“You brute!” Nicholas shouted, and began to struggle with the man who held him; but his arms were gripped behind his back as though in a vice.
Frček only smiled at him and said, “I’ve hardly started yet.” Turning again to Fedora, he began to strike at her back and shoulders. Once, twice, thrice, the lash descended. Still with clenched teeth she choked back all sound other than a low, quivering moan. But at the fourth stroke, she burst into tears and sobbed out:
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Help me, I beg. Help me! Help me!”
Nicholas had closed his eyes and opened them again. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. The sound of Fedora’s sobbing drove him into a frenzy of fury, but he knew that he was powerless to help her. Each time he made the least move, the police thug gave an upward jerk to one of his arms that caused him acute pain and threatened to wrench it from its socket. He could only mutter useless curses.
Standing back, Frček admired his handiwork. He had not lashed Fedora hard enough to draw blood, but red weals now stood out where the whip had cracked down on smooth flesh. With an amused glance at Nicholas he said:
“Now, I think, we must give her a pretty girdle round that slender waist.” Once more he drew back the whip, this time sideways on, and the vicious stroke curled round her body so that the end of the lash cut into her stomach.
At that, she let out a scream and began to struggle, but the man and woman who held her by the wrists had little difficulty in keeping her in position. Frček lifted the whip again, but Nicholas could bear no more.
“Stop!” he yelled. “Stop! I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Frček lowered the whip, laid it on his desk, and said, “All right, I’m glad you have come to your senses.” Turning to his underlings, he added: “That will be enough for now. Let her sit down.”
They led Fedora to a chair, and she collapsed into it, still sobbing. But after a moment she leaned forward, picked up her dress from the floor, pulled it in a bundle across her middle and hunched her smarting body over it. As her sobs eased Frček sat down behind his desk, and said to Nicholas:
“Now, let’s have the truth! If you attempt to tell me any further cock-and-bull stories, I’ll have her straddled over the back of that chair so that I can use my whip on her in a way that will be really painful.”
Nicholas knew that it was no longer the least use to beat about the bush, or even to give the true account of how the whole thing had started by his deciding to impersonate Bilto on a sudden impulse. He would not be believed. Unless this brutal scene was to continue, and mount to a revolting barbarity the thought of which made him feel sick, he must now lie, and lie to the limit. He had got to tell Frček the sort of thing he expected to hear, and pin his hopes on some fresh turn of events enabling him later to escape the consequences.
Drawing a deep breath, he said, “The facts are these. You are right about my being a British secret agent, although I became one only a few weeks ago. It was after my cousin Bilto told me of his intention to come here. I went and reported that to the police. They took me to see a man at the War Office. I had several interviews with him, and eventually he persuaded me to impersonate my cousin. As you guessed, the idea was that I should let myself be brought to Czechoslovakia in his place and disappear as soon as possible after landing. My task was to find out all I could about the resistance movement here, and how it could best be assisted.”
Frček nodded. “So far, so good. At what point did your woman accomplice enter the scene?”
“Only a few days ago. Naturally, from the moment I had given Bilto away they put him under constant observation. That’s how they got on to her. They pulled her in, told her they knew everything, and that they would get her a ten-year prison sentence unless she would agree to play. It was just the one job of getting me put on the plane for Prague, or ten years; and, of course, she had no idea then that your people would send her with me. She decided that to keep her freedom was worth the risk of Vaněk’s finding her out, and who can blame her?”
“I do. She wilfully betrayed the interests of the Party. There is no worse crime than that.”
Nicholas heaved a mental sigh. He had done his best for Fedora all along. He was putting himself in it up to the neck to save her from acute physical suffering now; but he had seen no possible way in which, if he was to be believed, he could do more than attempt to palliate her offence. With a little gesture of helplessness, he went on:
“A meeting was arranged between us, and we fixed everything up. She let me know the date planned for Bilto’s departure, and on that day I came up to London again. Bilto and I both used the Russell Hotel on our occasional visits to Town, so he didn’t think it particularly strange when he ran into me there. The police knew that he had left Harwell, of course, and were at the Hotel waiting to arrest him. We agreed to dine together and afterwards went up to his room. A few minutes later the plain-clothes men came in and took him into custody. I simply collected his passport, went downstairs, and waited there until Comrade Hořovská picked me up in the car. There you are. Now you know everything.”
For a full minute Frček’s round, pasty face remained expressionless; then he said, “I think we are now getting a little nearer to the truth. But there are several points that you have so far failed to explain. Unless a man is a professional agent, and earns his living by betraying people, it is usual to feel shame in the presence of the person about to be betrayed. Why, if the police were in any case going to arrest Professor Bilto so that you could obtain his passport, did you go out of your way to dine with him? There was no necessity for you to see him at all, or even for him to know that it was you who had betrayed him. In Comrade Vaněk’s report, too, he stated that a Power of Attorney made out by Professor Bilto in your favour was found upon you. If you put yourself in his way at the hotel, giving him the impression that you were there only by chance, how does it come about that he had had the document prepared and was still carrying it on him when he did not expect to see you again before his departure? Another point: If you had planned to impersonate him for the purpose of coming to Czechoslovakia, why, when everything was going well, did you risk missing the plane in order to visit a house in North London? Why, too, above all, did you later resort to violence in an attempt to escape from Comrade Vaněk, and make it necessary for him to send you here as ‘a parcel’?”
Nicholas’ brain was reeling. The whole awful business had become such a frightful tangle that his mind no longer registered the innumerable lies he had told about it, or to whom he had told them.
“I … I tried to get away from Vaněk because … well, because I got cold feet about coming at the last moment,” he stammered.
“Then why did this Hořovská woman get you sent here against your will, by her positive identification of you as Professor Bilto?”
That was one which Nicholas himself could not answer truthfully, for he still had not the faintest idea. As he floundered for a reply, Frček went on. “She had done all that could be expected of her, so could not have been blamed by your Secret Service friends if fear led you to back out. She must have known, too, that the British would publish the fact of Professor Bilto’s arrest in their papers, so that Comrade Vaněk would soon learn of it. If she had held her tongue no-one could have proved afterwards that it had not been her intention to double-cross you and give you away to Comrade Vaněk at the first opportunity, but by insisting to him that you were Professor Bilto she damned herself quite unnecessarily. Another thing occurs to me. If you had planned to impersonate the Professor in advance, why did you not either take his luggage or set out with some of your own?”
Leaning forward, the bulky, black-haired Minister tapped the glass top of his desk with a pudgy forefinger. “Broadly speaking the admissions you have made are satisfactory, but I am picking holes in your story because there is one part of it that does not ring true. It is of what took place on the night of your departure. Why had the Professor got the Power of Attorne
y on him? Why did the Hořovská continue to insist that you were him when she need not have done so? Why had you no luggage? Why did you go out of your way to dine with your cousin? Why did you make a visit to your friends in North London? I require answers to all …”
Suddenly breaking off, he got quickly to his feet. For Nicholas, the prospect of a respite of even a few moments came as a most blessed relief. Hearing swift footsteps behind him, he looked round to find out the cause of this most welcome interruption.
Unannounced by any knock, a small man with a close-clipped moustache and dark hair, neatly parted on one side, had entered the room. His features were slightly Mongolian, and when he spoke his pronunciation of Czech proclaimed him to be a Russian. From his undistinguished appearance anyone would have put him down as a very minor official; but after a single glance at Nicholas, he snapped at Frček:
“Get rid of your uniformed people.”
At once Frček made a sign to the two police thugs and the wardress, telling them to wait outside. Kmoch remained, and once more producing the pistol murmured to Nicholas, “If you start anything, I shall not hesitate to put a bullet through your foot.”
As soon as the door had closed behind the underlings, the mild-looking little Russian said to Frček in a cold, contemptuous voice:
“So you and your friends in London have bungled this most important matter.”
“Yes. London has slipped up badly, I’m afraid,” Frček admitted hastily. “Here, though, we are now getting to the bottom of the affair. But how did you know already that our Novak has turned out to be a fake?”
The reply was acid. “Realising that failure to get a full report to Moscow at the earliest possible moment might land us both in a Labour Camp, I took the quickest means of finding out.”
Frček gave the Russian a reproachful look. “I assure you, Comrade Gorkov, that I have lost no time; and I am surprised to learn there were any quicker means than those I have adopted.”
“You could have done as I did, and put an ‘immediate’ enquiry through to London. As it was, when you informed me soon after midday of your reason for cancelling the Novák lunch, you were so over-confident that this was the atom-scientist that you did not treat the matter with any urgency at all. You were quite content to wait about all this afternoon until your police could rake up some members of the Novák family to say whether or not he was the right man.”
In a low, rather nervous voice, Frček made a respectful protest. “Permit me to point out, Comrade Gorkov, that unless you have known the facts for some time, your method of finding them out has proved no quicker than mine.”
“And what have you found out?” sneered the Russian. “Simply that the man is a fake and the woman a traitor. Who cares about them? Or what they are, or what they’ve done? In this affair—and it is one in which the Kremlin has stressed that our vital interests are at stake—the only thing that matters is, what has happened to the real Professor Novák?”
“Ah! That I can tell you,” cried Frček. “Although I greatly regret to report such a misfortune. He was betrayed by his cousin here, and arrested in his presence by the British police.”
“You incompetent fool!” The Russian’s eyes glinted angrily. “You can have nothing but this man’s word for that and it is not the truth. With their usual speed in high-priority cases, my Embassy in London has found out the facts and cabled a full reply to my enquiry. It was deciphered ten minutes ago. Professor Bilto Novák is still at the Hotel Russell, and there is no reason to suppose that he is being kept under observation. One of our agents contacted him, and fresh arrangements are now being made for him to fly here via Paris to-morrow night. He had no idea at all why your people had failed to collect him, and was waiting to receive some explanation. Had no one got in touch with him over the weekend, he intended to return to Harwell first thing on Monday morning; but if he had had to do that it might have been a considerable time before he could have left again without arousing suspicion. Had such a serious delay resulted from your failure to find out if the real Professor Novák had left London, you would be making a trip to the Urals from which you would never come back. Unless you wish me to send in an adverse report on you to Moscow, in future you will give less time to self-indulgence and more to thinking about your work.”
Nicholas was savouring the first unalloyed pleasure he had experienced for many hours. It was clear that although Frček might be Minister of Police in the Czechoslovak People’s Government, Comrade Gorkov was his master; and it was a most enjoyable sight to see the bulky pasty-faced brute cringe under the lash of the little Russian’s tongue. But Nicholas was soon given something far less pleasant to think about. In a servile effort to escape further censure, Frček said:
“Comrade Gorkov, you are much cleverer than myself; so please do not be too hard on me. I assure you I have been far from idle, and between us we shall have the best of both worlds. While you have ensured the arrival after all of the real atomic scientist, I shall be able to offer a fine propaganda trial of the false one. He has already begun his confession, and from the witness-box he will testify to the world how he was sent here by the warmongering English as a spy.”
While forced to witness Fedora being stripped and whipped, Nicholas’ emotions had been harrowed as never before. His final intervention had sprung from a desperate urge to prevent her being tortured further, and he had had no time to give proper consideration to its possible consequences. Now, the repugnant and humiliating price he might be forced to pay was brought home to him with brutal suddenness; and next moment an even blacker chapter of the nightmare serial, in which he had become a helpless actor, was opened to him.
The Russian gave Frček a bleak smile of approval. “Such trials are always of considerable value, so at the Kremlin they will be glad to learn that you have secured the basis for one. But here you have no experts in training the accused in what they are to say. Have the woman looked to, so that she is fit to travel, then send them both on the evening train to Moscow.”
CHAPTER XIII
A MIND IN TORMENT
“I will give orders to that effect at once, Comrade Gorkov.”
Frček’s reply came promptly enough, but he looked a little crestfallen. After a slight hesitation, he added, “However, I hope you will not take it amiss if I remark that as this is a Czech affair it might be more suitable to hold the trial in Prague.”
“Propaganda trials need careful preparation,” answered the Russian testily. “Your crude methods of beatings and threats are good enough to extract first confessions, but they are never any guarantee that a prisoner will not retract afterwards; and to produce a physical wreck in open court invalidates the whole object of such operations.”
“Of course, Comrade; of course!” Frček immediately became submissive and fawning. “I am well aware that the M.V.D. are more skilled in these matters than my people. The results achieved by their psychologists with the aid of the new drugs, and physical treatments that leave no trace, were wonderfully successful in the trial of Slánský and his thirteen fellow traitors last year. It is only that as a young Soviet Republic, we are in much greater need of further demonstrations of that kind than they are in the U.S.S.R.; so I was hoping …”
With an impatient gesture, Gorkov interrupted, “Had you allowed me to continue, I was about to say that to ensure the success of such trials it is necessary first to destroy the prisoner’s mind, then build him up as a new, docile personality. That can be done only in Moscow, and it may take two or three months; but the sooner you send them off the sooner they will be mentally conditioned, and in a fit state to be returned here for trial.”
“Ah!” Frček beamed. “Forgive me if I jumped to a wrong conclusion; but it was in my eagerness to take advantage of any event which may help to enlighten the people of Prague.”
Gorkov said sourly, “That I understand. From the beginning the whole country has shown a most stubborn resistance. Our task is like beating upon a rubber sponge.
It is not enough to crush it; no means should be neglected which will help to lessen the qualities of recoil that are inherent in its nature.”
After a glance at his watch, he added, “We are due at that meeting at the Hradčany at six o’clock, and it is nearly ten minutes to now. You had better get rid of these people quickly, or you will be late for it.” Turning on his heel, he walked out of the room.
Frček wasted no time in obeying the orders he had been given. At his shout the three underlings returned. As they resumed their places by the prisoners, he said to Kmoch:
“Have them both taken to the basement. Get the doctor to put some stuff on her weals, then let her lie down until it is time to take them to the train. It’s clear now that, as I supposed, he was telling us a tissue of lies about what happened between him and his cousin at the hotel; so teach him a little lesson by putting him in an X-cell. That will give him a taste of Moscow in advance. Telephone the station for a coach with a barred compartment to be added to the train, then make their dossiers up to date. You will accompany them yourself, taking any escort you think fit. As soon as you have delivered them send me a telegram; then report back here.”
Fedora had been crouching, still half stupefied by pain, in her chair. The mark on her left cheek and jaw, where she had been slapped, stood out more vividly than ever, but her whole face now looked hot and feverish. At the urging of the wardress she stood up, and, turning her back, began to dress. As anything tight would have aggravated her whip-sores, she made no attempt to put on her belt or brassiere; but with the wardress’ help she wriggled into her slip and frock, then tucked the other things and her long-strapped satchel bag under her arm.
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