“And the man is?”
“Still too early. Not enough proof yet.”
Jana opened her front door, sliding her bag inside. She looked back at him, smiling, deliberately keeping Trokan on tenterhooks.
Trokan scratched his head in an exaggerated gesture of puzzlement. “Okay. Don’t tell me today. But remember, if you don’t, I still have your blind cats. No answers, and I will feed them rusty nails and shoelaces.”
Jana looked up at the sky, dragging out the moment. There was going to be more snow coming from the west, but it would be a lot better here than in Ukraine. She looked over at Trokan. “Koba is a man who kills without hesitation. He would not care about the cook and bottle washers. Or me or Grisko. The bomber was not Koba. Whoever it was warned us, warned us that he could also stretch out his hand and kill if we did not heed the warning.”
Jana stepped into the house, only to pop her head out again. “So there are at least two antagonists here, not just one. Maybe a whole separate set.” She waved good-bye at Trokan. “And make sure you feed my cats well while I’m asleep.”
She shut the door behind her.
Chapter 13
The aftermath of Dano’s broken promise was as Jana expected. When the informer fled, he told Zibinova what had occurred. Rather than arrest Dano and try him for assault, the government opted for another solution. After all, bureaucracy never wants to embarrass itself. Dano was a national figure on the stage: the young Romeo, a figure their own critics had labeled the “Savior of Slovak Drama.” So their way was a simple but vicious one: They simply forced the National Theatre to give him only minor roles, and even those were offered more and more infrequently.
Dano refused to take his cue and leave voluntarily. With the word out that he was becoming a non-person, the critics began to berate him, even in the small parts that he was now playing. They went out of their way to be spiteful. After a year and a half, the National shipped him to a regional theater in the north of the country. Six months later, they dropped him completely.
Jana’s punishment was lighter. As soon as Trokan was made aware that Dano had threatened the informant with her gun, he had Jana transferred to Preshov, a small city in the East, and dropped one grade for storing her service weapon in an unsafe way, allowing it to be used in a criminal act.
Being apart is difficult for all married couples. However, in a small country, it is easier to get together, even if it is for just one day a week. And because of that day, and the sexual heat that absence increases, Jana became pregnant with Katerina. The pregnancy revitalized her relationship with Dano, strengthening their bonds. For Dano, it was as if he had been cast as the leading man in a major production. He told anyone and everyone about his newest creation, almost as if Jana had nothing to do with it. Jana did not mind. It gave Dano renewed hope, and he traveled all over Bratislava again, trying to revive his career.
On those days when they could be together in Bratislava, they would try to meet with all the people who might take a chance on Dano, despite his being in disfavor with the state.
Their first effort was the producer who had a new concept for a Schnitzler play. It would be based on the play La Ronde. Except it would take place in a war-torn setting, and the actors would play couples accidentally thrown together, their frantic sexual needs generated by war and devastation. It would be a comedy, like the original, but with such a dramatic background that the comedy inherent in the play would be intensified and the audience would accept a more explicit sexual content.
Dano tried to sell the concept to an actress who was the leading lady of a comic film that had just been made in Prague. She grasped the idea and went to her lover who had made the film, to convince him that this would first make a wonderful play, and then a film. Unfortunately, based on the success of his film, her lover decided to defect to the West where his opportunities would be greater, taking the very willing actress along with him.
Then there was his mother’s cousin, a sometime producer of plays in Moscow, who wanted to go on the road to bring her productions to the rest of Eastern Europe. She had access to all the scenery and costumes at a ridiculously cheap rate, so that mounting a production in Slovakia would be inexpensive. But the authorities in Moscow confiscated the warehoused material, saying that, to their amazement, they had discovered that the producer had filched them from a Moscow theater. Dano’s mother’s cousin had to flee.
Then there was Dano’s old friend from their school days. He had fled from Poprad to Bratislava to hide because he had embezzled money from the band he worked with. He swore to Dano he had not stolen the money, but the manager of the band had tricked him into signing incriminating documents, and now it looked like all the evidence pointed to Dano’s friend as the thief. Except, his Poprad friend winked, he still had access to some of the stolen funds and maybe Dano could use them to finance a stage or movie production.
As soon as Jana found out about the friend running from the Criminal Police, she told Dano that he had to either turn in his Poprad friend or never see the man again.
Jana’s pregnancy convinced Dano. She warned him that if he continued flirting with the thief, he would be endangering the future of their child. As desperate as he was for a project, for once Dano listened to her.
Then there was the rock concert, all proceeds to go to the building fund for an alternative theater to the National. Dano and his friends obtained a commitment from an American celebrity touring Europe to bring her show to Bratislava on an open date. They spent an entire night putting up posters advertising her appearance. When the posters, and the concert, came to the attention of the government, the performance permits were immediately canceled. The government wasn’t about to allow the decadent West to invade Slovakia, especially to benefit a project the state had not sanctioned.
Possibilities began to peter out, and Dano became bored and depressed, looking for any way to get himself out of his personal morass. Grasping for straws, they decided to get out of the house, agreeing to attend the traditional SSR May Day celebration in SNP Square.
Normally, on their one day together, Jana did not want to waste their time on an event like this, an event neither she nor Dano really cared about. However, Dano, who was dragging himself around the house, was clearly unhappy, and he insisted on going.
There was to be added interest to this event: Dano had heard that there might be a counter-demonstration, and he wanted to see how loud it got and whether the people were going to support it. A location where a counterrevolutionary demonstration might be held was not the place for an off-duty police officer, a woman seven and a half months pregnant. But when Dano told her he was going, with or without her, she went along. She saw little enough of him, and Jana told herself that at the first sign of trouble, she would leave.
The square was filled, the band playing martial music and the first speaker standing on the dais, when a commotion started in the rear of the crowd. First fruit, then bottles, were thrown; a group of young people began chanting slogans. Then the special riot police moved in, clubs flailing. People scattered, screaming; there were several shots, and the dispersion of the people in the square became a panic.
Jana tried to escape, her advanced pregnancy and its unwieldy bulk impeding her. Dano led her, straightarming panicked men and women out of the way, protecting her as best he could. But there was no way to get her to safety. The fleeing people barged into her as she fled. The two were suddenly parted, the crowd intervening between them. Jana was knocked down. It got even worse. People fell on her, kicking her, trying to get up and save themselves from being trampled. Jana finally lost consciousness after being kicked in the head.
An hour later, she was in the hospital, along with dozens of other injured people who had been hurt in the riot. But, unlike the others, she was in the maternity ward. Fifteen minutes after being taken by ambulance to the hospital, Jana gave birth to Katka. And despite all that Jana had gone through, Katka was a healthy baby.
&nb
sp; Jana and Dano were ecstatic. The baby was even more beautiful than they had thought she would be. Even Trokan, who Jana had not seen since she was sent to Preshov, came to visit, a happy smile on his face.
Chapter 14
Late-night calls are part of police work. You accept that, but you don’t have to like it. Jana had gone through her notes and begun writing the rough draft of her report. It was 1:00 A.M. before she went to bed, so when the phone rang at 3:00 A.M. she was in the middle of a deep sleep. It took her a while to realize where she was and what had awakened her. Finally, she scrabbled to pick up the receiver, the remnants of sleep making her voice hoarse as she grumped out “Matinova.”
The caller first spoke in French, then switched to English. After a few seconds, she could understand it despite his accent. His name was Jacques, and Jana was now authorized by her department to go to Strasbourg, France, at 1600 hours today. The tickets were prepaid and waiting at the Vienna airport, the Strasbourg hotel room reserved.
Jana scrambled for a pen, eventually getting most of the travel particulars down before the man hung up. Then she proceeded to get angry at herself, realizing that she hadn’t been given enough information about the subject of the meeting, other than that it was about the human slave trade.
She lay back in bed, looking at the darkened ceiling. An authorized trip meant the minister must have briefed Trokan; so she called Trokan, and got his wife, Paula.
Jana winced as soon as the woman’s voice came on the line. Trokan’s marriage was not a happy one, and his wife was notorious for resenting the hours that he put in at work. Since Jana was often involved in the time her husband spent away, Paula had fixed on Jana as one of the major causes of her marital unhappiness. In the background, she could hear Trokan trying to persuade his wife to hand the phone over and Paula adamantly refusing. She cursed Jana for daring to call at that hour and awakening her husband, who had just gone to sleep, and then hung up in the middle of Jana’s attempt to explain how important it was for her to talk to the colonel.
This had happened before to other officers, and there was an established protocol for dealing with “Trokan’s Domestic War,” as it was called. Jana waited a full five minutes, anticipating what was happening at the other end of the line, before redialing, confident that by now the colonel had rescued the phone. Trokan answered. In the background, Trokan’s wife was still screaming.
This morning, Paula did not give up easily. She hurled gutter abuse at Trokan, scuffled with him for the phone, and yelled obscenities into the receiver when she got close enough. Trokan finally fended his wife off sufficiently to be able to talk.
“Commander Matinova, is that you?” Trokan was very formal with his staff, particularly the women, when his wife was around. It didn’t help. The background ranting became even louder. “We only have a short time,” Trokan got out. “My wife is a little annoyed.”
Jana tried to hurry, abbreviating her sentences. “Interpol called. A meeting tomorrow. You know about it?”
“The minister signed off on the expenditure.” There was a sudden grunt; Trokan’s wife had apparently hit him. He covered the receiver with his hand, but not soon enough to prevent Jana from hearing him swear at his wife to get away from him. When he came back on the phone, there was a mixture of irony and resignation in his voice. “I’m being assaulted. If I kill her, remember that I acted in self-defense.”
Jana choked back a giggle. Through it all, Trokan was maintaining his sense of humor. He muffled the phone again, then came back on. “She is promising to leave me forever, and is now packing her clothes. God grant that she keeps her word.” There was a long sigh. “I have about a minute before she goes to the kitchen and gets cups to throw at me. So, quickly. As discussed, they want to share their information with yours from Ukraine.”
“I can send them the report I’ve written.”
“Not good enough, nor complete enough. They also want you to meet someone who may have seen Koba. He may be able to provide other information as well. You are to stay in Strasbourg as long as they need you.”
“I have other cases.”
“Seges will continue with them.”
“I cannot agree to that, Colonel.”
“I didn’t ask for agreement.” There was the sound of crockery breaking in the background. “She is now throwing cups at me.”
“I am sorry.”
“I didn’t ask for that either. Just follow your orders. The command comes from the minister as well.” There was another crash; this time, the phone was dropped. Trokan yelled at his wife, then came back on. “It’s a command, Inspector. Do it!” He hung up.
Jana slept fitfully the rest of the night, then rose early to call Seges and tell him to pick her up. She took a cold bath to fully wake up, re-packed, and moved her suitcase to the front door. Seges was five minutes early and in good spirits. He cheerfully picked up her bag and stowed it in the car. Jana decided Seges was too happy to see her leave and wondered what he was up to at the office, before deciding he was just glad to see her depart.
Before they drove into Austria and to the Vienna Flughafen, where her flight was scheduled, she directed Seges to take her to the wine store that Makine, or Koba, as she now thought of him most of the time, had operated in Bratislava’s Old Town.
“I am supposed to see a witness this morning. It would be better for me if I drop you at the airport so I can get back on time to interview the witness.”
“On which case?”
“The shotgun murder of the son.”
“The pretty niece? You’re planning to see her? A good-looking girl, the niece.”
“The niece is good-looking; yes.”
Seges’s cheerfulness was now explained.
“She can wait. The wine shop!”
Seges lost much of his happy expression but drove to the wine shop through the winding streets of Old Town. The place had just opened for the day. A hostess was setting a large sandwich board in front of the shop to advertise the wine tastings of the day and promote the Italian imports they were trying to fob off on the public as premium wines.
Jana and Seges walked inside. There were two employees in the shop: a hostess still bustling around with her opening chores, and a chunky man with a shaved skull and features that looked like they had been pressed flat with an iron. The man stood behind the counter drinking a beer. Not much of an advertisement for his wines. Jana walked to the counter and sat opposite the man on one of the tall wooden stools at the service bar area for customers.
Jana stared at the flat-faced man, whose small, almost colorless, eyes stared back. She recognized him for what he was: an enforcer type, a bouncer and general all-around thug who would beat you to a pulp if his employer wanted it done. Killing would not be beyond the man if he was paid enough. The hostess came over to Jana, her best smile on her face.
“We have a tasting of a dessert wine today. Hungarian. Their best,” she bragged. “Only 10 crowns for a glass and if you buy, we deduct it from the price of the bottle.”
The flat-faced man growled at her, “They’re police. They don’t want wine.”
The hostess’s eyes widened and she backed away, holding the bottle she had proffered as if it might contain mouthwash. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
Jana continued to stare at the thug. The man looked down, pretending to be busy, pushing glasses around, moving bottles, only looking up after he realized that the police officer sitting in front of him was not going to go away.
“How did you know I was a police officer?”
“I’m good at that.”
“Lots of dealings with police?”
“Some.”
“Your name?”
Seges whipped out his pad and ballpoint. The thug’s bald head swiveled between the two cops, coming back to Jana as the one who presented a threat.
Yes, a thug, Jana confirmed to herself. The man was waiting for a blow; he had received blows in the past, and he had picked her as the one who would
signal when the beating was to begin. She had his attention.
“I asked for your name. You are too slow. Now I want your identity card.”
The thug reached into his pocket and held it out to Jana. Jana deliberately waited, increasing the man’s tension, before indicating that the card was to be given to Seges. Seges jotted down the information from the card.
“The owner of this place, he died in a car crash.”
“I know.”
“When did you find out?”
“Two days ago.”
“Who told you?”
“The new owner.”
The hostess decided she would give Jana a drink after all, sliding a small glass of Tokay onto the bar in front of her. “No charge for you. House compliments.” She skittered away.
Jana continued to look at the thug as she picked up the glass, inhaled the bouquet, viewed the light amber color, and finally took a sip. She made a face, setting the glass back on the counter, glad to be rid of it.
“Despite what the bottle says, it is not Hungarian. Probably Slovak. From the border area. Maybe they slip it over to Hungary so it can be ‘bottled in Hungary’ to add to its price.” Jana let her irritation show. “Who is the new owner?” she continued.
“I don’t know.”
“Then how did you know there was a new owner?”
The thug blinked as he considered the question. “He telephoned. He told me he was now the owner; he knew the old one had died.”
“That’s all? No name?”
“Nothing. No name.”
Jana held out her hand to Seges for the thug’s identity card, scanning it, then looked back at the thug. “Is this your real name?”
“Of course.”
“How do you know it is your real name?”
“It’s on the card.”
Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation Page 8
