Dark Dreams

by Michael Genelin

  Covic’s inner office was being reorganized. A mass of papers and boxes, legislative pamphlets, old bills, stacks of letters, and huge amounts of miscellaneous papers was being catalogued by two assistants, readying the place for whoever took over the murder victim’s job. Vachanova shooed the assistants out, then closed the inner office door behind them.

  “You know,” Vachanova finally confessed, “she was often hard to work with. She yelled a lot.” Vachanova quickly amended what she’d said. “Although, it should be noted, she had a heart of gold. She gave all of herself and her time to her job. She worked very, very long hours.” She thought about her own long work hours. “Naturally, I had to work those long days with her to keep this job. My family life suffered.”

  Seges made positive noises. Zuzana, wearing her best martyred look, basked in his appreciation. “Can I offer you tea, perhaps? Coffee?”

  Jana refused. So did Seges, again a surprise for Jana: Seges never refused anything that was offered free. Zuzana gave them both a sweet smile, primarily favoring Seges, then looked at them expectantly, waiting for their questions.

  “You indicated that Ms. Covic—” Jana began. She was quickly interrupted.

  “She always liked to be called by her first name, ‘Sila.’ She felt it relaxed people. I know it relaxed her.”

  “Sila, then,” Jana amended. Zuzana Vachanova was meticulous. Probably her painstaking attention to detail created difficulty in her life, but it was helpful in a case like this. She would remember particulars. Jana focused on her more closely. “I wanted to take you back to just before Sila left for her meeting.”

  “The last time I saw her,” Vachanova confirmed.

  “The last time,” Seges affirmed, eliciting a smile from Zuzana.

  “Did you know she had an appointment?”

  “As I indicated to the other police officers, I didn’t. This wasn’t unusual. She often had to attend impromptu meetings. When she went off this time, she yelled her destination at me and ran off.”

  “Her exact words, please.”

  Vachanova thought for a moment, wanting to be precise.

  “‘I have a quick meeting. Jholki has come home to roost.’”

  “Who is Jholki?”

  “I’ve never heard the name before.”

  “You’re sure of the name?”

  “I’m not totally sure,” Vachanova apologized, suddenly tense, afraid of being criticized. “She ran out, and with that voice of hers, you know, it was often hard to pick up each word.” Seges nodded at her sympathetically, and Vachanova relaxed again. “We get hundreds of calls. It didn’t seem like she was concerned about informing me of the name. I could always reach her on her cell phone if she was needed.”

  Jana followed Seges’s lead, being very solicitous. “It had to be difficult trying to keep track of everything that went through this office.”

  “I’ve had to work hard at it.” There was now a self-righteous note to Vachanova’s voice. Her work was her religion.

  The door to the outer office opened and one of the assistants poked her head in with a question.

  “Out! Out!” Vachanova barked. “The door is closed. That means we’re not to be disturbed. Out!”

  The assistant ducked out. Vachanova resumed her virtuous expression.

  “They’re very inexperienced,” she explained. “They’ve been poorly trained. It’s apparent I’ll have to do a lot myself.” There was now a put-upon, “poor-me” slump to her shoulders. Seges placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Vachanova immediately straightened up, patting him on the hand in gratitude

  Jana figured she was seeing the beginning of a new romance. She repressed a smile, then asked, “Is there any way we could find out who called just before she left?”

  “Nobody called her. If they had, it would have gone through me.”

  “And you would have logged it in?”

  “No, the only calls that are logged in are those where a message is left.”

  “Someone could have called her on her cell phone.”

  “Or she might have called them on her cell phone.”

  Jana made a mental note to find out if either woman had had a cell phone when her effects were catalogued.

  “Do you keep the notes you make when you take the caller’s name and number?”

  “Only temporarily. We give the note to whoever it’s meant for, and then we forget about it. We’ve done our job.” Her voice had that note of piety in it again.

  “Yes,” said Seges, as if he were saying “Amen.”

  Zuzana Vachanova gave him a beatific smile. At the moment, they were each recognizing a kindred spirit. Jana wondered how long they would be able to tolerate each other if they were truly required to spend time together.

  She thought back to the last time she had seen Covic in this same office, and reviewed the conversation they’d had. She remembered the throwaway question she had posed and the brief response that had materialized on Covic’s face. Covic had denied that she recognized the name, but Jana decided to ask Vachanova in case she remembered.

  “Please think back again to when Sila left the office. You said she hurried out the door, saying ‘Jholki has come home to roost’?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Could the name have been Solti?”

  Vachanova pondered, her face finally brightening. “It could have been.”

  Seges nodded sagely.

  “Did you ever hear that name from anyone else? Perhaps in a phone message left for Sila or one of the legislators?”

  Vachanova’s eyes gave the impression that she was far away, searching inside the files of her memory. She finally came out of her reverie.

  “I have. Yes, I have. A man by that name called here. For one of the members of parliament. It was a long-distance call, as I remember, and the man was very urgent, very demanding. That could have been the name the Red Devil shouted to me when she left.”

  Both Jana and Seges were surprised at the use of the nickname. It had emerged as an epithet. Vachanova put her hand to her mouth, surprised at her own words.

  “I don’t know why I said that.” She looked mortified. “I apologize.”

  “No offense taken,” said Seges.

  Vachanova looked at him with doe eyes, grateful.

  “She was a hard person to work with,” Vachanova offered. “A very hard person.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Seges reassured her.

  “What was the name of the legislator Solti called?”

  “He was a member of parliament at the time. Now he’s a deputy minister. It was Ivan Boryda.”

  This was a surprise. Jana had not expected Boryda to be the answer to her question. She mulled the information over. Solti had probably called from Nepal. Why would Boryda get a call from a smuggler, unless he himself was involved in smuggling? She reviewed what she knew about the man. He’d been a lawyer before going into politics. Then he’d begun his climb from local politics to parliament, and from there to deputy prime minister. There was nothing on the surface of his career that Jana could see to tie him to Solti.

  Jana gave Vachanova her card, asking her to call them if she recalled any further information. Zuzana focused her farewell on Seges, who lingered a few seconds longer than appropriate. Jana and Seges finally left the office, Jana wondering how long it would take after they reached their office for Seges to call Zuzana for a date.

  As soon as they got back to the police building, Jana telephoned Boryda’s office and asked for an opportunity to see the deputy prime minister. The functionary at the other end of the line apologized, informing her that the deputy prime minister was out of the country on official business. He was in Vienna, attending an important committee session of the IACA.

  Boryda in Vienna, as well as Sofia. Not a coincidence. Perhaps the relationship between them had rekindled. Remembering Solti’s call to Boryda, there was also the possibility that Sofia and Boryda were there not for love, but on business.

 
Jana hoped it was not business involving the murders in Bratislava.

  Chapter 37

  The next morning, Seges was his old self again: complaining, postponing work. His good spirits of the day before had vanished. Later, Seges and another officer came to Jana’s office to talk about an old man who had gone crazy and killed a neighbor’s teenage son, who had been tormenting him. All during the discussion, Seges daydreamed, unable to focus. When the other officer noticed Seges’s inattention, he teased him for wool-gathering. Seges stalked out of the room.

  Jana called Seges back in when she had finished with the officer’s case and chided him for rudeness to a junior officer. Seges mumbled a few words about stomach problems and seeing a doctor later if he still felt sick. When he started easing toward the door, Jana asked him how his date with Zuzana Vachanova the night before had gone.

  Seges glared at Jana, before realizing who he was glowering at, startled that she knew, not realizing that he had given his intentions away when they were in Vachanova’s office. He choked out a few words about meeting Vachanova for coffee, avoiding Jana’s eyes.

  Jana pushed the matter out of her mind, telling Seges to see if the cell phones of the two dead women had been found on their bodies. He was then to bring the phones to her without using them. Jana’s instructions were emphatic. She wanted the last numbers called, as well as any other information that they could cull from the phones.

  When he finally left, Jana turned to the files on the older Guzak brother. She had to make good on her promise to Giles to intensify the hunt for Kristoe Guzak, so she checked on the measures they had already taken, wondering, after she reviewed them, what else could be done. The net for the man had been spread throughout Slovakia; bulletins had been sent to all the neighboring countries; so what else was left? Jana tried to put herself into the fugitive’s mind.

  If he had attacked Giles’s bodyguard, then he was still in Bratislava. But why? The knowledge that his brother and mother had been killed, and that whoever had killed them was probably looking for him, should have increased the pressure on him to leave. Guzak would know that the police were on the hunt for him and that Bratislava was where he stood the greatest chance of being caught. Yet he stayed, when he could have fled back to Ukraine, or gone to Hungary or any other place in the European Union.

  Why was he so intent on Spis and Giles? Did that mean he thought Giles and Spis had killed his brother and mother? Was the revenge motive so great that it kept him in Slovakia? Guzak probably also knew that other people in the smuggling ring had been killed. That would place added pressure on him to run. What, then, impelled him to stay in Bratislava?

  Jana massaged her temples with her fingers, trying to ease her stress. Everything in the case seemed to point to more imminent violence. She had to stop it from happening.

  Guzak would provide the answers she needed, so she had to find him. Where could he be hiding? Perhaps in the underbelly of Bratislava, with the pornographers, the few organized gang members, the general thieves that every city had. He might have sought sanctuary with one of them. But most of them were known and were under constant scrutiny. Surely he would be wary enough to avoid them.

  Jana put herself in Guzak’s shoes. If she were him, she would only emerge from her hiding place during the day, when she could mix with the crowds of strollers, just another face, a constant blur that remained out of focus to everyone else walking past. The night was something else. Night, in a small city like this, when the inhabitants of the daytime streets went home, would strip away his camouflage. It would then become imperative for him to find a secure hideaway. But who would welcome a Guzak into their home?

  Jana slapped the files closed, angry at herself for not being perceptive enough to figure out where the man might have gone to earth. She forcibly composed herself. There were still official chores that needed to be taken care of.

  Because of the press of events, the corruption investigation launched by Bohumil’s group and the murders of Sila Covic and Marta, Jana had not adequately briefed Trokan on what she had learned from Veza on her trip to Ukraine and, even more important, what she had learned from Sila Covic’s aide. As she was buzzing the colonel to find out if he was free, he walked through her door.

  Trokan eased himself into a seat, stretching his legs out in front of himself, and reclined. “I came to ask for help in the investigation of the deaths of the Red Devil and Marta.”

  “I’m helping.”

  “I know. I need more.”

  “I’m not much of a savior.”

  “Try.”

  “I was just coming to brief you.”

  “I know.”

  “How could you know?”

  “I’m a colonel, remember? We see all and know all.” He grinned at her. “All right, so I didn’t know. Tell me.”

  Jana related the information that Solti had called the deputy prime minister from Nepal.

  “Ivan Boryda?” His voice was incredulous. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I suppose it’s because I don’t like the idea of investigating a deputy prime minister.” He made a sour face. “It makes me nervous.”

  “He’s like every politician, always screaming ‘I want more.’ Some of them are just more patient about it than he seems to be. I believe he is into some kind of criminal activity.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Nothing’s sure until you go to trial and the defendant is convicted. Besides, the investigation isn’t over. Maybe he’s not guilty of anything. Maybe the witness is wrong.”

  “The man is a deputy prime minister,” Trokan reminded her. “We have to be positive or we’re in deep shit. Remember the rule: never charge a celebrity or a politician unless you are prepared to go to the wall. They have too many friends or admirers.”

  “Are you telling me to not investigate him, Colonel?”

  “Don’t play at being stupid. Of course not; go ahead. Just do it with care, thinking all the while of your poor colonel who will have to defend you if you screw up.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up.

  “What else do we have?”

  Jana filled him in on what she had learned in Ukraine from Veza, putting it together with the information she had acquired about Solti. Trokan’s eyes got wider.

  “How big is this thing?”

  “Big. Every time I look at it, it gets bigger.”

  Trokan began reviewing the facts, making sure he understood.

  “We have criminals, experts at getting in and out of countries, participating in what appears to be a well thought-out operation all around the world. It would appear to be well financed, otherwise they couldn’t travel the way they do. Unfortunately for them, there are fractures appearing in the organization, people are being murdered, their structure is going through an upheaval.”

  Trokan glanced at Jana for confirmation. She nodded.

  He continued: “Except we don’t know what they are doing or why it is fracturing.”

  “Veza surmised that a shipment hadn’t gone through. There was chaos; that’s all he was aware of. He knew he might be next, so he fled.”

  Trokan slouched in the chair even further, his chin on his chest. “What are they smuggling? Narcotics, women, government secrets?”

  “They all had sidelines, looking to make an extra euro, pound, peso, or dollar. The side businesses include all of the above, but none of them were the main business of the group.”

  Trokan eyed her expectantly.

  “So?”

  “The Ukrainian didn’t know.”

  Trokan sat upright, skepticism on his face.

  “How can a smuggler not know what he is smuggling?”

  “Sealed packages. All of the parcels were wrapped in heavy paper which was tied and sealed. They all weighed very little; easy to transport. They were paid wads of cash to deliver the item intact. They were ordered never to open it. If the package they delivered had been opened in any way, it was repor
ted. Veza knew of one instance where a man opened a package before delivery. He was killed a few days later. So they were all very careful as to how they handled those packages.”

  “Who would they report to?”

  “Solti. He was the one killed in Nepal.”

  Trokan grimaced. “The people doing the killing have long arms.”

  “Very long.”

  “We need to know the rest of the ingredients if we’re going to make a stew.”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “They’ve killed one of our own people. So think faster.”

  “Pressing me for a solution won’t help.”

  “I know. You’re absolutely right, as usual.” He heaved a large, dramatic sigh. “I’m just a wretch, trying to shift my anxiety to you. Please know this: if it weren’t for the fact that we both appear to be standing at the edge of a cliff, I would keep silent. However, since we are on the edge of that long drop, I will continue to be a wretch and keep pushing.”

  “The stew isn’t ready to eat yet.”

  “Increase the temperature of the oven.”

  Trokan got to his feet.

  “There’s one more thing,” Jana told him. “I want you to do something when I leave for Vienna.”

  When Jana laid out the details of what she wanted him to do, Trokan nodded with increasing enthusiasm. His face took on the appearance of a satisfied man.

  “Consider it done.” He moved to the door. “I just came in for a taste of the stew.” He pretended to taste something, smacking his lips. “Yup, more time needed, but a good recipe. Keep it simmering.”

  Trokan stretched, rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the tension in his back. “I also have another objective. Just a small reminder. Your friend Sofia gave you a diamond. You have two days left of the time we agreed on. After that, we open a case and go upstairs with it.”

  Jana winced.

  As Trokan walked through the door, he turned back, giving Jana a teaspoon of sugar to sweeten the medicine. “I’m negotiating with Captain Bohumil to take Seges off our hands. He’s thinking about it.” He walked out, still rolling his shoulders.