Dark Dreams

by Michael Genelin

  “A person working in parliament is involved. This person is helping to ship goods in and out of Slovakia. Exchanges are being made, which that individual is facilitating.”

  “Drugs?”

  “I tried to find out, but this is a very closed circle. I can’t get to anyone inside.”

  Jana lost patience, her voice becoming abrupt.

  “Giles, there must be hints. Anything would be helpful.”

  “Commander, if I knew what they were bringing in or what they were taking out, or who was doing it, I might have asked to participate.” He was whining again. “Not that I would involve myself in anything illegal. Just, perhaps, to facilitate things. You know?”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve been trying to identify this person of influence. No one knows who it is, or they don’t want to tell me. The street says that this person has influential friends as well. Be wary, Commander.”

  “It’s very comforting to know that you care about my welfare, Giles.” Her tone was acerbic. “And you, you watch out for Guzak.”

  “Don’t forget our agreement.” He backed off a few steps, then went to his car. He had a brief conversation with Spis, then they drove off. Jana waited until they were out of sight, then walked over to the detective assigned to the surveillance on her.

  “Hello, again.”

  “Hello to you as well.”

  Jana noted with approval that she was not at all abashed at Jana’s coming over to speak to her.

  “I didn’t get your name last night.”

  “Marta Hrdlicka.”

  “Marta, I came over to make sure that you would not do me any favor by failing to report that I received a visitor.”

  “I intend to report it, Commander.”

  “Good. I’ll be filing a report on my own.”

  “I thought you might, Commander.”

  “Marta, tell your boss, the captain, that he could be right. At least one of the people he interrogated last night may be criminally involved. It may be a member of parliament; it may be an apparatchik who works there.”

  “I’ll tell him, Commander.”

  “I’ll be looking into it. If I obtain any information of use, he’ll be informed. I don’t trust a lot of the people who are working with him. If he has any messages for me, tell him I want you to deliver them. Understood?”

  “Yes, Commander.” Marta smiled. She had just been brought further into the game by Jana. It would enhance her career. It might even lead to promotion.

  Jana walked back to her house, prepared to go back to work at headquarters, wondering, when she got back to her office, how the men under her command would respond to a boss currently under suspicion of being a criminal.

  Chapter 31

  Everyone assiduously avoided mentioning Jana’s involvement as a possible suspect. They went about their business and, when they had contact with Jana, avoided any topic other than the one at hand. Things were stiff and overly polite, but it could have been much worse. Seges tried to avoid Jana, confining himself to his office, making rare forays for coffee. Jana welcomed his absence, and used the time to go over her notes. The call from Nepal was first on her list. She dialed the Nepal number that had been logged by the phone tap in Ukraine. The operator of the Yak N’ Yeti Hotel in Kathmandu answered in English. Jana asked for the desk manager. After they spoke for a minute or two, he transferred her to the business office.

  Jana gave them Solti’s name. There was a long silence. Then the person in the office said Jana should talk to the hotel director. When the director finally came on the line, he was suspicious; too suspicious for a simple call of this nature. Jana had to assure him over and over again that she was a police officer and that she was calling on official business. One oddity that Jana picked up immediately was that the director of the hotel knew Solti’s name as soon as she mentioned it, not even requiring her to spell it.

  “Mr. Solti was a guest,” he finally acknowledged, adding that the guest’s first name was Josef.

  “Do you have a home address for Josef Solti?”

  After a pause, the director gave her an address in Hungary. Jana asked if Solti’s bill had listed any outgoing phone charges, and, if so, the phone numbers. There were noises and a pause as the man searched through his records. He told her the charges, then rattled off several telephone numbers that had been called. One was in Hungary, which Jana recognized immediately as the phone number for the house where the man had been reported dismembered. Another was in Vienna. There were two other calls to a number that had been the subject of the tap in Ukraine. The last was to a number in Bratislava. She would have to look that one up.

  Jana thanked him and was about to hang up when she realized that he had not responded to her expression of gratitude. All hotel employees, particularly at the top levels, were unfailingly polite. There was something more, an unusual event. Perhaps Solti had not paid his bill; perhaps he had had an altercation with the staff, which the director was reluctant to volunteer. Jana probed for it.

  “Was the bill paid?”

  “We had an imprint from his credit card. It was taken at the time of registration. The bill was run through it.”

  Jana almost kicked herself for not asking about the card first. They could run its number, get an account of his travels, and profile Solti on his spending habits. The director recited the credit card number.

  It still did not feel right to Jana. They generally took an imprint of the card again at checkout, ripping up the first imprint since it was required merely as a security measure.

  “Solti wasn’t there to pay the bill himself. Why?”

  “Are you sure you’re with the police?”

  Jana intuited what had happened to Solti.

  “Was he killed in the hotel?”

  There was silence on the other end. The director finally coughed.

  “He was killed while on a hike. We did not sponsor the hike, so we have no legal responsibility for his death. That has to be understood. An assistant manager merely suggested to Mr. Solti that he might enjoy participating in a hike that took place every Saturday. We have discussed the matter with the assistant manager and are convinced that Mr. Solti went on the hike solely because it was called to his attention.”

  When the director had finished his disclaimer, Jana reassured him that she believed the hotel was not responsible. There was an audible sigh of relief over the phone.

  “I think the way they killed him was horrible. I was asked to identify his body, and it was almost impossible. They shot him in the head. Awful.” He was now twittering, ridding himself of anxiety surrounding the death of his guest. “Why they would do that to anyone is beyond me.”

  “Who did it?”

  “The government people think it may have been Maoists. They acted like typical Maoists; a gang of them confronted the hikers.”

  “Was anyone else killed or injured? Anyone threatened or robbed?”

  “The bandits let everyone go after they killed Mr. Solti. He was trying to get away, and the Maoists wouldn’t permit it. I personally think they were shocked themselves at what they had done, and so left without doing anything to the other hikers.”

  Jana knew better. The killers weren’t shocked. They’d accomplished what they’d set out to do, then vanished into the hills. Jana asked the director what had become of Solti’s personal belongings. The director twittered again. The hotel had shipped them, at the hotel’s cost, the director stressed, to the home address Solti had given when he’d checked in.

  Jana thanked the man, hung up, then went to the next number on the phone tap list, the Bratislava number that seemed so familiar. As soon as she began dialing, she recognized the telephone number of the Slovak parliament, the same Bratislava number that the dead Guzak brother had had.

  The voice that answered was unmistakable. The loud, gravelly tones of Sila Covic grated through the phone. Jana stifled her surprise. At Jana’s insistence, Covic agreed to a meeting if Jana could make it
within the next hour. Jana hung up, then realized that in the present circumstances, she had better have a witness present. She needed backup.

  Jana didn’t want Seges along. Who else could she use? She needed a police officer who would not be worried about the damage to his career that association with her might generate. She called Jarov, the cop who she had forced Seges to relieve from sentry duty. He owed Jana a favor, and would make a good observer. They arranged to meet at parliament.

  The encounter with Covic got off to a strange start. There was no secretary in the anteroom to Covic’s office, so Jana knocked lightly on the inner office door. When there was no response, she and Jarov walked in. Covic was sitting on her built-up chair behind her desk, her eyes closed, her hands in a praying position, meditating.

  Jana waited a full minute; then she and Jarov pulled chairs up to the desk and sat. After a brief interval, Covic lowered her hands, opened her eyes, and regarded both police officers with wide eyes as if she could not understand who they were or what they were doing in her office. Jana felt compelled to reintroduce herself.

  “Police Commander Jana Matinova. This is Officer Jarov.”

  Covic began the conversation without any pretense of courtesy. “Why are you here?”

  “I called for the appointment,” Jana reminded her. “I have to ask you a few questions about a murder investigation we’re conducting.”

  Covic stared at Jana as if she was insane. “I thought you were here for the other thing.” She meant the corruption investigation. “What could I have to do with murder? Who was murdered?”

  “Two killings took place in Bratislava this past week.”

  Covic shifted her body to a more comfortable position, looking incongruously childlike in the full-sized chair.

  “I read about it. Who were they, and why do you imagine that I had anything to do with them?”

  “Do you know a man named Josef Solti? Or a man named Veza?”

  Covic looked blank.

  “No.” She stopped herself. “Maybe. I don’t recognize the names. I’ve a great memory for names, but I meet a hundred new people a day on this job, so it’s possible I may have met them, yet not remembered them.”

  Jana read Covic the telephone number that had both been called by Solti and found in Guzak the Younger’s pocket.

  “My office telephone number,” acknowledged Covic.

  “If you don’t know them, why would they call here, Madame Covic?”

  Covic laughed, not a pleasant sound.

  “Because of my public image, I get calls in this office for many of the members of parliament. If my secretary is here, she takes them and forwards them. If I’m here alone, I tell the caller at the other end to dial directly, and give them the number. But, if I think the caller is crazy or has an ax to grind, I hang up. Most of the time, during the day my phone is so busy they won’t get through. Which is why I meditate. Otherwise I’d smash the phone to pieces.”

  Jana’s hopes fell. There would be no way to connect Covic directly with any of the calls to the office. There was no use leveling an accusation.

  On the off chance that she might know him, Jana mentioned the name Vlad Markus, the man who had been murdered and cut up in Hungary. For a split second, Jana thought she saw a sign of recognition. But if Covic knew the name, she recovered so quickly that Jana could not be sure.

  There was a knock at the office door. Ivan Boryda stepped inside. He was surprised at seeing Jana and Jarov. Jana felt some of the same surprise at seeing him. Boryda was no longer a simple member of parliament: he was a deputy prime minister in the new government.

  “Good afternoon, Ivan,” said Covic, her voice softening. Covic knew who she had to be nice to. Now that he was a deputy prime minister, Boryda was one of them.

  Boryda didn’t bother to return Covic’s greeting, focusing instead on Jana.

  “How are you, Commander? I saw you at that debacle last night. Ugly, wasn’t it? Nothing will come of it. That captain’s looking to make headlines, like so many of them.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Covic. “Any calls for me?”

  “Nothing for you.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded at Jana, then walked out.

  “You see,” Covic made a point. “They all come in here for their messages.”

  “He’s a deputy minister, not a member of parliament. Why do you take his calls?”

  “He was a member, so calls still come for him here.”

  Jarov finally jumped in. “He must have a cell phone. Every politician has a cell phone, at public expense.”

  Covic shrugged. “They don’t give out their cell phone numbers except to people they’re close to.” She looked at Jana. “We are through, I hope. I’ve things to do.”

  Jana and Jarov left Covic still sitting at her desk, calling people on her desk phone.

  Jarov snickered. “Now I know why gnomes are the bad people in fairy tales.”

  Jana didn’t like the comment.

  On the other hand, she acknowledged to herself, there was some truth in applying it in Covic’s case. The woman would have fit into one of the Grimms’ fairy tales very easily.

  Chapter 32

  Jana called Grosse at Europol, gave him the information about Solti’s credit card, and asked him to run it through the banks. It was always quicker if the request came from Europol, and Jana asked for priority on it. Grosse was pessimistic, but he promised to do his best. Two hours later, Jana was pleasantly astonished to find the computer printouts sitting on her desk.

  The records went back for fourteen months, with a computerized note attached indicating that this was a new account and number, replacing one that had been stolen. They offered to forward the records of the prior account upon request. As she scanned the data that had been sent to her, Jana made a mental note to ask for the other records. The address listed for the account was the one given to her by the hotel in Kathmandu. That made sense. Solti would know that his credit references would be checked. What surprised her was the breadth of Solti’s travels during the period the card had been used.

  Jana counted the countries and cities that Solti had visited. There were twenty-six countries and forty-one cities. He had made multiple visits to a number of the cities, dispersed over four continents. The most frequent sites were in Europe and Asia, with the most numerous visits to Kathmandu, Myanmar, and Hong Kong in Asia, Moscow, Bratislava, and Kiev in eastern Europe, London, Strasbourg, and Amsterdam in western Europe, Havana, Cali, and Asunción in South America, and Montréal and New York in North America. If Jana hadn’t known that he was an associate of criminals, she might have guessed that he was a salesman, going from place to place to sell his company’s wares.

  There were a few things that Solti could have been involved in. Smuggling was the first she considered. Perhaps he had been a mule, transporting contraband from city to city? Jana dismissed the notion. Mules were not used over and over, particularly not on the same route. They became too obvious. Their essence was anonymity.

  Jana forced herself to think of an operation with this breadth as an international corporation. If this were a corporation, Solti could be likened to one of its executives, going from place to place, making sure that the supply lines were correctly set up, checking on personnel, making sure deliveries arrived on time.

  Jana liked this theory. If there were an international network, they would need a mid-level person who made sure all the cogs and wheels were working smoothly. Contraband, whatever it is, is invariably very costly. It must be delivered on time and to the right people. Otherwise, there would not only be a loss of valuable merchandise, but anger and distrust would develop between the intended recipients and the shipper. And with gangsters, that generally meant war. Deaths were the byproduct of war. The more Jana thought about this possibility, the more verification she saw on the pages of the credit card report. She needed to chart it out.

  She called Seges, telling him to get her an easel with a large pad of paper. Se
ges, with his usual reluctance, first had his coffee before placing the materials on her desk.

  Jana wrote the names of the cities down according to continent, then country. She listed the dates visits were made to particular cities in chronological order, correlating dates with visits to other cities. The major routes he had followed leaped from the paper.

  The start and finish appeared to be Nepal. From Kathmandu, the most-used routes were through Hong Kong, then to either Montréal or New York. The alternate route again started in Nepal, then went through to Moscow, from there to Budapest, Kiev, or Bratislava, then on to one of the three cities listed in western Europe, from there to Asunción or Cali in South America, and finally on to either Montréal or New York. Those cities were likely to be the hubs for further regional distribution of whatever was being smuggled. The trips back to Nepal sometimes included those same locations. Solti was either checking on the sub-routes or collecting a different type of contraband that went the other direction. Or perhaps he was collecting payments, Jana reflected. It was still all very conjectural.

  Jana told Seges to replicate the chart and copy the records that Grosse had sent her. Then she telephoned Officer Marta Hrdlicka, asking her to come to her office. Marta arrived just as Seges finished his copying and set the records on Jana’s desk. She asked him to leave, closing the door behind him. She wanted no one to know what had been discovered and the conclusions she had drawn, except Marta, who would convey them to the captain. As for Seges, he was glad to leave. This was all over his head.

  Marta was her usual alert self, listening and taking notes. Jana gave her the copies of the records and the charts. She advised Marta to tell the captain everything she had been briefed on, but to do it privately. Marta began to thank Jana for the confidence she was showing in her.

  Jana held up a hand to stop the young woman. There was no need for that. She watched Marta walk out, pleased with her selection of a liaison. Marta’s eagerness reminded Jana of herself when she had been new on the force, willing to do anything to become a respected police officer. Marta would make a good one.