Academy of the Dead

by Christopher Wright

  "I put it back in its envelope. Or at least I thought I did. I wanted to look at it again today and all I could find was a microfiche about some damn music magazine."

  "I know what happened." Matt tried to sound helpful. "That film that was in the carrier when we got there. You put it up on the shelf above the reader. You probably muddled them up when we were leaving."

  Blake grunted. "I've already thought of that. There's nothing on the shelf now."

  "Perhaps one of the students put it away."

  "That's typical." Blake sounded angry. "No one puts anything away when you want them to. I'd have to go through thousands of damn films in the filing system. I can't very well put up a notice asking if anyone has seen a microfiche with the records of Hana Eisler. I'm not supposed to have the film in the first place."

  "Sorry," Matt said. "I can't help. I'll ring you this evening and let you know if Zoé wants to go with me to Prague." He put the phone down. Trust Blake to want to look at the microfiche again.

  Ken agreed that Matt couldn't return the microfiche now that Mack the Hack had taken his scissors to it. "Mind you," he said, "I think I'd be a bit miffed if something confidential like that just disappeared."

  "Ken, let me tell you a tale that will make the hairs on your arms stand on end."

  When Matt had finished his account of the séance, he picked up the digital recorder and played a section with the hysterical voice. Ken stared at him openmouthed. "I thought Father Alban told you not to do it," he said at last.

  Matt shrugged. "I don't think any harm's been done. But if the medium wasn't Martin Smith's mother, the whole thing could be highly iffy."

  "Perhaps Mrs. Smith was ill and didn't want to lose the money. How much did you pay her?"

  "Not much. What do you think? She got someone to take her place?"

  "I'd put money on it, kiddo. Everything else stacks up, so stop worrying and get over to Prague. The sooner you get this sorted out the sooner you'll be able to give my work your undivided attention. What do you think of the rugs? I reckon they've raised the tone of the office."

  "They look great," Matt told him without much sincerity. "Is it okay if I leave early? I have to buy my new girlfriend a pair of sneakers and a book."

  *

  OLGA GAVE a little squeak of delight. From her reaction Matt felt she could be imagining she'd been given a designer pair of sneakers and a copy of the Encyclopedia Britannica.

  "I have looked through all the pages you gave to Father Alban," she said, her dark eyes gleaming. "There are many sad things written there. Do you want me to tell you?"

  Matt nodded in approval as Olga jumped up and down, testing the feel of her new footwear. The sneakers seemed to be a good fit, which was a relief. "They're the records of a Czech schoolgirl who lived a long time ago."

  "I know," Olga chipped in. "She went missing in the war."

  At least Olga was telling the truth. She must have been through all the pages. "Are there any records of her family?"

  Olga nodded. "She had a younger sister. Her name was Rosa."

  "Anyone else?"

  "She had parents."

  "And?"

  "Do you mean grandparents?"

  He shook his head. At the moment Hana's immediate family wasn't important. "How about uncles and cousins?" Maybe there was something about Otik Eisler.

  "I will get the pages. Would you like to come in?"

  Matt knew he had to face up to going inside sometime. He followed Olga through the outer door. The corridor inside the HAT building was brightly painted with gaudy murals depicting rows of shops with people walking past them. Almost certainly these had been done by residents, past and present. He felt the effect was more depressing than uplifting, but it wasn't for him to say anything. Several men stared at him suspiciously as he waited in the hallway for Olga to return.

  "Yes," she said when she returned. "I thought she did."

  "Did what?"

  "Hana had an aunt and uncle. Libek and Vetka Sykora. The principal of the Academy was told to contact them if anything happened to Hana, and he couldn't get in touch with her parents." Olga sighed. "I have heard much about the war back in Slovakia. Hana was Jewish, yes?"

  He nodded. "Does it say where the uncle and aunt live?" This might be too much to hope for.

  "It says they live just outside a place called Ústí, and the farm is called Krkavčí farma, which means the Farm of the Raven."

  Matt reached out. "Show me how it's written."

  Olga pointed to the Czech words. It was easy enough to read them with the pronunciation Olga used. He now had corroboration of the information that came from the medium at the séance. So whoever Mrs. Smith was, the trip to Prague wouldn't be wasted. Krkavčí farma -- Raven's Farm. Why hadn't Blake told him about the farm? Perhaps the person who did translation for him hadn't got this far. Not that he could show it to Blake. The film was now in four strips, thanks to Mac the Hack's butchery.

  All he had to do next was to talk Zoé into coming with him.

  "YOU KNOW I would like to come with you," Zoé told him when he got home. "I have never been to Prague, and I have heard that there are many musical concerts in the churches."

  "We won't be going to any concerts," Matt said. "We have to get to a place called Ústí, find the farm, and fly back Monday. Time is something we're not going to have."

  Zoé started to peel an apple. "I have the morning sickness to worry about, and do not wish to travel so far. I am sure Monsieur Blake will understand if you go on your own. It will save him the money, so perhaps you will be able to stay in a better hotel."

  He didn't want to look at it like this, even though the chance of a bit of luxury wouldn't come amiss. "I said I'd phone Blake this evening. I'll tell him to book a ticket just for me -- if you're sure."

  "Oui, I am sure." Zoé finished peeling the apple and pointed the small kitchen knife at him. "Please be careful in Prague. I do not want anything to happen to you."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  1942

  Masaryk Railway Station

  Prague

  Czechoslovakia

  KITTY EMPTIES the brown music case and gives the large collection of papers back to Hana. Hana pushes the thick bundle inside her blue coat. She has to do the belt up tightly or everything will fall to the ground. She glances down and for a moment she smiles. She looks different now, like the fat German girl in her class.

  Kitty tells her to keep quiet and stay in the toalety. She says that the captain always brings the soldiers to the station at this time of the morning to meet the train from the east. Yesterday the captain shot her father on this station and took her brothers and three sisters away. They have been sent to the camp at Terezín. She knows she will never see them again. She is going to shoot the captain with the pistol her father kept from the last war.

  Hana warns Kitty that she will not be able to get near enough to the captain to be sure of hitting him, but Kitty says that the captain will want to see what is in the music case. She will take it to him, and when she is close enough she will pull the trigger. The Germans will not be expecting a girl to have a gun. Hana cannot understand bravery like this. Kitty is prepared to kill and be killed to avenge her father. Could she do the same if the soldiers kill Papa?

  Kitty gives Hana a quick kiss on the cheek and walks calmly out through the door onto the platform. Through a gap in the door Hana sees a soldier seize Kitty by the arm and lead her away. Hana stays hidden in the foul smelling cubicle and hears the captain call, "Come!" Then she remembers that her name and address are written inside the music case. The Germans will read it and think that Kitty is her. Soon they will be hunting for Papa.

  Hana puts her hands to her face and presses her thumbs into her ears.

  The shot makes her jump.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Prague

  MATT EMERGED from the airport, surprised to see so many Skoda cars in the waiting area. He guessed he should have been expec
ting this, since Skodas came from the Czech Republic, but the association hadn't clicked before now. He felt tempted to take a taxi to the city center, but opted to share a minibus with four students. He gave the students slightly more than his share of the cost and they seemed happy. His guidebook said this sort of arrangement was the cheapest way to get to the city center, and he was on a tight budget if he was going to stay within Blake's paltry advance.

  As the minibus approached Prague from the top of the hill he could see the city laid out like a map, with towers and church spires rising among the terracotta rooftops. The driver spoke very little English but Matt managed to get dropped by the main railway station. He'd been expecting something on the scale of Paris, but the center of Prague didn't seem to be much larger than the Latin Quarter and Notre Dame areas of Paris combined. At least he'd be saving on public transport.

  Rather than cut through the maze of small side streets he opted to go to Wenceslas Square, which the guidebook said was rather like the Champs-Élysées. The wide street had grand buildings on each side, but the resemblance to the most famous boulevard in Paris ended there. He could see plenty of parked cars but very little in the way of moving traffic. Wide flowerbeds down the center gave the place an air of peace -- something that was totally lacking in its French counterpart.

  Blake had mentioned some self-catering apartments in an alleyway just off Wenceslas Square and here he rang the bell. The receptionist showed him to a couple of rooms at what he had to admit was a reasonable price. He threw his pack into the corner, had a quick shower, and went out to put the first phase of his plan into action: find a guided tour.

  Several shops advertised city tours, and he found one that was starting within the hour. It was short and cheap, and probably nothing more than a quick run in a minibus around the old streets and up to the castle across the river. Exactly what he wanted. To make a booking he'd need a phone card from one of the kiosks selling newspapers and magazines. He booked the tour then phoned Zoé to let her know he'd arrived safely. One of the nurses on duty in the hospital ward had been briefed to get her when he rang.

  "Everything okay?" he asked. The hospital didn't like the nurses being rung while on duty, but they were making an exception this time. He wasn't going to leave a pregnant wife worrying about whether he'd survived the journey.

  "I'll miss you tonight," Zoé told him when he'd finished explaining about his accommodation.

  The money on the card seemed to be running out rapidly. "And I'll miss you, girl. I'd better go." He'd need to make a few more phone calls before the trip was over.

  Two elderly couples were standing where he'd been told to wait for the city tour, and he guessed they were waiting to join it with him. They seemed to know each other and were chatting away in English. He kept quiet. He wanted to collar the tour guide as soon as he could, and didn't want to explain his business to anyone he'd befriended along the way.

  The minibus was old and cramped and he had to sit with his feet on one of the rear wheel arches, giving very little the room for his legs. Speed bumps in the old quarter of the town proved to be no deterrent to the driver, who seemed determined to use them to test the springs to the limit.

  It wasn't until they had a ten minute break at the top of the hill by Hradčany, Prague Castle, that Matt got a chance to speak to the guide who'd been giving a running commentary in English, a small man in his mid forties.

  "My name's Matt." Matt produced the map of the Czech Republic from his shoulder bag, but kept it folded. "Do you know the country well?"

  The guide looked at the map, obviously intrigued. "Good afternoon. My name is Stanislav. I have traveled much in the Republic. What is it you wish to know?" His English was excellent, which meant he could do more than repeat a script parrot-fashion for the benefit of the tour passengers.

  "Are you free tomorrow, Stanislav?"

  The guide kept eyeing the map. "Tomorrow is Saturday. I do not work Saturday and Sunday. The tour company uses other guides for the weekends. Why do you ask?"

  Matt knew he'd got Stanislav hooked. Slowly he unfolded the map and laid it on the front passenger seat. "I'm a private detective from England."

  Stanislav looked at Matt closely. "And you want me to help?"

  "I don't speak a word of Czech. I'm only here until Monday, and I have to get to a place called Ústí tomorrow." He pointed to the town on the map. "A client has asked me to trace a family. They lived on a farm in Ústí."

  The guide laughed. "A farm in Ústí? The closest thing to a farm in Ústí is the milk processing plant." He laughed again.

  "You mean it's been industrialized?"

  "The last cow to die in Ústí probably coughed to death in 1920."

  "There must be farms in the countryside all around."

  "Of course there are farms, my friend, but we will need to know the name of the village."

  "I don't have the name of the village. All I have is Ústí and the name of the farm."

  Stanislav drew his breath in through his mouth and shook his head sadly. "You are only here until Monday? Impossible, I am afraid."

  Matt felt frustrated. The medium hasn't been nearly as clever as he'd thought. Or maybe it was the spirit of Hana that was to blame. Hana would have known the area well, and perhaps hadn't felt the need to give an exact address. "How about a phone book?" It was an obvious next step.

  Stanislav shrugged. "We can go to Ústí on the train tomorrow and make inquiries. But are you sure it is Ústí nad Labem, and not Ústí nad Orlicí you are looking for?"

  "You mean there are two Ústís?"

  "Most certainly. It is a source of confusion to many people. Ústí nad Orlicí is far to the east, in north Bohemia. It is a small country town. There will be farms there."

  "I can hire a car."

  The passengers for the tour started to trickle back. "We would be better using the train. It is only a two-hour journey by train." Stanislav put his hand on Matt's shoulder. "When we get back to the center of Prague and drop the passengers off, the two of us will have a drink and discuss the matter further." He looked up at the first woman who was making her way up the shallow steps. "All aboard for Charles Bridge," he called.

  It seemed to take forever for the passengers to get seated, making Matt impatient. He didn't know anything about Stanislav, but as long as the man didn't want to be paid too much, the help he so badly needed was sitting in the driving seat of the minibus. So far so good. Taking the tour had been a good move.

  Half an hour later he and Stanislav were sitting under a large umbrella in a pavement café in Staroměstské náměstí, the Old Town Square, drinking a local lager beer. Stanislav said he had a woman friend who'd gone to Plzeň for the weekend, so apart from drinking he had nothing to do for the next couple of days.

  "I can't pay you much," Matt told him. He didn't want to show his cash. The wad of money looked thick, but it had to pay for his accommodation and food. If the Ústí he needed was far to the east, the train journey might be expensive. He couldn't tell Stanislav what the job was really about, so he'd have to invent something plausible. "I'm trying to trace a family in connection with an inheritance, and we can't find them."

  "You are a lawyer?"

  "A private detective. I'm working for a lawyer." He hoped he sounded convincing.

  "Maybe I can see your map."

  Matt spread it across their laps.

  "Let me find Ústí nad Orlicí." Stanislav's breath smelled of alcohol. He studied the map for less than a minute and pushed it over onto Matt. "We can be in Ústí by noon tomorrow." He looked at Matt closely. "You have the name of the people?"

  Matt nodded. "In the war they were called Sykora, but I don't know how long they lived there. The farm is called Krkavčí farma."

  Stanislav frowned. "I thought you said the descendants of the family were still there."

  "I told you I don't know who's living there now." He felt quite sure he'd made that clear. "It will help if the same family is
still there, but the main thing is to find what I'm looking for."

  "Surely it would be most vital to contact the family if there is an inheritance for them."

  Matt breathed in deeply. Maybe he shouldn't have made up the story about working for a lawyer who was trying to track down a family in the Czech Republic in connection with a will. But he'd wanted to allay any possible suspicions about the reason for the trip to Ústí. It seemed as though his caution was having the opposite effect.

  Stanislav seemed to be decidedly interested. "It is confidential. Yes?"

  Matt reached into his bag and pulled out a copy of the English Academy prospectus. Ken had been right about bringing it. "Have you heard of the Helios Music Academy here in Prague?"

  Stanislav nodded. "It is famous." He reached across and took the prospectus from Matt. "I did not know that there is one in England."

  "The governors of the English Academy think there may be a financial benefit for the family who lived in Ústí in the war, and they want me to investigate. That's all I'm going to tell you at present."

  Stanislav seemed to take the hint. "First I will ask at the main post office in Prague. Krkavčí farma, you say? They will, I think, have records that will give us the name of the farmer who lives there now. Now, how much are you going to pay me for my help?"

  It didn't take long to do a deal. Stanislav was obviously at a loose end and had heard that the beer in Ústí nad Orlicí was particularly good. "We get the train from the main railway station tomorrow morning. But I do not want to stay there overnight. Can we do everything in one day?"

  "Maybe. As long as we can find the farm quickly."

  Stanislav was already on his third glass. "I will collect you from your hotel ..." He paused. "You must tell me where you are staying. And you will pay for my train ticket. Yes?"

  Stanislav seemed to be particularly thirsty. Maybe the tickets were going to be the cheap part of the expedition.

  "We have to walk to the post office." Stanislav stood up a little unsteadily. "When we get there I will go in alone. They may not be so helpful with a foreigner."

  Matt blinked. He hadn't really thought himself as a foreigner. But he was an alien in a foreign land, unable to pronounce the words on the signposts, and certainly not able to interpret any of them.