The Josef Slonský Box Set

by Graham Brack

  ‘Do you want him taken alive?’ asked Dvorník.

  ‘Ideally. But don’t put yourself at risk. I’ve divided us this way so there’s one experienced officer in each pair. If anything happens to me, Dvorník takes charge.’

  ‘What about if something happens to you and Dvorník?’ asked Navrátil.

  ‘Then you’d better run like hell, because you’ll be in real trouble,’ Slonský told him.

  They could hear a deep rumbling sound not too far away.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Peiperová.

  ‘That,’ replied Slonský, ‘is as subtle as a spade round the back of the head. That’s an armoured car moving into position. If a gunfight starts they’ll take out a chunk of the perimeter wall and the army boys will move in. If that happens, we all come back here and sit in the car. No point in heroics.’

  They climbed out and wrapped their coats around themselves in the chill morning air. It was bright, but in the lee of the trees there was a definite coldness and their breath fogged in front of them.

  ‘Best leave the car unlocked,’ said Slonský. ‘We don’t want to be unable to get into it if we have to run back.’

  ‘Should I leave the keys in the ignition?’ asked Navrátil.

  ‘Better not. There may be criminals about who would steal it, and how stupid would we look then? Tuck them in the glove compartment.’

  Navrátil obeyed. Slonský asked each of them to show their gun and check it was loaded, just in case. He also suggested that they should verify that the safety catch was on, now that Novák had shown him how easy it was to disengage it. In fact, it was so easy that Slonský was very careful as he put it back in his holster in case he shot himself in the foot.

  ‘Right. On we go.’

  At the gate, Slonský pressed the buzzer. A voice asked who he was.

  ‘Detective Lieutenant Slonský and Officer Navrátil. We’d like a word with Mr Tripka away from his office, please.’

  The gate opened and all four walked through. Dvorník and Peiperová slipped off to the left behind some bushes and made their way round the perimeter, hoping there were no cameras watching them. Meanwhile Slonský and Navrátil marched boldly up the drive, and were met at the front door, where they showed their badges.

  Griba was still a square man, perhaps not as nakedly powerful as in his youth, but nevertheless quite impressive. He wore his hair in a steel grey crewcut and was dressed for a day at the office.

  ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m afraid there is some embarrassing family business,’ said Slonský. ‘Your brother has been arrested for corruption and he has mentioned your name several times in questioning.’

  Griba did not flinch or twitch. He chewed something slowly and finally responded.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What has he been saying?’

  ‘He says that he did some of the things we discovered because you put pressure on him.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. What pressure could I possibly put on my big brother?’

  ‘Well, that’s what we thought,’ said Slonský, ‘but you can understand that we had to ask.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Griba’s wife appeared in the hallway.

  ‘What is it, darling?’ she asked.

  Griba answered without looking at her.

  ‘It seems my brother is suspected of taking bribes or something of the sort.’

  ‘Never! I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Griba said, ‘but these gentlemen wouldn’t be here unless something needed explaining. I hope he’s able to satisfy them.’

  Slonský smiled his simplest village idiot smile.

  ‘He’s certainly being very talkative. I don’t doubt he’ll tell us everything in the end. For example, he has already told us you’re not his brother, Mr Sedláček, and implicated you in a murder you jointly committed. Not to mention fingering you for another murder and a kidnapping.’

  Griba tried to shut the door but Slonský had jammed his foot in the way. Springing back, the criminal seized his wife by the shoulders and held her in front of him as a shield.

  ‘Get back,’ he said. ‘Retreat down the path. We’re going to walk calmly to our car and drive away and no-one gets hurt.’

  To illustrate how someone might get hurt, he flourished a flick-knife he drew from his pocket.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Slonský, drawing his gun and levelling it at Griba. ‘We seem to have reached a bit of an impasse. If you cut her throat, that just adds another to your catalogue of victims. It’s no skin off our nose.’

  Griba’s wife was whimpering. It sounded as if she was on the verge of an asthma attack.

  ‘I think your wife is finding this a bit stressful,’ Slonský commented. ‘It must be difficult to discover your husband has an assumed name and you’ve been living for twenty years with a murderer. Since I may not get the chance to ask her later, do you mind if I ask her whether you’ve carved a cross on her nipples too?’

  ‘You’re very cocky, Mr Detective, but I only have to wait a minute or two, and then my men will be here to even up the fight.’

  Griba opened his left hand to show a panic button.

  ‘They’re on their way even now,’ he gloated.

  Suddenly there was a loud noise and Griba’s wife slid to the floor, blood running from her shoulder. Griba let her slip and stood stunned as his white shirt sleeve reddened. Navrátil kicked the knife from his grasp and pushed him against the wall as Slonský stood transfixed and uncomprehending, until he was able to see past Griba and saw Dvorník and Peiperová in the kitchen doorway. Dvorník’s gun was levelled and smoking.

  Slonský showed his gratitude in his usual way.

  ‘You could have bloody killed us,’ he growled.

  ‘Could have, but I didn’t,’ said Dvorník.

  ‘You shot his wife.’

  ‘Just a flesh wound, I expect. The bullet went through his arm and smacked her in the shoulder. Small price to pay if you ask me. Better than getting your throat cut, anyway.’

  Slonský paced to the kitchen door, completely ignoring the scuffle as Navrátil and Peiperová subdued Griba and tried to get handcuffs on him.

  ‘You had a lot of confidence in your aim, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Belong to a gun club,’ Dvorník smirked. ‘If I can’t hit an arm at ten metres, there’s something wrong.’

  ‘Sir,’ Navrátil interrupted, ‘shouldn’t we tell the boys outside what’s happening and warn them that a bunch of armed guards may be coming?’

  Slonský sighed.

  ‘I suppose so. Don’t want the health and safety people onto me.’

  Chapter 19

  ‘Of course, there’ll have to be an enquiry,’ Captain Lukas announced.

  ‘I don’t see why,’ replied Slonský. ‘Dvorník didn’t shoot at Mrs Tripková. He just happened to hit her after he hit her husband. You could argue that it was her husband’s fault for not stopping the bullet properly.’

  Lukas was having none of it.

  ‘You know as well as I do that there is an enquiry every time someone is shot by the police. The mere fact that there is an enquiry does not imply guilt. It means that we have nothing to hide.’

  ‘We have plenty to hide,’ argued Slonský, ‘but not involving bullets. The amount the fraud squad spends on disinfectant thanks to Klinger’s obsession with cleanliness comes to mind. And doesn’t the fact that we’re charging the head of the anti-drug centre with murder suggest that we have nothing to hide?’

  Lukas became grave. ‘I hope we can get a conviction. A confession would be helpful, but I rather fear he’s going to claim that he isn’t fit to stand trial.’

  ‘So he was fit to head the drugs squad at half past three, but by four o’clock he wasn’t fit to be held to account for what he did thirty years ago? Of course, there are some of us who believed he was out of his tree for much of the intervening thirty years, but that’s just prejudice, not a psychiatr
ic evaluation.’

  ‘What about Griba? Do we have enough on him?’

  ‘Pluskal began to sing like a lark once he heard that Griba was in the cell across the way. I explained to him that he had a free choice whether to grass on Griba or not, but since Griba was going to believe that he’d informed on him anyway, Pluskal had every reason to make sure Griba stayed behind bars for the sake of his own future safety.’

  ‘And he bought that argument?’

  ‘He isn’t very bright, but he understands a threat.’

  ‘He can’t be bright if he doesn’t realise Griba isn’t there.’

  ‘That’s because I’ve let him believe Griba is. We threw a blanket over Dvorník and kicked up a bit of a fuss as we locked him up.’

  ‘And how is Griba?’

  ‘Sore arm, no doubt. Being shot does that for you. But the surgeons sorted the wound and gave him enough sedative to keep an ox docile, so as soon as they give us the nod we’ll throw a blanket over his head and repeat the manoeuvre.’

  ‘There’s no danger that he’ll be liberated from the hospital?’

  ‘I’ve got four marksmen standing guard and we’ve manacled one of his legs to his bed frame.’

  Lukas indicated the chair and motioned Slonský to sit. The word “retirement” began to form in Slonský’s mind.

  ‘How is Peiperová?’

  ‘Better for having come back to work, I think. Navrátil is good for her. I don’t know why, because some days he irritates the hell out of me, but she seems to enjoy his company.’

  Lukas made a steeple from his fingers and held it to his lips for a few moments.

  ‘I’ll reach retirement age around the same time as you. There’ll be a captain’s job going. If you wanted, I’d go before you so that you can get the rank for a few months and bump your pension up. Not that I can guarantee you’d get the job,’ he added hurriedly.

  ‘Thank you, sir, but I don’t think I’m captain material. I’m happy being a lieutenant.’

  Lukas would normally have approached this objection obliquely, but since Slonský did not appear able to understand anything less subtle than a simple declarative sentence, he tried the more direct approach.

  ‘If you don’t take it, it will probably go to Doležal.’

  Slonský twitched. It was just a reflex, he told himself, something that he would learn to control.

  ‘In that event, perhaps I’ve been too hasty, sir. I’ll give it some thought.’

  ‘You do that, Josef. You do just that.’

  Tripka sat on his cot, rocking slowly and cuddling the pillow in front of him.

  Slonský opened the door, closed it behind him, and leaned against the wall.

  ‘How are you enjoying your stay? The food is hardly cordon bleu, but then you’re getting it for free. And I managed to wangle you your own cell. Not much of a view but better than Griba has across the corridor.’

  Tripka did not respond, so Slonský straddled the chair facing him. This allowed Slonský to slouch forward, but also protected his genitals in case Tripka had a fit of the habdabs.

  ‘He’s not many metres away. Would you prefer to share?’

  Tripka’s eyes widened.

  ‘Ah, you understand. You see, we’re always short of space here. In your wing you’ve got that big cell because it doesn’t matter if you put twenty whores or junkies in together. If we did that, there’d just be a few bones left in the morning. But there would be a certain poetic justice in locking you up in your old department’s cells, because then we could put Griba and Pluskal in with you. It would be like a reunion, just like old times. What more could a man want than to die surrounded by his friends?’

  Tripka refused to speak, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

  ‘If you want to stay on your own, you’d better start talking. In the normal run of things, I would regard you as the grubbiest, nastiest, most despicable, loathsome lowlife we’ve ever had in here, and believe me we’ve had some who would give you a good run for that title. There was that chap who liked beheading nuns, for example. And then there was the one who stabbed a teenage girl so she bled to death slowly. Oh, no, hang on — that was you. Scrub that example, then; I’ll find a better one. The key is that I’m coming under pressure from others to get you a bit off your sentence if you ensure that Griba stays in jail so long he’ll leave in a cherrywood urn. Can we do business? Don’t dither too long, or I may take the offer across the corridor and see what Griba is prepared to offer to keep you inside for the rest of your days. Personally I’d prefer that. He’s a mere sex trafficking drug dealing pimp, extortionist, kidnapper and multiple murderer, whereas you’re a corrupt policeman. The distinction is that if you were both on fire, I would be prepared to pee on him to put him out. But if you were to make a clean breast of the whole thing, save us a lot of police time and ensure that Griba is taken off these mean streets, I can be magnanimous. So here’s a pencil and paper. Get writing. An hour from now I take them away and give them to Griba instead.’

  Navrátil opened the door in response to Slonský’s knock. As they walked back to the main desk, Navrátil asked a question that had been puzzling him.

  ‘You know you talked about mean streets. Does Prague have mean streets, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ replied Slonský. ‘Not to mention some tight corners and some really stingy alleyways.’

  Dvorník was ecstatic. Slonský no longer needed him, and he was restored to his normal freedom of action. On top of that, he was the man who had shot the fearsome Griba, and he would be the recipient of many a free drink over the next few weeks on the strength of that. Admittedly he was also the man who had shot Griba’s wife, but you can’t have everything, and she was recovering well in hospital. The surgeon had spoken to Lukas and assured him that her shoulder blade would be good as new, if you overlooked the hole in it which he might try to fill with some mashed up bone and cement. Despite Lukas’ scepticism it appeared that this was perfectly respectable medical practice, according to Dr Novák, and not a species of mumbo-jumbo akin to chicken entrail inspection.

  ‘It was a good job, there’s no denying it,’ said Slonský to him. ‘Should I have heard a warning?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Dvorník. ‘A warning would only … well, warn him.’

  ‘That clarifies things,’ said Slonský. ‘I wondered why standing orders said we had to shout a warning before we shoot someone, but now I see that the idea is that he won’t get a nasty surprise when the bullet hits him.’

  ‘Next time I’ll let him cut her throat, shall I?’

  ‘No, no need to get defensive. I’m not judging you. Given half a chance I’d have done the same myself. I just want to sort out what we’re going to say to the investigation team.’

  ‘How about “It happened. No regrets. Get over it.”?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Slonský breezed into the cell. Tripka pushed the paper wordlessly towards him.

  ‘Let’s have a read of this, then,’ said Slonský. ‘Nice handwriting.’

  I, Bohuslav Tripka, make the following statement voluntarily.

  I first met Jana Válková at a camp organised by the Pioneer movement. She was about eighteen months younger than me but I was immediately drawn to her. However, she was too young to show an interest. On the occasion of her seventeenth birthday, which I believe was in February 1976, I was surprised to receive an invitation to her party. I had not realised that this invitation was extended to a number of those she had met at the camp, as well as schoolfriends. As a consequence, I knew very few people there and I found myself talking to her mother, Mrs Válková. Although I believe that she did not know my father personally, she knew of him and asked me a number of questions about him. She said she hoped they would see me there again when the house was less crowded. From these remarks I deduced that she approved of me as boyfriend for her daughter.

  However, no further invitations arrived. We met briefly at another camp and Jana was friendly and remembe
red me by name. When the time came for me to do my national service I found myself doing my initial training not too far from her house — we lived in the centre of Prague at the time.

  My best friend in the army was called Sedláček. He was physically bigger than me and boasted of his success with girls. When we came to know each other well, I asked him for some advice and told him about Jana. He suggested that we went to see her together and he would put in a good word for me. He said that she would know I was respectable and safe, but that young women wanted adventure and danger, and that was why bad boys like him had so much success with girls. I should show her that I knew how to have fun.

  At my parents’ house, I discovered a guest list for a banquet and saw that Jana’s parents were invited. Since it was a Friday night, I was able to obtain a pass to go out of barracks and Sedláček and I took a bus out to Ruzyně. He had some beer and some food in a canvas bag. I did not know that he also had some illicit drugs. To this day, I do not know exactly what it was. It may have been cocaine, because after we had some drinks, he opened the bag and put some crystals on his hand so he could sniff it like snuff. He then rubbed some on his gums, after which he became louder and more aggressive. He wanted us to try some. I used a little but the powder made me sneeze so I think I absorbed very little. My nose tingled but I cannot say that I noticed any other effects. Jana at first refused to try any, but after some coaxing from Sedláček she agreed to place a little on her tongue and lips. After a while she said her lips were numb. Sedláček told her he did not believe her, and kissed her before asking if she could feel it. After that we took it in turns to kiss her. Sedláček used more of the powder and he became rougher. At one point I noticed he had pushed his hand inside her top and she was telling him to stop, though she did not really seem annoyed.

  We had some more beer, then Sedláček passed round his powder again. This time Jana seemed disorientated or intoxicated and she made no protest when Sedláček started to undo her clothes. She slipped off the sofa onto the floor and Sedláček told me to hold her shoulders so she would not keep moving. I did not realise what he had in mind, but soon he was raping her. She started to shout so he turned the music up then pushed her jumper into her mouth and slapped her. She stopped protesting after she was hit. I remember Sedláček telling her she was one of those girls who liked being bullied. She disagreed, but he hit her until she agreed to say that she liked him doing it. He told her she would like pain, and she agreed, probably because she thought he would hit her again if she didn’t.