by Graham Brack
‘Who told you to bring her in?’
‘No-one, sir. I just thought with the others in protective custody she might be at risk. If we could get the two women there too they’d be safer.’
‘You were right about her being at risk, weren’t you? But you were wrong about her being safer in your care. Jesus Maria, what a damn mess!’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Peiperová said. ‘I’ll resign my post here if you want.’
‘Don’t make a bloody shambles worse,’ Slonský thundered. ‘How is Daniela helped one bit by your resignation? And do you think I’m so shallow and vindictive that I’d get shot of you for one mistake?’
‘If it’s as big as this one, sir.’
Slonský ran his hand through his hair. ‘Let’s get her back.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Which car were you using?’
Navrátil pointed at the car which still had the holdall resting against its windscreen.
‘Scenes of crime here?’
‘On their way, sir.’
‘How come you didn’t see anyone throw the bag on the car?’
‘I don’t know, sir. I think I may have turned to talk to Peiperová.’
‘You were in the back?’ Slonský asked incredulously.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘In the back of a car whose doors can’t be opened from the inside?’
‘So I discovered, sir.’
‘You could have been trapped in there, completely defenceless. Don’t do it again.’
‘I won’t, sir. I’ve learned my lesson.’
Slonský walked a few steps away. ‘Navrátil, get a description of the girl to the City Police. Any idea where she lived?’
‘She didn’t tell me, sir,’ Peiperová replied.
‘Navrátil, get on to the Army Camp. Tell them what happened and ask the officer on duty to ask the girls if any of them has any idea where Daniela lived. If she knew the one who killed herself there’s a chance they know her too. Peiperová, I want you to go through that bag first chance you get to look for any clues that might help.’ Slonský pointed at a clutch of uniformed police. ‘You, you, you, you and you, come with me. We’re going to take the Purple Apple to pieces.’
‘What are we looking for, sir?’ asked one of their number.
‘How the hell do I know? Mainly, I want to cause them as much aggravation as they’re causing me. Now, stop rabbiting and let’s cause some mayhem.’
If the owners of the club had been in any doubt that Slonský was annoyed, they were disabused as he swept through the premises like an avenging angel. He had the customers marched outside and corralled into a holding area where Peiperová was detailed to take names and addresses. The staff were made to sit on the stage until Navrátil and Slonský had interrogated them for any information that might help them find Daniela. The small office was ripped apart by the uniformed men who were looking for anything with the name Daniela on it. They had been there for a little over an hour when Navrátil’s phone rang and he scribbled a note in response to the call before running to acquaint Slonský with the details he had gleaned.
‘Sir, one of the women at the camp says Daniela lived in a guest house in the same street as Mrs Pimenová’s bakery, but she doesn’t know where that is.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t, but there isn’t a bakery in Prague I don’t know, lad. Get the uniformed boys to round this lot up and get them to the station. You and I are going to sample the worst rye bread rolls in the city.’
Mrs Pimenová glanced up as the little bell over her door rang and two men walked in. The larger one was strangely familiar, but she could not quite remember why until he showed his badge.
‘Mr Slonský! How nice to see you again. What can I tempt you with?’
‘Everything in the shop,’ Slonský lied. ‘Are those curd cheese buns I can see there?’
‘Fresh today,’ boasted Mrs Pimenová.
‘Then we’ll have four of those,’ Slonský replied, offering a substantial banknote. ‘That ought to cover it — don’t want to weigh my pockets down with small change. Now, I don’t suppose you would ever serve Bosnian girls, especially … describe her, Navrátil.’
‘Tall, dark hair with a tinge of crimson in it, slim, long fingers…’
‘Daniela? Yes, she often wanted my poppy seed rolls. She said they reminded her of home.’
‘Do you know where she lived?’
‘Yes, in what used to be the old school on the corner. They’ve converted it into a sort of young people’s hostel.’
Slonský thanked her profusely and promised to return soon. Once they were outside he told Navrátil to stop and think a moment. ‘There’s only two of us and we don’t know who’s there, so let’s not rush in. Eat your bun while we think.’
Each took a bite and chewed slowly.
‘Shall I give the rest to the birds, sir?’
‘You can’t make birds eat these, Navrátil. The poor little beggars will never get airborne again. Hang on, I’ve got an idea.’
Slonský marched across the road to the old school and banged on the door. When it was opened he showed his badge and waved the paper bag aggressively.
‘Who bought these?’
‘I don’t know,’ stammered the young man who had opened the door.
‘And you are?’
‘Filip. Milan Filip.’
‘Make a note, Navrátil. The suspect Filip said…’
‘Suspect? Why am I a suspect? I haven’t done anything.’
‘Were you here earlier this evening, around five o’clock?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you were part of the vicious assault of a young woman that took place here?’
‘What assault? I didn’t hear anything.’
‘Take us to Daniela’s room, right now.’
The young man collected a key and led them up the stairs. On the upper floor he knocked at one of the rooms, then, receiving no answer, he opened the door and revealed a very nicely furnished sitting room. He then used another key to open the connecting door to the bedroom. There was no mistaking that a woman lived here.
Slonský examined it closely. Although the bedclothes were disturbed, there was no sign of blood or violence.
‘When did you last see her?’
‘Earlier today. After lunch she went out.’
‘Can she come and go as she pleases?’
‘More or less. She’s supposed to say where she’s going. And the boss leaves a man sitting in the outer room to keep an eye on the girls.’
‘So you knew they were illegal immigrants?’
‘No,’ protested Filip. ‘I made it my business not to know anything. It only causes trouble if you do.’
Navrátil was bursting to ask a question. ‘She had a bag of clothes, so she must have come back here around five o’clock to collect those. Did you see her?’
‘No. And I was here at that time. She didn’t come back.’
‘Look in the closet, Navrátil. Her clothes are still here. You’ve jumped to a conclusion because her passport was there. She may never have got here.’ Slonský turned to go downstairs, when a thought occurred to him. ‘You said girls. Does she share this room?’
‘Yes, with a Croat girl. Barbara, I think her name is.’
‘And where is she now?’
‘Probably at work. They work at a place called the Purple Apple. It’s a g…’
‘We know what it is. Come along, Navrátil.’
‘Good evening, sir. This is an unexpected pleasure,’ said Slonský, who recognised the number displayed on his mobile phone.
‘It’s not Sir, it’s Mrs Sir,’ said Mrs Lukasová.
‘Captain Lukas is all right, I hope?’ said Slonský, and Mrs Lukasová was pleased to note genuine concern in his voice.
‘Yes, he’s dithering about ringing you, so we’ve taken matters in hand. He’s heard a rumour that you’ve lost a witness and he was hoping that you had matters under control.’
‘Perhaps if I could speak t
o the Captain directly, I could set his mind at rest,’ Slonský oozed, so Mrs Lukasová handed the phone to her husband.
‘Good evening, Slonský.’
‘Good evening, sir. I’ll tell you the truth, then you can hand the phone back and say everything is fine. Navrátil and Peiperová conceived a plan to take the witness to a place of safety. It seems their supposition that she was in danger was right, because she has disappeared, and someone wants us to believe she has been maltreated, but the clothes we have don’t appear to be hers.’
‘Could you explain that last bit again?’ asked Lukas, aware that he dare not say anything alarming but unable to follow the discussion so far.
‘A bag of clothes including a bloodstained blouse and a passport were delivered to the two officers in place of the witness. Don’t ask, it beggars belief, and I’ve already had words with them. We’ve traced the witness to a room and her clothes are there, and there’s no sign of any violence, but we’ve got to go looking for her now. We didn’t lose a witness because we never had her. It’s a standard missing persons inquiry now, sir.’
Lukas sighed with relief. ‘Ah, that’s different. My information seems to have been unduly prejudicial.’
‘You mean Doležal screwed with the facts when he rang you?’
‘I don’t think I said anything about that.’
‘No, you didn’t, but the long streak of misery is the only person likely to try to stitch me up. He may not be here when you get back, sir. I’ve got my eye open for a suitable posting in the mountains. What a shame that, unlike the Austrians, we don’t have sewer police.’
Lukas permitted himself a small smile. ‘Carry on, Slonský.’
‘I shall, sir. Hope you feel better soon. My regards to all the ladies.’
‘I just want you to know, Navrátil, that if anything has happened to Daniela you’ll be personally supplying the meatballs at the next police barbecue.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you can stop sighing with relief, Peiperová. I’m sure we can find some equivalent for you.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Now, think, the pair of you. How did they know that you’d arranged to meet Daniela?’
‘We said nothing to anyone, sir,’ said Peiperová. ‘And I checked I wasn’t being followed.’
Slonský scratched his head before replacing his hat. Somehow the action helped to invigorate the brain sometimes, and this was one such.
‘It’s you,’ he said to Navrátil.
‘Me, sir? I haven’t done anything.’
‘If they’d been following Peiperová they’d have snatched the girl before now. But you meet her, and within the hour she’s been kidnapped. So the likeliest answer is that someone was watching you.’
‘I didn’t notice anyone, sir.’
‘Of course you didn’t, lad. They’d be pretty poor at their job if you did. They must have been waiting when we returned the van earlier. I went off to see Lukas, and you and Peiperová went to find Daniela — which you might have mentioned to me, by the way. Either we were both followed, or they hoped that you’d gone to fetch a female officer because you were going to lead them to the girls.’
‘You’re sure it’s the Bosnians, sir?’
‘If it wasn’t them it’s a hell of a coincidence. Now, the likelihood is that the men who did the snatching won’t have done the questioning, so they’ll take her to wherever Savović and Brukić hang out. And that won’t be a hostel or a club because we’d be watching there. So I wonder where Savović lives? Navrátil, get your rat-catcher’s credentials ready. We’re going to see a man about some pests.’
The doorkeeper was not going to be taken in again.
‘You’re those policemen. I remember you. Got the murderer yet?’
‘Not yet,’ said Slonský. ‘But we’re working on it. When we were here before you told my assistant that the Bosnian gentleman had his wild parties at his flat.’
‘I don’t know anything about wild parties. He wouldn’t invite the likes of me. I keep myself to myself, I do.’
‘I wasn’t asking what went on there. Where’s his flat?’
‘Come again?’
‘His flat. Where is it? Where does he live?’
‘I can’t go disclosing personal information about tenants without a warrant! I’ll get sacked.’
‘Navrátil, we haven’t got time to waste. Knock a few of his teeth out.’
Navrátil hesitated, trying to determine whether Slonský could possibly be serious. This hesitation was construed by the doorman as a premonitory display of menace, and he quickly sought a compromise.
‘But if I was to leave my notebook open on the desk and one of you gents was to sneak a peek, that’s not my fault, is it?’ he hurriedly suggested.
‘Of course not,’ agreed Slonský. ‘A man’s notebook is his private property. He’s entitled to keep his innermost secrets in it. Well, don’t stand there gawping, lad — copy the address out and let’s get down there.’
Navrátil and Slonský climbed back into their car and drove off across town to the address they had been given, which was on the city’s southern fringes. It was dark by the time they arrived.
Having anticipated some kind of gated compound, Slonský was pleasantly surprised to find it was merely a villa with a low wall to the front, outside which a pair of large men stood smoking.
‘Looks like the place. Keep driving, Navrátil. We don’t want them to know our business. Turn right at the end of the road.’
It turned out to be a dead end, so Navrátil executed a U-turn and awaited instructions.
‘Keep the engine running, lad. We’re going to be retracing our route for about a hundred metres, then we’ll take a sharp left once we’re past the villa. Got that?’
‘Yes, sir. Aren’t you going to get in?’
‘Not just at the moment. I just want to try a little trick I learned at the All-Moravia Artisan Sausage-Making Championship.’
Slonský walked over to the hedge and struck a match. Holding it to a small pile of dead leaves, he kindled a fire, and encouraged it by striking another match and holding it to the hedge itself, before climbing back into the car.
‘Now we wait for it to take hold.’
After a few moments the fire, though not large, was exciting enough for Slonský to suggest a measured retreat. They pulled back into the traffic and were pleased to see the two men walking briskly along the pavement to investigate the blaze. A sharp left turn later, Navrátil and Slonský slipped over the side wall and reached the side of the villa without being detected.
Slonský signalled his assistant to maintain silence, a completely unnecessary gesture since Navrátil’s own well-developed sense of self-preservation had suggested that course of action as soon as they left the car, and together they inched around the building looking for a quiet corner where they might peek through the windows.
The corner room at the back was well-lit, so they ducked down below the sill and made for the next window, where Slonský cautiously raised himself. He could see Savović and Brukić, who were engaged in a game of chess. There was no sign of the girl.
Slonský tapped Navratil on the shoulder and indicated that he wanted to move further away from the building into the garden at the rear. He pointed to a couple of bushes separated by about a metre, and gave Navrátil a gentle push, by which the young detective deduced that he was to go first, and scuttled across the lawn, being followed shortly after by Slonský.
In their hiding place, Slonský felt able to risk a whisper.
‘They’re too relaxed. They know they’ve got the girl. I’ll bet she’s upstairs. Watch the windows.’
‘It could be hours, sir. And if she’s tied up, she won’t come to the window.’
‘Got any better ideas?’
Navrátil peered into the darkness. After a moment or two he saw what he wanted, and ran back across the lawn towards the house. Although originally a single-storey building, it had been enhance
d at some point by the inclusion of a room in the roof. Navrátil was slightly built, and although not blessed with great athletic prowess, he was a good cross-country runner, so he must have been quite fit, but Slonský was unprepared for the exhibition he was about to witness. Pausing only to give a sharp tug on the downpipe to test its soundness, Navrátil shinned up the drainpipe to the low roof, hoisted himself aloft, and gently crept along the rooftop to the dormer window, where he cautiously looked in.
He was about to return when the two men appeared at the side of the house brandishing flashlights. Slonský tucked himself behind one of the bushes, but was unable to warn Navrátil before he descended nor, from his hiding place, could he see what happened next.
However, he saw the beams of light sweeping round the garden and made himself as small as possible, which in Slonský’s case was not easy to do, but fortunately the darkness of the bushes swallowed him up. Suddenly the men started shouting. In the emotion of the moment, they were yelling in their own language, which seemed particularly pointless to Slonský, though it was easy to detect that they were shouting some kind of warning. Confident that they were looking at the roof, he risked a peek, and watched open-mouthed as Navrátil ran up the roof, rolled over the ridge, and disappeared out of sight. The guards had finally removed their guns from the holsters under their jackets and were waving them ineffectually before retracing their steps to run round to the front. In the confusion Slonský slipped out over the side wall. If he could get to the car he could drive round to the front and scoop Navrátil up. Except, of course, that he would have to perform a U-turn in a tight side road. It was at this point that Slonský remembered that the car keys were in Navrátil’s pocket.
Damn! At least he had heard no gunshots so far, and he was fairly confident that if Navrátil had made it to ground level with a head start, he may have been able to gain the street, but whether he would be able to return to the car was doubtful. Slonský briefly considered calling Navrátil on his mobile, but that might have been a bit of a giveaway if the young detective were hiding in the shrubbery somewhere nearby.
Hiding behind the car, he had an idea. He telephoned HQ, explained who he was, and issued his orders. ‘All the cars you can, fast as you can. Lights blazing, sirens on full. And patch me through to the first officer to arrive.’