by Eric Ambler
That word! I glanced at Pashik next to me. His face was quite impassive, but his hands were tense.
Kroum had paused again. Now he went on very slowly, ‘One day — Rila cannot remember which day — Pazar began to tell him of something he called the secret of power. He was very mysterious about this secret, but Rila let him talk and after a while Pazar took a round of machine-pistol ammunition from his pocket. “This is the secret of power, my friend,” he said, “for this beautiful little thing can make a revolution.” Rila was afraid to ask him what he meant, but Pazar told him eventually. The Brotherhood were planning to assassinate Minister Vukashin.’
The prosecutor nodded and looked up at the judges. ‘The man Rila made a deposition to the effect of what the witness has told the court,’ he said. ‘The deposition is signed by him and properly witnessed.’ He picked up a bundle of papers. ‘I submit it to the court in evidence, together with three certified copies.’
The copies were passed to the clerk of the court, who handed them up to the dais. The centre judge glanced at the top paper, nodded gravely, and said something.
‘The Presiding Judges accept the documents in evidence,’ said the interpreter’s voice, ‘and call upon the Prosecutor to continue.’
Prochaska turned to the witness box again. ‘Brigadier Kroum, what action did you take as a result of what you had heard?’
Kroum had prepared this answer. ‘I considered it my duty, sir, to inform the Minister of the Interior at once so that those responsible for the protection of Minister Vukashin might be warned.’
‘And then?’
‘Then, sir, I set about investigating the truth of the story.’
‘You doubted it?’
Kroum very nearly permitted himself a tolerant grin. ‘The police, sir, are obliged to think suspiciously of persons who wish to help them,’ he said, ‘especially if they may gain an advantage by doing so.’
‘Very well. You investigated. What did you discover?’
‘That there was a man named Pazar at the house in Maria Louisa, that he did occasionally receive the kind of visitors described, and that he had a reputation for drug-taking. He was not known as a criminal. He was believed to have been at one time a schoolmaster. He had also made a living as a language tutor.’
‘And then what did you do?’
‘There were three possible explanations, sir: first, that Rila had made up the rest of the story or that Pazar had invented it to impress Rila and get drugs from him; second, that Pazar was mentally unstable as a result of drug-taking and not only invented the story but also believed it to be true; third, that it was in fact true. Although we believed this last possibility unlikely, we decided that no harm would be done by acting upon it. We therefore set a watch on the house with the idea of identifying Pazar’s visitors and possibly confronting them in Pazar’s room. On the evening of the third day Pazar did not return to the house at the customary time. That same evening a man arrived at the house and was identified by the woman who kept it as one of the regular visitors. He went straight to Pazar’s room, which was on the second floor. He received, of course, no reply to his knock and waited for a time. Then he decided to go. When he was stopped by one of my men, he immediately drew a revolver and began to shoot, wounding two policemen. He then attempted to escape, but was shot down. He was identified as a man named Eftib, a university student with a reputation for fanatical views of the kind associated with the Officer Corps Brotherhood.’
‘He was killed?’
‘Unfortunately he died before we could question him, sir.’
‘Continue.’
‘The fact that Pazar had not returned and that only Eftib had arrived for a meeting suggested to us that Pazar had been warned of our activity and had passed the warning to the other conspirators. This view was confirmed by the fact that Eftib had been visiting his parents in the country and had only that evening returned. He, therefore, had not received the warning. In any case, our interest in the house was now exposed. We therefore entered Pazar’s room and made a search of his belongings.’
‘And you found?’
‘The complete dossier of a conspiracy to assassinate Minister Vukashin on the occasion of the anniversary celebration, including a plan of the operation and detailed orders for the five men participating in it.’
A stir ran round the court. Prochaska looked up at the judges. ‘I ask the court for discretion in this matter,’ he said. ‘I have the dossier here and will with permission proceed to offer it in evidence. I ask leave, however, to withhold that part of it concerned with the actual plan of the attempt. It is of great ingenuity and, for reasons that will appear in a moment, unsafe for publication at present. It is in any case not essential to the prosecution’s case.’
‘The permission asked for is granted by the Presiding Judges.’
A bulky file was handed to the clerk of the court. Prochaska continued, ‘The witness is, of course, not quite accurate in describing what he found as a dossier. He found the operation plan concealed under the floorboards of the room and in other hiding-places a number of documents. These things were later collected into dossier form.’
The centre judge nodded.
Prochaska turned to Kroum again. ‘I will ask you now to identify the various items. Item one.’ He nodded to the clerk, who handed Kroum a clipped wad of papers.
Kroum looked at it.
‘Do you recognize those papers?’ asked Prochaska.
‘I do, sir. I identify them as those I found concealed beneath the tiles of the stove in Pazar’s room.’
‘Have you ever seen papers like that before?’
‘Yes, sir. These are pledge forms used as part of the initiation ceremony of the Officer Corps Brotherhood. I recognized them at once. They were secretly printed by a member of the Brotherhood now dead. His name was Markoff. He was arrested, tried, and hanged in January ’45. But these were his work.’
‘Read the pledge to the court.’
Kroum cleared his throat. He said, ‘The form is headed: Brotherhood of the Officer Corps for the Holy Protection of all Kindred Families and of the Sacred Motherland which gave them Birth and Honour. Then follows the pledge: I, Brother X, having, from the dictates of my own heart and conscience and for no other reason, submitted myself to the judgment of my Brethren in honour, and having, through the mingling of my blood with theirs, received absolution before the Mother of God for all acts committed in their name, do hereby dedicate my soul and body to the service of the Brotherhood until and unto death. Recognizing that between Brothers thus specially united by ties of blood there may be no contention or preference or inequality, I swear unconditional and immediate obedience to all orders given to me by Brothers to whom authority has been delegated by the Brethren assembled, and should authority be so delegated to me I swear to accept it and use it faithfully in the knowledge that the responsibility is shared by all equally and that my loyalty to the Brotherhood is superior to all other loyalties and avowals, private or public. My reward for faithful service shall be the honour and love of my Brothers and their protection of me and of my family. But should I betray or in any other way fail the Brotherhood, my own death will be only part of the price to be paid for the offence, for by this oath now taken I bind my whole being, and in betrayal of it all that I hold dear is forfeit. All this I understand and accept. All this I believe just. All this I freely swear to on my blood, my honour, and my life and by this act become of you my Brothers.’ Kroum looked up. ‘That is all, sir.’
‘A licence to commit treason and murder,’ commented Prochaska, ‘as the acknowledged crimes of this fraternity have long since proved.’ He nodded to the clerk, who handed up another document to Kroum.
Kroum looked at it.
‘Do you recognize that document?’
‘I do, sir. It was hidden in Pazar’s room with the papers I have just read from.’
‘What is it?’
‘A list of names under the word “Active”.’
‘Is the name of Pazar there?’
‘It is.’
‘And Eftib?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is there any other name there familiar to the police?’
‘Yes.’ He hesitated. ‘The name of Deltchev.’
There was dead silence in the court now. Deltchev was sitting in his usual position with his eyes closed. He did not move.
‘Is there any other peculiarity about the list?’
‘Yes, sir. Certain names on it are underlined.’
‘Which names?’
‘Those of Pazar, Eftib, Vlahov, Pechanatz, Radiuje, and Deltchev.’
There was a faint murmur in the court. Deltchev opened his eyes and looked at Kroum thoughtfully.
‘Did you say that the plan to assassinate Minister Vukashin required five persons to operate it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then the sixth person might be the leader?’
‘It seemed likely, sir.’
‘What action did you take?’
‘I informed the Minister of the Interior, and warrants for the arrest of Pazar, Vlahov, Pechanatz, and Radiuje were issued.’
‘Did you execute the warrants?’
‘Pechanatz and Radiuje were found to have already left the country. Vlahov was arrested while attempting to do so. It was at the airport and he was placed in the waiting room to await an escort. The arresting officer had neglected to search him and while in the waiting room he shot himself. Pazar has not yet been traced.’
‘What action has been taken about the other names on the list?’
‘I ask permission not to answer that question, sir.’
‘I understand, Brigadier.’ He turned to the judges. ‘I would point out to the court that at least one man connected with the conspiracy is still in the country and free and that he may attempt to find other confederates even now. It is for that reason that all information cannot yet be made public.’
‘The Presiding Judges acknowledge the point.’
Prochaska bowed and nodded to the clerk. More papers were handed to Kroum.
‘Do you recognize those documents?’
‘Yes, sir. I identify them as from Pazar’s room.’
‘Describe them.’
‘They are messages, mostly typewritten or inked in block letters on plain paper.’
‘Read from them.’
‘The first reads: Meeting for Thursday to take place Friday. Notified V. and P.’
‘No signature?’
‘None is signed, sir.’
‘Continue.’
‘The second reads: Await advice as arranged. The third: P. remains incomplete. Progress others. The next: V. unsuccessful. Will expedite. Next-’
Prochaska interrupted him. ‘One moment, brigadier. I do not think we need trouble you to read all the messages. I wished only to show their character. They continue like that?’
‘Yes, sir. There are over thirty of them.’
‘Do you understand their meaning?’
‘I think so.’
‘They have a direct bearing on the assassination plan?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then we will be discreet. I come to another point. Do these messages constitute a correspondence or are they only messages received?’
‘Messages received, sir.’
‘What initials appear in the messages?’
‘V., P., E., R., and D.’
‘Referring to?’
‘Vlahov, Pechanatz, Eftib, Radiuje, and Deltchev, I believe.’
‘It seems likely. What is the general character of these messages? Are they, for example, instructions?’
‘I would say they are reports.’
‘To the leader of the conspirators?’
‘I think not, sir. It is difficult to say, but in my opinion Pazar, who received the reports, was responsible for coordinating the information. We learned that he received no messages at the house. My belief is that the others used a cafe or a shop as a post office and that he collected the messages from there, copied them, and redistributed them for information to those concerned. The nature of the plan would call for constant communications of that sort during the period of preparation. No doubt each conspirator had an accommodation address.’
‘Very well. The messages have been numbered for convenience. Please find message number twenty-seven.’
‘I have it here.’
‘Read it please.’
‘It reads: V. in difficulty. Advise D. urgent.’
‘Is that written or typewritten?’
‘Typewritten.’
‘Is there anything else on the paper?’
‘Yes, sir, some pencil writing.’
‘Read it please.’
‘It reads: Strumitza, twelve.’
The courtroom stirred.
‘Is that an address?’
‘Yes, sir. It is the prisoner’s address.’
‘What explanation have you for its being there?’
‘It is in Pazar’s handwriting. I suggest that as the message was urgent he did not deliver it to the usual accommodation address for the prisoner, but took it direct to his home. The pencil note was a memorandum of an address which Pazar would not normally use.’
I looked at Deltchev. His eyes were closed again. He had not moved. It was impossible to believe. And yet…
Stanoiev did not cross-examine. Kroum left the witness box reluctantly, like an ageing prima donna on a farewell tour, and one of his colleagues took his place. The questioning was resumed. What Kroum had said was now elaborately confirmed. I no longer paid much attention. I was trying to digest what I had already heard.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was true; of that I had little doubt. Prochaska had an air of confidence that was not of the kind he could assume. Perhaps clever cross-examination could have made much of Kroum’s evidence look weak; Deltchev was not an uncommon name, and when you pointed out that the prisoner’s identification with the D. of the messages rested solely on a pencilled note of an address alleged to be in the handwriting of a man who could not be produced, you might have shaken a jury’s belief in the whole story. But here there was no jury to be shaken and, after the massive certainties of Vukashin and the rest, the very flimsiness of the thing gave it probability. Someone named Deltchev who lived in Deltchev’s house had been in close touch with persons desperate enough, as Eftib and Vlahov had been, to shoot when confronted by the police or to commit suicide when arrested. Madame Deltchev? Absurd. Katerina Deltchev? By the time the luncheon break came, I thought I was ready for Pashik.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘what do you think?’
‘It is very interesting.’
‘Yes. Where do you think Pazar is now?’
He shrugged elaborately. ‘It is a mystery.’
‘So they say. When do you think they’ll find that man in Patriarch Dimo?’
The brown eyes looked at me steadily. He did not reply.
I stared back at him. ‘I would guess that it’s Pazar’s body in that room, wouldn’t you?’ I said.
‘What makes you think that, Mr Foster?’
‘Just an association of ideas. Someone in Deltchev’s house sent messages to a man named Pazar. That man is now missing. Someone in Deltchev’s house sends a message by me to a man who lived in Patriarch Dimo. That man is now dead.’
‘That is bad logic, Mr Foster.’
‘It might be good guessing. Do you believe that Deltchev was in a conspiracy to assassinate Vukashin?’
‘It could be so.’
‘Yes, it could be, but do you think yourself that it was so?’
‘Who else could there be, Mr Foster?’
‘Katerina Deltchev could be the D. of those messages.’
He showed his brown teeth in a smile. ‘A nice young lady of twenty in a Brotherhood conspiracy? That is a very funny idea, but it is no more than funny. The Officer Corps Sisterhood! Ah, please, Mr Foster!’
‘Yes, it’s
silly. I’m trying to find a reasonable explanation, that’s all.’
‘The reasonable explanation is the one already given. Mr Foster, we are newspapermen, not attorneys for the defence. We need only observe and report. We are lucky.’
He had a bland, non-committal look on his face. At breakfast I had not mentioned the events of the night before. In the morning light they had assumed the proportions of a bad dream, and until I could talk to Petlarov I was content to leave them so. Besides, I was tired of Pashik’s denials and warnings and had made up my mind to discover something about the case of ‘K. Fischer, Vienna ’46’ before I tackled him again. It looked now as if he thought I had taken his advice. I put aside a temptation to correct the impression.
‘What was the Brotherhood plan they’re being so secretive about?’ I asked.
‘I know no more than you, Mr Foster.’
‘Doesn’t Valmo know? Surely a man in his position would know such things?’
‘I am not in his confidence to that extent.’
‘Did you know Pazar or Eftib?’
To my surprise, he nodded. ‘Eftib I knew. He was a young man with a great dislike of dogs. A dog he found tied up one day he beat to death with a piece of chain. The other students disliked and feared him. He was not sane, I think.’
‘How did you know him?’
‘The dog he killed belonged to one of the Professors at the University. There was a scandal. I reported it for a newspaper, but his family paid to avoid the publicity. By now,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘they may wish he had been safely put in prison.’
The waiter came up with our food. This particular section of the restaurant was reserved for the pressmen attending the trial and across the room I could see Sibley talking earnestly and confidentially to one of the Americans. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Pashik looking at me. He looked away almost as I saw him, but not quite fast enough. He had to cover up.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Mr Sibley is busy still. He may succeed with someone who has no reason to suspect him. It is very strange.’
I smiled. ‘There’s something I find even stranger, Pashik.’
