by Dan Latus
‘Have you got a passport, Magda?’
She looked uncertain for a moment, and then shook her head. He wasn’t too surprised. It meant she had travelled to Portugal overland, passing through invisible borders effortlessly. She certainly wouldn’t have got through an airport without a passport.
‘Does it matter?’ she asked.
‘It does if you want to go to England. And the way things are going, with all the refugees and migrants flooding into Europe, it might soon matter in a lot of other countries, as well.’
‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘The borders will become difficult again.’
‘Only for people wanting to cross them,’ he pointed out with a grim smile.
‘So you don’t want to stay here?’
‘Only for a little while, Magda. We have things to do, remember?’
She smiled. ‘I remember.’
He shared out the rest of the wine from the bottle they had bought in the village shop in nearby Jetřichovice, thinking it wasn’t bad at all. Drinkable, anyway.
‘Velké Bílovice,’ he said, peering at the label on the empty bottle.
‘It is in Moravia,’ Magda told him, ‘in the south-east of our country.’
‘Not Slovakia?’
She shook her head. ‘But they make good wine there, too. Do you have a passport, Jake?’
‘I do, but I’m not eager to use it. To get into the UK you have to show your passport, and they have an electronic registering system there now. So they can watch who is entering and leaving the country. It doesn’t work perfectly yet. Only eighty-five per cent, the last I heard. But it’s getting better.’
‘So, Jake, if you return to the UK, that will be on a computer somewhere?’
He nodded. ‘And the people who want to kill me could have a way of scanning for my name. Knowing I was back in the UK would give them a better chance of finding me. In fact, if they monitor ferry and airline booking systems, they could even be waiting for me when I arrive.’
Magda looked very thoughtful. Jake just shrugged. But he did know one thing: to have any chance of finding the missing twenty-million quid, never mind warning the others that Fogarty was on their tail, he had to return to the UK and run the gauntlet. Without a passport, though, Magda wouldn’t be going with him. Maybe that was a good thing.
‘Perhaps it is possible,’ Magda said thoughtfully.
‘What is?’
‘If you had a different passport – one not in your real name – you could go back without them knowing.’
He chuckled. ‘If pigs could fly, you mean?’
She looked puzzled.
‘It’s just an old saying,’ he assured her. ‘It means “how likely is that?”’
‘I see,’ Magda said slowly.
Frowning, she added, ‘But it is possible, I think. To do that is possible.’
‘What is?’ he asked again.
‘To have such a passport.’
He stopped picking at the label on the empty wine bottle and looked up at her. ‘Oh?’
‘You can have a new passport,’ she said firmly now, ‘and so can I. It is no problem, I think.’
He rather thought it was. Sitting here, in glorious isolation in Vysoká Lípa, he couldn’t believe it wasn’t a problem, but he was prepared to listen to Magda being optimistic.
‘How do you work that out?’ he asked.
‘Easy. We will go to see Mr Phan.’
Chapter 26
Jake had no idea if Petrovice was a good venue for the meeting or not. He just had to trust Magda. Either that or dump her and make his own way back to the UK, and take his chances. As soon as they entered the town, however, he could see that it was ideal.
They came in off the autobahn, a relatively new extension of the E55 that by-passes Dresden and runs on eventually to Prague. A big car park, or open-air market square, off to the right, was the first thing he saw as they entered the town. Then Petrovice was suddenly laid out before them. It was a long street settlement, but more a town than the village he had expected. It was quite a big place.
To his astonishment, there were Asian shops and restaurants on each side as they drove slowly down the main street. What looked from the garish neon signs like Asian hotels and casinos, too. Not your typical provincial Czech town. More an overseas branch of South East Asia.
He chuckled and glanced sideways at Magda. ‘Look at it!’
‘Vietnamese,’ she said with a shrug. ‘This is a border town, and the Vietnamese always have their businesses in these places.’
‘Vietnamese?’ he said with surprise. ‘What on earth are they doing here?’
‘They called the first ones to come to my country the “Boat People”.’
Ah! Of course. The capitalists and their sympathizers who fled in the run-up to the fall of Saigon all those years ago.
‘Now their children and grandchildren speak Czech,’ Magda added, ‘and know no other country.’
‘But all these signs and names!’
‘It is good for marketing, and perhaps they like to keep alive the memory of their ancestral homeland.’
He thought that was probably right on both accounts. But the way Vietnam had gone, the older folks could be excused if they wondered now why they had ever bothered leaving. These days there didn’t seem to be much socialism about the country, or about China, either, for that matter.
Having heard Magda’s explanation, he thought the shops and stalls in Petrovice were displaying and advertising exactly the kinds of stuff you might have expected: booze in its infinite varieties, garden gnomes, cigarettes, cheap and colourful clothing – all the usual consumables. Then there were the casinos where you could get rid of any money you had left over from shopping.
‘Things are cheaper here than in Germany,’ Magda said. ‘So German people come to the border towns to shop.’
Jake nodded. Perhaps Germans paid higher taxes – or the Vietnamese were just hot at competitive pricing. Whatever. The result was a hell of a lot of outlets for discount shopping.
Strictly speaking, international borders were not supposed to matter very much these days to the countries in the Schengen area of the EU, but they did still in some places, and in some respects. For the Germans, this would be like Calais and Dunkirk for the Brits. Bargains galore.
‘Let’s see if your man’s here,’ Jake suggested, coming back to the reason for their visit.
‘He will be,’ Magda said tersely.
He hoped so. Magda might trust and believe in him, this Mr Phan, but he certainly didn’t. He had no idea who the hell he was. Magda had given him a very good billing, though. She reckoned he was a master craftsman. They would have to see about that. For now, Jake had decided, he would reserve judgement.
They parked the car behind an Asian supermarket. Mid-morning on a slow day in mid-week, and only half a dozen vehicles in the car park. A couple of small, ethnic Vietnamese men were transferring boxes with lurid writing from a shipping container to a trolley, ready to take into the store. Nothing else going on.
‘OK?’ Magda asked.
Jake nodded.
‘It is safe,’ she added. ‘Don’t worry.’
Maybe.
‘Let’s go see your man,’ he said, opening the door. ‘And afterwards perhaps we could pick up a couple of phones somewhere around here. We’re lost without phones.’
‘I agree.’
He smiled as he got out of the car. Magda agreed, did she? How their relationship had changed! Now she seemed to be a fully-fledged partner. What a difference a few days had made.
Magda led the way to a small emergency door at the back of the building. She pressed a buzzer and spoke into an intercom. The door clicked. She opened it. They entered and immediately began to climb a narrow staircase without windows which was lined with promotional posters for Kung Fung-type Asian movies. They all seemed to feature people with hideous expressions and savage martial arts equipment. In the poor light they did nothing for Jake’s e
ase of mind.
On a landing at the top of the stairs, Magda tapped at a door and opened it. Jake followed her inside, still hoping for the best but prepared for something else. He just hoped Magda knew what she was doing. Asian criminal gangs had long arms, and long memories.
He didn’t know what to expect on the other side of the door. Perhaps an elderly patriarch; perhaps a gang warrior festooned with weapons. Instead, they were met by a small, sullen man, probably in his thirties, who looked like a bank clerk. The man stared at Jake with great suspicion and made no offer to shake hands. Keeping an eye on Jake, he spoke over his shoulder to Magda in what sounded like the Czech language. Jake tried to appear relaxed.
It was more an interrogation than a greeting, and it went on for a minute or two. The name Petra was mentioned. Petra? Who was that? Then Jake heard his own name, too. Magda stayed calm, if blank-faced, and responded fluently to the questioning. While negotiations continued, Jake wore a friendly smile but stayed alert, ready to respond if a weapon was produced.
After a couple of minutes, Magda turned to Jake and translated some of what had been said.
‘This is Mr Phan. He knows me, and trusts me, but he wants to know who you are. I told him you are my partner, and a dear friend. I also told him what we want, and asked if he can provide passports for us.’
Jake nodded his understanding, without taking his eyes from Mr Phan. It was his place, and his move.
Suddenly, Phan surprised him by sticking out a hand and saying in pretty good English, ‘Welcome! Any friend of Petra’s is my friend also.’
Jake shot a glance at Magda, who shrugged. ‘My old name,’ she said apologetically.
Jake finally got to shake hands with Phan, who gave him a smile and a little bow before turning to lead them into another room. A young Vietnamese woman was waiting there to serve them tea.
‘I will take your photographs in a moment,’ Phan said.
Jake began to relax. It looked as though Magda, or Petra, or whatever the hell she was called, seemed to have found them someone who could help. Quite how she had managed that was a question for another time, but it was one he was determined to have answered. Sooner rather than later.
Chapter 27
Magda said she had things to do that morning. So Jake went for a walk alone. That morning, in particular, Dolsky Mlyn, an ancient ruined mill in the nearby Kamenice canyon, looked very special. Breathtakingly beautiful.
He reached the bottom of the long and steep descent via a precipitous defile, and then stood still and let the cool mystery of the place wash over him. The Kamenice River flowed gently by on its way to join the Labe, the river that Magda had told him was known as the Elbe on the other side of the border with Germany. Patches of mist hung over the water and cloaked the stone walls of Dolsky Mlyn on the far side with a romantic haze.
After a while, he sighed and shook himself. It was all very well hiding away here in beautiful Northern Bohemia, but how long could it go on? How long did he want it to go on? Magda seemed happy enough to be here, back on her home turf, and so was he. For the moment at least. But he knew the tranquillity, and the peace, was a bit of an illusion. Nothing had really changed.
By coming here, they had taken their pieces off the board for a time. But it wouldn’t stop Fogarty. He wouldn’t abandon the search. Jake was sure of that. So far as Fogarty was concerned, he was unfinished business, a man who had helped to bring him down, and a man who just might have the missing millions that he probably considered to be his.
Eventually, and inevitably, perhaps in some now unimaginable way, their defences would slip. They would grow accustomed to not being in immediate danger. Then one day they would do something stupid or thoughtless, or even accidentally, and that would be it. The roof would crash down. Either that or they would get bored or restless, and leave here because they’d had enough of the tranquillity. Then the wolves would be on their trail once again.
And that was without even considering the £20 million, which was of great interest to a number of people – himself included now. His agreement with Bob wasn’t all that important to him, now he knew Bob had been trying deceitfully to use him, but still… Even a small percentage amounted to a healthy chunk of money. It was worth thinking about.
So what was to be done? Stay here, in safe isolation, or return to the real world? He wrestled with that question long and hard, but always came back to the same answer, the one he had worked out in the first place. And it wasn’t really to do with the money. It was simply that he knew that if he wanted Fogarty off his back permanently, he would have to return to the arena where Fogarty hunted, and do some hunting himself.
‘Go back?’ Magda said, when he broached the subject. ‘So soon?’
‘I think so. The passports should be ready by the end of the week. So Phan said, at least.’
‘Then they will be. You can rely on him.’
‘Good. Well, once we have them, there’s no reason to delay getting on with it. Not for me, at least. But for you, it’s different.’
She gave him one of her looks. He didn’t even try to interpret it.
‘What I mean is you’re home now, Magda. This is where you belong, and it’s safe here for you. You can stay. You should stay.’
For a moment he thought she was going to spit at him. Instead, she said, ‘And that is what you want?’
He shrugged. ‘It would be safest for you. That’s all I’m thinking. But the decision has to be yours.’
‘I belong with you now,’ she said sharply. ‘Not here. Vysoká Lípa is the past. Where you go, Jake, I go. We have an agreement, don’t we?’
He smiled and nodded. ‘We do. But I’m not sure you really understand what you’re getting into, and how dangerous life will be once we leave here.’
‘Phooey!’ she said even more sharply. ‘We will go together, and do what needs to be done.’
They decided they would collect their new passports and make arrangements to fly to the UK. Probably to London first. There, they would look for Fat Freddie, and hopefully get to him before Fogarty did. After that, it would be a matter of following whatever clues they could find.
Of one thing Jake was sure: there would be clues. Somewhere along the way he would pick up information that would lead him onwards. Hopefully, too, his presence would draw out Fogarty. Risky as it was, he wanted that. Without it, there would be no way of bringing this story to an end.
Chapter 28
The passports were fine, Phan said on the phone. Ready to be picked up now. Jake felt relieved and well satisfied. Phan had done a good job, it seemed. Now they could get on. This holiday, or respite, or whatever it was, was over. The real world awaited their return.
That afternoon Magda went down to the small shop at the bottom of the hill in Vysoká Lípa. There were a couple of things she said she needed to buy. Feminine things, Jake assumed. Women’s things. Necessities. They had some travelling ahead of them.
Jake spent a few minutes finishing packing one of two travel bags they had picked up in Petrovice. That was all it took. He wasn’t taking much with him. He didn’t have much. Nor did Magda. Her bag, on the other side of the bed, also looked packed. He nodded with satisfaction. They would leave early tomorrow and head for the airport on the edge of Prague.
He was restless then, with nothing more to do. Itchy-feet syndrome, he thought with a wry smile. Time to be moving. He left the cottage and set off down the hill to meet Magda. See if she needed any help.
She wasn’t in the shop. Jake wasn’t surprised about that. What did surprise him was where he found her. She was sitting at a table in the beer garden adjacent to a small restaurant, one of two such places near the bus stop. Two men were with her. The conversation looked to be intense and serious. Magda obviously knew the men, but she didn’t look happy. Was that good or bad? One way to find out, Jake thought grimly.
He made his way through the little gateway and across the grassed area towards the table where the three of th
em sat. ‘Here you are!’ he said with a smile, addressing Magda but letting his gaze pass across the nearby faces.
Heads and eyes turned towards him.
Both men were dressed casually, but reasonably smart. One looked to be thirty-ish, the other ten or fifteen years older. They both had hard, unsmiling faces. Neither welcomed Jake. The older man, in particular, examined him with frank hostility.
Not friends, then, Jake decided. Not to him or to Magda, judging by the look on her face, and by her silence. What the hell was going on? Trouble, it looked like.
‘Magda?’ he said. ‘Are you going to introduce me to your friends?’
‘Of course,’ she said, starting to rise to her feet.
The older man grasped her wrist to stop her moving and snapped something in Czech. She slumped back onto her chair.
Not good. Looking dangerous now. Close to out of control, in fact.
The younger man started to get up. Jake grabbed a steak knife from the place setting on an adjacent table, stepped behind the older man and held the knife against his throat.
‘Let go of her!’
Nothing happened. The younger man stayed where he was. The older man kept hold of Magda’s wrist. Magda’s blank face said she was in pain from his grip but was trying not to show it.
Jake repeated his demand.
‘Tell him in Czech,’ he added, glancing at Magda.
Magda said a few words.
Nothing happened.
Jake waited a moment. Then he pulled the knife back and altered his grip. Without hesitating, he rammed the point of the blade down hard onto the back of the older man’s spare hand, which was flat on the table.
Something happened then. Several things, in fact.
The older man cried out with pain and shock, and let go of Magda’s wrist. She jerked back out of his reach.
The younger man leapt to his feet, galvanized by Jake’s sudden action. A serious looking knife appeared in his hand, and a click locked the blade in place. He turned towards Jake.