by Graham Brack
‘He’s in the hut, sir. Shot twice at close range.’
Slonský stood with his hands on his hips. ‘Well, you seem to have sorted this all out very well for me. Let’s get the casualties to hospital and Dvorník and I will take Rezek back to Prague and see how many times he falls out of our hands on the way to the interview room.’
Colonel Rajka insisted that either he or Major Lukas should be present during the interview to guard against any future accusations of brutality during questioning. He actually said “false accusations”, but if Slonský had had his way there would have been nothing false about them.
Jerneková was sent to the canteen to fetch three coffees, one for each officer and one for the prisoner. Mucha saw her with the tray and held the door open for her.
‘You thirsty?’ he said.
‘None of these are for me. One for Captain Slonský, one for Major Lukas, and one for the prisoner.’
‘I’m sorely tempted to spit in his,’ Mucha admitted.
‘Don’t bother,’ Jerneková smiled. ‘I already have.’
She pushed open the interview room door and handed the coffees around. As she left she found herself face to face with Colonel Rajka.
‘You did well today, Officer Jerneková,’ he said. ‘I can see now why Slonský was so keen to have you joining his team.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘How long have you got left on your basic training?’
‘Just one more week, sir.’
Rajka nodded, turned and began to walk away. ‘See out that week, Jerneková, then I think you’ve done long enough in uniform. You can do your remaining rotations here. For form’s sake we’ll say it’s six months with me, six with Lieutenant Dvorník and six with Captain Slonský, but so long as you keep your nose clean we can work around the formalities.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Jerneková replied, and followed Rajka along the corridor. He’s not as big a tosser as I thought, she mused to herself.
Slonský and Lukas had questioned suspects together many times in the past. Although each had now been elevated one rank, they quickly resumed their respective roles, Lukas being the good cop, keen on fairness and the integrity of the system, and Slonský threatening to obtain the confession he knew would eventually be forthcoming by being “persuasive”, which he pronounced in such a way as to suggest to the unhappy prisoner that it might be a euphemism.
Rezek had been trained not to give up information, and neither officer believed that this was going to be easy. On the other hand, Rezek was proud of what he had done and was defiantly maintaining that any man would have done it too.
‘I’m not talking about what you did today,’ said Slonský.
‘It’s actually yesterday now,’ murmured Lukas, pointing at his watch. ‘Just to avoid confusion on the recording.’
‘Quite right,’ said Slonský, ‘it is now 01:20, so the events to which I referred happened yesterday. But since I’m not talking about those let’s press on, shall we? Let’s go back to 1970 and the death of Tomas Kašpar. Incidentally, it’s quite an achievement to murder a father and son thirty-eight years apart. There can’t be many people who have done that.’
‘I was an obedient servant of the State,’ claimed Rezek. ‘What I did was in accordance with my instructions at the time.’
‘You’re claiming you were ordered to kill him?’ Lukas asked.
‘No, I was ordered to use particular methods to obtain information, following which he died,’ Rezek replied. ‘There is a difference.’
‘Is there?’ Slonský snapped. ‘You do something, you meant to do it, and someone died. Seems a pretty straightforward description of murder to me.’
‘I had done it many times before. I was not to know that the young man we were questioning had a heart defect.’
‘Unfortunately, the informality of your approach is going to make it quite hard for you to prove that you didn’t know. And I can’t imagine we’ll find too many witnesses willing to come forward and support your claim that they withstood the voltage with no ill effects.’
‘I don’t doubt you can get a conviction,’ Rezek sniffed. ‘But my conscience is clear.’
‘And Bartek and Toms? Had your experience taught you that if you do it right men can survive being shot in the back of the head at close range?’
‘I was ordered to execute them. I am no more to be criticised than the members of a firing squad.’
‘I see. But — and you’ll correct me if I’m wrong — you were a General in the StB and deputy head of your section. Who could give you orders? I’d have thought a General had to be a bit of a self-starter, doesn’t he?’
‘Officers were required to show initiative at times, yes, but always within a framework of properly authorised orders laid down by competent authorities.’
‘And who were these competent authorities of whom you speak?’
‘The organs of the Party, of course. The Party and the State were one.’
‘So when you shot Bartek and Toms, were you wearing your Party hat or your State hat?’
‘Both.’
‘And which one are you talking through now?’
Peiperová was surprised when the door opened and Jerneková walked in.
‘It’s after one o’clock,’ she said. ‘You should go home.’
‘Hark who’s talking,’ Jerneková replied. ‘At least I’ve had a wash and something to eat. How is he?’
‘He’s doing all right, thanks. He came round in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. They sent me outside while they check him over again. There’s no bleeding in his brain, just a big lump on the back of his head, and a nasty bruise to his lower ribs where the second bullet hit him. The first one had enough force to go right through his vest and hit his chest, but it didn’t penetrate far and he didn’t bleed much from it.’
‘I thought bulletproof vests were supposed to, you know, be proof against bullets.’
‘Most of the time they are, but if you’re that close, it’s asking a lot of any garment to protect you.’
‘It’s lucky they went back to the car and put them on.’
‘Jan insisted.’
Jerneková nodded. ‘I’ll never complain about how uncomfortable those things are again,’ she said, ‘even if they were designed by men who didn’t allow for boobs.’
Peiperová was staring at the blank wall of the corridor. They passed some time in silence together, then Peiperová’s face crumpled in tears once more. ‘I don’t know if I can go on doing this, Lucie. When I thought he was dead…’ Her voice tailed away.
‘When you thought he was dead — what?’
Peiperová wiped her eyes and blew her nose, trying to compose herself. ‘I was thinking back to a case about eighteen months ago. An undercover officer was stabbed to death and I had to visit his widow. They had a little boy and I watched her trying to come to terms with it all and thought that I couldn’t handle it as well as she was. I couldn’t imagine kissing my husband goodbye and not knowing if he would come home again. And today, when Jan was shot, it all came back. Can I go on being a police officer and put myself through that?’ She stopped and looked at Jerneková.
‘Well, that’s a load of crap for a start,’ her junior told her.
‘What?’
‘You would have had the same feelings if you were in the police or out of it. It’s not you being a police officer that’s the problem, but him. He’d have been just as shot and you’d have been just as crushed if you were sitting at home unemployed. And take it from one who knows, being unemployed isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’
Peiperová could not quite believe what she was hearing.
‘And look at it from Jan’s point of view,’ Jerneková continued. ‘Suppose Rezek had turned left instead of right. He’d have shot you and Jan would have had to come to terms with being without you. Do you think for one minute he’d be sitting here wittering on about giving it all up?’
‘Probably not.�
��
‘No, probably not. Thank you. I rest my case. Nothing is gained by either of you giving up your careers. The best thing you can do is get yourself promoted into a nice safe desk job as fast as you can. Majors and Colonels don’t get shot on duty. We do.’
‘I had a nice safe desk job,’ Peiperová confided. ‘I was bored to tears.’
‘Well, there you are. Like somebody or other said once in some book I had to read at school, everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.’
‘You really believe that?’
Jerneková considered for a while. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly, ‘I think I do. I mean, look at what my life was like six months ago, and where I am now. I’ve got a secure job, I’ve got money in my purse, I’ve got a room to call my own, I’ve got prospects and I’m living in Prague rather than a suburb of a dead-end city made mainly of concrete. That’s progress. And until yesterday you and Jan were living the dream. You’re getting married — congratulations, by the way — and you’ve got a nice flat and a decent wage, you’re both highly thought of and you’re both good at what you do. Captain Slonský is taking bets on which of you two will make Director of Police first.’
‘Is he? Who is his money on?’
‘He won’t say.’
Peiperová felt cheered by her colleague’s comments, however unorthodox their expression. ‘Do you know how Ivo and Hauzer are doing? Jan wasn’t the only one hurt today, after all.’
‘Hauzer’s okay. They’re keeping him in for observation only because he was unconscious for a while, but he was quite chirpy when I saw him earlier. Ivo’s not so good. Taking Rezek’s weight on his arm has done a lot of damage to his shoulder. They say he’s going to need an exploratory operation tomorrow morning and then a prolonged period of physiotherapy to get his arm back in use. They’re hoping the nerves weren’t too badly damaged.’
‘Poor Ivo. I didn’t realise. I feel guilty now that I was obsessing about Jan when Ivo needed us.’
‘You were doing what seemed right at the time. Ivo understands. They’ve given him some heavy duty stuff to deal with the pain.’
‘Is he comfortable now?’
‘I don’t know about comfortable. The last I heard he was babbling about angels and fairies.’
‘Must be good stuff,’ Peiperová smiled.
‘Has anyone told Jan’s mother?’
Peiperová’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God! I forgot all about her.’
‘Don’t worry. Let the poor woman get her sleep. I’ll drop round in the morning if you give me her address.’
‘It ought to be me. I’m the future daughter-in-law.’
‘No, you’ll be fast asleep if you’ve got any sense. Besides which, I’m a better liar than you. When I tell her he fell over and banged his head I’ll be a lot more convincing than you will be.’
Chapter 19
Rajka was beginning to understand why people watched wildlife films. There was something impressive about the way that Slonský and Rezek were challenging each other in a display akin to two stags disputing ownership of the highest crag on the hillside.
Lukas and Slonský had finished questioning Rezek at 02:05. Slonský had retired to his office for a nap at his desk, and here they were at 08:23, ready to start again. Lukas had gone home to recover, so Rajka was now sitting in. He was no slouch at interrogation himself, and Slonský was very happy to let him lead on this session.
‘Let us clarify exactly where we are,’ said Rajka. ‘You do not deny killing Tomáš Kašpar, Bartek and Toms, but claim that it was not murder because it was justifiable homicide.’
‘Correct,’ said Rezek. ‘I was ordered to do it by legal authority.’
‘That, of course, will be a matter for the courts to decide. But if I draw up a statement along the lines I have just described, you would be prepared to sign it?’
‘Subject to any legal advice I might receive, yes,’ agreed Rezek.
‘You’ve waived your right to have a lawyer present,’ Rajka pointed out.
‘For the moment. Lawyers are expensive. There’s no point in running up a bigger bill than necessary. I reserve the right to change my mind later.’
Rajka made a note. ‘Very well. Let’s park that for now. I want to turn to what happened after the death of your daughter. How did František Kašpar contact you?’
‘I managed to discover his address and went to see him. The bird had flown, but there was a letter addressed to me on the table. It contained an admission that he had murdered my daughter and that, after leaving me to suffer my loss for a while, he was going to come after me.’
‘Do you still have that letter?’
‘I burned it.’
‘But it contained details of yesterday’s rendezvous?’
‘Yes. It told me to be at a particular point at two in the afternoon.’
‘I don’t understand that,’ Slonský remarked. ‘Why would he tell you where he was going to kill you?’
‘He was conceited enough to think he could outwit me, I suppose. But the ostensible reason was so that he could question me about his father. He said if I came unarmed and discussed what happened with him he would undertake to give me a quarter of an hour’s start before he came after me. That suggested to me that the final meeting point was to be at least fifteen minutes’ walk from the car park.’
‘But you didn’t go unarmed,’ Slonský followed up.
‘Of course not. I’m not an idiot. And I had no intention of giving this insect any explanation at all. My plan was to get to the park at least three hours earlier and look for him. Plainly he wasn’t going to risk meeting in the car park. Besides, he would need some time for his preparations.’
‘Preparations?’
‘My instructions were to follow the path to a particular tree. There would be a chalked R for Rezek and an arrow to tell me which way to go next. Follow the signs and I would reach the meeting point.’
‘I didn’t see any signs,’ Slonský remarked, ‘so presumably we all arrived before he had time to set them up.’
‘A beginner’s mistake,’ Rezek scoffed. ‘I saw it many times in my professional life. I hadn’t wasted the intervening days. I’d obtained detailed maps of the trails and I’d learned the terrain as well as I could.’
‘You were being watched,’ said Slonský. ‘You rarely left your house.’
‘There’s such a thing as mail order,’ Rezek remarked. ‘It seemed to me that if he had chosen this place it was probably somewhere he knew well, and there was likely to be a place where he could prepare himself, and perhaps stow some valuables. Have you found his father’s bones yet?’
‘Not yet,’ Slonský admitted.
‘They weren’t in his flat. He’ll have stashed them somewhere safe. If they’re not in his backpack they’ll be in a left luggage office, I expect. Anyway, once I realised these huts were dotted around the park I knew where he’d be. He wouldn’t use one of the big ones because he might have company there, so he’d find a nice small one and make sure nobody else wanted to share it. When I walked up the path and saw a sign on the door that said the hut was out of use while it was being refurbished I guessed that was the one. There are enough cracks in the planking to look inside. He was checking over his gun, the gun with which he intended to kill me. I just pushed the door open and fired. He dropped to his knees and I put him out of his misery. Then I sat him against the wall and put the gun back in his hand.’
‘So you admit killing František Kašpar?’ Rajka interrupted.
‘Certainly. I’m sure you’ll have forensic evidence proving that it was my gun. But I do not deny anything. However, it was justifiable homicide.’
‘In what way was it justifiable?’
‘The law recognises a right to self-defence. He had threatened to kill me, not in general terms but in a specific place at a particular time. Killing him a couple of hours earlier was simply defending myself. He had the gun in his hand. He could have shot me at that
very moment. There was an imminent threat. And given how ineptly he handled his gun, I deserve some thanks for preventing a shootout in some public place where a passer-by might have been killed.’
Rajka could see Slonský becoming incensed and suggested that this would be a good time to take a break, during which Rezek’s arm could be examined by a doctor, and then bundled Slonský outside.
‘Let it go. He’s slowly sinking in his own quicksand,’ Rajka ordered.
‘If I hear that phrase “justifiable homicide” one more time I’m very likely to take a leaf out of his book and justifiably ram his gun where he’ll have a hell of a problem reaching the trigger.’
‘We’ll give him a couple of hours to stew, then we’ll charge him with the attempted murder of Navrátil and Krob. If nothing else that will allow us to keep him in custody pending trial.’
Slonský’s eyes were still blazing, but he could do nothing more; perhaps his anger arose from the very fact that he could do nothing more. ‘I’ll go and check how the men are doing in hospital,’ he said at length. ‘And I’d better see how Peiperová is too. She was very shaken by the events of yesterday.’
‘You do that. I can wrap up here and no doubt Officer Jerneková would be happy to sit in on the interview in your place.’
Officer Jerneková was busy reading a textbook on investigative methods while she ate her lunch, this being achieved by spearing pickles in a jar with her penknife and taking bites from slices of dry bread.
‘How are the casualties?’ Slonský enquired.
‘Navrátil is likely to be released this evening, sir. They’ve found nothing amiss, even when they did one of those special x-rays that slices your head in all directions. I visited his mother this morning to let her know what was going on and I think she’s insisting he stays with her to recuperate.’
‘How does Peiperová feel about that?’
‘She needs some time to think about her own position, she says. It’s all right, I’ve told her she’s being a drip and I think she’s coming round. After all, most of the murder victims we see didn’t think they were in any kind of danger, did they? So you can’t say you’re safer doing one job than another. Anyway, she’s got a wedding and a flat to take her mind off it.’
