The killing of the professor’s nephew was clearly a professional killing; the killing of Peter was also a murder committed by a professional. They were not “ordinary” killings. The methods used were very different. But, as she had already concluded, what were the odds that two such professional assassinations would take place within such a short time of each other in a small city like Bratislava unless they were connected?
She had to find that connection.
Chapter 13
The bath was as hot as Jana could tolerate, and she slipped into the water by degrees. She wanted to absorb the heat, still her mind, and let the water therapy take its course. Jana let everything drift apart for a while and then come back together as she relaxed.
The first thing that popped into her mind was the magic coin they’d found with the murdered student, and then the first time, when she was a little girl of eleven, that she’d tried to do magic. She even thought she had succeeded. Jana had walked into her house and told her father she thought she was magical. Her brother was in the same room, and he immediately started to scoff at her. Her father hushed him and shooed him out of the room so he could talk to the family magician by himself. Her father, a judge who listened as patiently to his children as he did the evidence he heard in court, asked her why she had come to that conclusion. Jana told him she’d been on her way home from school when she’d wished that Anna, a friend of hers who had been sick and stayed away from class that day, could be there. And, suddenly Anna was there. After a moment of consternation, with Jana excitedly informing her friend that they’d just performed magic, Anna had laughed and told Jana that she had been hiding behind a tree and just happened to pop out at the moment she’d been “wished” for. Nevertheless, Jana was still sure that it was her own magic that had summoned her friend.
Her father had nodded but suggested that one demonstration of her supernatural ability was not enough proof for him. Therefore, he would withhold his decision to allow his daughter to bring further evidence before his court. Of course, the court hearing would be in their living room and their father’s favorite chair would substitute for the judge’s dais. He set the case for the next day. Before Jana went to her room, her father suggested that he, too, might be a magician. The traits necessary to work spells and conjure apparitions might have been inherited by her from him. Considering how people in court always treated him as if he could work magic, he confessed that he had long suspected that he also might be a sorcerer.
The next day Jana tried to do magic. She had read fairy tales and used the conjuring spells and incantations in them to invoke a rain cloud or create fire from rocks, without success. The one she worked hardest at, transporting herself from one place to another without walking or riding her bicycle, failed no matter how hard she tried. When the time set for the hearing arrived, despite the fact that Jana now doubted her ability to perform magic, her father called the court in session, with both her mother and brother in attendance.
Her brother was called to give testimony. He testified that he had never done magic. Then came Jana’s turn.
Jana’s father put her under oath to tell the truth, and she never lied to her father, so she was forced to confess that she’d tried to do magic over the past day, and all of her spells had failed miserably. So, Jana guessed, she was not gifted, and that she had not conjured up her friend. It didn’t matter, her father said. Because he’d discovered that members of the family were still gifted. It had been revealed to them that both he and her mother could do magic.
Jana stared at the two of them, her mouth agape. “You can both do magic, Father?”
He nodded, his demeanor very serious, announcing that he would demonstrate this by showing how Jana’s mother could read the thoughts of inanimate objects.
Her father laid out three dishes in a row on a table, then asked her mother to leave the room. He pranced around, waving his arms and mumbling, casting a great spell over the plates so the plates would speak to their mother even though she was out of the room. Then he had Jana silently indicate a dish which their mother would then be called upon to identify. When he called Jana’s mother into the room, she immediately picked the plate that Jana had selected. Her mother left the room again, and this time her father turned to Jana’s brother and had him silently point out a plate for his mother to identify. Her mother was called back into the room and once more selected the correct plate.
She did this over and over again. Both Jana and her brother were agog at her uncanny ability. With that, their father said the court was adjourned, took off his robes, and demonstrated a simple word code he used to communicate with Jana’s mother. Her father would call his wife into the room using slightly different words each time. The difference in words identified the correct plate. Then the judge had Jana and her brother perform the trick. It was very simple to play, once it had been explained.
All magicians are tricksters, he told them. All tricksters lie, but lie in a way that makes you believe them. They rely on the innocence and trustfulness of people. People want to believe. And every good magician makes his act a big show, an event, performing ordinary acts in an extraordinary way so the targets of his illusion are captivated. Her father had learned, in court, that great criminals had also learned the same tricks. It was all smoke and mirrors. So it was wise to be cautious.
Her father, the judge, had given them a life lesson: be skeptical. If it is too good to be true, it will be false. If great claims are made, disbelieve them. Use your senses and your mind. Above all, think.
Jana never forgot this lesson. It had paid off for her when she became a police officer: the trick had become the criminal act, the criminal, a fakir who was trying to fool the public. She owed it to her father to try to find out how the trick had been carried out.
Jana abruptly realized that the water in the bath had gone cold.
Her eyes popped open. She had napped. She quickly soaped herself, then rinsed off, climbing out of the tub. The killing of the student in Slovakia had been a trick; the killing of Peter a trick; the disappearance of Kroslak part of a trick. She had to maintain her disbelief, ignore the “smoke and mirrors,” and see through the illusion.
Chapter 14
Jana was aroused by her wake-up call. This time she had slept through the newspapers being slid under the door. She tossed them onto the bed, then went through her wash, dry, dress, and makeup routine before she picked up the papers to read. Again, there was a Slovak Sme and an International Herald Tribune. A low-level government official, who asked not to be identified, suggested the possibility of nationalization of the oil field in Slovakia. Four had died in a gas explosion. A Slovak singer had filed a lawsuit alleging that a Slovak recording company which had released her records was cheating her on royalties. And the head of the Green Party was accusing the minister of economics of being corrupt, which was an oblique attack on the prime minister.
The Herald Tribune was not much different, only focusing on the international stage. A billionaire investment banker had been killed. The Georgians were accusing the Russians of firing a missile into their country. Oil and gas prices around the world were going up. All in all, the rest of it was the usual.
Jana tossed the papers into the trash container in the bathroom, took a last look in the mirror, and had started for the door when the phone rang. It was Colonel Trokan.
“Good morning, Janka.”
“A little soon to be calling me about my next transfer. Where will it be this time? Uzbekistan, perhaps? Mongolia?”
“Janka, you hurt me by talking like that. You know I only have your best interests at heart. Look at the posh position I’ve sent you to. Everybody else in this country would give up any number of fingers and toes to be in Holland.”
“Not me. I like my fingers and toes.”
“I’m also outside of our beloved country. I’m calling you from Vienna.”
“What are you doing in Vienna?”
“Ostensibly, I have taken a few d
ays off by pretending to be on a vacation to placate my wife.”
“Have you placated her, Colonel?”
“She screams at me in a slightly mellower tone.”
“Why did you call me, Colonel?”
“I didn’t want to telephone from Slovakia, either from my office, my cell, my home, or anywhere else. So, I came here on a ‘vacation,’ perhaps to take me a little out of someone’s ‘gunsights’ and to be where I’m able to talk freely.”
Jana hesitated, unsure for the moment if Trokan was still being humorous. Then she decided he was being very, very serious. She immediately thought of what had happened to Peter.
“Does it have anything to do with Peter’s death?”
“The phones, the way Peter was killed, the disappearance of Kroslak … and the fact that there has been at least one informant who says that I’m now targeted for assassination. He’s unreliable, and he says it’s a street rumor, but I was concerned about calling or e-mailing you from anywhere in Slovakia. I’m making the assumption that any means of communication is suspect. I’m calling from a public phone in a hotel that I’m not registered at.”
“Who else has been targeted?”
Jana knew one of the people even before Trokan told her. “You. And Captain Bohumil, who was the head of the Anti-Corruption Division.”
“You used the past tense.”
“He asked me to relieve him of duty.”
“They went after him?”
“His brother-in-law was driven off a cliff in the Tatras. They did an autopsy on the body. There were two bullets in his crushed skull. Bohumil’s wife went off her head; Bohumil’s ulcers then acted up, so he went on sick leave. The Hungarians are cooperating, so we were able to put the Bohumils and their kids in protective custody in a small villa near Budapest. I’ve taken direct charge of the Anti-Corruption Unit as well as yours.”
“You’re wearing a lot of hats.”
“I like hats. I have a whole collection of hats. You know that.”
“They made a try at me. The day before yesterday.”
There was a long silence on Trokan’s end of the conversation.
Then he swore. “How?”
“They tried to run me down with a car.”
“You’re sure it was deliberate?”
“Absolutely.”
“Damn them! We publicly registered you in another room at a cheap hotel in The Hague, and then let the word out here that’s where you were staying.” He told her the name of the other hotel. “Police officers don’t room at places like the one you’re actually in. I figured that might buy you some time. Now that they know where you’re living, you have to move.”
“Whoever they are will know it as soon as I check out and then check in somewhere else.”
“Do you need one of our people to watch your back? Maybe I can send someone.”
“That always looks absurd to the public: cops guarding cops. If we can’t take care of ourselves, who’s going to take care of them? So my answer is ‘No, thank you’.”
“What do you want me to do here?” Trokan waited for an answer.
After a moment of reflection, Jana plunged ahead. “With the killing of Bohumil’s brother-in-law, at least we’re now sure that whatever this is about is not connected directly to me, but to the anti-corruption investigation, and Peter’s death. What did Bohumil tell you about investigating Peter’s death? What do Peter’s files show?”
After taking a moment to organize his thoughts; the Colonel plunged ahead.
“Peter Saris picked up the case he was working on from another investigation. He stumbled onto the evidence inadvertently. We don’t know which case he pulled it from or what it was. He simply told Bohumil that it was a big one. He was apparently uneasy about saying anything until he had developed a complete picture. He wanted to be sure he was right. We now know that he was on the mark. He had reason to be afraid.” There was a heavy sigh over the phone. “We looked for the file. No file was found.”
“Taken?”
“Probably. Which has us all scared. It may be another police officer, or maybe officers. This is bad business, police officers afraid of other police officers. Even the minister of the interior is pissing in his pants. We’re the government. We’re supposed to scare them. The criminals are supposed to run from us! It’s not working the way it’s supposed to.”
“So it would appear.”
He sighed even more loudly. “I think we have bad trouble, Janka.”
“That’s the picture I’m getting.”
“Also the reason I couldn’t brief you in Slovakia. I didn’t know where or how to do it safely. We’re taking a chance now by doing it on the telephone.”
“If they’re listening, we haven’t told them anything they don’t know.”
“Maybe.”
“How is Elias doing?”
“Getting nowhere.”
Jana thought of telling Trokan about the report she’d found in her closet at home, deciding against it. If they were tapping this conversation, or her room was bugged, they would come after the report and try even harder to get her. Better to be silent.
“You know what you need to accomplish, Janka?” Trokan’s voice was stressed.
“I know what to do, Colonel.”
“Luck to us all.”
“Luck to us all, Colonel.”
She hung up.
Chapter 15
Jana skipped breakfast at the hotel and went to the office. Outside the Europol building, a knot of people was gathered. There was a fire truck on the street; firemen were going in and out. The first thing Jana thought of was another bomb, just like the one that had killed Peter. Paola was in the group that had gathered. Jana went over to her as Paola answered the unasked question on Jana’s face.
“A fire in the Records Section. The computer system is down all through the building. It’s even hit the backup.”
“How bad?” Jana asked, the conversation she’d just had with Trokan now very much on her mind. More records destroyed, she told herself. They were making sure Kroslak had left nothing behind.
“Who knows? The technicians will look at it; we’ll look at it. Hopefully, the damage is limited.” She gave a very Italian shrug indicating that it was beyond her control. “You have breakfast yet?”
“I could use toast or a roll.”
They walked to a coffee shop that Paola selected and sat at a small table in the rear.
“I come here because the place is clean.” She gave another shrug. “I think all Dutch places are clean. Which is too bad. I’d rather have it dirty if they would scrape up a little tasty food. That’s the thing I miss most about Italy.”
“I had good food last night.”
“Indonesian,” said Paola, very sure what the answer would be.
“Yes,” Jana smiled.
They ordered pastry and coffees.
Paola focused more intently on Jana. “I understand you’re going to teach us all about homicide investigations, Mazur’s latest idea to keep us busy and prove he’s a good manager. The man will never be a good supervisor. I understand he was a lousy cop as well.”
“Give him credit.” It was Jana’s turn to shrug. “He has me thinking about the teaching session. It might turn out to be a good thing.”
The coffee and pastries were served. The coffee was excellent, the pastries laden with enough sugar to rot their teeth.
“Are you going to look for Kroslak?” Paola asked.
Jana thought about the question and whether she should conceal her intentions. It would be stupid to mislead Paola, Jana decided. Anyone with half a mind would know that Jana would attempt to find the Slovak officer who had vanished.
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“Maybe with his boyfriends?”
The statement startled Jana. “He was gay?”
“I met him on the street with a boy-toy once. He was very affectionate with the young man. The boy was slender, not too tall, not an
ounce of fat. Dark hair, very dark eyes enhanced with mascara, hair black and pulled to one side, hanging over an eye partly to cover a scar that ran through his eyebrow. Very sexy. If the lad had liked women, I might have made a play for him myself. I admired Kroslak’s good taste.” She smiled at the memory of the moment, then brought herself back to Jana’s question. “Kroslak never went out with women. He said enough for me to know he went to Amsterdam for his entertainment; so, after seeing him with his young man, I assumed he was gay.”
Jana was surprised by Paola’s disclosure. The issue had never come up with reference to Kroslak in Slovakia. The Slovaks still didn’t know how to deal with overt homosexuality. Gays kept their sexual preferences hidden. It was just as well that Kroslak kept his sex life in the closet. If other police officers had discovered he was gay, they might have made his life miserable.
This opened up an entirely new area of investigation. It might explain the reason he did not use his listed apartment. He would have felt he could not bring any of his lovers to that address. If he did, and the people at Europol found out about it, his secret might have been exposed to the Slovak police. He would have been afraid to risk it.
“If he went to Amsterdam, where would he have gone? Is there a gay scene? Gay clubs?” After one small bite Jana put the pastry aside. She hadn’t liked that much sugar since she’d been a little girl. The solid grains made her feel like she was chewing sand. “He would have talked to at least some of his partners in Amsterdam. Maybe he lived with someone?”
“Maybe. You can buy whatever you want in Amsterdam, depending on what club you go to. The Dutch don’t care. They figure they have bigger problems than paying attention to how you get your sexual thrills.”
“Did you get the name of the boy he was with when you met them?”
Paola thought for a moment. “Willem Albert. Whether those were his first and family names, or just first and middle name, I can’t say. You want help in finding young Willem Albert?”
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