same thing. But if the link I’m looking for was criminal, we’d have banged him up, so I don’t think it is.’
‘And is this connected to the explosion?’
Slonský took a long pull of his beer before answering. ‘If it isn’t, it’s quite a coincidence that both are going on in a tiny place at the same time. But I have no idea how they could be linked. The explosion was nowhere near the site of the development. After all, you’d want a shopping mall near the main road where plenty of people are going past, whereas if you want a thumping big gun to go unnoticed you’d put it somewhere that people don’t normally go. The only thing that I can think of is that Veselý is somehow mixed up in both. Except that I’ve met him, and he’s a blabbermouth. You can’t imagine him keeping a secret for forty days, let alone forty years, and he can’t have been more than seven or eight when the Russians came.’
Valentin closed his book. ‘I’ll let you know if I find anything. Now, you’re off duty. Will you have another?’
‘No, I’m full, thanks.’
Valentin immediately clapped his palm to Slonský’s forehead. ‘Are you sickening for something?’
‘No, just had a big dinner. I think I’ll get an early night.’
Valentin’s jaw dropped involuntarily. ‘It’s not even eleven o’clock.’
‘Busy day tomorrow. I’ve got to get Mucha going on those records, remember?’
Sergeant Mucha listened intently to the request. ‘I thought you said you had a job for me?’ he said. ‘That’s singular. You know — one job. So far you’ve given me three.’
‘All part of the same enquiry though.’
‘But three jobs.’
Slonský shrugged. ‘It all depends how you look at it. Think of it like the Holy Trinity — three in one, one in three, indivisible.’
‘I’m not religious. To me, three jobs is three jobs.’
‘So what do you want?’
Mucha lowered his voice. ‘It’s like this. Next Tuesday I’m off duty. But now the wife’s sister has announced she’s coming up to Prague for the day.’
‘The Evil Witch of Kutná Hora?’
‘That’s the one. So I could do with needing to be somewhere. Somewhere I can’t put off.’
‘Next Tuesday, you say? I can think of two ways your services could be absolutely indispensable. It’s the day before Captain Lukas’ retirement do, so you could help Peiperová do whatever it is she thinks needs to be done to make the place look festive. Or, given that she will be working for the Director of Criminal Police by then, and Navrátil is off on a jolly of his own somewhere, you could assist me in a lightning raid on suspicious premises.’
‘Where are you planning to raid next Tuesday?’
‘I haven’t decided yet. Probably a bar or two. I’m sure we can find somebody who needs following. We can improvise something on the day.’
‘Will it be dangerous?’
‘How can you ask me such a thing? Would I lead my best mate in the police force into any kind of danger?’
‘Yes. You’ve done it before.’
‘Okay, but never knowingly. And if you’re talking about that warehouse raid all those years ago, remember I was the one who took the bullet.’
‘The ricochet.’
‘Exactly. I was not running away.’
‘I testified as much when they tried to bill you for the replacement trousers.’
‘So you did. Do we have an understanding?’
Mucha summoned another officer to stand by the Visitor Register. ‘I can’t stand here yapping all day,’ he told Slonský. ‘I’ve got three jobs to do.’
Slonský was taking the stairs slowly, given that he had a pastry balanced on top of his coffee cup, when he heard a strange snuffling noise coming from his office. He toyed with the idea of drawing his gun but that meant he would have had to put his breakfast down somewhere first, so he tiptoed towards his door and nudged it with his foot.
Peiperová was clearing her desk, putting the contents of the drawer into a plastic carrier bag and wiping a tear from her cheek as she did so.
‘What’s all this about?’ asked Slonský.
Peiperová snapped to attention. ‘Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Full marks for the tidy uniform and the stance, but if you come to attention in front of me again I may throw this coffee down your front. We don’t do that in this office.’
‘No, sir. It’s one of the things I’ll miss.’
‘I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I didn’t detect some tears.’
Peiperová fought unsuccessfully to hold them in. ‘I’m sorry, sir. Not at my best today. I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.’
‘Sit down and let’s have a chat.’
The young policewoman did as instructed, using a tissue to wipe her face. ‘Sorry, sir, this isn’t me.’
‘Well, if it isn’t you it’s a damn good impersonation. It had me fooled.’
‘I mean the crying bit. I hate you seeing me like that.’
‘This is not goodbye, Peiperová. It’s just farewell. If I thought for a minute you weren’t coming back I’d be crying too, and neither of us would like that.’
Peiperová forced a smile. ‘No, sir.’
‘The way I look at it, the Director of Criminal Police is m
y boss. If he says he wants you for a year, I can’t really refuse him. If he’s my boss he’s also your boss, so you can’t really refuse him either. So this is not a choice you’ve made. It’s an instruction you’ve fallen in with. Therefore, there is no question of doing the right thing or the wrong thing. You’re just doing a thing.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You will excel there just like you’ve excelled here. My only fear is that you’ll be promoted to captain and sent somewhere as my equivalent.’
‘Hardly likely, sir. I’m not even a lieutenant yet.’
‘I knew a man once who went from new recruit to captain inside a fortnight. Mind, his dad was a member of the Communist Party Presidium.’
‘Those days have gone, sir.’
‘Yes, they have. And it’s our job to keep them gone.’ He stood up and walked to Peiperová’s desk. ‘It was a bit of a squeeze to get this in here thirteen months ago. Navrátil and Mucha had to move that heavy filing cabinet and turn it sideways. It wore me out just watching them. But even though we could do with the space, this desk is going nowhere. It’ll be here for you when you get back.’
‘Won’t you be moving into the captain’s office, sir?’
‘I’ll have two desks. And, in time, I hope to perfect the art of not being at the one everybody expects. We’re a team, lass, and this is our spiritual home.’
‘Yes, sir. I feel better now, sir.’ She sprang to her feet and extended her hand. ‘Thank you for everything, sir. I’ve really enjoyed it and I’m so grateful for the opportunity.’
‘The last year has passed very quickly. I hope the next one goes by even faster, for both of us.’
They shook hands.
‘Oh, one thing, sir. I found this key taped to the side of my desk drawer. Any idea whose it is?’
‘Ah! I’ve been looking for that. I’ll take charge of it for you.’
Mucha passed over a sheaf of printout. ‘Vondra’s personnel file.’
‘How did you get hold of that so quickly?’
‘Well, would you believe he’s applied for a job here as night shift sergeant on the front desk?’
‘Has he really? Must be bored with being a captain, I suppose.’
‘I guess. Anyway, once he applies for a job, his future boss can inspect his personnel record, so I did.’
‘Well, let’s see what we’ve got.’ Slonský browsed the pages slowly. ‘My God, what a boring life he’s led.’
‘I thought that too.’
‘It’s not exactly a page-turner, is it? I can’t see it being made into a blockbuster film.’
‘It’s short of disciplinary stuff too. A couple of late arrivals on shift, a reminder to keep his political views to himself and not allow them to creep into reports, and a stroppy note from the police sports club about not paying his subs on time.’
‘Does it tell us what those political views were?’ Slonský asked.
‘I don’t think so. It’s come from the local Director of Police, so it was obviously escalated to him because Vondra was only a lieutenant at the time.’
‘That’s more than saying the local mayor is a moron, then.’
‘Unless he said it to the mayor,’ Mucha replied. ‘But we’ll never know, because the original report isn’t attached.’
‘Thanks for this lot. Anything else?’
Mucha took out his notebook and found the most recent entries. ‘Veselý has never been to Russia, so far as I can tell. He has a passport but it’s only been logged at the border once since 1989, when he went to Poland as part of a trade mission two years ago. Strictly the invitation went to the mayor, but Veselý went instead. No criminal offences and his taxes are up to date.’
‘That’s suspicious in its own right. I can’t remember when a politician was good at paying taxes.’
‘Maybe he isn’t crooked. Maybe he’s just hopelessly optimistic. Perhaps he really believes this development will be the making of him.’
‘The snag with that hypothesis is that if he isn’t crooked I don’t have any other ideas. Forensics isn’t giving me much except that the murderer was probably injured himself in the blast, but nobody seems to have turned up at a hospital or clinic with wounds consistent with being hit by grenade fragments.’
‘Or nobody is telling you.’
‘Or telling Doležal. But why didn’t the local police do that once we told them?’
‘They’d lost their local crime officer.’
‘They’d lost the crime officer at a small station. The next tier up at Pardubice should have flooded them with help, but there’s been nothing. Sedlák was one of our own. He deserved better than he’s getting from his colleagues.’
‘It’s almost as if they don’t want the murderer caught,’ said Mucha.
‘But why? It isn’t as if they didn’t like Sedlák, and it’s not as if there’s any suggestion that any of them were involved in the murder.’
‘Maybe they just want to make us in Prague look bad,’ Mucha suggested.
‘We don’t need their help for that.’
Lukas listened attentively to Slonský’s account. ‘I don’t like it. One of the unwritten rules of policing is that we look after our own. If we can’t prevent a death, we make sure we catch the man responsible. But it doesn’t sound as if that ethos has reached Pardubice.’
‘I wonder if Sedlák was ever a whistleblower? What made him so unpopular that his own colleagues aren’t angry that he was killed?’ Slonský asked.
They sat in silence for a few moments as each man thought through the possibilities, but neither could see why Sedlák’s death might occasion indifference. It was Lukas who finally broke the silence.
‘The runt of the litter.’
This gnomic pronouncement briefly caused Slonský to frown until he realised the point that Lukas was making.
‘Of course! The one who needs the others most.’
‘We need to look at the Pardubice criminal police to see who is most susceptible to pressure.’
‘Klaberský is the newest lieutenant.’
‘No more junior officers?’
‘Two, but they have only been there a few months. I sense that this is a long story.’
‘Well, I suspect that Klaberský is the one to target then. But you’d better do it. Life could get very difficult for Doležal if he tries. Unless you’d prefer me to go?’
‘I’d much prefer that in the normal run of things, but you’re leaving soon and we might need to put continuing pressure on him. I’d better go.’
‘There may be a better option,’ Lukas suggested.
‘Really?’ said Slonský hopefully.
‘Major Rajka might be willing to do us a little favour. It is what he’s paid for, after all. And this man Vondra won’t dare to kick up a fuss if someone from the Office of Internal Inspection is nosing around his men.’
‘Would Rajka do that?’
‘Well, if there’s any chance that the local chaps are impeding the investigation into the death of a police officer, of course he would. Let’s see if he’s around.’
Lukas consulted his internal telephone directory. The OII office was one of those telephone numbers that nobody would want to admit to remembering.
‘He’s on his way over.’
‘Shouldn’t we go to him? He outranks us, after all.’
Lukas allowed himself a slight smile. ‘I imagine he likes to get out now and again. The atmosphere in OII is not jolly much of the time.’
‘I’ll go and fetch some coffees,’ Slonský suggested.
‘Good idea.’
Slonský just had time to collect three coffees — in proper cups, since a major was involved — and was climbing the stairs when he saw Rajka striding past. His was one of the more recognisable figures in the Prague headquarters, since he had been a keen wrestler in his younger days. Not quite one metre eighty tall, but with a chest and biceps that tested the tailor’s art, Rajka would have earned top marks for deportment at any ladi
es’ finishing school, having a straight spine and a well-balanced walk. It was notable that even people with blameless characters looked twitchy when they saw Rajka coming, and he liked it that way.
Rajka and Lukas were already speaking when Slonský entered and laid the tray on the desk.
‘Congratulations on your promotion, Slonský,’ said Rajka. ‘And I wish you a happy retirement, Lukas.’
‘Thank you. It will be a wrench leaving these fine people, but it’s time. And my little health scare has concentrated my mind on having some time to myself before I pass on.’
Slonský still had nightmares about that “little health scare” when Lukas slumped to the floor of his office and Slonský had thought he was about to die in front of him. Luckily Dr Novák was there too, who was no use at all in treating a living patient but at least knew the telephone number for an ambulance.
‘Now, explain to me about Pardubice,’ commanded Rajka.
‘The explosion on the evening of Liberation Day killed one of our officers, a Lieutenant Sedlák, who was a criminal policeman operating out of Pardubice but responsible largely for the area around Holice where he lived,’ Slonský began.
‘There were four casualties, weren’t there?’ Rajka interrupted.
‘Yes, an engineer and a local man and his son also died. The pathologists believe that they were placed in a tight circle and a grenade was then dropped in the middle.’
‘Ruthless.’
‘Yes, Major. We’re also aware, but have not publicized the fact, that a large self-propelled gun borrowed from the Czechoslovakian Army in 1968 was in the same field. Our assumption is that these men were killed because they stumbled across the gun.’
‘I’m not going to go any further into your enquiry, Slonský. It’ll only waste time and it’s not my role. Explain to me why you have concerns about Pardubice.’
‘Plainly with a lieutenant gone they were going to be short-staffed, so we deputed one of our lieutenants, Doležal, to go to Pardubice and give them a hand until they made a permanent appointment.’
‘He’s a good man,’ Lukas chipped in. ‘Over twenty years of experience with the police. Slonský, of course, retained overall control of the investigation.’