“The Austrians have it. They’re going to share it with the Germans, and us, and anyone else who needs a peek.” She prodded Trokan. “Planning to make a large withdrawal, Colonel?”
“I’d be afraid you might come after me, Jana.”
“One of the few things I’m good at.”
“You’re good at lots of things.”
“Thank you.” She thought about the accumulation of money over the years. “What a waste. It could have been put to better use.”
“A waste,” Trokan agreed. “Have you talked to Truchanova yet?”
“That’s where I’m going next.”
She got up to leave.
“Thank you for the tip on the Rostov Report,” she said. “It made sense of everything.”
“I’m just a humble civil servant doing my duty. And since I was ordered not to tell anyone about the report, I still haven’t told anyone, not even you.”
“Naturally, Colonel.”
“Have fun with Truchanova.”
Jana went back to her office and picked up the smaller package, which the Austrians had let her keep, then drove to the prosecutor’s office. Jana walked into Truchanova’s outer office and waited while the prosecutor’s secretary scurried down the corridor to find her. Truchanova was there a moment later, leading Jana into her inner office and closing the door behind them. They were still wary of each other. Jana laid the package she’d brought from Austria on Truchanova’s desk.
“The Austrians thought this had more to do with Slovakia than with them,” Jana said.
“They called me.”
“Then you know it all.”
“If there’s anything they missed telling me, I can get it from your paperwork when you write it up.”
“I’d like to see a copy of the Rostov Report. I’ve only been told what it’s about.”
Truchanova’s lips twisted in a moue of refusal. “I can’t give it to you until the government authorizes me to let you read it.”
“Still ashamed, are they?”
“There’s a lot of money at stake. The Germans, the Austrians, the Ukrainians, the Slovaks—they’re all being asked to indemnify the victims.”
“Still a hush-hush secret, eh? Why? The governments have the money now.”
Truchanova stared at Jana, still stone-faced.
Jana opened the package. The album containing the pictures of the uniformed Hlinka Guard was inside. Jana pointed to the photograph on the top. One of the guards was holding a small boy in his arms.
“From what I can make out, the baby is Jindrich Bogan in his father’s arms,” Jana explained. “You can see the edge of the tattoo on the baby.”
Truchanova looked at it. “I can see,” she snapped. “Not a very fatherly thing to do to a baby.”
“He wasn’t a very fatherly type.”
Jana was ready to go.
“There’s something I’d like you to chew over,” she said. “All the things they stole: money, goods sucked up, lives destroyed, the whole lot taken from people who had spent lifetimes just trying to live, protect their families and see their sons and daughters and grandchildren prospering. Now that we have it all, years and years later, we’re still ashamed and unwilling to confess what happened.”
She walked to the door.
“Thank you for the good work,” Truchanova managed to get out.
Jana paused, needing to get the rest of what she was thinking off her chest. She decided to spit it out. She had to make the woman understand.
“When the Nazis still occupied our country, there was a national uprising against them. We lost thousands of men in that fight against fascism. We have no reason to be ashamed because the men in those pictures committed crimes against our people. They stole; we didn’t! Tell the world! We still come out ahead. Everyone comes out ahead. Truchanova, don’t let the government commit an injustice because they’re still ashamed. Stand up. Do your job!”
She left the office.
She drove to Jiri’s stamp shop, hoping he had finished his research on the material she had asked him to gather for her. When she walked in, Smid was sitting at the counter waiting on one of his son’s clients. Jiri was behind his half-desk, working at the end of the counter. His father called Jiri’s attention to Jana’s arrival.
Jiri got up, smiling at Jana, and set a paper-wrapped package on the countertop.
“I found tons of material for you, Commander. Reports on speeches Repka gave, articles he wrote. I even found a small movie he made.”
“Wonderful.”
“This Repka is not a nice man. He doesn’t like a lot of people. And the ones he doesn’t like, he thinks should get put in a hole somewhere. I think if he had his way, he’d kill all the gypsies.”
“That’s my impression.”
“Isn’t he being considered for some type of appointment with the government?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do with the material, Commander?”
“Make copies of it. Then send it to the powers that be.”
She paid Jiri for his work.
“Thank you.” Jiri thought about the research he’d done. “What are you going to do if they don’t listen?”
“Then I’ll send it out to everyone else in the world, the newspapers, television, radio stations. Everyone!”
He stared at her. “I hope it works.”
“So do I.”
We have to stand up, Jana thought. There are risks, but you have to stand up.
Jana waved a good-bye to Smid, who was still behind the counter, then walked out of the store. She was heading toward her car when someone called from behind her. Jana started to turn around.
“Don’t turn around, Commander,” said the voice. It was a man, the tone of his voice not threatening, but steely, a dangerous edge to it. She had heard it before. It had been years ago. Only on one occasion, but the memory came flooding back. It was Makine, the man they called Koba. She felt that surge of fear that only a near-death experience can generate. Incongruously, the only thing she could think of doing was to ask a question.
“Which of them were your banks, Makine? Was there more than one?”
“That’s not a question that has an answer for you, Commander.”
“What does Koba want with me, then?”
“Nothing any more. An associate of mine wanted to say a word.”
“Hello, Jana.” It was Em’s voice. “I want to thank you. You were very nice to me when I was cold and hungry.”
“You’re welcome, Em.”
“Tell Mr. and Mrs. Seges that I won’t forget them either.”
“I’ve already thanked them for you, Em.”
“If I can, I’ll visit.”
“I’m sure they’d like that.”
Jana waited, expecting further conversation. There was none.
“Good-bye again, Em,” she said.
There was no response. They were gone.
Jana walked to her car without looking back. She had work to do. Then she’d call her granddaughter. At least that love was real.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Requiem for a Gypsy Page 31