The Josef Slonský Box Set

by Graham Brack

  ‘Mug me, why don’t you, and have done with it.’

  ‘Believe me, you won’t begrudge a single crown of it. Wait till you hear what he discovered.’

  ‘Stop spinning out your part and get on with it, you irritating prima donna.’

  ‘Coming from you that’s a bit rich. When Möller heard about the murder he went down to Ruzyně himself. Kopecký wouldn’t talk to him — that was the neighbour who found the girl —’

  ‘We remember. You’ve got thirty seconds to get to the bombshell or you’ve had your last brandy off me.’

  ‘Okay, keep your hair on, while you still can. Kopecký wouldn’t talk to him, but Hruška would. You see, Hruška was an old man, an ex-civil servant. But he joined the civil service during the First World War. In those days, they did all their business in German, so he was a fluent German speaker, and so was Möller, who had been brought up speaking it in Hungary.’

  ‘But Hruška was stone deaf. Interviewing him had been a waste of time.’

  ‘Deaf, yes. Daft, no. He hadn’t heard anything, it’s true. And he hadn’t seen anyone leave. But none of the police had asked him the right question, and Möller did.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He wrote it down and Hruška wrote out the answer. It worked perfectly well. Hruška didn’t see anyone leave, but he had seen people come, and he said so.’

  Slonský leaned forward eagerly.

  ‘Who did he see?’

  ‘He didn’t give names, but look what he said.’

  Valentin traced his finger over the translation of the report, indicating a sentence in the middle of the page.

  Slonský read it and smiled triumphantly.

  ‘Soldiers. He saw two soldiers.’

  ‘That doesn’t appear anywhere else, and in the subsequent days it disappears and they just become two men, before finally they are transformed into Bartoš and he is hanged for it. But at the time of the first Hungarian report, they’re soldiers.’

  Back in the office, Slonský kept his coat on and walked straight past his desk to Navrátil’s, where he opened the drawer. It took Navrátil a few seconds to realise that Slonský was inspecting his academy passing-out photograph.

  ‘I thought you were going to give this to your mum.’

  ‘I am. I just want to get it framed first.’

  ‘You’re taking your time.’

  ‘It’s expensive,’ Navrátil explained. ‘The police don’t pay me enough to do it properly, so I’m saving until I can.’

  Slonský turned to face his young assistant. The smile on his face was reminiscent of a deranged cherub.

  ‘Let me pay for it as a graduation present. I insist.’

  ‘Why would you do that, sir?’

  ‘Because you’re about to solve this case for me, lad.’ Slonský laid the photograph on Navrátil’s desk. ‘Who was your best friend at the academy, Navrátil?’

  Navrátil responded at once. ‘Him.’

  ‘The one next to your right shoulder?’

  ‘That’s right. His name was…’

  ‘I’m not interested in his name, lad,’ replied Slonský, who was out of the door in the blink of an eye.

  Slonský was feeling lucky. His enquiry at the Army Personnel Office had produced a list of names.

  ‘Do you know where any of these men are now?’ he asked.

  ‘Certainly,’ said the clerk. ‘We all know that one.’

  ‘Zelenka?’

  ‘Major-General Zelenka. He’s upstairs. He’s our boss.’

  ‘I need to see him.’

  ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘You will be, if I don’t see him today. I need two minutes with him, absolute maximum.’

  ‘I’ll ask.’

  ‘You do that. If he says no, keep asking until he says yes. That usually works for me.’

  But Zelenka did not say no. A dour, humourless man, utterly unremarkable apart from the two stars on each epaulette. He did not have a photograph of his national service class there, but given a name to conjure with, he remembered him well, though wondering whatever became of him, because he would never have made a soldier. Asked who the man’s best friend was, he volunteered another name on Slonský’s list.

  ‘I probably have that photograph at home,’ said Zelenka. ‘I could send it on.’

  ‘If you can, sir, that would be good. But all I need to know is whether those two are standing next to each other.’

  ‘I’d be surprised if they weren’t,’ said Zelenka. ‘They were like a man and his shadow. Big man, smaller shadow.’

  And in that moment Slonský knew who had killed Jana Válková. Now all he had to do was prove it, thirty years later.

  Chapter 14

  Dvorník had scoured hours of video footage but had not seen a van that could definitely be identified as the one that collected Peiperová. However, being a man of a mathematical disposition, he unrolled a map of Prague, marked the kidnapping point, and then drew pencilled circles showing the distance that would be covered by a vehicle driving at 50 kilometres per hour, on the basis that anything faster might trigger a speeding fine. The first circle was set at around 1667 metres, the distance it might have covered in two minutes; the second was a further two minutes beyond that, and there was a third one two minutes further out. It was, of course, possible that the driver had doubled back or turned off, but Dvorník had a hunch that the driver would want to get out of the city centre by the most direct route. The van had probably been waiting for Peiperová, so there was no point in looking for the inward journey, but by knowing where the van could be expected to be on the way out of town he could narrow his search.

  After a couple of hours of scanning video, he saw it. Not wishing to trust his line of thought he fetched Navrátil, explained what he was doing, and ran the footage again.

  ‘You see there? At the end of the bridge, going along the river. That’s around four minutes after Peiperová was snatched, if Slonský’s timing is right. But the main reason for thinking this could be the one is what happens at the traffic light a little later.’

  Navrátil watched closely. The video was apparently taken from an office building near the Hilton hotel. The van was about to enter an underpass and suddenly swerved between lanes.

  ‘See that? That’s a change of plan. If he hadn’t done that he’d have been sitting at the red signal right opposite a police car. Instead he turned right, jumping the light to do it. And notice the back windows of the van are obscured.’

  ‘Good enough for me,’ said Navrátil. ‘Can we get the registration number?’

  ‘It’s a bit blurry, but if we go through frame by frame we may get all the digits.’

  They pieced together a registration and rang it through. A few minutes later their call was returned.

  ‘Registered to the Silver Rings Gymnasium and Spa. Mean anything to you?’

  ‘I think it’s one of Griba’s places,’ said Dvorník. ‘Tatty as hell outside but well set up within.’

  ‘I’ll get a message to the patrol cars to keep an eye out for it. Should we go to the gym, lieutenant?’

  Dvorník thought for a moment.

  ‘It’s Slonský’s case. I know what I’d do, but we’d better ask him.’

  ‘I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Neither do I. Stuff it, let’s go.’

  Slonský was reflecting on a successful day. If he was honest, he was finding Navrátil a bit of a trial at the moment. Granted, he had not yet found Peiperová, but there was no logical reason for anyone to harm her. Then again, criminals were not the most logical of people. Free from distractions, Slonský would do what he did best; drink and think.

  A large beer before him, a plate of salami and bread and a selection of pickles at his right hand, his hat on the bar counter, Slonský began to piece together the jigsaw of clues. Like a master symphonist, he looked for themes.

  First theme: Válková’s death would be brought home to somebody — let’s call them A and B for
the moment — but who had stalled the investigation by pulling Holoubek off it? We know Válek’s sister-in-law took the credit but in fact the conspirators must have been able to influence that somehow.

  Second theme: Bartoš comes into the story. He had stolen some money from someone in high places who wanted revenge, and whoever it was knew where to find him because the nincompoop tried to flog an Order of Lenin or something similar in Olomouc, so he was a sitting duck. Already in jail, with a criminal record, he could be set up. And whoever it was who set him up did so either to get cheap revenge, or to distract from the real culprits, or both.

  Third theme: Vaněček, who had been conned during the Válková investigation, and should have known it thanks to Holoubek, suddenly starts mouthing off about something that leads to his death in police custody. But what triggered that? He had kept his mouth shut for three years, so why blurt it out now? Was it just the compulsory retirement? Or did something happen that stirred even Vaněček into action? And who had the standing to order his arrest on pretty vague grounds?

  Fourth theme: Old Holoubek, whose conscience was troubling him, is run down in broad daylight while crossing the road. We know who did this one — Roman Pluskal — but who put him up to it? Presumably somebody was scared of what Holoubek might know, but the events Holoubek knew about were thirty years old. Why leave him alive all that time, but kill him now? The obvious answer was because he was trying to get Slonský to reopen the case, but the killers cannot have known that Slonský would take it on, or that he would get anywhere if he did. The reason has to be fear. There must still be evidence out there that the killers know about but cannot secure, but what can that be?

  Fifth theme: as a mark of respect to Slonský’s investigative powers, they kidnap an assistant to get him to back off. Admittedly they seem to have thought she was a family member, but the principle holds true. But that’s a sign of desperation. If they hurt her, they lose their hold on him, and earn his perpetual hatred which would, in due time, probably cost them a few broken ribs for starters. Against that, if he holds back for a while and they let her go, they must know that he would just start up again. After thirty years, waiting another year or two would not be an issue. And how would they know that he had backed off? He could tell them anything, if they bothered to contact him again, and he was not convinced that they would.

  Sixth theme: what is the link between the killers and Griba? He seems prepared to do a lot for them, considering that he was not active in crime when the early events took place. Slonský tried to recall the crime history of Griba in his folder. He did not remember a contract killing. Certainly some enforcement, a lot of graft, some “teaching of lessons”, but no killing; so why had Griba accepted this job? Was it just money? Pluskal would eventually go to jail and Griba could not prevent that, but until he brought Pluskal in he would never know who persuaded Griba, and how Griba persuaded Pluskal to risk a long sentence.

  Slonský poured the last of his beer down his throat. It was time to find Pluskal. Do that, and all the rest would fall into place. Find Pluskal, and he explains what Griba was doing. Find Griba, and we discover just who has the clout to push him around. Find that person, and we have our murderer, and he will lead us to his mate.

  Dvorník and Navrátil pushed open the swing doors and looked around the gymnasium. Seeing them standing there in their street clothes, including Dvorník’s overcoat, since he felt the cold cruelly, a young woman in a vest top and tracksuit trousers marched towards them.

  ‘Come to sign up?’ she asked, tilting her head to one side as if well aware that the simple answer was no, but there might be a more interesting one.

  ‘Never in a million years,’ said Dvorník, who had instructed Navrátil to let him do the talking. ‘We’ve come to collect Roman Pluskal.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Roman Pluskal.’

  ‘I’m sorry, there must be some mistake. We don’t have a Roman Pluskal, unless it’s the name of one of these members.’

  ‘No, love, he’s staff.’

  ‘Not here he isn’t. And who are you anyway?’

  Dvorník silently showed his badge.

  ‘Police? Look, whatever this Pluskal character has done, it has nothing to do with us.’

  ‘Really?’

  Dvorník unfolded a piece of paper taken from his inside pocket.

  ‘That’s Pluskal driving the van. And that van is registered to this gym.’

  The young woman inspected the photograph carefully, chewing her lip as a sign of perplexity.

  ‘I didn’t know we had a van. God knows I’d have used it to move equipment if I had. And I don’t know this guy at all.’

  Dvorník reclaimed the picture and folded it carefully before returning it to his jacket.

  ‘You see, I’d like to believe you, but frankly I can’t take the chance. This man snatched a policewoman and we want her back, unharmed and soon. So if you have a head office or a contact with Griba, you might pass the message to him that he had better do as we want.’

  ‘Griba? Who is Griba?’

  ‘Okay, have it your way. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you really don’t know anything about the drugs, protection rackets, sex trafficking, prostitution and illegal gambling that goes on in this organisation, because you’re young and innocent. But if anyone asks what we wanted, you’ll be able to tell them, won’t you?’

  Dvorník turned to leave and motioned Navrátil to follow. The woman watched them for a few metres, then walked away.

  Slonský waved for a waiter to get refills for Navrátil and himself.

  ‘Dvorník moves in dirty circles and he can take care of himself. They’ll respect that. Of course, it means they’ll shoot first and warn him later. I’m more concerned that if Pluskal didn’t know we were on to him, he may now. And I hope she wasn’t lying, because if Griba is under threat he may get nasty.’

  The waiter was hovering, tray poised to remove the empties.

  ‘I don’t know what you put in my glass, but that horse isn’t fit for work. We’ll have two more from the barrel you opened last. Got any sausages?’

  ‘We will have when the chef catches that horse,’ said the waiter.

  Slonský laughed and punched him playfully on the arm.

  ‘You topped me,’ he announced. ‘But some sausage and bread would be good.’

  Navrátil sat hunched and dejected.

  ‘They could be doing terrible things to her and we’re laughing and joking.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you they have no reason to hurt her? And we’re making headway. We just need them to make contact again so we can find anything we can about them. And don’t forget every policeman in Prague is keeping an eye peeled for Pluskal. If he steps outside, we’ll hear about it. Now, the best thing we can do is force down a bite to keep our strength up, keep well hydrated, and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow could be a long day.’

  ‘I’m off to bed then,’ said Navrátil. ‘I’ll get in at six to get started right after dawn.’

  Slonský sighed.

  ‘And of course I’ll do the same,’ he replied reluctantly.

  Chapter 15

  Slonský’s hand snaked out and batted the top of the alarm clock, but the ringing did not stop. A second clout knocked the clock on the floor, but the ringing continued brightly. It was only then that Slonský realised that it was the telephone.

  ‘Slonský.’

  ‘You want to be here, sir,’ said Navrátil, who sounded feverish.

  ‘You’re wrong there, lad, that’s the last place…’

  ‘Peiperová rang you.’

  Slonský sat up with a start.

  ‘Rang me? How?’

  ‘With a phone, I suppose.’

  ‘But Ricka said her phone was out of service. What did she say?’

  ‘She doesn’t know where she is, but she left us a few clues. She rang your answerphone so the message is still there.’

 
‘Right, lad, call Ricka and get the lout out of bed on my orders. I want to know where she called from and when. I’m on my way. Whatever Ricka says, do it. I want this particular lemon squeezed till we’ve got all the juice out.’

  Ricka was strangely compliant. It seemed that he needed very little sleep, possibly because the most strenuous thing he did all day was to prise the top off his yogurt at lunchtime. He appeared in the office within fifteen minutes carrying a couple of laptops.

  ‘This phone?’ he barked.

  Since it was the only one with a flashing red light, Navrátil saw no need to respond positively, but it was of no importance because Ricka started hooking up cables to the phone socket anyway. Before he had finished Slonský erupted into the room with the appearance of a man who had dressed himself by letting his wardrobe topple over onto him.

  ‘Don’t touch!’ yelped Ricka. ‘Just a minute more.’ He produced a little silver box and connected it to one of the laptops. ‘Got any more plug sockets?’

  Navrátil pushed a waste paper basket aside to expose one by his desk.

  ‘Great. We’re away. First off, I’m going to play the message and record it so we can’t lose it. Ready?’

  The others nodded. Slonský had never been big on patience and he had already held his tongue longer than it had ever been held before in like circumstances. He rapped his fingertips impatiently on the filing cabinet. The message began to play and they could hear Peiperová’s whispered voice.

  ‘Sir? Sir? It’s Kristýna.’

  So that’s her name, thought Slonský. Must try to remember that.

  ‘They drove me about twenty minutes. I’m one floor up in what sounds like a warehouse. There’s no activity inside but there’s a bit of traffic noise. They took my phone but they stopped looking before they found the mobile you gave me. I’ll turn it off to save the battery but I’ll try to put it back on for a few minutes after eight o’clock. I can’t see what the time is now — there’s no light. I’m okay, they’re treating me all right, but it’s cold and my hands and feet are tied. I hope you get this. Don’t know what else to say. Tell Navrátil I’m looking forward to seeing him soon. And you of course, sir. Oh, the window must face south because the sun comes in at midday. Right, I’ll phone later if I can. Bye.’