by Graham Brack
‘That’s very kind, sir. I’ll be sure to drop in.’
Impulsively Lukas embraced his former subordinate. ‘You do that.’
Chapter 15
Year one of the era of Slonský began with a few changes. He looked round Lukas’ old office and decided he did not want to move from where he was. On the other hand to leave it vacant was to invite its reallocation to another team. His solution was to designate it as the workspace of Officers Navrátil and Peiperová.
‘Does that mean I’ll be working from here, sir?’ asked Navrátil, who was slightly perturbed by this turn of events.
‘Not at all. A keen-eyed lad like you will observe that there is only one desk.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That is Officer Peiperová’s desk. When she returns, you can move in if you want, but for now this is hers. It would be good if you could spend an hour or two in here from time to time to make it look untidy. Well, type out your names on a card and stick it on the door, lad. That’ll be a job well done, then we can stop for a coffee.’
They walked down the stairs to the canteen, Navrátil finding that he needed to move rather faster than he was used to in order to keep up.
Poznar listened carefully to Navrátil’s report. ‘Do you know what exactly they’re planning to do?’ he asked.
‘I’m afraid not. I’m hoping they’ll let me know if I continue to ingratiate myself with them.’
‘If they want to get inside the cordon that doesn’t sound like the use of a large artillery piece,’ said Slonský. ‘I imagine that’s big enough to make its own way in.’
‘But it doesn’t need to get inside the barriers,’ Poznar pointed out. ‘It can fire a few shots from outside, no doubt. After all, it has an effective range of twelve to fourteen kilometres.’
‘Fifteen kilometres,’ Slonský said, ‘according to Dr Kohoutek.’
‘I’m not sure the extra kilometre makes much difference, Slonský.’
‘It does if you’re standing in it when the gun goes off.’
‘Well, anyway, the question is what happens after the gun has been fired. Confusion and casualties, no doubt, but what are Nerad and Our Home planning to do in the immediate aftermath? Are they equipped to mount some sort of coup?’
‘Hardly,’ said Navrátil. ‘There are only a couple of dozen of them and most of them are bar-room revolutionaries.’
‘There may be other branches elsewhere,’ Slonský commented.
‘Yes, but they’ll all be the same size. If they could rummage up five hundred men in the whole of the country I’d be surprised. The most they can hope for is some publicity stunt.’
‘I think they’ve been working on some banners, sir,’ said Navrátil. ‘I haven’t seen them personally, but there’s something in a small industrial workshop Nerad came close to showing me at the weekend.’
‘A small industrial workshop big enough to take a self-propelled gun?’ asked Slonský.
‘No, sir. The door is too small.’
Poznar tapped his pen on the table top while he was thinking. ‘You’d best get back to Holice before they wonder where you’ve got to, Navrátil. Thanks for all you’re doing. It’s good work.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Slonský wrapped a long arm around Navrátil’s back. ‘There’ll be a desk for you when you get back, lad. I’m not quite sure where it will be, but you’ll still have a desk.’
Valentin glanced up when he detected a shadow falling across his glass. ‘Hello, stranger,’ he said.
‘It hasn’t been that long,’ Slonský argued.
‘It seems it. I was beginning to feel used and discarded.’
‘Nonsense. You just want a scoop.’
‘Of course I do. And in view of the material assistance I’ve given you I feel entitled.’
‘Stop pouting. You’ll get your scoop as soon as I know what’s going on.’
‘I thought you’d know by now. It’s not like you not to wrap up a case that’s been going for over a month.’
‘Only just over a month. I have some pieces of the jigsaw. But when I try to put them together I get a really weird picture.’
‘Such as?’
‘There’s a huge building development being built with Russian money. There’s an antique 105mm pop-gun someone in the country. There’s a right-wing nationalist group who may or may not have the gun but are planning something for the time of the visit of the American President. And there are a bunch of local police who appear not to be too bothered by any of this.’
‘Are they involved in it?’
‘It’s the obvious inference but I’ll leave that to Major Rajka to ferret out.’
‘Rajka? Rajka who used to twist people’s arms off for fun?’
‘That’s him. Nice chap.’
‘Till you cross him.’
‘No, we understand each other,’ said Slonský. ‘He’s very straightforward. Keep on the straight and narrow and he’s your mate. Get into anything dodgy and he’ll reshape your backside with his toecap. We’re on the same wavelength.’
‘Pleased to hear it. So why are you loafing around in here instead of busting a gut to round up some criminals?’
‘We’ve already got plenty. The jails are full. We’ve got to stop arresting them until some of the others have served their sentences and made a bit of space.’
‘And the real reason?’
‘I can’t think of a way to force the case open. There’s something that is staring me in the face, but I can’t see it yet. I will though. I always do.’
Valentin was concerned. ‘You don’t think your powers are declining since you cut your beer consumption?’
‘Do you think so?’
‘The old Slonský had a brain like a purring locomotive.’
‘That’s true. And I do think better with a bit of lubrication oiling the cogs.’
‘Tell you what. I’ll break my five plus two routine and have one with you. Just to keep you company.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Have you seen the police newspaper?’ barked Doležal when Slonský returned to the office and answered his phone.
‘Can’t say I have,’ replied Slonský.
‘You need to ring Navrátil and get him out of there. His cover’s blown. There’s a photo of Captain Lukas’ retirement and you can see him clearly in a police uniform. Somebody here has seen it, because it’s been left open in the staff room. I tried ringing Navrátil but his phone isn’t being answered.’
‘I wondered why it was ringing. It’s here in his drawer. We took it off him and gave him a new one. Have you removed the paper?’
‘I found two copies and they’re both in the boot of my car.’
‘Good work. Leave it with me.’
Slonský rang Poznar and explained the situation.
‘Jesus Maria, why did you let them take photos?’ asked Poznar.
‘I didn’t actually arrange it,’ Slonský protested. ‘Ask the Director.’
‘Stop waffling and get off the line,’ Poznar growled. ‘I’ve got to find Navrátil.’
Navrátil admired heroes but he had no wish to be one. As soon as Poznar rang to tell him to get out, he threw his clothes into his bag, collected his other belongings and left. His landlady was out so he had no opportunity to explain to her, but she had been paid anyway. Walking as quickly as he dared go without drawing attention to himself, Navrátil soon rounded the corner leading to the train station, and immediately doubled back. Nerad and one of his thugs were pacing the street in front of it, presumably having been tipped off. Nerad’s expression demonstrated that he was very unhappy, and if he could get his hands on Navrátil the young policeman would be very unhappy too. There was no way that he could get to the train without being seen.
His next thought was the bus stop, but it was soon clear that Our Home had that covered too. A couple of the men who had been the most fervent cheerleaders when he spoke so recently were now prowling the bus stands, and N
avrátil was fairly sure that the large wrenches they were carrying were not intended for use on the buses’ wheels.
Navrátil ducked into an alleyway to think. There was a small railway halt to the north-east of the town that he had seen on his runs. It was perhaps five kilometres away, but if he could get there he could catch a train. It would have to be one going in the wrong direction because he could not risk coming back through the centre of town, but if he could get to Týniště nad Orlicí he could then catch a train running back to Prague by the northern route. However, zastavka Holice, the little train halt, lay along the road that passed the main train station, so he would have to run by a roundabout way, and he had jogged along those paths often enough to know that there was little cover and he would be clearly visible from some distance. He could not risk it. There had to be some other place where he would be safe.
He could think of only one option; and after a few moments an idea occurred as to how he might reach it. It would involve a particularly wicked sin, but he hoped God would understand.
Peiperová had been daydreaming at her new desk. In her mind’s eye she replayed everything that she had learned about the murder of the four men at Holice and tried to visualise the events in sequence. It was then that she realised what had been troubling her.
The Director was out of his office at a meeting, so, acting on her own initiative, as she had been told so often a good policewoman does, she scribbled a note for him, taped it to his computer screen and ran along the corridor to find Slonský. She turned breathlessly into the room she still thought of as Lukas’ office only to find it empty, though with her name on the door, which was a pleasant surprise. Running a few metres further she burst into Slonský’s office to find him making short work of a ham roll.
‘Okay, I’m busted,’ he said, ‘but if you were trying to catch me out you didn’t have to put such effort into it.’
‘It’s not that, sir. I’ve just realised what has been troubling me about what we heard at Holice.’
Slonský nodded to the chair opposite him. ‘Park yourself there, girl, and let’s hear it.’
Peiperová stuttered as she rushed to get the words out.
‘Take your time,’ Slonský advised her. ‘I’ve achieved damn all in four weeks, so a few more minutes isn’t going to make a difference.’
‘It’s to do with what Jiří Jeníček said, sir.’
‘Remind me again who Jiří Jeníček is.’
‘The old man who looks after Miss Valachová’s field, sir. He told me he heard the bang, then he went into the house to check his wife was safe, and then he walked up the road. I thought it took him a while to find his wife, but it’s a very small house. It can’t have taken more than a minute or two. Then he walks up the road to the field, and he says that took him about five minutes. But long before he got there, he saw Captain Forman’s car parked in the middle of the road outside his house, and Forman himself was by the field. Now, Forman is no youngster and he’s not built for speed. So how did he get to the site of the explosion so quickly?’
Slonský slapped his hand on the desk top. ‘Of course! I was hung up on why nobody in the pub heard the bang, but if they didn’t then Forman certainly can’t have done, because the police station is quite a way further off. Oh, the little scamp lied to us!’
‘It’s worse than that, sir. Given the time it would take to drive from the police station to the field, I think Forman must have set off before the explosion.’
‘And you must be right, young lady, because I think that too.’ Slonský grabbed his coat and hat. ‘Come along! We’re going to get ourselves a nice fast car, ideally with those flashing lights and a siren, and because you’ve been good you can drive it to Holice with the whole lot going.’
Navrátil never claimed to be a saint, but he tried, so far as he was able, to live a blameless life. It therefore went against the grain for him to contemplate theft, but he salved his conscience by telling himself that he had no intention to deprive his victim permanently. It was more of a forced loan, really. Of course, the fact that he was burgling a church would ordinarily have started Confession with Father Anton on the wrong foot, but at least it wasn’t Father Anton’s church.
Since he had been in Holice he had attended Mass at the little church which, by happy chance, adjoined the bus stands but was screened by a few trees. Navrátil decided that the circumstances justified him in walking on the grass instead of keeping to the path as instructed, and he was able to slide in through the church door undetected.
St Martin’s was a delicate lemon and white building, but wonderfully cool inside. Navrátil had seen the priest head for the vestry after the services so he knew where to go. He just hoped that the people of Holice were a trusting lot who had no love of keys.
The vestry proper was unlocked, probably because there were no valuables there. Navrátil opened the doors in turn until he found what he wanted, then removed a few items from his bag before stowing it in the cupboard. He found a pen and a scrap of paper and left a note for the priest in which he apologised for what he had done, explained that he would return when he could to retrieve his bag, and informed the priest that if he telephoned Captain Josef Slonský at the telephone number below all would be explained. At least, he hoped it would. He then had the audacity to ask for the priest’s prayers to keep him safe.
Looking out cautiously, Navrátil emerged from the vestry with only the shoulder bag in which he kept his laptop, his clothes concealed by the black priestly cassock he had borrowed, and his face at least partly shielded by a clerical soup plate hat.
As he went out into the street the old flower-seller on the corner bowed her head respectfully. Navrátil thought he ought to bless her or something of the sort, but made do with a cheery “Good morning!” before setting off on his long walk.
Slonský had decided that he ought to keep Major Rajka informed but he did not want to make an enforced detour to the OII offices before going to Holice. He therefore used his mobile phone to ring when they were already well on their way. With the lights flashing and the siren blaring Peiperová was experiencing the exhilaration of driving at around 140 km per hour while Slonský attempted to remain calm in the passenger seat.
He explained to Rajka that they were on their way to Holice to question Captain Forman about his knowledge of the explosion and recapitulated the discussion he had shared with Peiperová in his office.
‘Do you think Forman is psychic?’ asked Rajka.
‘I don’t think anyone is psychic,’ said Slonský. ‘Some people are just good guessers, I suppose.’
‘I doubt that Forman was able to guess that there might be an explosion.’
‘No,’ agreed Slonský. ‘I have an idea about that but I mustn’t prejudge the interrogation. Captain Forman and I will have a nice little chat about it.’
‘Good. Then you’ll arrest him for being some kind of accessory to murder and bring him back to Prague?’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘Excellent. Then I needn’t traipse over there to kick his arse when I can stay here in the comfort of my own office and have his arse delivered to me.’
‘Do you want it still attached?’
‘Probably best if it is. There are standards, Slonský.’
‘Sirens off now, lass. I don’t want them to know what’s about to hit them,’ Slonský told Peiperová as they got closer.
‘What are we going to do, sir?’
‘We don’t know how many officers are involved in this, so it’s just possible we might be outnumbered, but with surprise on our side perhaps we can have Forman in cuffs and out of there before others notice. The whole thing is going to require delicate handling. You’d better let me take the lead.’
Slonský’s approach suggested to Peiperová that whichever dictionary he used at school it had a different definition of “delicate” to hers. Pushing open the station door he waved his ID at the sergeant on the desk and kept walking.
&nbs
p; ‘We know our way, thank you.’
Holice was not a big station. In fact, it looked rather like a large house if you disregarded the absence of ground floor windows. Slonský led the way to Forman’s office. The door was already open so when Forman glanced up he knew what was coming.
‘No coffee for us, thank you,’ Slonský announced to Forman’s secretary, before marching into the office and kicking the door shut behind him.
‘What is the mean—?’ began Forman.
‘Shut up,’ barked Slonský. ‘I need to do the formal bit first. You are being interviewed under caution. You are not obliged to say anything but anything you do say may be taken down and given in evidence. Co-operation with our enquiries may be reflected in the sentence you receive. It will certainly be reflected in the number of teeth you still have when I leave this room.’
Peiperová had spotted Forman’s holster hanging on a peg and retrieved it just in case Forman had ideas about shooting his way out.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Forman muttered unconvincingly, but the pallor of his complexion told a different story.
‘Cats in the belfry.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Peiperová?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the young officer agreed, recognising the reference to the story that Lukas had told but having no idea how it applied to what was unfolding before her.
‘Get yourself a chair, lass, we’re going to be here a little while. Now, maybe you do things differently out here in the sticks, but where I come from we find the best way to run a police interview is for the police to ask the questions while the suspect confines themselves to answering. In full, and damn quick. Clear?’
‘I demand to know what this is about!’ Forman blustered.
‘Very fair question,’ Slonský agreed. ‘This is about seven to fourteen years behind bars, give or take. That’s the going rate for accessory to murder, I think. Maybe a bit extra for malfeasance in a public office or whatever the prosecutors are calling it these days. Being naughty in a uniform, that kind of thing. Though I imagine in a small town like this the public disgrace of being marched out to the car in handcuffs and driven slowly around with the sirens going full blast will be the worst bit. Not for your family, of course. They’ll probably have to move when all the right-thinking citizens give them the cold shoulder. Perhaps if you’re lucky they’ll let you know where they’ve moved to, but I wouldn’t count on it. We both know what happens when wives face a decade or more on their own, don’t we?’