by Graham Brack
Slonský suddenly realised that Peiperová was talking to him.
‘I’m sorry, Peiperová. What did you say?’
‘I asked if the link you found earlier was that Bartoš had robbed someone important who got their own back by framing him.’
‘Well done, girl. It seems very petty for people in high places, but the obvious one was whoever had the dollars or marks. They probably shouldn’t have had them, so they couldn’t report them missing, so they had suffered a real loss. Alternatively, perhaps they were entitled to have them, but it was government money and they’d have to describe how they lost it, which would have been difficult. Either way, they’d be cheesed off with Bartoš.’
‘Annoyed enough to have a man killed?’ There was genuine wonder in Peiperová’s voice.
‘I’ve known people killed for less. And I’ve known people who thought nothing of settling scores with a bit of murder. If there’s one thing that I learned from living for forty years under Communism, it’s that you should never underestimate the sheer pettiness of people in high places.’
‘But even if we allow that he would want to do it, how could he actually effect it?’
‘Well, we’re entering into the realms of supposition here, and that’s a very bad thing for a detective to do. After all, we’re meant to work out our solutions from the data. If we start working out our solutions, then looking for the data, we might bias our investigation. I’m surprised at you for even suggesting it, Peiperová.’
‘I’m sorr—’
‘However, I can envisage a world in which the murderer takes advantage of the fact that the investigation has been left in the hands of a complete nincompoop like Vaněček, under which it would soon grind to a halt. The murderer knows by now that Bartoš is under lock and key. He goes to see him, gets the signed confession — worthless because Bartoš can’t read it anyway — and drops it into Vaněček’s lap. Vaněček breathes a sigh of relief. Just to make sure, our man has had Bartoš brought to Prague, signing the paperwork in Holoubek’s name to cover his trail. If Vaněček sees the signature, he’ll think Holoubek has given him a discreet hand, or maybe it was a line of inquiry Holoubek started before he was removed from the case.’
‘So taking Bartoš round Prague looking for the houses he burgled was a charade?’
‘It may have been. Or maybe the murderer wanted to check he’d got the right man. After all, there wouldn’t be much satisfaction in getting Bartoš hanged if you discovered afterwards that the real villain was still out there.’
Peiperová suddenly pulled in to the side of the road.
‘What are you doing?’ snapped Slonský.
‘Sorry, sir. I can’t drive and argue at the same time. We haven’t asked a key question. Just who took Bartoš around? It’s our murderer who has most to gain from it, and from what we hear about Vaněček, he’s unlikely to have come up with the idea. If he did, the murderer must have prompted it. If we can find that out, perhaps we’ll have our man.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Slonský, ‘and if Navrátil has been reading the investigation files properly, perhaps he’ll tell us tomorrow.’
Chapter 12
Navrátil was already at work when Slonský breezed in one minute late.
‘Productive day yesterday?’
‘Not very, sir. I’ve got some possibilities. How was your day?’
‘Very good. I think we may be slowly knitting together a case.’
‘I tried deciphering the signatures but without names to start with, it’s almost impossible. They’ve faded anyway. Personnel found me an internal handbook from around 1979 that lists some of the staff in the StB, and they’re busy trying to compile a catalogue of those known to have been with the StB in Prague then, but they say it will be incomplete because the StB deliberately destroyed some files.’
‘The StB destroyed a lot of files about informers, but it’s difficult to destroy pay records. They’ve just got to look in the right place. You’d think a police personnel department would know how to conduct an inquiry, lad. Of course, if they were any good at running inquiries they wouldn’t have been sent to personnel, I suppose.’
‘Did the Slovaks give you anything useful?’
‘Yes, I think so. It seems that Bartoš robbed some big houses in Prague and got off with some foreign currency. Now, what sort of person would have been able to amass a stash of foreign currency in those days?’
‘A black marketeer? Organised crime?’
‘Our crime was strictly disorganised in those days, son. There were currency speculators, and there were black market traders, it’s true, but none of them could have known that Bartoš was in jail in Olomouc and none of them could have arranged for him to be taken round Prague pointing out the houses he’d burgled in exchange for a supposed reduction in his sentence. I’d like to know who suggested that to our friend Vaněček, because I’ll bet he didn’t come up with it himself.’
‘Anything else, sir?’
‘Yes, but it’s probably going to involve some more work in the archives for you. You’ll be getting a taste for it now.’
‘I hate it, sir, but if it has to be done to find the murderer —’
‘Murderers, lad, plural.’
‘We know that?’
‘Perhaps “know” is a bit too strong, but it’s highly likely. After all, we’re looking at murders spanning thirty years. There can’t be too many men who have been active all that time.’
‘You have been, sir.’
‘Yes, Navrátil, but I’m not a murderer, am I? Despite extreme provocation.’
‘I only meant, sir, that someone of your age would fit the bill.’
‘Don’t go getting ideas, Officer. If I go down, I’m taking you with me.’
‘What do you need me to do, sir?’
‘I’ve just changed my mind. You’ve spent enough time in the archives. Let’s give this one to Peiperová.’
Slonský glanced at his watch.
‘If she ever turns up, that is. Six minutes late. When she gets here, she can have a look for Czechs who received Soviet honours. Somebody had a Soviet medal stolen, but I don’t remember seeing that mentioned in the papers anywhere? Do you?’
‘No, sir. Why would a Czech get a Soviet medal?’
‘International solidarity, the joint struggle against capitalism, stitching up other Czechs, the list of possibilities is endless. But there can’t be that many Czechs who got one, and whoever it was got burgled, because it was when he tried to sell the medal that Bartoš got picked up. Whoever got the Order of Lenin or whatever it was would be the sort of man who had the clout to get a Slovak cat burglar hanged, evidence or no evidence. As for you, I want you to follow up on Roman Pluskal. Nobody has turned him in, and no officer has clapped eyes on him. I wonder why? Let’s see if he has a credit card or mobile phone, where he’s using them, what state his flat is in, all the usual things we do when we really haven’t got a clue what else to do. Meanwhile, I’ll do the really important bit, and get us some coffee.’
Slonský had just reached the door when his phone rang. Since he had never quite mastered the black art of transferring a call to Navrátil’s extension, he picked it up himself.
‘Slonský.’
‘If you want to see your niece again, drop the Holoubek enquiry,’ said a male voice.
‘Who is this?’ asked Slonský, before realising that he was talking to a disconnected line.
‘What is it, sir?’ asked Navrátil.
‘Someone threatening my niece, but I haven’t got a niece,’ replied Slonský, feeling more than usually confused. It took him moments to realise that Navrátil was quicker on the uptake. The young detective was sprinting down the hall.
‘I’ll try her room, sir.’
Slonský realised that someone must think Peiperová was his niece, though he was unclear why. On the other hand, they did not apparently realise she was a policewoman, perhaps because she did not wear uniform and had spent very little
time in the office since she arrived. He was also perplexed by the fact that someone apparently knew it was worth ringing his desk at 07:07, rather earlier than some of his colleagues would have been there. Through the bafflement he could see one important step he had to take, so he walked to Navrátil’s extension and dialled a number.
‘Technician First Class Spehar.’
‘Slonský. I’m glad you’re there. I need a phone call tracing urgently. Who do I call?’
‘You just called him. I’ll get Ricka on it straight away.’
‘Is he good?’
‘Well, he’s better than me and you’ve only got two of us to choose from at this time of the morning. Now please tell me the number that was called and leave us to it.’
Slonský’s mobile phone tinkled quietly, evidence that he had either changed the ringing volume by accident again, or had forgotten to charge it.
‘Yes?’
‘She hasn’t slept here, sir. Her bed is made and it’s cold, and nobody I’ve met yet recalls seeing her this morning. When did you last see her?’
‘I dropped her off at the car pound last night about half past nine. She said she wanted to walk back.’
‘I’ll plot the street cameras and see if there are any on her route.’
‘No, Navrátil, you come back and get on with finding Pluskal.’
‘But sir —’
‘You’re too close to it, lad. Trust me and your other colleagues to do all we can for her. Meanwhile, we’ve got a murderer to find, and that’s what you’ll do. I’ll go and ask Lukas for some extra manpower to find Peiperová.’
‘I want to help, sir.’
‘I’m sure you do. But your emotions are involved, and emotions make for bad policing.’
‘Don’t you have emotions, sir?’
‘Of course I do. I want her back safe and well. But I can control mine better than you’ll control yours. Now stop yapping and get on with finding Pluskal. And that’s an order.’
Ricka proved to be a snowman-shaped lump with thin, straight hair cut like a moth-eaten mop. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he scrutinised four monitors in front of him. So far as Slonský could make out, one was filled with zeros and ones, while another had a green bar that lit up lines in turn and travelled up and down the screen. Ricka did not seem interested in these. His attention was focused on another that had pop-up boxes appearing and vanishing in quick succession.
‘Have you got anywhere?’ Slonský asked.
‘The mobile number you gave us isn’t helping. It’s switched off now and no calls have been made from it since last night. Your call came from a public phone booth at the main train station. Did you recognise the voice?’
‘He said so little. No obvious accent.’
‘Our phone system here has been improved a lot recently. Who knows your extension?’
‘I don’t know. Who knows yours?’
‘Not many. But your caller didn’t get switched by switchboard. He dialled your extension directly.’
‘That figures. He also knew I was leading on the Holoubek case.’
‘But that was in the papers and on the television. He went to a public call box, and he dialled directly to you. I think you know him.’
‘I don’t hang around with criminals.’
‘Yes, you do, it’s your job. You have to spend time with them to arrest them.’
‘Tell me, why didn’t they accept you in the diplomatic service?’
Ricka frowned.
‘Why would I apply to the diplomatic service?’
‘Never mind. My mistake. Can you identify the exact box?’
Ricka passed him a slip of paper.
‘That’s the number. The station master should know. It would be good if there was a camera looking at it.’
‘It would be good if there was a camera looking at it,’ said the station master, ‘but we don’t have enough of them to cover everything.’
‘Is there a camera anywhere near it?’ asked an increasingly exasperated Slonský.
‘This one covers the nearest corner, but the actual boxes are out of sight.’
‘Never mind. Wind it back to 07:00 this morning and let’s see if anyone heads towards those boxes.’
They sat tensely, watching the milling crowds. It was impossible to track where everyone went, but nobody walked purposefully towards the phone booth.
‘Okay,’ said Slonský. ‘If they didn’t go to the booth on the way out from the trains, maybe they went on the way in. Where’s the nearest entrance?’
The station master found the appropriate recording and played it. Slonský threw his hat on the ground in annoyance.
‘What earthly use is that? All you can see is the top of a lot of heads.’
‘Well, we only need it to watch for blockages. We don’t need to know who the people are, just that they can get to the trains.’
Slonský could feel the rushing sound in his ears again. The doctor had told him that was a bad sign. When it happened, he was supposed to calm down. In fact, he found it helped more if he let rip.
‘Is there no way of finding out who used that damn phone at 07:07?’ he snarled.
The station master relaxed. If that was all they wanted to know, why hadn’t they said?
‘There’s Jiří.’
‘Jiří?’
‘The guy who sells the papers at the entrance.’
Slonský bounded down the steps and strode through the station hall. As he passed the phone booth he could see a trestle table laden with newspapers and magazines.
‘Jiří?’ he asked.
An upright bundle of rags stirred and a face poked out.
‘Who wants to know?’
‘Slonský, Josef, Lieutenant in the Criminal Police. Just past seven o’clock this morning, someone made a short phone call from that booth.’
‘I know.’
‘You know?’
‘Yes. I wondered what anyone could possibly say in so short a time.’
‘Can you describe him?’
Jiří stroked his chin.
‘Any chance of a drink out of this?’
‘Help me find the guy and there’s a bottle in it. Not to mention you won’t get your fingernails pulled out like he might.’
‘Like that, is it? Important to you.’
‘Very. A young woman has been abducted and he was involved.’
‘Oh, so it was a ransom demand? That makes sense.’
‘Can we get on? What was he like?’
‘Black hair, plenty of it, jeans, dark jacket over a navy t-shirt or jumper. And he had a mobile phone.’
‘A mobile?’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought was odd. He’d got a phone, so why use a public call box? But of course if he was up to no good, he wouldn’t want the call traced to his phone.’
‘No, he wouldn’t. So someone called him?’
‘That’s right. He stood there smoking for about ten minutes, waiting for a call. I mean, he had the mobile in his hand all along. Then it came, he just listened, put the mobile away, and walked over to the booth. Then he made his call and in no time he was gone.’
Slonský had a bad habit of not emptying his pockets very often, but it came in handy now and again. He suddenly recalled something in his jacket pocket and paid it on Jiří’s table. Jiří inspected the photograph cursorily.
‘That’s him. Well, if you know who he is, why are you wasting my time asking me all these questions?’
Slonský dropped a banknote as he retrieved the photograph.
‘That should cover your time, unless you’re an off-duty lawyer.’
Jiří indicated his threadbare coat and scuffed shoes.
‘Do I look like a lawyer?’
‘Not really,’ agreed Slonský. ‘Not slimy enough.’
Lukas cornered Slonský on the stairs.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about Peiperová?’
‘I was going to once I knew for sure what had happened. I thou
ght the most important thing was to get the search under way.’
‘Have we any clues?’
‘An identification of the man who phoned me. Roman Pluskal, the same thug who ran Holoubek down.’
‘The link was already there, I suppose. It’s natural that he would want the inquiry halted.’
‘Wouldn’t all criminals? May I ask how you know about this, sir?’
‘Navrátil came to ask me to overrule you.’
‘I see. And did you?’
Lukas sighed and draped a heavy arm round Slonský’s shoulders.
‘Josef, there is no danger that I would do that to my best detective. Unless, of course, this gets too much for you. I don’t have a lot of spare manpower but I’ll see who I can borrow. When it’s one of our own…’
‘Thank you, sir, but I can cope.’
‘You’ve lost Peiperová and you excluded Navrátil from this case. That leaves you precisely one person, yourself.’
‘Not quite, sir. I told Navrátil to get on and find Pluskal. That’s doubly important now. And if he finds him he’ll be making a major contribution to this case.’
‘I could recall Doležal from his course. Ah! No need. Dvorník came back from leave yesterday. He could help you.’
‘Dvorník does murders, sir. I sincerely hope this isn’t one.’
‘No, Josef, Dvorník does what I tell him. He’s a competent officer.’
Lukas lowered his voice before qualifying his assessment.
‘Not, perhaps, inspired, but certainly competent. More or less.’
‘Very well, sir. If you insist.’
‘I’ll make plain to him that this is your inquiry. And I’ll see who else is free to help you. Good luck, Josef. It’s a horrible thing to have happened, but there’s no-one better to have looking for her than you.’
‘Except Samson.’
‘Samson?’