A Conundrum

by P. J. Peacock

  Justin sighed. So they both knew, which meant they were deeply entrenched in the administration; he damned whoever had arranged that. ‘I don’t know, I have been making discrete enquiries, but it’s a dangerous exercise. I am worried. Those girls are extremely intelligent, but have been kept separate from the family and have been told almost nothing of their heritage, at James’s specifically expressed orders. He wanted them kept away from the convoluted machinations. He wanted them safe, which is why they’ve been brought up in Australia. He thought that was far enough away. I personally think he should have cut all connections if that’s what he wanted instead of allowing them to take part in a couple of the family gatherings when they were young. But there was never any hope of influencing James when he had decided on a course of action.’

  Justin thought carefully before he continued. ‘He obviously knew something that someone considered dangerous. But I cannot conceive of what. I have been making enquiries, discretely of course, in Oz, and have made contacted with the assassin. He, of course, has no idea who sanctioned the hit, which is of course normal procedure, but he did give me all the details including the message he was to give James before the end.’

  Gabriel and Martin growled almost in unison and regarded him in anger and awe. Gabriel was the first to speak, growl really, ‘You spoke to the assassin? How did you acquire that little piece of information, and how the hell did you get him to talk about it? I think you had better come clean with everything you know, or think you know about what’s going on.’

  Martin suddenly leaned forward, lowered his voice, and reminded both Gabriel and Justin of where they were.

  ‘You’re right, Martin, this is neither the time nor the place. I need a beer and a sandwich then I suggest you both come back to my place for the night. I take it neither of you have booked into a hotel yet?’ He looked at them, nodded his head, and signalled the waitress.

  Chapter Seven

  Justin’s Apartment in Prague

  Justin strolled with them to his new apartment, which he explained was still in the process of renovation. It was walking distance from Tretters, a convenience that was not to be taken lightly, he stated.

  The apartment was on the top floor of an old, early eighteenth century building on Śiroka. It was typical of the beautiful buildings from that era. Its façade was ornate, and the proportions of the rooms in the classical mode. There was no lift. They cheerfully walked up the seven flights of stairs, laughing and joking. Gabriel knew these old buildings and most had been allowed to deteriorate, but some, like this one, was experiencing a new lease of life. The fundamental structure was solid and the position to be envied.

  As soon as the door was opened, they were hit by the smell of new paint and fresh sawdust. It was a strangely clean aroma, reminding Gabriel of the time when he and Martin were young, creating ‘masterpieces’ in their father’s workshop. He looked around with curious eyes, as they all moved into the hallway and wandered through into what had obviously been a drawing room in former times. Justin switched on lights as they moved through, then with a flourish, threw open the double doors leading onto a wide balcony with the lights and sounds of Praha spread out before them.

  ‘Welcome my young friends. I apologise for the state of the place, but it will be beautiful when it’s finished. This apartment takes up the whole of this floor, so I have complete privacy and solitude when I need it.’

  He took them on a tour of his new home, while explaining the changes he was making. As well as the former drawing room, there was a study, library, music room, and four bedrooms all with en suite. It was beautifully restored, and not even the smell of paint and new carpentry detracted. It was mostly unfurnished, but the stacked cardboard boxes in every room did not detract from the ambience of understated luxury. Justin excused himself, pleading a need to refresh just a little, so Gabriel and Martin wandered back into the drawing room; and moving some of the packing cases, made themselves comfortable while waiting for Justin to return.

  ‘There must be a stash of grog here somewhere, Martin. You look while I make a call and let Stefan know we’ve found Justin.’

  Martin poured three snifters of the fine French brandy he had found, and then settled down to wait. It was useless, they both knew, putting any pressure on Justin. He would talk when he was ready, and not before as the two boys knew from past experience. They also knew that what he told them would not be the complete story. They were used to Justin and his barely disguised machinations to keep them away from the ‘dark side’ of the Family. They knew he was unaware of their true role within the family business now, but suspected he was starting to be wary of them both.

  Martin glanced across at Gabriel and raised his eyebrows in question. Gabriel grinned and nodded his head. He poured them each another small brandy and mouthed the word ‘wait’. At this rate, they could well be pissed by the time they got any information out of Justin. He wandered back from gazing out the window to accept the glass Martin handed him, and spoke quietly. ‘It’s no good, Martin, he will take his own sweet time deciding how much to tell us, so the best option is to wait until he’s ready. In the meantime, we need to decide how much we should tell him, firstly, about the meeting with Stefan and then about our directives.’ He looked up as Justin came back into the room and said quietly, ‘Keep on your toes, little brother.’

  Justin smiled as he walked back into the room. He thought about what he knew as fact, and wondered how much he need tell them, and how much he could keep hidden. Accepting the drink Gabriel handed him, he raised it in a silent toast. ‘It’s great to see you both, and I know you expect explanations, but can we leave them for tonight. You must both be very tired, it’s late, and I think we should sleep. I need time to recoup my resources. Not as young as I used to be.’ He indicated one of the unpacked boxes. ‘There are sleeping bags and pillows in there, so I’ll just leave you to it. Make yourselves at home, goodnight.’ And he sauntered from the room, cradling his snifter carefully.

  Gabriel laughed. ‘I though he did that very well, a complete piss off. We may as well sleep. I’m buggered. It’s been a long day.’

  Gabriel pulled himself slowly awake. The grey light of predawn was filtering through the half-drawn blinds. He had slept heavily and well, but now, he needed to let his mind free to analyse the information Justin had grudgingly imparted while walking to his apartment.

  It was rumours and shadows, this book that supposedly cast a less than salubrious light on the origins of the Family, and why did it matter now. It was more than 300 years ago, if the rumours were true. There was more to this story than Justin, or anyone for that matter, was saying. But was that because Justin didn’t know any more, or because the need-to-know directive had been implemented? If the latter, then they would get no more details from him, but if the former, then the implications more dire than he and Martin had first thought. Did it have anything to do with James’s murder? What could possibly be in the book to have caused this amount of anxiety on so many levels, or was the ‘bloody book’, as Justin insisted on calling it, a red herring to take the heat off the assassination of James? Only someone in the executive council could have organised both events. They really needed to talk to Justin and in a way that backed him into a corner, so the truth could emerge.

  Was Justin just trying to protect him and Martin again, or was it something he was involved in? The two of them had been the ‘fixers’ for the Family for the last two years. Surely, Justin knew that, or had he been sidelined so effectively that he wasn’t aware of it? There were too many questions, no answers, and Gabriel was confused and slightly angry.

  It was time for total honesty, but total honesty with Justin was a contradiction in terms, so he and Martin would have to lead him carefully along the path they needed him to go. The need-to-know directive would have to go hang. There was obviously a ‘snake in the woodpile’, as James would so colourfully have put it.

&n
bsp; Martin and he speculated about a personal vendetta with this book as misdirection. If this latest problem hadn’t surfaced now, they would both be on their way to Australia to investigate James’s death. The fact that the committee had changed their initial directive about an immediate investigation was strange and extremely suspicious.

  Then there was Justin’s statement that he had spoken to the assassin—that in itself was astounding. That had to have been a slip on Justin’s part, an indication that he was rattled and off balance. He’d quickly tried to gloss over his slip, obviously hoping that the two of them wouldn’t notice what he’d said.

  Justin had given them massive details of where he’d been and the number of antique bookshops he’d visited and why. He had talked about the people running, or owning the respective establishments, but in fact, he had told them almost nothing of any substance or significance. It was obvious he was not being completely honest, and Gabriel was beginning to think they would have to go around him to get answers quickly. They couldn’t wait much longer before heading to Australia. Too much time had elapsed already. Gabriel knew enough about the two girls from James and his informants to realise exactly how smart they both were, and their Aunt Meredith would not be able to keep them contained forever. Besides, he owed it to James to sort out what was going on.

  Before James’s death, he and Martin had already talked about making a trip to Australia that was now. They needed all the details of James’s activities over the last twelve months. There was a mystery that needed to be sorted. Gabriel considered the current committee members. Their thinking was hidebound with outdated morals and ethics, if any at all.

  This was the twenty-first century, and there was no longer any need for that medieval secrecy. In fact, secrecy was almost impossible, given the current communication networks. But one could mostly manage to be discreet. Gabriel knew in detail what the family business had entailed in previous centuries, but now, most of those enterprises had been modified and homogenised. They were legitimate multinational companies mostly. So where to start looking?

  He took his thought process right back to the beginning. Step by step, he thought, I have missed something. The belated and extraordinary information about James’s death had put himself and Martin put on notice to investigate. All straightforward as far as it went, then redirected to a supposed threat in Prague. What threat? Justin was no threat, or should he be perceived as one? How could an antique book be a threat to anyone?

  James died weeks ago, but the details had only recently filtered through, yet Justin had spoken to the assassin? Meredith would have notified the patriarch immediately, yet the details had only just been released in the family blog! Who had gone to the funeral for God’s sake?

  Then that ridiculous meeting with his supervisor in London, double talk, innuendo, and no hard details, yet there had been an urgency about the directive: find out what had happened in Australia. Martin reported the same, and then to be sidelined into this fiasco didn’t make sense. They had been confused about the strange directives from Uncle Stefan, but he was the CEO for their Prague holdings. He sighed in frustration.

  Then there had been that odd moment when he and Martin had first entered Tretters. A stirring on the back of his neck, but he had surveyed the room carefully knowing Martin would do the same. There was nothing obvious other than their vague sense of something not being quite right.

  He raised his arms behind his head and settled more comfortably in the warmth of the sleeping bag, letting his mind drift. He thought back to his year studying languages in Prague, and his chaotic relationship with the beautiful, demanding, and unprincipled Kamila. They had always finished the night at Tretters, dreamily listening to the current jazz band before wandering home to her studio apartment. It had, of course, not lasted out the year, and he admitted now that it would have been a disaster of a marriage. But young, idealistic, and naïve, he had proposed with all the passion and romance in his soul, and she had laughed. It had felt like a death blow. He couldn’t understand how she could spend all her days and nights with him, making passionate love, and not want to marry him.

  He had been a naïve romantic idiot, but he had learned his lesson well—not that he had become a complete cynic. He had thrown himself into his studies afterwards, and it had paid off. He really did have a facility for languages, and his German and Czech were now as fluent as his Italian, French, and Spanish. The discipline required in his philosophy lectures had helped with his unfortunate tendency toward romance. Altogether in retrospect, he was grateful to Kamila for the pain inflicted at the time.

  He had often wondered if it had been the huge bunch of flowers or falling to his knee to propose that had caused her spontaneous laughter. Whichever, it was in the past, but being there tonight and listening to the very excellent trio playing an old Dave Brubeck number had brought it all back.

  There hadn’t been many in the bar when he and Martin had arrived. Two couples, one old guy sitting quietly in the corner, and two students drinking at the bar. He reviewed the two couples. The first, just inside the door sitting, huddled close together at a table opposite the long mirror behind the bar. The guy was large with very dark curly hair cut short; the girl had short spiky red hair. She was turned away from the door and leaning against her companion’s chest with her face buried in it. It could have been Kamila, but surely, she would have spoken! He had been hyper alert, and knew he had missed something at that point. The other couple had been further into the bar, gazing into each other’s eyes, and holding hands; both very young, barely out of their teens, probably students.

  The two, sitting at the bar, both university types from their clothing, and they were talking quietly. The older man looking to be in his late fifties was drinking beer and talking on his phone. They had all turned and looked up when he and Martin had noisily entered, laughing and chatting. Of course, he thought, except the couple opposite the mirror. Bloody hell he must have been tired and distracted. So why would Kamila not have spoken?

  Chapter Eight

  Kamila

  Kamila shook her spiky, red head and glanced across the bar. She and Jakub, her tall, handsome husband had been at Tretters for an hour. Their instructions for the night were to watch and report anything or anyone they saw who could be of significance to Lucien. Lucien, their nemesis, was a charming but deadly elderly gentleman. No other way to describe him, with his silver grey hair, bushy eyebrows, and slightly rotund figure, his features were pleasant; and on first meeting, he would always be taken for a kindly older gentleman. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  They knew him as the head of an international group of ‘facilitators’—the only way to describe the work they had done for him over the years. It paid extraordinarily well, but was dangerous, and sometimes, they had real concerns. It was not just illegal, but perhaps treasonous as well.

  Both she and Jakub planned to retire from the work. They had enough contacts and skills between them now to be able to work anywhere in the world, start a new life, one with less potential to end up in goal or worse. Admittedly, they would probably miss the danger and the adrenalin rush, but since their marriage, they wanted something else, somewhere outside the Czech Republic, they thought perhaps France.

  This was their last assignment with Lucien, just a watching brief for the evening, but Kamila was not pleased to be in this part of Prague again, particularly in this bar. Her memories were not good ones from all those years ago. She had behaved badly with Gabriel, she knew that, but Lucien had been adamant, move out now, and so she did, but it had been brutal. They had both been very young, and she had been embarrassed at his proposal. Hadn’t handled it well. To be back here now was unsettling, and this bar had been their favourite hangout. She had a bad feeling about tonight.

  Jakub put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. ‘You’re scowling, my pet, everyone will think we’re fighting. Just relax.�
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  ‘I don’t have a good feeling about this, Jakub. I feel as if there’s ice water running down my back. Lucien was more enigmatic than usual.’

  ‘Yes, my pet, but if we want out, we agreed to do this last job. I suspect it has something to do with the time you were stationed here years ago.’

  ‘That’s what’s worrying me.’

  ‘Just stay alert and all will be well.’

  They leaned back in the booth, glancing toward the back of the bar where the tables were set up around the band. A jazz trio was playing quietly in the corner, old Dave Brubeck numbers, with the piano player improvising beautifully. Kamila felt herself relaxing finally. They had checked out all the patrons earlier, and there were no new arrivals, there was no one here of any significance.

  It was after midnight when she was brought out of her reverie by the sudden opening of the door, sounds of laughter, and much stamping of feet to dislodge the snow. She and Jakub both looked toward the mirror behind the bar and saw reflected two tall, fit-looking men enter. As they pulled off their hats and padded jackets, Jakub said, ‘One dark, one fair. They look innocent enough.’

  Their backs were toward them, so it wasn’t possible to see the faces, but Kamila knew there was something familiar about the shape of the dark head. And as they turned around, she caught her breath. ‘Shit. I knew this was going to be tricky. It’s Gabriel and his brother, Martin.’ She turned away swiftly and leaned into Jakub

  ‘They’re fraternal twins. Gabriel is the dark one,’ and murmuring into his ear. ‘I think those two are the ones we are supposed to watch for. I told you Lucien thought him potentially dangerous all those years ago, and insisted I sever the connection immediately.’

  Jakub murmured, ‘He doesn’t look dangerous. More like a tourist.’

  ‘Don’t let yourself be fooled. There’s a razor sharp brain behind those intense eyes, and he speaks at least five languages fluently. He’s not to be taken lightly, and his brother is some sort of scary mathematician. They have some connection to Justin, which is probably why Lucien is interested. This is just a watching brief, so we watch and do nothing else.’