Academy of the Dead

by Christopher Wright

  Tomas Dusek came into the kitchen to say that he was now ready to drive into Ústí. Lenka would stay behind as she did not care for shops.

  NOT ALL the shops in the center of Ústí were open on Saturday afternoon, and the copy shop that Tomas Dusek knew about had closed for the day at lunchtime.

  "In England you can get photocopies made at shops that sell newspapers and magazines," Matt said. They were near the shop where he had earlier bought the map, but he couldn't see a sign outside offering the service.

  Stanislav didn't hear. He was in discussion with two men wearing smart suits. Probably he thought that businessmen would know exactly where you could get copies made. Matt looked at Tomas. Not everyone was smartly dressed by any means, but this farmer in his shabby clothing stood out like an embarrassing hillbilly.

  "The men say that there is a bookshop down that road." Stanislav came over to Matt. "The owner has a large photocopy machine which they think we can use."

  The bookshop had all that was necessary to make two copies of each page, some in the large A3 size. The owner counted the sheets in the pile. Two hundred and twenty-three originals. Four hundred and forty-six copies. When Matt asked how long the job would take, the owner consulted the calendar.

  Matt shook his head and pointed to his watch. "Today," he insisted. He hoped the shop wasn't about to close. It was already after four. "How long? One hour? Two hours?"

  The owner told Matt it would take at least an hour, and he was anxious to get home as he was taking his wife out for a meal. Stanislav talked long and hard, doing some sort of financial deal.

  "It will be expensive," the owner told Matt when the discussion was over.

  Matt asked how much, and Stanislav told him. Well, his credit card would stand a shock like that. He suggested they go out and have something to eat while the copies were being made.

  Tomas shook his head and spoke forcibly. Stanislav translated the words along the lines that no way was the farmer going to leave the precious papers with someone he didn't know. He would stay and keep an eye on the man while he worked. At this point Matt decided that he wasn't going to trust a farmer he hadn't met before. Tomas might come to some shady arrangement with the bookshop owner and lock the door for the rest of the weekend. Maybe Stanislav had managed to cut himself in on the arrangement.

  It was time to contact Zoé again. She was sure to be worrying about him. Maybe he could risk leaving Tomas and the bookshop owner alone for five minutes. After all, he knew how many pages there were in the pile. He retrieved the phone card from his pocket and told Stanislav that he had to ring home. The cubicle was only just across the road. To his surprise Stanislav followed. He shrugged apologetically.

  "Tomas Dusek has asked me to make sure that you do not make an agreement behind his back."

  "I'm phoning my wife."

  Stanislav stood his ground, keeping one foot inside the glass cubicle. "Carry on, my friend."

  "Thanks," Matt said sarcastically. "Perhaps you'd like to speak to her, too."

  Stanislav grinned and probably saw the humor of the situation, but he clearly had his orders.

  Zoé took a long time before answering, and when she did she sounded anxious. "I am sorry, Matt, I was out in the back yard hanging up some washing."

  "You sound bothered."

  "I am. I have been hoping you will phone."

  "Is there a problem?"

  "Something is worrying me. Ken called here about an hour ago to check I was all right, which was really kind of him. Matt, Ken he is a good man."

  "He may be good sometimes. Anyway, what's the problem?"

  "I wish I had not let you go to Prague. Salman from the Anchor Trust has been round here. Twice. The first time he came was early this morning. You know how he caught hold of me outside Le Perroquet Bleu."

  "You should have told me about it when I phoned you from the farm."

  "I did not want to worry you."

  "Worry me? I can take care of myself. What did Salman want?"

  "He said that Father Alban had told him you were in Prague, so he came round to see if he could do anything to help."

  "I hope you didn't let him in."

  "Of course not. I told him there was nothing I wanted and said 'thank you'. He was, I think, annoyed. I told Ken about it and he said I have to keep the front door locked."

  "Of course you must keep the door locked. Always." Matt looked at the display on the telephone. His card was about to expire. "Listen, I need to buy another card. I'll phone you again soon." He could hear his front doorbell ringing clearly down the phone line. "Who is it?"

  "I will go and see."

  He had a sudden feeling of panic. "If it's Salman again, don't let him in. Look through the spy hole and use the safety chain."

  The phone card ran out.

  Stanislav noticed him replace the receiver, and moved aside. "You look worried, my friend."

  He was worried. "Where can I buy another phone card?"

  Stanislav pointed across to a tobacco shop.

  The shop was busy, and the customers seemed to have come more for a gossip with the owner than to buy cigarettes. When Matt eventually returned to the phone with a new card, the cubicle was occupied. He wished he'd asked Stanislav to stay in it, pretending to make another call. He could see another phone across the square. He ran across and dialed his home number. There was no reply.

  Stanislav joined him, standing out of breath beside the telephone. "Tomas Dusek wants me to stay with you," he gasped.

  Matt tried to contain his anxiety. There was probably a very good explanation. Maybe Zoé had sent whoever was at the door away, and had now gone to the bathroom. He tried Zoé's mobile number, but it was switched off. She left it switched off in the house, and often didn't bother to take it when she went out. All he could do was keep trying his home every two or three minutes until she answered.

  "We must go back to the bookshop," the guide insisted, not sounding quite so breathless now.

  "Look, Stanislav, just stay outside and shut up." He dialed his home number again, but it still wasn't answered.

  Matt felt unable to relax for the rest of the afternoon. Stanislav and Tomas sat in the bookshop and chatted, but Matt could only watch impatiently while the owner fiddled around with the pages. Part of the problem came from the odd sizes of paper which either overfilled the sheet, or looked illegibly small when reduced. About halfway through the copier jammed, and this took an age to clear. It was nearly six o'clock when the last copy rolled off the machine.

  Matt paid the bill, which was more than he'd been quoted, and asked if there were any large envelopes or folders for the copies. The owner provided two massive padded envelopes and Matt carefully sorted the pages into three sets: two sets of copies and one set of the originals. Before leaving the shop he even lifted the cover of the copy machine, to make sure nothing had been left behind.

  Tomas said it would be dark in an hour, and he had to get back to the farm.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  MATT SAT in the back of the farmer's old Skoda car and worried. They passed a public telephone on the edge of town and he insisted that Tomas stop so he could try phoning Zoé. There was still no reply, and Zoé's cell phone was still either off or out of range.

  Tomas seemed to appreciate the problem and, through Stanislav, said that Matt must feel free to use the phone in the farm until he made contact. Matt closed his eyes and tried to recall his exact words to Zoé just before the card expired. It had only taken seven or eight minutes to buy the card and try his home number again. Maybe Zoé had not expected him to ring back straightaway, and had popped out to the shops for something.

  As they approached the farm Tomas Dusek put the brakes on heavily. The car came to a rapid halt, and the nose dipped sharply. Matt opened his eyes. Had a chicken run under the wheels?

  "It is the police," Stanislav announced.

  The Czech guide didn't really need to point it out. A white police car with a green
stripe blocked the long drive up to the farm, and a giant police officer in shirt-sleeves stood by the gate with his arms raised. He called out what were obviously a string of instructions. His colleague, a smaller man also in shirtsleeves, listened intently.

  "What's he saying?" Matt asked when the man paused for breath.

  "They have found a body in the woods on the farm next door," Stanislav explained. "They think it is the young farm worker who went missing a month ago."

  The farmer stayed in the Skoda, his hands gripping the steering wheel. The huge policeman spoke again, his tone pleasant but firm. Finally Tomas Dusek nodded his head.

  Stanislav turned round in the front passenger seat. "Tomas has to see if he can identify the body. We are required to wait here."

  Matt started to get out. "Tell them I have to phone my wife. I don't mind walking up to the farm."

  Stanislav explained the situation and the big policeman beckoned Matt towards the drive.

  "He says you may go to the farm," Stanislav said, "but you are not to leave here until the police have finished their inquiries."

  It could have been worse. Some police officers would have made him wait at the bottom of the drive for maybe an hour or two. He smiled.

  "Tell him I'm grateful and I'll stay in the farmhouse." Not that he would. If Zoé didn't answer he'd be on the next train back to Prague where he'd try phoning her again, and get the next flight home if he still didn't get a reply.

  Dark clouds had descended around the hills, adding to his already gloomy mood. He half ran and half walked up the long dusty drive. He didn't want to be too out of breath when Zoé answered -- assuming she was there to pick up to phone.

  Lenka Dusek hovered anxiously, trying to stop him dialing. She wanted to tell him something, but he didn't have a clue what she was saying. "Is it Zoé?" he asked slowly. "Zoé?"

  The farmer's wife shook her head and said something again. He wasn't sure if she was worried on his behalf, or was concerned about the phone bill. He looked at his watch. It was nearly six-thirty here, which meant it was only five-thirty in England. With the heavy cloud cover, it was already starting to get dark. Stanislav was down at the bottom of the drive talking to the two police officers. He just had to hope that the guide wasn't spinning them some unhelpful story.

  Matt ignored Lenka and dialed his home number. As soon as his phone started ringing, it was picked up. "Matt Rider's house."

  "Ken?"

  "Is that you, kiddo? I've been trying to phone you, but every time I ring some batty woman answers and I can't understand a word she's saying."

  Matt looked over at Lenka. "It's the farmer's wife," he said. "She probably thinks you're batty too. There's nothing wrong with her. It's just that you don't speak the same language. Anyway, what are you doing in my house? Is Zoé with you?"

  "I don't know how to tell you this," Ken said quietly.

  It sounded like bad news. "Is it about Zoé?"

  "How did you know?"

  "I've been trying to phone her for ages. Go on then, tell me."

  "I called earlier to make sure Zoé was all right."

  "She told me."

  "She seemed a little anxious, so I thought I'd better come round again after tea. I've only been here a few minutes."

  "Yes?"

  "I rang your front bell and got no reply. I thought I'd take a look round the back, and your kitchen door was open."

  "Was anyone in?"

  "I called out and poked my head round the door. I was worried. Is your house usually in a mess?"

  "A bit. Why?"

  "I thought someone had been over it, but I can't see anything obviously missing. Look, I don't want to worry you, but I felt you ought to know."

  "Ken, tell me what I ought to know."

  "To cut a long story short, the place is empty."

  "So where's Zoé? Was there any blood?"

  "No sign of a struggle. I've been trying to ring you. I hope you don't mind me using your phone."

  The last thing he minded was Ken using his phone. "How on earth did you get this number?"

  "I've rung Blake," Ken said. "I thought maybe Zoé had gone to see him."

  "Had she?"

  "He says not."

  "And the back door was open?"

  "Wide open. You don't have to worry about it, kiddo. There's no damage. You know how easy it is to jump these doors out of the lock."

  "Not mine. If that door's open, someone used a key."

  "The key's inside the door. I can lock it when I leave."

  Matt said nothing. He was more worried about Zoé than about an unlocked door.

  "Matt, are you still there?" Ken sounded anxious.

  "I'm coming straight home."

  Matt heard voices in the farmyard, presumably Stanislav and the two policemen. He couldn't discuss his plans to return to England with Stanislav listening, for he was likely to tell the police. If they knew he was going back to Prague, they'd put him in the cells until their inquiries were complete. "Stay where you are, Ken," he said quickly. "I'll phone you again as soon as I can."

  Stanislav came into the room. "I hope you are not planning to go anywhere for the next couple of days," he said cheerfully as Matt replaced the phone. "The police want to question you."

  "And you as well, I imagine."

  "This is where you are wrong, my friend. You are the one who came here looking for buried treasure."

  "I've only just arrived in the Czech Republic. I hope you told them."

  Stanislav shrugged. "They want to ask you a few more questions. Do not worry, I will stay to help with the translation." He smiled again, but it wasn't a particularly reassuring smile.

  Matt could only think of one thing -- Ken sitting in the empty house while Zoé was ... where? He didn't care what questions the Czech police wanted to ask him; he had to be on the train to Prague and on an overnight plane back to England. Why would Salman have broken in through the kitchen door? And had Ken searched everywhere? He remembered a case when he was with the police where he and his colleagues had failed to find a missing husband's body until two days after his wife reported him missing. No one had thought to look in the cupboard under the stairs. There'd been a bit of the fuss about that one, but at least they'd been able to charge the stepson with murder.

  Lenka turned on the light in the kitchen and everyone blinked in surprise. Matt glanced at the bulky envelopes on the large table: the two new ones containing the photocopies of Vasek Tesar's music manuscripts, and Hana's old envelope full of the originals. Somehow he had to take the originals back to England. Unfortunately Stanislav had noticed him look at the envelopes, and said something to Lenka. Then Stanislav went forward and put the old envelope on the high mantelpiece above the stone fireplace.

  "You must go into the farmyard, my friend," Stanislav said. "Lenka wishes to talk to me alone."

  They were up to something. Matt was about to protest that as long as they spoke in Czech he might as well stay in the room, when he heard Tomas and the policemen arguing in the farmyard. It was now completely dark. No wonder Tomas had been anxious to get back from Ústí.

  He pretended to go out and see what was happening, but left the kitchen door slightly ajar and stopped to look back through the gap. Stanislav snatched the old envelope from the mantelpiece and hurried to the table where he swapped the contents of the two envelopes. He had just finished putting them both back in place when Matt decided to go back in. Stanislav tried to look innocent. Maybe Lenka hadn't even noticed the exchange. She was sitting down, studying her hands.

  "You're both wanted," Matt said, jerking a thumb towards the farmyard.

  To Matt's surprise Stanislav took Lenka with him, but he only just had time to reverse the contents of the envelopes before Stanislav returned alone. It sounded as though the police had wanted to see him after all.

  "The police say it is the body of the missing farmhand. They wish to see your magazine from the Music Academy in England. The one with the pictur
e of the man that Tomas saw on the farm last month."

  "The prospectus," Matt said. He fetched it from his bag and handed it over as the farming couple and the two police officers came into the kitchen.

  The men and Lenka studied the prospectus to the accompaniment of much discussion. When they had finished, Stanislav turned to Matt.

  "You are to stay here. I have to go to Ústí with the police. They want to see if there is any record of the Englishman on their computer. But before we go you are to write Martin Smith's name carefully on a piece of paper using English spelling."

  As if he knew how to write it with Czech accents! He did as he was told. With the police officers and Stanislav out of the way for the next hour or so, there would only be the Duseks here to prevent his escape.

  The phone rang again. Lenka answered it and handed it to Matt, but the large policeman grabbed it before Matt could speak. The policeman listened, frowned and then handed it to Stanislav.

  Stanislav took the phone, nodding to himself as he listened. "It is someone in England who wants to speak to you," he said to Matt. He spoke to the police officer who waved to Stanislav to pass the phone to Matt.

  "I wasn't sure I'd be able to get you," Ken said. "I thought you were coming back."

  "What about Zoé?"

  "Absolutely nothing. If you ask me, that young refugee Salman has something to do with this. I've phoned Father Alban to see if he knows anything, but he doesn't even know where Salman is. And that's not all. Shelley Carpenter has disappeared as well."

  "Yes?" He didn't take it in at first. His mind was too full of Zoé. "Disappeared? What happened?"

  "It's odd. Her hotel room has been broken into and the police can't find her."

  "She's been kidnapped?"

  "I might as well tell you. I phoned one of your mates at Trinity Green about Zoé, and had a heart-to-heart. He took his time listening but said he can't do anything, yet. Not until Zoé's been missing for a lot longer. When I mentioned how you've been investigating the Academy, he told me that they're looking into the suspicious disappearance of a staff member there. Wondered if I knew anything. He said the woman's name was Shelley Carpenter. The hotel manager had called the police. It could be suicide. I feel bad about it, kiddo."