The Josef Slonský Box Set

by Graham Brack

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Me too. I have my own version we could play. It’s called testicles, cheese wire, confession. Cheese wire cuts testicles; confession stops cheese wire.’

  ‘I’ll go cheese wire.’

  ‘That’s where my version is different.’ He opened his hand to show what he had taken from his pocket. ‘You see, I always have the cheese wire in this game. The only choice you have is between offering testicles or a confession.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare. They’d lock you up too.’

  ‘I don’t care. I promised Holoubek I’d finish his work, and if that’s what it takes to get what I want off you, it’s a small price to pay. I’m getting on and I’m on my own. At least in prison I won’t have to pay for heating, it’s dry and I’ll get my meals provided. And anyway, some consolation it would be to you. I’ll be sitting in jail but you will too, and only one of us will still have balls. Have a think.’

  Slonský walked inside and left Pluskal chained to the window bars. It was just starting to rain.

  The young soldier was standing so rigidly that Slonský thought his spine might snap.

  ‘Are you waiting for me to tell you to stand easy?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m to invite you to make a copy and then to take the photograph back to the general, sir.’

  There was a barrier to the successful completion of that task. Slonský had no idea how to use the new photocopier, but he had no intention of letting the soldier know that.

  ‘Come with me, young man,’ he ordered, and marched him down to the front desk, where he handed the photograph to Mucha.

  ‘Make some copies of this,’ he said, ‘then give the original back to the Good Soldier Švejk here.’

  ‘Certainly, O Master,’ replied Mucha. ‘And where would you like me to put the copies?’

  Slonský told him, and walked away.

  Pluskal was unhappy, and let Slonský know it.

  ‘I’m soaked. I’ll catch my death.’

  ‘That’ll shorten your sentence, then. They turf you out of your cell when you die. At least now your family gets your body back. In the old days, they cremated you and used the ashes to melt the snow on the roads.’

  Pluskal dried his hair with the towel Mucha had brought.

  ‘Five years, you say?’

  Slonský understood, though Mucha looked puzzled.

  ‘Yes, I reckon I can get you five off if you co-operate.’

  ‘I can get my throat cut too.’

  ‘Not by us. And I’m not asking you to be a witness. I just need a link.’

  ‘What good is that without testimony?’

  ‘I’m not stupid, Pluskal. I know nobody is going to finger Griba unless they know he’s going behind bars.’

  ‘Griba? Forget it.’

  ‘You know him. I’m pretty sure that he ordered you to run Holoubek down. I just don’t know why.’

  ‘I don’t know why. Griba doesn’t tell you why.’

  ‘Only a handful of people see Griba, I’m told. Everyone else deals through intermediaries. You’re one of the privileged few, aren’t you? That’s because you do some of his bodyguarding.’

  ‘I’m saying nothing.’

  ‘All right,’ said Slonský. ‘Let’s try it another way. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll tell you, and you can tell me if I’m right.’

  Pluskal made no reply, but watched as Slonský unrolled the sheet of paper. He carefully placed his finger on it, then moved a fraction to the left. Pluskal nodded once, briefly, and Slonský rolled it up again and smiled.

  ‘Five years, remember?’

  ‘I’m feeling generous. If this comes off, I’ll give you ten and settle for thirty.’

  Outside Mucha was curious.

  ‘Are you really going to ask for thirty years?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Slonský. ‘I’ll tell the prosecutor I’ve agreed it with the suspect. It’ll come as a shock, because he was only planning to ask for twenty-five.’

  Major Klinger, head of the fraud squad, scrutinised the photograph closely without touching it.

  ‘I don’t know why I’m doing this, Slonský. I have no idea what Griba looks like.’

  ‘But the fraud office came closest to building a case against him, didn’t it?’

  ‘It’s still live, but we’re running up against the time limit for action.’

  ‘We’ve got an identification.’

  ‘Have you, by Jove? Well, that’s a great leap forward.’

  ‘Navrátil arrested one of Griba’s bodyguards this morning, and he’s prepared to identify Griba in exchange for a reduction in his sentence.’

  ‘Sentence? For what, pray?’

  ‘Murder and kidnapping a police officer.’

  ‘That young woman of yours? I heard about that. It’s obviously a risky business working for you. High time you handed that bright young chap of yours over to me. He’s made for financial work. He’s meticulous, you see. You’ll ruin him if he isn’t separated from your influence soon.’

  ‘If Navrátil wants to go, I can’t stop him, but he’s only been in the criminal division for three months.’

  ‘That’s long enough to suffer your supervision. Goodness knows what he’ll be like after a whole year.’

  ‘Look, I want to pool what we know about Griba. Every little helps.’

  Klinger produced a folder from his filing cabinet. Like all his folders, it was immaculate, with coloured stickers on some of the pages. The manila cover was unblemished, primarily because Klinger threw them out if they became creased.

  ‘He first came to our notice in the late eighties. You’ll recall that the Albanians appeared around then. When the Wall came down, the Albanian mafia became really active. There are numerous tales of sex trafficking, drug running, prostitution and arms trading in which they were involved. We had some CIA people here for a while helping us clear them out.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘Griba arrived sometime then and was initially a very minor player, but it seems likely that at some point he executed a remarkable double cross and eliminated one of the key Albanian leaders. Of course, the Albanians are still around, but they don’t cross Griba who, incidentally, speaks Albanian and Czech fluently. He can be ruthless if he needs to be.’

  ‘Is he still running all the businesses?’

  ‘That’s the interesting thing. He still trades in drugs and prostitution, but we’re told he no longer touches arms. I assume his supply dried up when the fighting in the Balkans ended. Now, why am I looking at your old National Service picture?’

  ‘Because, if our prisoner downstairs is to be believed, that man there is Griba.’

  Klinger stared intently at the picture.

  ‘So he speaks fluent Czech because he is Czech.’

  ‘Precisely. Not an Albanian at all. Though, as an hour in the library told me, Griba is an Albanian word meaning rake or comb. It’s a nickname he acquired at some time. And thanks to Major-General Zelenka, I now know his Czech name.’

  Chapter 16

  Navrátil ran up the stairs as quickly as he could, straightened his tie, and knocked on the office door.

  ‘Come!’ commanded Lukas.

  Navrátil was not a great reader of facial expressions, but he knew relief when he saw it, and he saw it now on Lukas’ face. Peiperová’s parents were sitting in front of the desk and turned to see who was entering. Mrs Peiperová gave a slight smile of recognition when she saw Navrátil, whom she vaguely recalled having been told about when he was in Kladno though Peiperová refused to bring him home for tea. Mr Peiper had never been one for small talk or bothering to remember people, so he shook Navrátil’s hand with the formal movement of a first encounter. There was no antagonism; it was just that you meet a lot of people in a lifetime and it stretches the brain a bit to try to recall them all.

  Navrátil had forgotten that Slonský had telephoned them to tell them of Peiperová’s kidnapping, so he had not mentioned it to Peiperová, who assumed
that her parents knew nothing of her adventure.

  ‘Navrátil, I believe you’ve just come from Officer Peiperová’s barracks. I hope she is getting some rest.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, sir. She’s sleeping. I said I would be there when she woke up, if you don’t mind.’

  Lukas glanced quickly at her parents. Mrs Peiperová had tensed slightly until she realised that there was more than one construction that Navrátil’s words would bear.

  ‘Yes, indeed. It’s very good of you to provide support for her after her ordeal. Has the doctor examined her yet?’

  ‘I believe so, sir, before I got there. She has some minor cuts on her arms where she was tied, and a few bruises, but no other physical injuries. It’s mainly the stress and shock. And of course, she didn’t sleep well.’

  ‘Of course. I wonder, would you be kind enough to take Mr and Mrs Peiper to see their daughter? I have promised them that she will be given time to recover before she returns to duty.’

  Navrátil agreed, though now he was concerned that they would take her back to Kladno and she might never return to Prague again.

  He held the door open and invited them to follow him to his car. They were happy to walk, partly because they wanted to see where she was kidnapped.

  ‘Imagine!’ Mrs Peiperová said. ‘What a place Prague must be! They snatched her there in broad daylight.’

  Navrátil resisted the temptation to point out that ten minutes to ten at night was hardly broad daylight, but hastened to assure her that such kidnappings were extremely rare. It was then that he had the misfortune to meet Slonský who was returning from Klinger’s office with a jaunty air.

  ‘Heigh-ho, Navrátil,’ he boomed, ‘and what have you arrested this pair for?’

  Navrátil winced inside.

  ‘These are Officer Peiperová’s parents, sir. Mr and Mrs Peiper, may I introduce our boss, Lieutenant Slonský.’

  Without a missed beat, Slonský took each by the hand and expressed his delight with their daughter’s performance since she had been under his tutelage, and his firm conviction that she might well be the first female Director of Police.

  ‘That’s as may be,’ said Peiper, ‘but not if it puts her in danger like this. It’s not worth it.’

  Despite nearly four months with Slonský, Navrátil had no idea how the old detective would overcome this observation, particularly since he had said the same thing himself on more than one occasion. To his surprise, Slonský dealt with the objection with a flamboyant impatience.

  ‘I can understand that view, sir, but I’m sure that if you ask your daughter she will tell you that we who serve the public do not worry about the dangers. It’s a measure of the helplessness to which we have reduced the criminals that they felt compelled to try something this desperate. They intended your daughter no harm, of course. Any mishap to her would have wrecked their last chance of avoiding imprisonment. Your daughter willingly allowed herself to be abducted, having cleverly concealed a second telephone about her person which she used to contact me on the night after they fell into our trap.’

  ‘A trap? So this was planned?’

  Slonský carefully avoided answering the question.

  ‘When dealing with the criminal mind, you can’t plan like you can with ordinary people, but we made it possible for them to take this rash step. It’s greatly to Officer Peiperová’s credit that she came up with such a daring idea. I shouldn’t be surprised if an official commendation came her way.’

  ‘But you sounded so concerned when you rang us,’ protested Mrs Peiperová.

  Slonský gathered them in so that he could speak quietly.

  ‘As will become clear in a few days, there was a good reason to give that impression. I can say no more until further arrests are made.’

  ‘Further arrests?’ said Mr Peiper. ‘Then someone has been arrested?’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Slonský. ‘Captain Lukas and young Navrátil here fearlessly captured the kidnapper at the scene. He has implicated others, but I’m afraid I can say nothing about that at the moment.’

  Evidently not even to me, thought Navrátil, since I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. And I bet you haven’t either.

  Mrs Peiperová pointed at the bandage on Slonský’s grazed knuckles.

  ‘You were injured too.’

  ‘A mere flesh wound,’ he replied with the air of someone downplaying a serious incident, whereas to describe it as a flesh wound was itself hyperbolic. ‘A week or two and it should be back to normal. I’m very lucky,’ he added with an attempt at a brave smile as he ushered them towards the canteen. ‘Let me give you a coffee and describe this morning’s events more fully while Navrátil runs ahead to tell your daughter the good news that you’re coming to see her. It’ll give her a minute or two to tidy herself up, then I’ll take you there personally.’

  ‘Are you sure you can spare the time?’ asked Mrs Peiperová.

  ‘Tsk!’ replied Slonský. ‘What is more important than my staff’s families?’ He looked steadily at Navrátil. ‘No doubt Navrátil will bring dear Kristýna up to date with developments,’ he added meaningfully.

  Navrátil could hardly believe his ears. A few hours ago, Slonský didn’t know her name, and now he was speaking of her like a child of his own. The poor benighted parents were ready to sign up to the Slonský fan club, while he was left to explain to Peiperová that while she may have thought she was being kidnapped, in fact it was all a cunning plan that she had sprung with herself as bait.

  To his surprise, she was more than happy to adopt this account, since it offered the best chance of being allowed to stay in Prague. Although part of her was worried about the possibility that this might happen again, she could not face having to return to Kladno and listening to all her mother’s friends telling her that they had told her so. Besides, if Slonský meant what he said about a commendation, that was not to be sniffed at.

  ‘If you’re sure…’ said Navrátil in tones betraying his own uncertainty.

  ‘I am,’ Peiperová said. ‘When all is said and done, my parents still have their child, which is more than can be said for poor old Mrs Bartošová. I’ll have a shower and we’ll put on a brave face for Mum and Dad.’

  Navrátil was unconvinced that she could recover as quickly as that, but if she wanted to try, he would go along with it. But he could not help feeling that it was lucky he was around to keep an eye on her, and it was in her interests if he set about making that a permanent arrangement.

  Slonský had taken the Peipers to the barracks and then excused himself by saying that no doubt they would want some family time together. Navrátil showed every inclination to stay until Slonský announced loudly that they had a witness to interview, and then announced even more loudly that they would do so together.

  ‘Who is the witness?’ asked Navrátil, ‘or was this a subtle way of getting me out of there?’

  ‘Well, a bit of both. We have got a witness to speak to, and there’s no point in delaying if it helps to get the villains behind bars. On top of that, we don’t pay you to sit around gawping at young women.’

  ‘I’m not gawping. I’m supporting her after a really frightening ordeal.’

  ‘Of course you are, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive, as you’ve just been proving. I saw the look on your face. Look, I’m not knocking it. Just saying you can’t shield her from the world forever.’

  ‘Maybe not forever, but I was hoping for more than six hours.’

  ‘Her family are with her now, and that’s as it should be. She’ll need you again when they’re gone.’

  ‘That reminds me, sir, where did this masterplan to get Kristýna kidnapped come from?’

  ‘It’s Officer Peiperová to you during working hours, lad. It set her parents’ hearts at rest and it didn’t do her self-esteem any harm. Who is hurt by it?’

  ‘The truth comes to mind as a victim.’

  ‘I seem to remember that someone important once asked
“What is truth?” and shot off without waiting for an answer.’

  ‘Pontius Pilate, I think.’

  ‘I rest my case. What kind of policeman was he? He only had one case and he fluffed it.’

  ‘Which way now?’

  ‘Out to Ruzyně again. We’re going to see Mr Kopecký.’

  The old man was wearing a particularly startling pullover of his wife’s devising with red and white diamonds on the front and back and a zigzag design down each sleeve.

  ‘You could get migraine looking at that,’ whispered Slonský as they waited for Mrs Kopecká to return with coffee and sufficient cakes and pastries for six ordinary people and place them in front of Navrátil who, she thought, might have lost a little weight since he was last there.

  When they were all provided for Slonský unfolded the paper he had brought and explained their purpose.

  ‘I want you to think back to the day Jana Válková died.’

  ‘We talked about that,’ said Mr Kopecký.

  ‘Indeed we did, and you said you saw a couple of men running away. I know you only caught a brief glimpse, but we think they may be in this photograph. Take your time, and see if you can identify them. It doesn’t matter if you can’t.’

  Kopecký hunched over the photograph and inspected each figure in turn. Finally he stabbed at a man near the right edge.

  ‘That’s the big one who got in the front seat,’ he said. ‘The littler one who got in the back may have been this one beside him. It’s a bit hard with a black and white photograph, but if his hair is fair, I’d say he was the one.’

  Slonský smiled. ‘Excellent. Navrátil will just put that into a statement that you can sign, if you will.’

  ‘Did I pick the right ones?’

  ‘You must pick the people you think were there, sir. It’s not for me to say whom you should point out. But those were the two I thought it would be. It’s a shame your neighbour isn’t around to confirm it, because he got a better view in daylight.’

  ‘Mr Hruška?’ said Mrs Kopecká. ‘He never said.’