Field of Death

by Graham Brack

  ‘So,’ said Poznar, ‘are you going to explain what has been going here?’

  Slonský opened the folder in front of him and read from the top sheet. ‘It says here “Conspiracy. Noun. An agreement between two or more people to commit an act prohibited by law or to commit a lawful act by means prohibited by law.” The trouble here is that we have overlapping conspiracies. And I have to thank Captain Lukas for reminding me about the cats in the belfry, because frankly until I heard that I didn’t have a clue what was going on.’ He extracted a gruesome photograph from the folder. ‘This is where it all started. Four men killed in an explosion. They were killed because they stumbled across the gun being moved. Captain Forman was, of course, implicated in that. It suited him to concoct a story about accidental detonation of a shell by people with metal detectors, and that’s what he reported to Pardubice. That case would have been closed if it had not been for Dr Novák’s discovery that the forensics were not consistent with that story. Forman was unco-operative because he had wanted no questions asked about the gun. How is the search for the gun going, by the way?’

  ‘Nerad is being unhelpful,’ said Poznar, ‘but the chap with the sore knee gave us the name of the driver of the gun on its last journey. If he had given it a bit quicker he wouldn’t now have two sore knees. And the driver was quick to come up with an address once he realised we were serious about wanting it. As I pointed out to him, we don’t go round kicking people’s front doors in at one in the morning unless we’re really keen to hear what they have to say.’

  ‘So where is it now?’

  ‘The army have taken possession of it. I spoke to the officer who led the retrieval team. He says it has been well maintained but they’ll give it a good home.’

  ‘So that explains the deaths. Forman will testify that Nerad either threw the grenade or knows who did, because there were only two men in the field when it happened. That brings us to David Nerad.’

  Poznar had been interrogating him, so picked up the thread. ‘Nerad’s plan was detailed in a draft speech we found notes for. He was going to take the gun to Prague and lob a few shells into the city while the American President was being formally greeted. It didn’t matter what the shells hit so long as they hit something. Nerad would then argue that the current crop of politicians had failed in their duty to keep the Czech people safe and that a “more patriotic” government was needed. He had identified twelve to fifteen candidates to stand at the next election. He was one, of course, and you’ll be pleased to hear you were on it too, Navrátil. Or, more accurately, Michal Ondráček was. With a block of ten or so deputies he could influence the next government, in which, of course, he would play a major role as Our Home’s leader.’

  Slonský was concerned. ‘Sounds like he could plead insanity and get off with it.’

  ‘Not with the detailed planning he had done,’ Poznar countered.

  ‘So the plan to use the gun was his decision and none of the others knew?’ Slonský asked.

  ‘At present, we have no indication that anyone else knew who was connected with the original diversion. Some members of Our Home knew what was going to happen but probably only in general terms. The driver, for example, says he only knew he was going to take it for a drive on 4th June, but not where they would be going,’ Poznar replied.

  ‘You see, this is where the cats in the belfry came in,’ Slonský continued. ‘If the target was the American President’s visit, I couldn’t see why they would take it out of hiding so early. What possible trigger could have led to that? But then it occurred to me, having heard Captain Lukas, that the trigger may not have been the one that they had planned for. And when Klinger returned from interviewing Veselý with the news that he had suddenly and spontaneously started clearing the site to persuade his new Russian pals to get their hands in their pockets, the idea began to form that cats had just kicked the bell.’

  Klinger took up the story. ‘Veselý’s plan is now dead. The Russian investors were indeed planning to launder their criminal profits by investing in the mall. They would cash out the leisure complex quite soon, then begin to demand repayments of the remainder. If it profited, Veselý would be glad to buy them out. If not, he stood the loss. Either way, they’d have money in their hands with a clean provenance.’

  ‘You see,’ Slonský explained, ‘Veselý had no interest in changing the government. Nerad had no plans to invest in a mall. So you can’t really call it a conspiracy.’

  ‘But what about Klaberský and Vondra, sir?’ asked Peiperová. ‘Where do they come in?’

  ‘After the explosion, Forman told Vondra what had really happened in order to get his help in covering it up. Vondra told Klaberský. That’s why they were so hostile to Doležal; they thought he had been sent to reopen the enquiry. They saw to it that any information Doležal shared with them was discredited or destroyed. That’s why he didn’t tell them what he had heard about the cottages. He was beginning to suspect that they were being obstructive. But whereas Vondra just wanted to please the local bigwigs and have a quiet life, Klaberský saw a great opportunity. Major Rajka and I visited his house on the way back to Prague last night and helped ourselves to a number of documents from his house.’

  Rajka rubbed his hands together with relish before taking up the story. ‘Klaberský knew there was a big gun around. He knew that David Nerad was somehow implicated, though probably not that he had actually thrown the grenade. He reasoned that Nerad wouldn’t play second fiddle to anyone and therefore was likely to be the ringleader of whatever plot was in contemplation. He also guessed one or two of the young men around Holice known to the police who might become involved in Nerad’s plan, our friend with the sore knees being one of them. Klaberský twisted their arms to keep him informed and to agitate for ever more daring plans. At the same time they were feeding Klaberský bits of evidence. His plan was to appear to be supportive but at the last moment he would turn hero and foil the plot. It wouldn’t matter that they had never intended to harm the American President, because Klaberský could make a good case that they must have done. As a national hero, “the man who saved Prague” would be set on a rapid course upwards in the police.’

  ‘But why hurt Doležal?’ asked Navrátil.

  Slonský answered. ‘Because once they discovered that we had you infiltrating the group, and Doležal was able to warn you that your cover was blown, Klaberský’s little plot, in which he had invested a lot of time and quite a bit of money, was likely to unravel. If you and Doležal stepped in and arrested Nerad, Klaberský had lost his chance. Not only that, but if his sources talked, his position might be really tricky. Pure, naked fear, lad. If he could stop Doležal reporting what he knew, the arrest might still be his.’

  ‘Did it matter so much to him that he would try to kill a fellow policeman to get the collar, sir?’ Navrátil exclaimed in astonishment.

  ‘Yes, lad, it did. You see, you and Peiperová are doing well. You’ll be lieutenants in a year or two and captains not long after, I reckon. But Klaberský had twenty years of lack of achievement under his belt. And he probably looked at Vondra and thought that was what he was destined to turn into. Not an enticing thought.’

  ‘But I thought he’d said he was hoping to get Vondra’s job when he retired, sir?’ asked Peiperová.

  ‘Hoping, yes; but not certain. And was that enough for him? Head of a team of three operating out of an oversized cupboard in the sticks? We’re back to fear. What if he didn’t get it? What if they gave it to — say — Sedlák? After all, Sedlák was the oldest and longest-serving lieutenant there. No wonder he wasn’t heartbroken when Sedlák was killed.’

  ‘It’s still unimaginable, sir,’ Navrátil said. ‘Not being able to trust other colleagues.’

  ‘Welcome to my world,’ said Rajka.

  Chapter 17

  The following Sunday, Slonský bought a bunch of flowers for Mrs Lukasová in readiness for their arranged lunch and, in a rare display of romantic feeling, a cors
age for Věra which she proudly pinned to her chest. Never mind that it was a lurid violet, a colour she thoroughly detested; it was the thought that counted, she told herself. She gave him a peck on the cheek, then, pausing only to brush his shoulders, straighten his tie and disappear to the kitchen to find a cloth to buff up his toecaps, she led the way out.

  They caught the tram like any other middle-aged couple that Sunday in Prague. As it passed one of his favourite bars Slonský looked out fondly, caressing it with his eyes and almost wishing he was there instead; but his duty lay elsewhere.

  And he could hardly allow Captain Lukas to be left unsupported with two women and two daughters, could he?

  Věra followed his gaze. ‘Honestly, Josef, you don’t change,’ she tutted.

  I’m eight kilos lighter, I’m a captain and I’m going out to lunch with you, thought Slonský. That sounds like a hell of a metamorphosis to me.

  *****

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  A NOTE TO THE READER

  Dear Reader,

  If you have enjoyed this novel I’d be really grateful if you would leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads. I love to hear from readers, so please keep in touch through Facebook or Twitter, or leave a message on my website.

  Všechno nejlepší!

  Graham Brack

  ALSO BY GRAHAM BRACK

  Josef Slonský Investigations

  LYING & DYING

  SLAUGHTER AND FORGETTING

  DEATH ON DUTY

  Published by Sapere Books.

  11 Bank Chambers, Hornsey, London, N8 7NN,

  United Kingdom

  saperebooks.com

  Copyright © Graham Brack, 2018

  Graham Brack has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.

  eBook ISBN: 9781912786503