The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3)

by Mosimann, James E.

  “You are a man.”

  She kissed the scratches on his cheek.

  “I told you I won’t fight, but I’m filthy. These clothes stink. Let me freshen up first. You’ll be glad. I like real men.”

  She smiled and dropped her jeans. Hans stared. He nodded.

  She went into the WC and shut the door.

  Hans stood outside and listened to the water running in the shower.

  He licked his lips. After she kept her promise, he would return to “business.”

  ***

  Bill drove the Renault on the Chaussée de Charleroi. After a short time, Gustav touched his arm.

  “Turn here. We go towards Malèves.”

  Minutes later, Bill spotted a farm house, far back from the road. He looked at his passenger once more. Gustav nodded.

  “That’s it. But it’s not how I remembered it. It’s more modern. Karel has made changes.”

  Bill slowed to turn onto the lane that led to the house. Gustav touched his arm again.

  “No, not that way. It’s too open. Keep driving ahead, up to that creek.”

  He indicated a small bridge. Just past it was room for several cars. A path worn by fishermen led down to the bank.

  “We’ll park there. The creek runs behind the house. The bushes along the bank will hide our approach.

  Bill parked on the other side of the bridge. He looked in the rear mirror. The road had curved. The lane to the farmhouse was not in sight. Anyone driving to the farmhouse could not see the Renault. It was safe here.

  Bill got out of the car. Gustav plunged into the brush. Bill followed him.

  Soon Gustav was out of sight. Bill kept on, guided by the sounds of shuffling leaves, twisting branches and snapping twigs ahead of him.

  ***

  In the farmhouse, Hans stared at the door to the WC. He had waited long enough. When would this woman finish?

  He pounded on the door. There was no answer. The water continued to run in the shower.

  He opened the door and looked in. A blast of hot water scalded his eyes. Sightless he grabbed forwards.

  He felt bare flesh, but not in time.

  The shower head crashed against his face, followed by a second blow to the head. At the third blow, he fell to the floor. All was black.

  Hans did not feel the fourth blow that smashed behind his ear.

  ***

  Ivana nudged Hans’ body with her bare foot. He was unconscious.

  She replaced the shower head in the overhead holder and rubbed her ankle where the hot water had seared it. She stepped over Hans and retrieved her jeans from the bedroom.

  Fully clothed, she headed for the kitchen. She looked about for a weapon. She chose a carving knife from a wooden rack.

  She opened the door and stepped outside. The wind struck her face. She shivered, her jacket was in the Passat

  She ran towards the creek.

  ***

  Downstream from the farm house, Bill Hamm stopped and listened. There were no sounds ahead. Where was Gustav? Bill clasped his 9 mm with both hands. He pointed and swept the brush ahead with a semi circular motion.

  Nothing.

  He could not trust Gustav.

  Eyes forward, he crept through the brush in the direction where Gustav had disappeared.

  ***

  In the farmhouse, Hans pushed himself up off the floor. His head ached, but his first concern was to see. He stumbled to the basin and fumbled for the spigot.

  He lowered his head under the faucet and let the water wash over his tortured face and swollen eyelids.

  The cold flow soothed him. After a minute he stood erect and opened his eyes. All was blurred. Usually-distinct objects merged seamlessly together with no sharp outlines.

  He wrapped a wet towel about his face and stumbled to the kitchen. Empty! The back door was open. The bitch was gone.

  Hans left the house, face still wrapped. Ahead of him, the bushes were a gray amorphous mass of branches. He tried to focus, but with little success.

  Frustrated, he drew his gun, a Browning Hi-Power 9 mm made in the Fabrique Nationale in Herstal. He held it ready.

  Something rustled in the brush to his left. He pointed and fired.

  A Hooded Crow flapped skywards, unharmed. Hans cursed and lowered the gun.

  He turned to his right. Over thirty meters away, a figure emerged from the brush and ran limping through an adjoining field.

  Hans was sure it was Ivana. He raised the Browning to fire.

  ***

  Hans hesitated. The dim light of evening plus his impaired sight caused the fleeing form to waver in and out of focus. He lowered his weapon. Just then the runner stumbled over a low ridge of cleared stones that marked the border of the field and disappeared.

  Hans picked his way along the stone border, searching for Ivana. He heard a scraping sound to his left. Stepping carefully he circled that way.

  Scarcely visible in the twilight Hans saw a human form crouched motionless behind an overgrown pile of stones. He approached from behind.

  It was Ivana.

  His balled fist slammed against the side of her head. She fell, stunned, eyes glazed.

  Desire for the fallen woman swept over Hans body, but his anger was too great. This bitch had hurt him, twice.

  He pointed the weapon at her head.

  His trigger finger began the fatal squeeze.

  ***

  A roaring animal crashed through the nearby brush and ran straight for Hans. He turned.

  It was a man, arms waving and mouth foaming. Hans did not know Gustav, but he saw the brute expression of that face and the malice in those eyes. He had to stop the mad rush.

  Hans fired. His bullet struck home, but not in to time slow the madman. Hans’ gun was knocked free and his arms pinned in a bone-crushing embrace. He fell backwards, with his assailant on top of him.

  The fall jarred his left arm free. His hand felt a hard object, one of the field stones. He gripped it tightly and swung with all his strength.

  “Crunch!”

  The deadly grip loosened, the body on top of him went limp.

  He pushed himself up from the dead weight and stooped to pick up his 9 mm.

  He examined the attacker. The bullet had struck home. The madman’s chest was covered in blood, but his breaths, while weak, were regular. Hans looked at his own shirt. It was stained with the brute’s blood.

  He glanced at Ivana. She had risen, wobbly, to her feet.

  He turned back to the fallen madman. He would finish him first.

  He pointed the Browning at the prone Gustav.

  ***

  For a second time Hans underestimated Ivana. She launched herself at him, striking with both hands. He pushed her back. She fell to the ground.

  He looked down in disbelief. A brown handle protruded from his chest. The bitch had driven the carving knife into him.

  Could she be that strong?

  He exhaled. Bloody bubbles foamed through his lips.

  The bitch got my lung.

  Hans raised his gun, but it was struck from his grasp. The madman had recovered. Death shone from his eyes, but Hans was scarcely aware.

  He saw the madman’s hand that now held the Browning. He stared at the deadly opening of the barrel directed at his face. There was time only for a thought.

  My own gun?

  That was his last.

  “Crack.”

  The Browning jerked upwards.

  Hans fell backwards.

  The bubbly breathing ceased.

  ***

  ******

  Chapter 28

  Friday, November 26

  Bill Hamm emerged from the creek-side brush to find Ivana kneeling next to the prostrate form of Gustav.

  “Bill, help. He is hurt, bad.”

  Bill stared at the dead body behind her. He raised his eyebrows. Ivana answered.

  “That’s Hans, the man I rode away with. I’m sorry. I was careless.”

 
“Where’s the other one, the one Gustav calls ‘Hrubec?’”

  “The one with the dark eyes is gone. But we must take care of Gustav. I can clean his wound at the house. It’s warm and there’s water, and I’m sure we can find antibiotic ointment too. I saw an aid kit on the kitchen shelf.”

  Bill nodded. Gustav needed immediate help. He took the Browning from Gustav’s outstretched hand and stuffed it in his belt. Then he lifted the fallen man placing the left arm over his shoulder.

  Together, he and Ivana guided the semiconscious Gustav through the bleak fields towards the farmhouse.

  They laid him on the bed. Not the bare mattress cot that furnished Ivana’s windowless former prison, but a broad old fashioned poster with a colorful comforter. This room had windows with lace furnishings. Still there was little natural light. The evening sun was low on the horizon.

  Bill spoke.

  “The bleeding seems to have stopped, but he needs help, now. Cover him with blankets, and get towels from the kitchen to clean him up. If the bleeding starts again, use the towels to stanch the flow and call me. Whatever you do, keep him warm. I’ll call Brussels.”

  He held up a cell phone, but the signal was weak.

  “I’m going out backside. Maybe the reception is better there.”

  On his way he pointed to the closet.

  “There may be towels in there too.”

  Ivana squeezed Gustav’s wrist. She laid two blankets over him and leaned close to his ear.

  “Keep fighting. Don’t quit on me. I need you. I don’t trust these Americans.”

  Gustav opened his eyes and looked at her. His will to live was evident. He set his jaw before he closed his eyes.

  Satisfied, she went to find the towels.

  ***

  Ivana returned to find Gustav breathing heavily amid sporadic coughing. He was sweating. She rubbed his forehead with a cool towel.

  He shivered in spite of the sweat. She found another blanket and laid it on him. The shaking stopped. She whispered in his ear.

  “You saved my life.”

  He opened his eyes and closed them. His voice, too, was a whisper.

  “And you mine. Why did you warn me about Karel?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was memories of you and the house near Kladno when I was little. I felt I should, that’s all.”

  Gustav tried to raise his head.

  “Ivana, you never knew your father.”

  “I know he deserted my mother when I was born. Probably because of me. That’s why mother could never talk about him, me either. I don’t want to know him.”

  Gustav eyes remained closed, but his hand gripped hers. She could not pull away.

  “Ivana, you are wrong, truly wrong.”

  He gasped once and went on.

  “Listen to me. Ivan did not desert your mother. He loved her. He never would have hurt her. He was arrested for crimes against the State. They took him away.”

  He continued.

  “I warned him there would be trouble if he married her. She was a Catholic. When they were married, she made him have a religious service too.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Religious people like your mother were a threat to us. Your mother was popular. That made it worse. People knew her and liked her. They listened to her. She treated everyone the same, everyone, rich or poor. She was publicly religious, but she had important friends and it was a small town. They brought in outsiders, Party members from Kladno, even Prague. Still it was not easy to accuse her. They accused her husband instead.”

  Gustav rubbed his hand on the sheet as if wiping it clean.

  “Ivan was my friend and a good worker. He worked in the mill. He was a true comrade. They said he was a spy.”

  “Was he?”

  “Of course not, but they said he was. That made it true. They arrested him.”

  “What did you do?”

  He looked to the side.

  “I wanted to help, but I couldn’t stop them. Maybe I didn’t want to.”

  He turned back.

  “The truth is I was afraid they would arrest me too.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He disappeared. I was afraid. They knew he was my friend.”

  “Are you sure he’s dead?”

  “Positive. He died somewhere in Slovakia, before you were born. It would have been quick. They weren’t gentle with “spies” in those days. Husak had to impress Brezhnev. The Soviets were not patient.”

  ***

  Ivana stared at the wall. She held her breath.

  “You said before I was born?”

  Gustav’s head fell back, eyes closed. His chest heaved up and down. He gripped her wrist. His breathing slowed and he opened his eyes once more. He stared at the ceiling.

  “Prosim, ‘Please,’ Listen. After they arrested Ivan and took him away, your mother changed. She retreated into herself. She would stare out the window towards the East, towards Košice, in eastern Slovakia. She knew. She never smiled. She had lost hope.”

  His eyes found Ivana’s.

  “Ivan was my friend. I could not help him so I wanted to help his widow, your mother. I thought she needed me, that she could be herself again.”

  Ivana stiffened. She detached her wrist from his grip. She sensed where he was headed. She looked away. Gustav took a deep breath.

  “I slept with her. Later you came.”

  Ivana hid her face in her hands. Gustav’s voice shook.

  “It’s true. I’m your father. You are my daughter.”

  Ivana could not speak. She headed for the door.

  ***

  Gustav’s lips bubbled blood. He called to her.

  “Počkejte, prosím, ‘Wait, please.’ Please listen.”

  Ivana stopped, but stayed facing the door.

  “I knew your mother did not love me. She named you ‘Ivana’ after her husband. I stayed after you were born, but she became worse. She prayed a lot more. We would be walking together and she would stop on the street and make the sign of the cross. I hated that. I did not want anyone to think I was superstitious. I was in the Party.”

  His voice gave out. He paused several seconds and continued.

  “Her guilt infected me. It weakened my beliefs, sapped my strength. That was too much. The Party was my life. When you were six, I left her, ... and you.”

  Ivana’s eyes narrowed. She spoke through taut lips.

  “My mother suffered. Her grief killed her. I was seven when she died. You did nothing.”

  “I was in the Party. You don’t understand We watched each other for ‘weakness.’ They watched me to see what I would do. I could not help her, but I did help you. I got you into the best kindergarten, for Party children, and after, into the best group of Pioneers.”

  “Ah yes, the Pioneers.”

  Ivana frowned upwards at the ceiling.

  “The talks were boring, stupid. At least the parades were fun. I liked the uniform, the badge and the red scarf.”

  She mimicked the memorized slogan.

  “Always be ready to build and defend your socialist country.”

  She added its reply

  “We stand always ready.”

  She put her right hand to mid forehead, fingers tight together in the Pioneer salute.

  Gustav hesitated. Was she mocking him?

  “Ivana you were safe, protected. You were part of a collective.”

  Her eyes filled with moisture.

  “But you weren’t there, and neither was my mother. You never came to see me. No one did. And my mother was innocent and alone. How could you desert her? She died of a broken heart.”

  His eyes fell. Sadly, he had no answer. From outside, Bill Hamm’s voice sounded.

  “We have to go. I see headlights on the lane. It must be Hrubec.”

  Ivana stood in the doorway. She blocked Bill’s entry.

  “Gustav is hurt. The bullet hit his lung. You can’t move him. You have a gun. You sto
p Hrubec.”

  She turned to see Gustav, hand on his chest, sitting up on the side of the bed. He spoke.

  “No Ivana, we cannot fight him. And there will be others with him.”

  “No! Do not move. I will not leave you. We can surprise Hrubec, an ambush.”

  Gustav struggled to his feet. He stood before her.

  “But I am moving. Besides one does not “surprise” Hrubec. He has phoned Hans and gotten no answer. He knows something is wrong. He will not be alone. The devil tells him what to do. Maybe he is the devil!”

  Gustav shuddered. Ivana sensed his fear and turned to Bill.

  “You have Hans’ gun plus your own. Give one to me. We will fight this Hrubec.”

  Gustav stumbled towards her. A splotch of red appeared through his bandage.

  “Little Ivanka, you are brave, but trust me. You cannot stay. You will die.”

  “I will not leave you.”

  Gustav stood up straight. The red splotch widened.

  “But look, I am coming too. We must not stay.”

  Bill lifted Gustav’s arm around his shoulder and held him. He turned to Ivana.

  “Gustav’s right. We have to go. We can leave through the kitchen and follow the creek to the Renault. Hrubec will stop to assess the situation. He will not rush in blindly. That will give us a little time.”

  As if at Bill’s command, the approaching car halted. Its headlights went dark.

  Bill helped Gustav through the back door. Ivana followed.

  From the other side of the house, she heard several “thunks” of car doors closing.

  Hrubec was not alone. He had reinforcements.

  ***

  With the loss of the sun, the temperature outside quickly fell below freezing.

  Bill helped Gustav struggle into the thick brush that lined the stream. There was no path and progress was slow. They pushed through cold stiff branches that sprang back angrily against their arms and faces. Their steps were marked by snapping and cracking as brittle twigs and frosted leaves crunched underfoot. In the still country air, the noise of their passage was amplified.