This Drakotny_A Gripping Spy Thriller

by Philip McCutchan

  Nada gave me a look that said clearly, Over to you, chum. I sat down near Krajcin and asked him point-blank, “What are your politics, Professor?”

  He sweated again. “I am a loyal supporter of the Government. I have never deviated from this position, never.”

  “Forget the inquisition and the Secret Police,” I said. “I don’t give a damn, really, whose side you’re on — I’m a British citizen and I’m not out to trap you. 6D2’s a guarantee of that, so’s Max. But please answer honestly, because a lot depends on it. Now, Professor Krajcin.” I leant close, staring at him hard. “Do you support Drakotny, or do you support Racilek? Don’t worry about Miss Strecka’s friendship with Drakotny. She and I are working together on this — for Max.”

  It was no good; this was Prague and I was wasting my time. His mouth opened, and he gave a kind of gasp, took several deep breaths, and said hoarsely, “I support both. They are of the same Party basically — they are both good Communists.”

  “Too right,” I said. “But that’s as far as it goes — isn’t it, Krajcin? One’s of a liberal turn of mind, the other’s not. It makes a difference. Are you a liberal, Krajcin?” I added, “I say again, forget Miss Strecka’s personal friendships.”

  Desperately he repeated, “I support both Drakotny and Racilek, each in their turn. I am not a politician —”

  “Just a cleric?”

  He stared. “I do not understand.”

  “Oh, never mind,” I said. I caught Nada’s eye and gave her a wink. “Another Vicar of Bray,” I said. I knew I couldn’t possibly blame the man; I dare say I’d have been the same myself if I had lived and worked in Prague, and I doubt if all history has produced many willing sacrifices apart from Joan of Arc. I tried again; I had to get this man’s help somehow or other. But I tried a different tack. I said, “All right, Krajcin, all right, I won’t press the point for now. But I’ll tell you this much, and maybe more later: I want to get in touch with liberal elements in Prague, or elsewhere in your country, and I guess a university’s as good a place as any to look for liberals. And others, whom I may also need to be in contact with.”

  “Others?”

  “Disaffected elements in general. People whore fed up with the status quo even if they’re not liberals. People who don’t like Drakotny, and people who don’t like Racilek as well. People who’d like to see either, or both, stone cold dead. Are you getting there, Krajcin, or not?” He shook his head; I think he was acting dumb at that stage and I said so. Sharply I said, “Krajcin, you’re not a fool, that’s one thing certain. You’re a pretty top man at Charles University. You know damn well what I’m getting at, but if you like I’ll say it for you. Someones out to kill Drakotny and I want to stop him being killed. So does the lady. How about you?”

  He had gone very white and looked a sick man. Veins stood out, seaming his face with blue, quite startling against the white transparency of the skin. I couldn’t be entirely sure whether or not he’d known. He managed to say, “Yes, of course, me too. Drakotny … he is our deputy Prime Minister.”

  “I know. And what happens if he dies? Think, Krajcin! Prague would be a city of riot and terror, the Vltava would run with blood — wouldn’t it? And then the Russian tanks would come in again, wouldn’t they, and rumble down the streets, and fill Wenceslas Square, and the Castle grounds, and the university. Life would come to a stop, Krajcin, can’t you just see it? I dare say you have memories of what happened back in 1968, haven’t you?”

  His voice was just a whisper: “Yes. I … lost my son. He was a student. So young.”

  That was something of a shock. I said, “I’m sorry, Krajcin. I didn’t know that. But you’ll understand better, perhaps. You’ll understand the feelings of other fathers, won’t you? It mustn’t all happen again. Drakotny must be preserved. Even if you happen to prefer Racilek. Because there’s another angle to this, isn’t there?”

  I stopped, and let him say it for himself. His tongue came out and licked his lips. He said, still in little more than a whisper, “But of course, yes. Racilek … he is in Moscow.”

  “And if anything should happen to Drakotny in the meantime, Racilek is already in the lion’s mouth.”

  Krajcin put his head in his hands. I had never doubted that he was one of Racilek’s liberals, but he wasn’t going to admit to anything in words. He said, “I cannot see how I can help. What do you expect of me? I am a university man, not a man of — of politics and action.”

  “Quite. But you must know people, Professor Krajcin. To some extent at least, you surely can’t help having your ear to the ground. You must have some awareness of trends of thought, the veerings of public or university opinion. You must know, or suspect, which views are held by which people among your associates. You must have some awareness of any political movement among your students, too.”

  “Do you, then, suspect that it is someone from the university who means to threaten Drakotny’s life?”

  I shrugged. “It could be, certainly. But that’s not what I’m getting at. I’m asking you to put me in touch with someone closer to the political arena than you are yourself. Someone who can be trusted completely — as I am trusting you. I trust you because your name was given to me by Max in London. And it is because of this that I know very well that you can help me. If he hadn’t been sure of that, Max would never have given me your name. Now it’s up to you, Krajcin.”

  I waited. I glanced across at Nada, catching her eye. She gave the briefest shrug of her shoulders, as if to say, You’re wasting your time, this is Prague, this isn’t some London drawing-room. Out here people have learned to be cautious. But I didn’t go along with her — not entirely. Battle was taking place inside Krajcin’s head, and the mere fact that this was so gave me some hope. For one thing, he must have something to tell me or the mental conflict wouldn’t have arisen. Also, I felt he was a good man, a decent man who would want to do what lay in his power to prevent catastrophe. And whatever the effect might or might not be on the West if Drakotny died and Racilek was impounded, there was no doubt about the effect such a thing would have here in Czechoslovakia. I was sure Krajcin didn’t want to see any return to 1968.

  So I went on waiting, allowing Krajcin to sort things out for himself. I appreciated his dilemma well enough: could he trust me? I could be almost anybody, from any of the various factions, an agent provocateur out to trap Krajcin into an admission of his loyalties. I watched the workings of his face, wished I could offer him some proof to ease his mind, but I had nothing. It must have been ten minutes before he spoke again, and all that time I was on edge, fearing the thunder at the door below that would indicate the arrival of the police. Then Krajcin lifted his face and stared at me like a haunted man, haunted by the ghosts from the troubles of 1968, by the spirit of his own son slaughtered in that murderous year, and he said, “I believe you come with good intent, my friend. I see it in your face, also in the face of the young woman. Ours is a sad country. I wish I could make it happy again, I would like to see the people smile and be free. Under Racilek, there is more happiness than under Drakotny — yes, this is true. Nevertheless, there are ambitious men, and women also, who prefer to see Drakotny in control. There is always more advancement to be obtained by joining the extremists, in our modern world. It was not always so, of course.” He shook his head sadly. “There are no values left, no moral standards, in our world today. I despair in my teachings — and in any case nobody listens any more. I am left to talk to the empty air. If Drakotny were to be killed, my friend, assassinated, a new Drakotny would arise, would he not, and possibly a worse one? And in the meantime Racilek would die in Moscow or Siberia as surely as tomorrow’s sun will rise above the Castle?”

  “Yes,” I said impatiently. “That’s just the point.”

  He nodded. “But think — think in a different way, my friend! If Drakotny were merely to die, as one day he must … things could well take a very different turn. Racilek is still the Prime Minister, Drakotny is me
rely acting in his place. If Drakotny were to die, Racilek would simply come back to Prague and resume his duties. You see this, do you not?”

  I said, “Yes, I see it all right. But I’m not entirely sure what you’re getting at, Krajcin. Can’t you be more precise?”

  He smiled; it was the wan, introverted smile of a tired old man, though Krajcin wasn’t all that old in terms of years, even if he carried his age badly. “I must leave it to you now,” he said. “I can tell you nothing precise or specific. I am not concerned in politics and I am not confided in. You say a threat exists to Drakotny, I have no means of saying whether or not this is the fact. But I say again, I believe you come with a good intent. I beseech you to leave matters as they are. If it is Gods will —” Suddenly, Krajcin got to his feet, and gazed at me with a curious intensity. He repeated, “If it is God’s will that Drakotny should die, that a little freedom should remain in our country under Racilek, I would not wish to interfere. But all is conjecture and I say again, I can tell you nothing more.”

  “Nothing more, Professor? It seems to me you haven’t told me anything!”

  He shrugged. “In the future, in the days to come, think of what I have said to you, my good friend.” He put a white hand to his forehead, a hand thin and delicate, as fragile as a woman’s. “Now you will allow me to leave, please?” he asked.

  I let out a long breath, and nodded. “As you wish Professor Krajcin. Thank you for coming. It was good of you to spare the time.” I think I sounded a shade ironic; a flush spread over Krajcin’s pale face, and he said goodbye to us both and went to the door. As he opened it, the old nanny came out from another room and accompanied him down the stairs. We listened to him going, heard the front door shut behind him. I looked at Nada Strecka and said, “He’s a strange man.”

  “A useless one,” she said sharply.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know so much. I think he’s honest, anyway. And he was trying to tell us something — without sticking his neck out too far. The only trouble is …” I hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I haven’t the least idea what it was, Nada. Have you?”

  She didn’t answer straight away; she went across to a carved wooden box on a bureau and took out a cigarette, which she lit. Frowning, she blew a long trail of smoke and went across and knelt down by the fire. She was very, very alluring as the flickering flames sent shadows chasing across her face. The ravages of the drugs fell away more completely than ever and she looked very young — looked her real age, in fact. Suddenly she said, “I have a glimmering, and I think he could be right. Yes, possibly you are right too, after all. Not quite a useless man.”

  I stared down at her bent head, with the hair falling about her face. I was puzzled by what she had said and so far left unsaid, and I noted the drawn lines of anxiety that came suddenly to her face as she went on staring into the fire.

  6

  I said, “Well, go on, Nada,” and then, suddenly, I didn’t need her to go on, and I told her instead to let me think a moment, because I’d seen it. Or anyway, I thought I had. Krajcin had adjured me, hadn’t he, to “think in a different way”. If Drakotny were to die, he’d said, as one day he must, things could well take a different turn.

  They could, of course. But that wasn’t quite what I had in mind. When Drakotny died in the fulness of time and a ripe old age, it wouldn’t be my worry. Only if he died prematurely would I be concerned. Me, and the West. Maybe Krajcin had intended to convey another shade of meaning. To polish Drakotny off by illness — that would be very neat! Provided it looked one hundred per cent genuine, it could save Racilek’s bacon. In which case, the people who were out to get Drakotny could well be members of Racilek’s liberal faction.

  But who were they? Was Krajcin himself one? Somehow I doubted that. He wouldn’t be involved in killing.

  If the field had narrowed at all, it certainly hadn’t narrowed anything like enough.

  Nada was looking at me curiously. “You’re very deep in thought,” she said.

  “Somewhat, yes.” I told her my theory and she seemed to think it funny I hadn’t clicked sooner. Evidently she had seen it. I asked, “If it’s to be illness, that rather suggests some sort of poisoning, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Far too clumsy, and far too many loopholes.” She was speaking dispassionately enough but I knew there was a turmoil underneath; her face had a pinched look now, and the eyes were hard as diamonds. She went on, “No, something like a thrombosis would be much more convincing, wouldn’t it?”

  “Difficult to induce,” I said.

  “Not for a doctor. One of Drakotny’s doctors.”

  I whistled; it may have been naïve of me but it simply hadn’t occurred to me that an eminent doctor would do anything like that — and Drakotny’s doctors would have to be eminent men. I wasn’t unaware, of course, that in the past doctors had killed for love or money, but somehow this seemed in a different category. Yet it had to be taken into account and I realized in a moment that Nada could be dead right. In fact, there would be nothing easier. Drakotny could be neatly dispatched and, fully authenticated deathwise, would have his state burial; and Racilek would hurry home from Moscow to take over once again. There need be no trouble. Racilek would be all right and even the West would be happy.

  I frowned. What else had Krajcin said? Oh, yes! “You come with a good intent. I beseech you to leave matters as they are.”

  If my theorizing was along the right lines — if — then maybe my job was ended. The West wasn’t going to suffer, if Racilek came back intact. Of course, Lattenbury of the Foreign Office had made the point that it was in the interest of the West to have Drakotny around so as to ensure a touch of the Kremlin and thus keep liberal opinion on the boil … there was sense in that, but it could certainly be assumed that some other Kremlin stooge would come along to see to that part of the game. My task, really, was to keep Racilek in his job. Protecting Drakotny’s life — or rather, protecting him from overt assassination — had been merely subsidiary.

  I paced the room; Nada’s eyes followed me, but she didn’t speak. I stopped in front of her and looked down into her face. I asked, “Do you believe, really believe, this theory?”

  “As I said, it could happen that way. Yes, I think I believe it.”

  “Krajcin,” I said, “must know a little more than he let on. I don’t think we’ve quite finished with Krajcin yet. But tell me this: is Drakotny liable to a thrombosis, do you know?”

  She shrugged. “He was always very fit, but it’s some years since I saw him last, as you know. Aren’t men of his age and position always liable to a thrombosis?”

  “I suppose so. Is there anything else in his physical condition that could make a killer’s work easier, and totally convincing?”

  “I don’t think so,” she answered. “I wouldn’t necessarily know, anyway.”

  I nodded. “Well, we can settle for a thrombosis or a stroke. Either would be convincing — from what I’ve been told about him I should say Drakotny was probably the high-blood-pressure type — and either could be induced by drugs. How many doctors attend Drakotny — do you know that?”

  “Three,” she said. “Three, while he’s acting Prime Minister. I don’t know who they are. His own doctor, years ago, used to be a man called Palovitch.”

  “Russian?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he live here in Prague?”

  She nodded.

  “Does he still attend him?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I should think he probably does, though.”

  “If he does, it makes the job of the other two more difficult, doesn’t it? Being a Russian, he’d hardly be likely to connive at the killing of a Russophile Czech. Unless, of course, this Palovitch is himself a fugitive from the Kremlin!”

  She said, “That’s not at all likely, is it? If he had been, he’d have headed farther out than this country. He’d have gone to the West.”r />
  “I meant he might be working against Russia under cover. Anyway, he might be worth contacting, so long as it can be done with the fullest discretion.” I hesitated. “There’s another thing, Nada. It’s not to do with Drakotny directly. It’s personal.”

  “Well?” Her eyes, as they scanned my face, had narrowed.

  I said, “My presence in Czechoslovakia may be unnecessary if what we think is true. At the very least, I ought to contact Focal House, or the Foreign Office, and ask for instructions.” I told her the way my mind had been working. “You see that, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” she said rather too evenly, after a pause. “Well, it’s up to you, Commander. Don’t let me influence you.” Her voice, her whole attitude, was suddenly cool, and I didn’t understand it, unless she felt I was letting her down. But she ought to have had enough training in the work we both did to appreciate my position.

  I knelt beside her, by the fire. I took her hand; she didn’t withdraw it, but it felt lifeless. “Nada,” I said, “I’m sorry and I mean that. I’d like to see this through and I’d like to save Drakotny for your sake. But my hands are tied — or they may be. I should report the facts and then act on orders received. You must see that.”

  “There aren’t any facts,” she said. “Only theories.”

  “Sure. I know that. I’m not pulling out right here and now. I’m only warning you what may happen if the theories prove correct. There’s work to be done first. I’ll be seeing to it just as soon as possible, Nada.” I looked at my watch; it was two o’clock in the morning. “The first thing is — I’d better leave you.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “Oh,” I said, “I’ll find somewhere, don’t worry.”