“Anne’s a blond. Has she been here? It’s important.”
Mrs. Borden knew Anne was a blond. In fact, she knew Anne well. Anne spent most of her visits in her room, reading and typing on her laptop. This morning, Anne had sworn Mrs. Borden to secrecy about the male visitor upstairs. Mrs. Borden had not seen him, but Anne had implied that he was a boyfriend whose presence she needed to conceal.
She ignored Mila and spoke to Jim Harrigan.
“I know the girl you mean. She’s very sweet. She hasn’t been here recently. Today, none of our rooms is occupied.”
Jim nodded. Only one car had been outside when they arrived. He turned to Mila.
“It was worth a shot, but Anne’s not here. We’d better go.”
Mrs. Borden shrugged and clicked on the TV.
Mila and Jim left.
***
The driver of the Ford Excursion watched the white SUV turn out the lane and leave. He looked at his partner.
“They didn’t find Pokorny.”
“The old woman must not have told them about him. But why not?”
“I have no idea. But if Patekova doesn’t know he’s here, she’s clueless. She must not know that Vaclav stole the files.”
“If Patekova doesn’t, then Simek must. She hid Vaclav.”
“Damn right. If we find her, we find the records.”
“But where is she?”
“She’ll be back. Vaclav is here. Trust me, she’ll be back.”
The driver knew stakeouts. He handed his cup to his partner.
“Pour me more coffee. The next visitor will be Simek.”
***
******
Chapter 8
Friday, November 19
In Old Town Prague, it was two a.m. and Karel Moravec was snoring. Ivana eased his limp arm from her waist and slipped out of the bed. She stood up and tied her negligee about her.
Karel stirred and reached his hand for her vacated pillow.
Ivana stared and waited, frozen.
The sonorous breathing resumed. Ivana stepped to a chair and retrieved her purse from under her red scarf. Three steps more and she was in her spacious bathroom. She shut the double doors and switched on the lights. The mirrored wall reflected the outline of her shapely breasts and hips.
Ivana could still feel Karel’s hands pawing at her. How much longer can I endure this animal?
She shuddered. Ivana, get hold of yourself.
Karel provided well for her. She wore designer clothes, enjoyed the haute cuisine at upscale restaurants, skied on vacations at Val Thorens in France and Graz in Austria, and drove a beige Mercedes registered to Karel Moravec. Not least, she lived in this upscale apartment in Old Town with a splendid view of the Charles Bridge and the Prague Castle.
Yet she was unhappy. She abhorred her body, though it had brought her Karel’s rewards.
She dropped the negligee to the floor and gazed, full length, in the mirror. Her breasts were round and gracefully tilted, but what good were they? They had not nurtured life as her own mother’s had.
Mine are good only to nourish his lusts, the needs of a beast.
She remained staring at her breasts.
Were her breasts to swell with milk, due to a new life in her womb, Karel’s rejection would be immediate and final. How many times had he threatened her to be careful.
She thought of her own mother and cringed. Ivana had been young when her mother died, but she had seen her pray and heard her sing of heaven. She had loved her mother. Thank God, her mother could not see what had become of her daughter.
Or maybe her mother could see her? See what she had become, a possession, a commodity, bought, paid for, and without love.
She continued to stare at her reflection. A hot flash coursed over her. Sweat beaded her forehead. She wanted a shower, desperately. She needed pure water to cover her, to cleanse her.
She sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi, head in her hands. She murmured.
“Není to dobré. ‘It’s no good.’ It won’t work. Think, Ivana, think.”
She resolved to break with Karel. But how? He was dangerous.
She needed to take a step, a single step, any step. But where to start?
Ivana thought of Gustav. Her father, Ivan, had deserted her mother when Ivana was born, but Gustav had befriended them. He had bounced her on his knee. And now Karel was going to kill him. For no reason.
I cannot let that happen. I will not!
She must alert Gustav. It would be a small step but one towards freedom nonetheless. Then Gustav would owe her.
Ivana picked up her cell phone.
Deftly and rapidly her fingers touched the desired sequence of letters. Soon, an encrypted text was on its way across the Atlantic to North Carolina.
Done! Relieved, she sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi.
She switched off the lights before opening the bathroom doors.
Quietly she drew a bathrobe about her and went to the padded lounge. She sat, eyes open, wide awake.
She shivered. No way would she get back in bed with the “beast” this night.
Finally, her chin lowered and touched her throat. She dozed.
***
In North Carolina, Gustav Slavik followed Anne Simek’s twisted route. He could not afford to lose her.
Gustav was a native-born Czech, although his mother was German from the “GDR,” the East Germany of Cold War days. She had named “Gustav” after her father. Fortunately for Gustav’s mother, the name “Gustav” was admissibly Czech. His Name Day was August 2. (A child’s name had to come from an official “Name Day” list.) Thanks to his mother, Gustav could speak “familiar” German, but his educated language was Czech, with some Russian added due to his early schooling. In the eighties he had added French while working as a liaison to a French terrorist based in Liège, Belgium. There too, he had picked up his English from the Sky channel on TV.
He was an old-school Communist, a man of the people. In the name of the people he was willing to undertake many tasks. In particular, and for a fee, the assassination of a capitalist like Pokorny. He smiled. A blatant capitalist like Karel Moravec was paying him good money to eliminate enemies of the people. Capitalism would always defeat itself!
He hated Americans! A corrupt capitalist named Reagan, together with a Polak Pope, had brought an end to Gustav’s preferred way of life!
***
After her diverting maneuvers, Anne slowed down, causing Peter to slow also. Anne waited for the third car to pass. It did not. The lights stayed discretely to the rear.
She sped up. Peter did likewise. She looked in the rearview mirror hoping to see nothing behind Peter. That hope was dashed. The third set of lights had kept pace. They remained as before.
***
Gustav did not think that Anne was aware of his presence, but nevertheless decided not to follow closely. He was a safe distance back when his cell phone signaled the arrival of a message.
He checked the sender. It was Ivana, his contact with Karel.
Gustav had known her mother before her marriage. Her husband, Ivan, had been a true worker, a Soudruh, who had supported Gustav through several struggles with traitors to the Party. And he had known Ivana as a little girl.
Too, Gustav knew Karel Moravec and detested him. He hoped that Ivana’s relation with Karel was only business. But he knew the man.
Gustav read the text message. Ivana’s warning was clear. He owed her, big time!
Děkuji moje děvčatko. ‘Thank you, my girl.’
The message changed his plans. Gustav pulled the minivan off the road and parked.
***
Anne Simek was elated when the lights of the minivan disappeared. Relieved, mouthing a silent thanks, she turned onto Highway 64, and drove across the bridge to Roanoke Island.
Shortly thereafter, she turned south on Route 345. Peter Zeleny followed.
Anne turned on her CD player. The dulcet tones of Dennis Brain’s French Horn reverberated from speakers ba
ck and front, Mozart’s horn concertos. She smiled. Mozart had loved Prague, as had Anne. She turned up the sound. For the first time since Elizabeth City, she relaxed.
She took the unpaved road to her left. Not far ahead was the lane to the Bordens.’ All was peaceful.
Calmly she drove down the lane to the bed and breakfast. The evergreen oaks and pines, once cheerful in the sunlight, now were dark and somber. They blocked the little available moonlight from the roadway. From a far-removed perch, a screech owl provided its eerie call.
Anne was glad the lights of Peter’s car were close behind her.
Her headlights swept around the bend and illuminated the porch of the bed and breakfast. Peter’s headlights followed. Vaclav’s room was dark. Only a lone yellow bulb glimmered above the kitchen door.
The Bordens’ car was parked in the rear.
Anne stepped out. She turned to Peter and whispered.
“The Bordens are asleep.”
“Where are we?”
“Never mind. Vaclav is on the second floor. Follow me. I have the key.”
She entered through the front porch. Peter followed.
They took the stairs to the second floor. The wood creaked under Peter’s weight. They reached the upstairs hallway.
No sound came from Vaclav’s room.
She turned the key.
“Vaclav, It’s me. I’m back.”
She opened the door.
The bed was empty, its mattress upended and slit. The drawers of the dresser lay upside down, empty. The closet door was open, hanging by a single hinge. In the bathroom, the lid of the commode lay on the floor.
A piece of paper was taped to the bedpost.
Simek, We have your friend. You have the papers. We’ll trade. Stand outside chapel at Whalebone Junction, tomorrow noon. Alone, No cops or else.
Anne handed the note to Peter. He stared at her.
“What do they mean? What papers? What are they talking about?”
She shook her head.
“I have no idea about any papers or records, but Vaclav wanted to discuss some documents with you. You must know what about.”
“They must be records or reports from Hus-Kinetika’s files. That’s probably what he wanted to show me. He knows that I think Hus-Kinetika’s drug, Xolak, is dangerous, and that their inaccurate report conceals that fact.”
“But I don’t have any papers. And when I brought Vaclav here there was nothing with him.”
“OK, let’s back up. It was Mila that arranged your meeting with Vaclav, right?”
She nodded affirmatively. He started to speak, but she continued.
“Look, I’m studying religious Philosophy. My thesis contrasts von Hildebrand with Kant and Thomas Aquinas, and emphasizes von Hildebrand’s stand against the Nazis. I’m no longer in medicine. I never heard of Xolak or fraud or any of this.”
She kept on.
“All I know is that after Vaclav was shot, I brought him here to the bed and breakfast. He was sure Hus-Kinetika was behind the shooting, but to me he wanted to talk about his father, to know if his father really had tried to have sex with me in exchange for grades in medical school. I told him yes. He understood, I mean we understood each other. He knows how his father was with women.”
She looked straight at Peter. Her face reddened.
But his focus was now.
“So the only people who saw Vaclav were you and your cousin, Mila.”
“That’s right, who else is there?”
“And you don’t have the papers.”
“I told you that!”
“Exactly. That means you have to talk to Mila.”
***
******
Chapter 9
Friday, November 19
Neither Anne Simek or Peter wanted to be near Vaclav’s bloodstained room. Without waking the Bordens, they slipped out of the bed and breakfast and headed for the Outer Banks. They decided to stay at a Comfort Inn in Nags Head. It was close to Whalebone Junction, where Anne was to meet Vaclav’s captors at noon the next day.
Anne drove in silence. Mila, you got me into this mess. Now you have to get me out of it. Whatever papers you have, for God’s sake let me have them or Vaclav will die.
She looked in the mirror. Peter’s car was right behind her.
She turned into the motel parking. Peter followed.
They took two rooms, but the desk clerk eyed them with a grin. Anne wanted none of that. She spoke loudly for his benefit.
“Good night, Doctor. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Once in her room, she called her cousin, Mila.
There was no answer.
***
In Nag’s Head, Gustav Slavik had a new mission. He parked his minivan under a beach house whose shuttered windows showed that it was closed for the winter. He cut the motor and extinguished his headlights.
Wooden posts lifted the house a full floor above the ground, so that his car was completely sheltered from above. The location of the posts provided Gustav with clear views of two buildings across the way, the Patek Realty office and the adjacent house.
Patek Realty occupied a frame building comprised of a single floor at ground level, To either side, wheelchair accessible ramps flanked a small central entrance directly attainable by three steps.
Next door, Mila’s house was set on posts, so that her first-floor windows looked down on the roof of her office building some yards away. Her home’s main level was attained by a single wooden stairway that mounted from the driveway. There was no deck on that level, so that other than climbing one of the splintery posts, access to her house was only by the stairway.
Gustav’s thoughts were all of Mila.
This woman knew about Pokorny, what he’s is doing. She’s no innocent. She’s involved and she knows.
You’re slipping, Gustav. You should have seen this earlier. Simek’s only in this because of Pokorny’s father. She knows nothing. Patekova either has the papers or knows where they are!
And thanks to Ivana, I know Karel’s plans!
He lit another Petra and puffed. His thoughts returned to Ivana. She had risked her life to help him. If Karel found out that she had warned Gustav, she would die, and painfully.
Damn you Karel. If you dare hurt her!
He knew the man.
Gustav rapidly tapped a message to Ivana on his phone. After sending it, he studied Mila’s house once more.
Karel’s goons could not be far.
He needed to act. He slipped out of the van.
***
In Prague, Ivana could not sleep. She went to the window and gazed outwards. The lights still shone on the Prague Castle, although to the East the horizon had lightened in anticipation of the sun.
The dark waters of the Vltava coursed under the arches of the Charles Bridge among whose glowing lampposts, shadowy saintly statues stood staring, awaiting daylight and the arrival of the vendors and artists whose booths served the ever-present tourists, even in a cold November.
For its glow at night, Zlata Praha, ‘Golden Prague,’ depended as much on artificial spotlights as gilded facades. In unforgiving daylight, the latter could appear marred and gray. No matter, the ancient architecture and narrow streets of Old Town charmed visitors and residents alike, including Ivana.
She shivered and pulled her robe tight about her. Below, she smiled to see the first burst of activity in the graying light as artists and artisans claimed sites on the bridge for their kiosks and wares.
Her phone vibrated through the pocket of her robe and tingled her thigh. She reached for it. A message from Gustav!
She heard a sound behind her. It was Karel.
“Ivanka, little one, what is the matter? Why are you not in bed? I need you. You know that.”
“Karel, I ...”
He saw the phone in her hand and reached for it.
“With whom do you speak?”
She drew away, the phone behind her back.
“With
no one. It is a message from your backup team. It is only midnight in America.”
Karel frowned and looked out the window. The sky to the east was light. After a moment, the furrows on his forehead smoothed out. He smiled.
“Then we shall pretend that the night is just starting here also. Come back to bed Ivanka. you work much too hard, little one. You need to relax.”
He gripped her arm and pulled her to the bed.
She could not resist. He was strong.
As Karel rolled on top of her, she glanced back.
The phone with Gustav’s message lay open and exposed on the padded lounge.
Terrified, she held her breath.
Would Karel see it?
She twisted to distract him.
***
Mila turned her SUV north on Route 158 towards Kitty Hawk and Duck where Jim Harrigan’s F250 pickup was still parked at the restaurant.
He sat silent.
“Jim, what are you thinking?”
Ever the trained interrogator, Jim asked questions, he did not answer them. He looked sideways at Mila and broke the rule.
“I think Mrs. Borden was not straight with us. I watched her eyes. She was evasive. She has seen your cousin Anne, and recently.”
“That woman doesn’t like me.”
“She’s uncomfortable with foreigners. She probably doesn’t like your accent.”
“What’s wrong with my accent?”
“Nothing, believe me, nothing at all. I like it. You sound like a movie star.”
Mila laughed.
“It’s OK, Jim. I like you too, and I’m grateful for today. Thanks.”
They arrived at Jim’s truck sooner than either of them liked. As he got out of the SUV, Mila called through the door.
“It’s agreed then, we’ll visit the bed and breakfast tomorrow morning, first thing.”
Jim nodded.
Mila backed up and left for Nags Head.
The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) Page 6
