by Graham Brack
Tripka tried to remain stone-faced, though the strain was showing.
‘That had me foxed for a while,’ Slonský admitted. ‘I couldn’t think of anyone called Mandy who featured in the case. I thought the priest must have misheard. Perhaps it was Mandl and we were looking for someone Jewish. Then my dear ex-wife, God rot her soul, came to visit me and the light dawned. We weren’t looking for a person. Bartoš had been talking about a song. We didn’t get to hear a lot of American music then, but somehow this policeman had picked up all the words of the song and could sing it in English. You’d have to listen to it quite a few times to do that, wouldn’t you? It’s the kind of thing someone who worked at a counter-espionage listening station near Český Krumlov from 1972 to the end of 1974 might have done, don’t you think? I got that from your dad’s personnel record, by the way. Bartoš couldn’t read, but he had a good memory for a tune. It was the only way he could identify your father, the man who stitched him up. There have been four killings in this case and I can’t decide which is the most revolting. What do you think — slicing Jana Válková to death slowly like you did, or hanging an innocent half-wit who stole what you stole, like your dad did? Or perhaps it was having a ninety-year-old man run over, like you did, as opposed to kicking a fellow policeman to death like your dad did? The score is two each, but you’re still active and unfortunately, your father isn’t. That’s a shame, because we don’t get many father and son murder trials. The public gallery would have been packed with geneticists wanting to run tests on such a pair of psychopaths. Now you’ll have to stand there on your own, which is a shame. It’s good for a father and son to have a shared interest, provided it isn’t mindless violence.’
Tripka winced. His former bluster had seeped away under Slonský’s angry onslaught.
‘Let’s come on to Vaněček. I’m not going to pretend he was a great policeman. In fact, he was a walking disaster area. Forcing him into retirement was possibly a great blessing for us all. Of course, he was furious. Your father had him thrown out and despite Vaněček’s contacts he couldn’t prevent it. He lost his nice house and finished up in a small place in Zdiby, brooding in his garden and waiting for a chance to take his revenge. And he thought he’d got it, didn’t he? That’s why he wouldn’t go quietly. He’d found new information and thought that it would see him reinstated and your father retired or worse. But that was Vaněček’s weakness, wasn’t it? He wasn’t ruthless enough. He said his piece to the wrong people, and your father had it characterized as a piece of vicious gossip. Vaněček was taken in for questioning and kicked to death. There wasn’t even the spurious dignity of its being labelled as an unfortunate accident. No pretence at all — just a series of boots in the ribs until he died. It was all so panicky and rushed that they didn’t even construct a good cover story. He was alleged to have fallen on a fence post, except that his garden didn’t have one. They had to deliver a fence post when they took the body back. And his neighbour, who was, after all, a policeman, thought it was suspicious, but he knew better than to raise his head above the parapet. Look where it got Vaněček. I wonder, by the way, what that new information was? I haven’t been able to check that out, but I’m struck by the coincidence that Sedláček hurriedly left Czechoslovakia in 1979, just before Vaněček was murdered. Did Vaněček recognise the method in another killing? We’ll never know, unless you tell us. No, I didn’t think you would.’
Tripka unfastened his jacket and ran a finger around his collar.
‘Let’s come to your first big mistake — other than being born, that is. That mysterious phone call I received when Peiperová was kidnapped. Why would anyone think she was my niece? Then I remembered an incident on her first day. We were in the place on the corner of the street and for some reason I said to her that Uncle Josef would look after her. You remember that, Navrátil?’
‘Yes. And she gave you a hug.’
‘And that’s the only time anyone has ever done that to me. So whoever thought she was my niece was there. And when I close my eyes and picture the scene, lo and behold you’re sitting reading your newspaper at the round table by the pillar about four metres away.’
Navrátil was astonished. He was no student of body language, but even he noticed that Tripka was shrinking in his seat.
‘Arranging for Peiperová to be snatched wasn’t too difficult. She didn’t work here in the intervening period so your mistake wasn’t obvious. I thought Pluskal was watching the station, but in fact he tells me he was keeping an eye on the bar because that was the only place they thought she might turn up. Griba told him to pick the girl up and take her somewhere safe. Then he had to phone me with the message, but how did he know when to phone? I arrived at work early and within a few minutes the phone rang. If it had been a bit later, when we were all there, I could have understood it, but somebody must have told him I’d arrived. In fact, an eye witness said Pluskal was phoned and then phoned me. So, who phoned Pluskal? It must have been someone watching this building. Someone who was so panicked by my inquiry that they didn’t dare leave me an hour in case I made a breakthrough. They wanted me warned off as soon as I arrived. So much so that they took a big risk. They used their own mobile phone to ring Pluskal, as his account records show. I don’t remember the whole number but it ends one-six-five. Oh, look, so does yours! I don’t know why I feign surprise, because I checked it beforehand. You saw me arrive, and you rang Pluskal. Navrátil, meet the man who kidnapped your girlfriend. Feel free to give him a sound thrashing.’
‘I’d like to, sir, but it’s against the rules.’
‘I’m sure I saw him attempting to resist arrest.’
‘Well, in that case, sir…’
Navrátil landed a beauty on Tripka’s cheek before wheeling away to hold his fist in pain.
‘There’s a water cooler in the outer office, lad. Run it over your hand. Don’t worry about getting the carpet wet, they’ll be burning it all anyway in a few days to eradicate all traces of the previous occupant. Now, are there any loose ends? We’ve explained how you murdered Jana Válková, how your dad set up Ľubomir Bartoš to take the rap for that, how he had a former colleague kicked to death when it looked like it would all be reopened, and how you asked Griba to have Holoubek killed when he was trying to do the same thing. Ah, yes — why would Griba, a hardened criminal and one of our most wanted villains, do a favour for you, the head of the anti-drug office, given that you’re trying to shut him down? Except, of course, that you aren’t really trying, are you? He’s pretty immune. Evidence goes missing, witnesses are bumped off, and if anyone inside his circle tries to betray him word somehow gets back to him. Pluskal is very voluble on the subject. He didn’t know who the police informant was but he was sure that there must be one, and if even someone like Pluskal with the IQ of a retarded amoeba has come to that conclusion there must be something in it, wouldn’t you say? Griba has the best possible insurance policy, hasn’t he? He has the head of the anti-drugs squad by the short and curlies because on a July evening in 1976 they murdered a girl together.’
Tripka closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
‘Griba and Sedláček are one and the same, aren’t they? He escaped in 1979 and made his way to Albania. In the mountains, he was safe because the government couldn’t make its writ run up there. He was a good shot and he made a first class bandit. That’s what Vaněček discovered, I think. There were intelligence reports from Yugoslavia that mentioned a Czech working with the Albanians who raided over the mountains into Kosovo. When the Albanian mafia started muscling in on Prague, Sedláček was the ideal front man. He just needed a new identity, and he got himself one. Just to keep the pressure on you, he picked a good one. He passed himself off as your brother. You couldn’t refuse to acknowledge him, or he would bring you down, so to those who know him he’s your little brother Vladimir who has been so lucky in his property dealings. Mind you, I only discovered that when I saw a photo of him taken by the fraud squad. They
have an innate suspicion of recluses, you see. Give Klinger his due, he’s a good fraud officer. When I said I was investigating you, he volunteered the opinion that it must be difficult for you to live in the shadow of such a successful brother and told me all about little Vladimir. He’s lost a kilo or five, but he’s still the cheeky little chappie in Zelenka’s photograph. I don’t suppose I need to tell you that I wasn’t surprised that your father made no mention of having two sons in his personnel record, or that your mother would have been astonished to discover that she’d given birth to two sons just four months apart. You see, Griba kept his real date of birth when he had his new papers forged. It’s easier to remember then, isn’t it? The fewer lies you have to remember the easier it all is.’
Slonský reached across the desk and gave Tripka a slap.
‘Resisting arrest again, eh? Did you see that, Navrátil?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Let’s get the cuffs on him and take him down to the cells, lad.’
Tripka straightened his collar and brushed his jacket with his hand.
‘Perhaps you’d give me a minute or two to put my personal effects in order.’
Slonský dived forward and slammed the desk drawer shut.
‘No, you don’t. There’s no easy way out for you. Navrátil, put the cuffs on him and I’ll take his gun from the drawer. Tripka, I won’t be satisfied with anything other than your complete and utter humiliation. I want you to be treated with universal contumely. I want Prague mothers to substitute your name for the bogeyman’s when they’re telling their children off. I want to watch as they rip your epaulettes off and write you out of the police service’s history. And I want to see you taken down after your trial. Just think how warm a welcome a one-time police colonel is going to get in prison. I’ll have to make sure they know I’ll take it amiss if anyone kills you too quickly. Navrátil, hold the door open, please.’
Slonský marched Tripka to the door. The secretary had crept back to her desk and was watching goggle-eyed as her boss was led away in handcuffs. In the corridor Slonský was surprised to come face to face with Captain Lukas, who was in full uniform. He ignored Slonský and addressed Tripka.
‘I came to tell you in person,’ he said, ‘that I think you’re a complete shit.’ He seemed to have run out of things to say, and simply muttered ‘Pardon my language’ before returning to his office.
Slonský and Navrátil had never heard Lukas use a word like that before. They looked at each other for confirmation that they had not dreamed it.
‘It’s impressive,’ said Slonský, ‘how sometimes a man is able, in a few short words, to sum up the thoughts of his entire nation.’
Chapter 18
Tripka was a picture of misery. Slonský had insisted on removing his uniform, leaving him sitting in a bright orange jumpsuit with one leg chained to the table. His rank had vanished too, leading to his being addressed as Prisoner Tripka, and in a further flourish his wife had been telephoned to be told that he was under arrest and was unlikely to be returning home. She arrived at the station to speak to him and instead found herself sitting opposite Slonský.
‘Surely there is some mistake,’ she protested.
‘Certainly,’ replied Slonský, ‘and your husband made it. He is being charged with one count of murder, one of conspiracy to murder, one of kidnapping, one of obstructing a public official in the execution of their duties — need I go on?’
Mrs Tripková dabbed at her tearful eyes.
‘But he’s a good man,’ she cried.
‘He’s good at having people killed, I’ll give him that. And apparently he’s good at pulling the wool over your eyes for thirty years. All the time you’ve known him, he’s had a guilty secret. He murdered his first girlfriend.’
‘I refuse to believe that,’ she shouted. ‘Let me speak to him.’
‘I’m afraid we’re still questioning him. I can’t allow you more than a few minutes and one of us will have to stay in the room.’
He led Mrs Tripková down to the interview room, which was what they called cell 8 when they wanted to impress people. Tripka was led in, and his wife tried to embrace him, but Slonský and Mucha intervened.
‘No touching, I’m afraid, madam,’ said Mucha.
Mrs Tripková attempted to make eye contact with her husband, but he found it too painful.
‘Tell me it isn’t true,’ she pleaded.
Slonský decided to be helpful.
‘You’re not under oath,’ he said. ‘You can lie and tell her you didn’t do it, if you’ve got the brass neck.’
Tripka remained silent. His lip was quivering and he looked ashen.
‘Perhaps you’d like to tell Mrs Tripková about your brother,’ Slonský suggested.
‘He hasn’t got a brother,’ she replied.
‘No, but he lets people think he has, when it suits him. Isn’t that right?’
‘What’s going to happen to him?’
‘Hard to say,’ Slonský answered. ‘If he gets a lenient judge he could be out in twenty-five to thirty years. Of course, prison is a difficult place for ex-policemen. There are a lot of inmates with scores to settle. There may even be some that he put away. I doubt it, because he hasn’t actually solved much crime for years, but you never know.’
Tripka’s head dropped. He was openly sobbing now.
‘You’ll have to think carefully about whether to let the children visit,’ Slonský added, in what he hoped was a concerned tone. ‘It can be very distressing for them.’
‘What have you done to us?’ his wife screamed.
Tripka just shook his head and continued to cry.
‘Technically, he’s only suspended at present,’ said Slonský, ‘so there’ll be some money this month. I don’t know how long it will take for his wages to stop but at least you’ve got some time to adjust to your new standard of living.’
‘Are you enjoying this, you monster?’ spat Mrs Tripková.
‘I wish it had never happened,’ replied Slonský, ‘but your husband made his bed and now he has to lie in it. All we’re doing is turning the sheets down.’
Lukas received an unexpected phone call.
‘I have Dr Pilik on the line for you,’ announced a sepulchral voice. Instinctively Lukas combed his hair and straightened his tie before sitting to attention to take the call.
The minister was delighted. He must have been, because he said it at least four times.
‘I shall look forward to these villains appearing before the court. Of course, one is above revenge, but I can’t forget that they have caused me some personal embarrassment in the matter of Bartoš.’
Lukas was confused as to whether the minister realised that the identification of Bartoš as the murderer was the work of old Tripka rather than the one in custody, but he let it pass.
‘I shall have a word with the prosecutor’s office,’ Pilik continued. ‘We must not show any weakness in dealing with errant police officers.’
‘Certainly not,’ agreed Lukas.
‘There must be exemplary sentences.’
‘Certainly.’
‘Are you likely to arrest the other conspirator soon?’
‘We have identified him, minister. He will take some finding.’
‘If you need extra resources, please ask the Director of Police. I shall instruct him accordingly.’
‘Thank you, minister. At present we are building our case methodically,’ Lukas responded, hoping that it was actually true.
The difficulty with putting the pressure on Tripka was that he had collapsed mentally and was proving impossible to interrogate because he would not stop crying. Eventually the police surgeon was called to give him a sedative.
‘I hope it’s a placebo,’ muttered Mucha.
‘I just hope it’s painful,’ replied Slonský. ‘We’re not going to get any more out of him. We’ll have to make our move soon before Griba knows what has happened.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if
he knows already. You know what this place is like for gossip.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Slonský, ‘but you and I start most of it and I haven’t said a word.’
‘Me neither.’
‘It should all be fine, then. Peiperová says she wants to be in on the arrest seeing as Griba ordered her kidnapping.’
‘Is she up to it?’
‘She’s a tough girl. Besides, I wouldn’t want to try telling her she can’t. She needs it to wrap the whole thing up in her head.’
‘Griba was at Tripka’s beck and call just as much as the other way round, wasn’t he? Tripka was the one person who could lead the police to him.’
‘Yes. When Tripka said it was necessary to kill Holoubek, Griba didn’t argue. He just did what he was told. He only had an hour or so to arrange it.’
‘Do we know where to find Griba?’
‘Yes, now that we know he’s Tripka’s so-called brother. But it’s a high security site and it’s going to be difficult to get in.’
‘So do we wait until he comes out?’
‘The trouble is he could land a helicopter in his garden and escape us. I toyed with arresting him at night, just for old times’ sake really, but the best bet is to walk calmly up the drive at breakfast time. I’ve got a rifle squad having a look round for points of entry.’
‘So what now, old friend?’
‘Now? The only fixed points in a changing world — a beer, some sausages and a good night’s sleep.’
It was 06:30 and Slonský, Dvorník, Navrátil and Peiperová were in their car. Navrátil was driving.
‘The gate is under CCTV so we’ll all have to enter together and just hope nobody is paying it much attention. Navrátil and I will go to the front, while you two make your way to cover the back. Watch out for dogs or security guards. If you meet any you’re entitled to disarm them. Security guards, that is — never try to disarm a dog. So far as we know, he and his wife live alone here. There’ll be staff around but they don’t live in. Any questions?’