She walked several blocks, no longer interested in fashions or fads, passing the storefronts without seeing them. A stomach pang made her realize that she was hungry, so she checked the prices on a board in front of a French restaurant, decided it was much too expensive, then settled for an Italian restaurant that boasted twenty different types of pizza. The restaurant had set up heating lamps in the enclosed glass veranda that fronted it, an added inducement for Jana to sit there. She ordered a plain pizza, all the while waiting for Em to make her appearance. The pizza arrived just as Em walked into the restaurant.
The girl headed straight for Jana’s table, taking off the new winter jacket she was wearing.
“Prices are very high in Paris. I had to pay a fortune for this, except I couldn’t leave Paris without buying clothing of some sort.” Em held the jacket to show it off. “Fully lined, darts on the side.”
“Very nice,” Jana muttered between her first bites of pizza.
Em sat across from her, not saying a word about Jana ignoring her on the top of the monument.
“I’d love a slice of pizza.” She stared at the pizza hungrily. Without waiting for permission, she took a slice and took such a huge bite out of it that she was forced to stuff some of it into her mouth with her fingers. “Pizza is good when it’s cold outside.”
Jana kept eating, not paying attention to Em, the girl chattering on as if there were nothing unusual about them being in a Paris restaurant on the Champs-Elysées eating pizza.
“I came in last night, so I’ve had more time than you to wander around and take in the sights. A funny story: I went to the top of the Eiffel Tower. There are signs in the elevators that say ‘Beware of Pickpockets.’ Well, we got to the top, and these people come rushing on just as I’m getting off, and I feel a man grabbing at me. So I start to fight him off, thinking he’s a pickpocket or worse, and it turns out he’s just an usher for people when they get out of the elevator to direct them in the right direction. Can you believe I almost bit the man or worse?”
Jana kept eating. Em went on as if they were having an exchange of pleasantries.
“I’ve been all over the place, to Saint-Honoré where all the fashionable shops are, then over to the island in the middle of the river.” She tried to recall the name of the island and couldn’t. “The one with Notre Dame Cathedral. The cathedral here is better than the one in Vienna, but I like the one in Prague the best.”
She continued to talk between bites. She finished her slice and looked with longing at the last piece remaining on the serving plate. Very carefully Jana cut it in half. She took one of the pieces for herself, and pushed the remaining slice over to Em. The girl began stuffing it in her mouth, again talking and chewing at the same time. “I think the Danube is bigger than the Seine. Maybe not as clean, though. They keep this city pretty fresh, which is nice. I thought your hotel was nice, but mine is newer.”
“You checked out my hotel?”
“I wanted to make sure you had a pleasant place to stay.”
“Where are you staying?” Jana asked her.
“Down the street.” Em made a vague gesture to the east. “Kind of like yours, only on a side street.” She finished the last of her pizza. “I bet you were surprised when you saw me at the top of the monument.”
“No.”
“Not even a little bit?”
Jana nibbled at the sliver of pizza she’d cut. “I knew you’d be here.”
“That’s because you’re a detective.” Em brightened, turning up her personality. “Since I’ve met you, I’ve thought I might like to be a detective when I grow up. It would be great to work together.”
“I don’t think so.” Jana signaled the waiter and ordered an espresso.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re involved in criminal activities, and the police don’t hire criminals to be detectives.”
“I’ve never been caught. How would they know I’m a criminal?”
“Because I’d tell them.”
Em nodded, looking wise. “Yes, I suppose you would. It’s your job.”
“It’s my job,” Jana agreed.
“I haven’t stolen anything of yours.”
“I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Why would I steal from you?”
“For the same reason you lie. I thought you were just a very young girl when we met, but then you told me you did criminal things.”
“I don’t remember that.” Her features skewed as she tried to remember telling Jana she was a criminal. “I would never say that.”
“How old are you, Em?”
“As old or as young as you want.” She nodded. “I can look older, if you want me to.”
“Or younger than you are, when you want to.”
“All people change their looks when they need to.”
“People don’t like it when they’re manipulated, Em.”
The girl suddenly looked older. “I gave you what you wanted, Jana. I gave Mrs. Seges what she needed. I pay back for what I get.”
“Only a small portion of what you take.”
Em frowned. “You said I was a criminal. Why?”
The waiter brought the espresso Jana had ordered. She sipped silently.
Em grew impatient. “Can you answer the question?”
“Em, I was flattered enough by the connection I thought we had, naïve and stupid enough to ignore your travel between countries, your always showing up no matter where I was, as if you were a pop-up doll made to bring laughter to my life. You told me you ran errands for criminals, that you often delivered things for them. But when you attached yourself to me, it was more than that.”
Em signaled the waiter and pointed at Jana’s espresso, indicating she wanted one. Even though Jana knew what Em was, and how self-sufficient she had shown herself to be, the girl’s composure continued to surprise her. They were both silent until Em’s espresso was served.
“What was it that I did to you?” There was a flat, metallic quality to Em’s voice. “I took nothing. I even made useful suggestions.”
“Em, you told me that you went on trips for ‘clients,’ and they would often follow you, at a distance, just to make sure that nothing went wrong and to see to it that whatever you had to do, you did, without interference from others.”
“Okay, so?”
“It was the Berlin trip. Everything became clearer there. You appeared in my room, insisting on going to the zoo.”
“It wasn’t my fault that the trip got spoiled by those men later.”
“Of course it was.”
For the first time Em looked taken aback.
“Ayden Yunis was at the zoo because he was expecting someone. He was expecting you. That’s why you wanted to go there. And I was naïve enough to believe that I was just taking a girl on her first visit to the zoo. But your employer was there too, behind us, trailing along to make sure that you got to the meeting. He was doing the same thing when the man attacked you, the time you were on one of those trips for him. He killed the man who attacked you. Before we went to the zoo, you put on my red scarf so the man following us wouldn’t lose you in the crowd. I don’t blame you for using the scarf. After all, you had been through a terrible ordeal once before, and you didn’t want it to happen again.”
Em sipped at her coffee, her face showing no emotion as she listened to Jana’s narrative.
“What were you bringing to Yunis? Details of a criminal process? Sums of money that were due or owing? Information about shipments that were to arrive? Plans for expansion of their mutual activities? There were things that your employer, or Yunis, was not comfortable putting on paper or talking about on the telephone. So they used a personal voicemail system: you.”
Em gave Jana an empty smile, then stood up, putting on her jacket.
“Sit down, Em,” Jana ordered. “We’ve not finished yet.”
“I have to go, Jana. People are waiting for me.”
“If you try to go just now, I
’ll physically restrain you until the French police arrive. You’re a material witness on a murder, if not two of them. I assure you that if I request it, the French will hold you for the German police. And for the Slovak police. And for the Austrian police. Chances are you’ll be in one juvenile facility or another, and then another, for weeks, or longer, if I have my way. So, sit down!”
The girl sat. “I won’t say anything, so there’s no use in holding me.”
“Of course you’ll answer me, and quickly. Here. Now.”
The girl stared at her, her eyes blank. It was time to go forward, for Jana to get the questions resolved.
“What I’m going to ask you for are small details, details which you won’t ever be asked to repeat again, and which I’ll keep silent. I’ll act on them without naming you as a source, if I take any action on them at all. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Em considered what Jana had just told her, then nodded a yes.
“Good. The first question concerns the men who killed Yunis. Did you know that they were going to come after Yunis?”
“No.”
The answer had been quick and direct with no evasion. Jana had come to the same conclusion herself. The girl wouldn’t have gone with Jana to the zoo if she had known that.
“You had come to the zoo to meet with Yunis and deliver a message. Did the subject of your message have anything to do with Yunis and his bank? That he was in danger?”
There was a split second of indecision, but the answer was still direct and without any of the facial characteristics that would have indicated a lie.
“Yes.”
“Did you talk to your employer about someone in the Yunis organization betraying Yunis?”
“My employer told me to tell Yunis that.”
“Was it the man named Balder?”
There was a long silence.
“I’ll repeat what I said before. I promise you I will not call on you to testify on any of the killings. Your name will not go down on any piece of paper. I will tell no one that you gave me the name. And it will never get back to your employer. All you need to do is say the name of the man your employer told you to give to Yunis.”
Em looked at Jana, trying to make up her mind. “You swear?”
“I swear I will fulfill all my promises.”
Em nodded. “Balder.”
“I have just a few more questions before you go.”
The girl sat silent, waiting.
“When you first met me, when you knocked on my door, frozen, selling your earrings, you knew that it was my house, didn’t you?”
There was no hesitation. “Yes.”
“Your employer told you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was to stay with you.”
“To use me?”
“That came later.”
“If not to use me, then why would he send you to me? To a police commander?”
“To protect me.”
Jana felt a jolt at the answer. She had never even considered this possibility. There had been absolutely nothing to point to it. But she could understand the motivation on the part of the girl’s employer. There was a war on, people were being killed, and he was protecting an asset. What better place to put his asset than under the protecting arm of a police officer? So he’d sent her out in the storm to knock on Jana’s door. What human being could refuse to give sanctuary to a little girl who would freeze to death if she were left out in the storm?
Em decided that the pause in the conversation was her cue to stand. She quickly fastened the buttons on her jacket. “Thank you for the pizza.”
The girl was going, and Jana didn’t know if she would ever see her again. She tried to get close one last time. “The relationship meant something to me. Perhaps, some time or another, we can … have pizza again, or whatever?”
“Sure.”
Em left the restaurant. The girl would never trust anyone. The door to her emotions was closed. It was why she was what she was.
Jana watched her through the veranda windows until she disappeared in the crowd.
Chapter 42
Masson called her at the hotel, and Jana arranged to meet him near the address he had given her for Jindrich Bogan’s apartment on rue Saint-Paul, confident that she could get there after her hotel desk clerk gave her directions. She also had the map if she needed it, and the crisp, sunny morning was an open invitation to walk. Jana was assured by the desk clerk that she would be able to reach the address within fifteen minutes.
With an hour to kill, Jana took a circuitous stroll through the Marais, the arrondissement where the hotel was located, one of the older districts in the center of Paris, made new again by the art crowd, the gay crowd, and all the artisans in between who were busy making a living off the tourist trade. She made one stop, at a small bakery, one of the many scattered everywhere in Paris, to buy herself a small chocolat fondant, which she savored as she walked. As the time approached, Jana made her way back to the rue de Rivoli and headed toward rue Saint-Paul. Just as the desk clerk had told her, she was at the address within fifteen minutes. Masson was waiting for her in front of a red-façaded bookshop reading a small paperback.
They recognized each other without even having arranged a signal, police officer recognizing police officer, both shaking hands. Masson was younger than Jana had thought he would be, with a full head of wavy black hair, one of those boyish-faced people who always seem to be in a good humor. He waved the book at her.
“I stop in here for English books. I get points for my promotional if I can understand the tourists. And we get lots of miserable tourists,” he explained, giving her the head inclination and lip pout that the French are so famous for when things are a bit much. “Welcome to my city.” He laughed. “I claim it once in a while, thinking I might impress an important person like you.”
“You think I might borrow it on occasion?”
“Sorry, my wife won’t let me make even a loan.” He laughed again. “I promised her the moon once, and when I couldn’t deliver she said I should stop making promises I couldn’t keep. She married me despite my bragging.”
“That means you’ve married the right person.”
They moved down the street, Masson giving Jana a running commentary on the weather, Paris at this time of the year, her hotel, his wife, and, eventually, the murdered Pascal as they walked to the address where the dead man’s apartment was located.
The building was typical for the area, scrolled iron railings in front of French-door windows, small balconies on the top level, towels laid out to dry on the ironwork, and flower pots in the corners. A very large wooden door faced the street, a digicode keypad beside it. Masson punched in a four-character code that opened the door and led Jana into the cobblestoned courtyard.
A lone one-story building cut across the middle of the courtyard, the smaller construction surrounded by the higher six-story apartment building. The structure was a residence constructed in a different style than the main building, the dissimilarities indicating that it postdated the nineteenth-century structure above and around it.
“That’s where he lived.” Masson gestured toward the one-story structure, pulling out a key. “He paid all the tenants in the building to give him the privilege of erecting the thing in the middle of the courtyard. Crazy, eh? People willing to screw up the look of their space for a few extra coins.”
“Odd to want to build here.”
“It terminates on two sides at the surrounding walls, and on the other side of the building there’s a gate leading out of the courtyard. If he didn’t want to see the bill collectors, or anyone else who might be bringing him trouble from any one side, he could go out the other.”
They walked to the door of the house.
“Metal,” Masson pointed out. “You’d need a stick of dynamite if you didn’t have the key. It has rods that slip into the four sides of the metal frame, making it virtually entry-proof. He had the
key on him when he was killed. Otherwise we’d have had to get in by taking a day to drill our way through.”
Masson keyed their way in, giving Jana a quick tour of the house just to show her the layout. The main room was large, high-ceilinged, and sparsely furnished in black and white furniture that accentuated the space. Jindrich had liked breathing room, maybe a residual need from having spent time in the confinement of a prison cell when he was younger. Perhaps this was even one of the reasons he wanted a separate structure from everyone else. Bars in prison cells don’t make for much privacy. A small kitchen occupied one corner of the room, and at the other end of the structure there was a large, raised open platform with a huge master bed sitting on top of it. To the rear of the bed was a spacious, fully tiled bathroom, and on the other side of it a wardrobe room containing an extensive selection of clothes.
There were two features that intrigued Jana. The first was a raised platform that came up to her knees running along the bottom of both of the main walls, from one end to the other, of the large living room. The second feature was the windows along those walls. They were long slits running up and down. It reminded her of the old castles that dotted most of Europe, their walls built with slit openings that archers could fire through at anyone attacking the castle while the slit minimally exposed their bodies to return fire. The raised platform would make it easy to reach the entire slit from top to bottom, increasing the firing perimeter from inside.
“Did you find any weapons in the place when you came in?” Jana asked.
“Two assault rifles, one shotgun, two handguns, a store of ammunition, and a gas mask. They’re at the station if you want to examine them.”
“Why would he want a gas mask?” Jana proceeded to answer her own question. “The man had his fortress and was prepared for any eventuality.”
Requiem for a Gypsy Page 27
