by Graham Brack
‘Perhaps, sir.’
‘Well, it’s an offer, Slonský, not a posting. She’s free to make her own mind up. Will you raise it with her?’
‘Yes, sir. Maybe after the excitement this afternoon, sir, rather than before.’
‘Good idea. But you haven’t asked me when Captain Lukas will be returning.’
‘No, sir. You’ll tell me if you want me to know.’
‘He may appear for a day or two before Christmas, but we’re going to phase him back into work slowly in the new year. However, Captain Lukas has intimated that he plans to retire next July. I propose to appoint his replacement in May so Lukas can be around to offer support and guidance. Start thinking, Slonský. Do you want the job?’
The sausage tasted like sawdust in his mouth. For some reason he did not really understand Slonský decided he should pay a quick visit to Lukas to share the discussion he had just had with the Director.
‘Come in, Slonský! Darling, Slonský’s here! Would you like some lunch?’
‘Thank you, but I’ve just had a sausage.’
‘Ah, sausages! A thing of the past for me, I’m afraid. My stomach won’t take it.’
‘No sausages? Ever?’
‘No. Too much fat, you see.’
Slonský needed to sit down. ‘No sausages — for life. I can’t imagine that, sir.’
‘A sacrifice I’m happy to make if it means the pain doesn’t come back.’
‘But what kind of life is it without sausages?’ Slonský whispered.
‘I’m sure you didn’t come to discuss the existential importance of sausages, Slonský.’
‘No, sir. I’ve been to see the Director this morning who gave me the good news that you’ll be back soon.’
‘Part-time,’ called Mrs Lukasová from the kitchen.
‘Part-time,’ agreed Lukas. ‘For now.’
‘Nevertheless, very welcome, sir. Less welcome was the Director’s plan to get his hands on Officer Peiperová and make her his personal assistant.’
‘Yes, he shared that with me. She’ll be very pleased. She’s an ambitious and competent young lady.’
‘From the selfish point of view, I’d rather hoped to keep her. Competence isn’t in great supply in the police force.’
‘You’ve got Navrátil. You mustn’t be greedy.’
‘Will he be the same if she moves on like this?’
‘Isn’t he up for his lieutenant’s grading next year?’
‘He could be. Perhaps I should make sure he gets the paperwork in. That’s one thing that shouldn’t go into Peiperová’s in-tray.’
‘Very wise. Bring it to me and I’ll sign it.’
Slonský was just getting into the car when Major Rajka phoned. Rajka was one of the good guys in Slonský’s view, a relatively young officer who headed up the division that investigated the behaviour of police personnel. It was so refreshing to have someone running that team who was not the biggest crook in the police force, Slonský reflected.
Rajka asked a few pertinent questions, then said that he thought they should give Grigar some rope.
‘If you mean round his neck, I’m all for that,’ Slonský commented.
‘If he’s guilty, I’ll agree with you, but what I actually meant was that we shouldn’t let him know we’re onto him just yet. I may just send a man to do some quiet digging and a bit of surveillance. Disclosure time, Slonský — I know Grigar, and I’d be very surprised if he’d done anything amiss. But I’ve been doing this work long enough to know that my instincts are by no means infallible.’
‘I’d normally agree with you, sir. I just can’t think why he would be watching Navrátil. Or, for that matter, why Hrdlička withheld his full reports. It can only be because he discovered something that made him distrust his superior.’
Navrátil started the engine as Slonský hung up, but before they had gone many metres the phone rang again.
‘Novák here.’
‘Ah, the prodigal returns. Where have you been when I needed you?’
‘Speaking at a conference in Brussels.’
‘What organisation was so desperate that they wanted you to speak to them?’
‘The European Forensic Biometrics Group. You may not realise it, Slonský, but I am an acknowledged expert on footprints and foot recognition technology.’
‘I don’t need technology to recognise feet, Novák. They’re the odd shaped bits that stick out at the ends of your legs.’
‘Ha, ha. Give me a week or two to stop laughing. I’m ringing about Hrdlička’s ears.’
‘I thought you specialised in feet?’
‘Do you want to know or not? I think your suspicion was right. He was subjected to a very loud noise that damaged an eardrum. It wouldn’t be conclusive in court, but it’s a fair bet.’
‘Thank you, Dr Novák.’
‘That’s not all.’
‘No?’
‘You’ll be very glad you had me to hand when I tell you the next bit. It occurred to me that the use of a short-bladed knife implied that the killer was right behind Hrdlička. And we know where Hrdlička was because we found him there and his knees were firmly in the snow. There’s a footprint between Hrdlička’s legs that attracted my attention. It’s a left foot, which is consistent with a right-handed attacker leaning forward to push the blade home.’
‘Anything distinctive about the shoe?’
‘Oh, yes.’
Novák explained what he believed he could see.
‘267 millimetres?’ said Slonský. ‘What’s that, then?’
‘Size 43. But the tread is characteristic. Of course, I can’t swear to the identification of the boot without a tread cast, but if you find the man and he’s wearing the boot, we’ve got him.’
Slonský fell silent during the journey to the red brick building, and remained immobile when they arrived.
‘Are we getting out, sir?’
‘Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose. I’m just thinking a moment.’
‘I assumed we’d come to arrest the two Bosnians.’
‘We have, but they’ll be well away from here. Anyway, let’s go through the motions. Did you bring a gun?’
‘No, sir. I didn’t know I needed one.’
‘Good. You can go behind me, then.’
There was no sign of either Savović or Brukić in the office. But, by the same token, there was no sign that they had hurriedly emptied it of anything of interest, so Slonský and Navrátil settled down to read the files.
‘Should we call the armed backup off, sir?’
‘Why? If those two come back it would be good to have some people with guns in our corner. I shouldn’t think they’ll be too pleased when they discover that we’ve been through their papers.’
‘Will they know, sir?’
‘Certainly they will, because whether we find anything or not I’m going to take a few sheets and leave them an official evidence receipt. Let them fret about what I’ve found, even if I haven’t.’
‘It’s just as well they’ve only been here three months, sir. Not too much to go through.’
‘And they’re not the sort of people to do a lot of corresponding. Record keeping isn’t their strong point. Mucha would be appalled.’
They continued to rummage for about twenty minutes, until Navrátil came across a single sheet of paper.
‘It looks like a fax, sir.’
‘So it does. But why fax a map to a bunch of thugs in Bosnia?’
‘How do you know it wasn’t here, sir?’
‘The date on the fax, Navrátil. It’s dated April. But there are two features of this that interest me. I’ve seen this map before. And this fax was sent from a hotel in Opava.’
Chapter 14
‘The hotel doesn’t have a record of who sent it, sir.’
‘But they know who stayed there, presumably?’ Slonský asked Navrátil.
‘Yes, sir, but none of the names I mentioned are listed in the register. They’re going to fax us co
pies of the relevant pages just in case.’
‘That’s something, I suppose.’
‘Shall we stand the armed squad down, sir?’
‘I suppose so. I didn’t expect them to be at the club anyway. They’ll be lying low, but they can’t do it for long without risking their empire being dismantled. As soon as word gets round the underworld that they’re in trouble, the sharks will move in and they’ll come back to find their staff have all left and their clubs have closed down.’
‘What happens now, sir?’
‘A beer and something to eat, I think.’
‘I meant with the investigation.’
‘That is connected with the investigation. I need to think hard, and beer helps.’
‘Sarajevo say they’ll send a couple of officers to escort the women back to Bosnia, sir.’
‘Just the twelve, lad. We need to keep two of them for court appearances. What’s Peiperová doing?’
‘She’s gone to meet the train with Daniela’s parents on it, sir. It was due in around five o’clock, then she was going to drive them to the hospital.’
‘That’s a tough assignment. I’m glad she’s doing it. She’s good at that sort of stuff.’
Well, anyone’s better at it than you, thought Navrátil, but decided to keep the thought to himself.
Slonský was very quiet as they ate. At one point he took out a tattered notebook and scribbled a couple of reminders to himself, but mainly he drank beer. Navrátil knew better than to try to match his consumption, and stopped after two small glasses. Slonský was then halfway down his fourth half-litre.
‘Early night needed, lad. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. But I think it’s going to be a really fruitful one.’
‘How were the parents?’ Slonský enquired the next morning.
‘Very low,’ replied Peiperová, ‘as you would expect, sir. I had a chat with them after the hospital visit and they felt a bit better knowing that at least Daniela was still alive, and the surgeon showed them some pictures of the ears he’s done in the past, so they felt a bit better by the time they got to the hotel.’
‘Are we footing the bill for that?’
Peiperová coughed gently and looked a little embarrassed. ‘I think you may have approved the expense, sir.’
‘Did I?’
‘In your absence, sir.’
‘Is there anything else I may have done in my absence, young lady?’
‘I don’t think so, sir.’
‘Nothing like signing anyone’s transfer to the remotest police station in Bohemia?’
‘I hope not, sir.’
‘Well, it’s not a big issue. Is Daniela being guarded in the hospital?’
‘Round the clock, sir.’
‘Good. Next to the bill for that a few days in a hotel will look like chickenfeed.’
Peiperová had that tickle in her throat again. ‘I may have promised them a fortnight, sir.’
Slonský said nothing for a few seconds, causing Peiperová to feel her palms moisten as she waited for the explosion. ‘It’s not worth their coming for less, I suppose,’ was all he said. ‘Now, I’ve got a job for you. I want you to ring the police in Opava to ask them a very simple question.’
There was no need for a senior officer to go to Boletice to supervise the collection of twelve girls and the transporting of the other two to Prague but Slonský thought he ought to go to express his thanks to the Commanding Officer for agreeing to the plan so quickly. Since Slonský did not want to drive he decided to sit in the Bosnian minibus while Návratil and Peiperová drove in the car. The woman officer from Bosnia obviously fancied some female company, because she clung to Peiperová and finished up in the car too.
Mucha and Slonský watched the car drive off.
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ said Mucha. ‘They don’t speak each other’s language but they’ve chatted non-stop.’
‘I pity Navrátil. He’s got hours of that ahead of him.’
‘I might ring him on his mobile just to give him a bit of moral support.’
‘That would be kind of you.’
‘Would it? I’d better not then. Don’t want people thinking I’ve gone soft in my old age.’
‘Don’t forget the little job I gave you.’
‘I won’t. By the time you get back I should have an answer for you, provided the details you have are accurate.’
‘Excellent. Well, my chariot awaits. Thank goodness it’s not insured for me to drive.’
Just then Slonský had an enormous stroke of good fortune. A taxi pulled up outside and Captain Lukas alighted. He still looked rather delicate, but he was obviously delighted to walk through the doors of headquarters for the first time in weeks.
‘Do you have any plans for today, sir?’ said Slonský.
‘No, I just came to see old colleagues. Part of my recuperation, you know. Mustn’t overexert myself.’
‘That’s quite right, sir. How would you fancy a nice drive into the country?’
Lukas spoke tolerable Russian, which Slonský had never really been able to get the hang of at school. If it had been a bit less like Czech he might have done better, but he would get the two languages mixed. After a shaky start Lukas and the Bosnian officer were engaged in sporadic conversation, so Slonský could sit back and think. At intervals Lukas would explain what had just been said, and Slonský now understood much more about Bosnian gangs and the challenges of policing in a country which had experienced a recent war. Thank goodness most Czech criminals didn’t have rocket launchers and mobile artillery, he thought.
Once they had left the city they were able to catch Navrátil up and the two vehicles proceeded in convoy to the camp. After elaborate security checks the party was taken to the command office where Slonský expressed his thanks to the officer of the day and together they loaded the girls onto the minibus.
‘These are all mine?’ Slonský asked. ‘I’d hate to think any of yours were trying to sneak out in disguise.’
‘If their disguise is as good as this, I wouldn’t mind,’ smiled the officer. ‘It’s been … interesting having them around. It certainly smartened the lads up. They’ve never taken such an interest in physical training. And the evenings haven’t been boring.’
Slonský felt himself judder. ‘No hanky-panky, I hope?’
‘No, none of that. Just music, chatter, and a lot of table tennis.’ They shook hands, and as the officer walked away a thought occurred to him. ‘And I bet there isn’t an army unit anywhere in the country that knows more about hair extensions and pedicures.’
Dumpy Anna was looking frazzled. Wisps of grey hair escaped from her white hat and her skin was glowing and red.
‘That was an experience,’ she said.
‘You wouldn’t think a dozen slim young things like that could eat so much,’ Slonský agreed. ‘Of course, I never had daughters, so I know next to nothing about young women.’ He surveyed the counter. ‘Is there anything left?’
Anna wiped her hands on the towel slung from her belt.
‘Fancy some liver sausage? I’ve got a bit out the back. I could do you a sandwich.’
Slonský was almost emotional. ‘You’d make a smashing wife for someone, Anna.’
‘I already have,’ she said. ‘Twice. The buggers both died on me.’
Navrátil and Peiperová had headed off to the cinema for a night out. There was a new film out involving some American actors whose names were obviously expected to spark interest in Slonský, but of whom he had never heard. He settled down in his office with the notes Peiperová had left him, the faxes from the hotel in Opava, and the photocopies Mucha had made after his search through the records.
Finally, it all made sense. He just needed a couple of additional snippets of information. The most important was where the suspects were, because he had no idea where to start looking, but there was little point in building a strong case if he had nobody standing in the dock.
Wherever the chief suspect had disa
ppeared to, there was one place he was sure to come back to — eventually.
Unusually, Navrátil and Peiperová were watching the film. It included a scene in which a young woman was abducted, which started Navrátil’s mind running through the circumstances of Milena’s death. If she died at the hostel, there was nowhere to load her into a van except in the street outside. He and Slonský had been obliged to do the same when they arrested all the other girls. That meant the criminals had taken quite a chance, because they could have been spotted at any time taking a dead woman to a van. Perhaps they had been seen, but if so by whom? Presumably they did not understand what they were seeing and thought she was just ill.
But then Navrátil reflected that there was a bigger puzzle. He had been working in Prague for nine months and living in the area for a long time, but if he had been asked to bury a body by moonlight he would be pushed to think of anywhere. There were plenty of places if you drove out of the city, although even then disturbed ground would probably be noticed.
As they left the cinema, Navrátil was eager to test his hypothesis.
‘They won’t be there,’ said Peiperová. ‘The clubs are shut, remember?’
‘They still need guarding. And they probably opened to serve drinks even if there were few girls. Come on.’
A Metro ride later they emerged near the Padlock club and approached the door. When the doorman saw Navrátil approaching he attempted to slip inside, but Navrátil ordered him to stand still.
‘No rough stuff, just a question,’ he said.
‘I told you all I know,’ said the doorman. ‘More than was good for me, likely as not.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ replied the young detective, ‘because we didn’t ask you one thing. When they buried Milena, they needed a local guide. You said you didn’t go, but there must have been a Czech there. Who was it?’
The doorman lowered his eyes.
‘Come on, answer the question,’ said Peiperová, ‘or we’ll get it out of you a less friendly way.’
‘I don’t know his name,’ he said. ‘It was that older guy who brings the girls in.’
