by Maggy Diak
19.
Marija Doval and her friend took the last bus back to St. Rémy and we again tailed it. It was very late when we arrived. I parked the car in the parking lot opposite the entrance of the hotel in which Marija Doval and her friend were accommodated. I decided to watch the hotel the whole night. Maurice wanted to keep me company but I sent him to our hotel. Reluctantly he obeyed.
The night was long and cold. And I was dead tired. I nodded off quite a few times. I was angry with myself each time I woke, for during my sleep, even though it had lasted a few seconds, the women could have slipped out of the hotel unnoticed. In fact, when Maurice joined me early in the morning I had no idea, whether the women were still in the hotel or not. What a relief it was, when some minutes later the women appeared and got into the bus.
I was also grateful to Maurice for remembering to bring my luggage too.
“What about the bill,” I asked. “Paid,” he answered.
In Avignon, we waited until Marija and her friend disappeared into the airport building. Then we parked the car. We were the last to board the plane. Heads low, we crept to our seats that were in the last row, while theirs were in the first. The chances to be spotted by them were almost zero, nevertheless, I decided to be highly cautious.
After I had settled myself in the seat and fastened the belt, I closed my eyes, hoping, I would get some sleep, I missed at night. In vain! My head was too full. Have I finally started to make progress? Was I on the track of the greatest crime in the history? Not only that I was on the track, I was about to prevent it, I! Not J.E., I!
While he was probably digging all over Paris to find Maurice, I was preparing the big catch. Not without satisfaction and a malicious smile on my lips, I imagined his face when the big news got him.
On the other hand, I was well aware that it wasn’t going to be long until he found out where Maurice was. The fact that he was with me would put another idea into his head, if it hadn’t already been there: that I was a terrorist too. If I wasn’t I would have handed Maurice to him. He probably had me on his list of the suspects before, yet because I was a police officer he did not dare to start investigating me without evident proofs. Now he had them. And if I don’t succeed in solving this mess as soon as possible, I’ll find myself in great trouble. Now I was lucky to be a step ahead of him and I’ll have to act fast. I must be ready when Marija Doval and her friend join Otrin and Isabelle.
The plane landed. People got up from their seats, starting to collect their things from the boxes above them. Then they impatiently waited for the plane door to open, standing in the narrow corridor between the two rows of seats, pressing against each other. I told Maurice to hurry to the exit, to stealthily follow the two women. With the help of my badge, I left the plane by the exit for the airport staff. Then I waited in a taxi for Maurice to join me and the women to come out of the airport building. Maurice came first. He immediately spotted the taxi I was in and hurried across the street to me.
“What the hell are you doing,” I shouted when he opened the door. “Where are the women? Why did you leave them?”
“There they are,” he said, pointing to a bunch of elderly women, pouring out through the door across the street, laughing and chatting lively at the same time. “There they are,” he repeated. “They have joined a group of tourists. All women. All old.”
“I’ll be damned …”
A young woman, the only young in the group, holding a tourist brochure high above her head as a signpost, led them to a bus, waiting at the parking lot at the corner of the airport building.
“They are pretending to be tourists going on a tourist trip,” I said. “They are all terrorists. J.E. was right. Old women are the worst. Maurice nodded.
After they'd climbed into the bus to the city, I ordered the taxi driver to follow them.
“Your phone is ringing!”
“What?”
“Your phone is ringing, “repeated Maurice. “In your pocket.”
“Oh, yeah, thanks. “I was so deep in thoughts that I overheard it. It was Frank.
“We found the suitcase,” he said.
“Really? Where?” I have completely forgotten the suitcase!
“It was sent, by mistake, to Ethiopia. You know how it works there. They opened it, searched the content, closed it again and left it, I don't know where. Then it attracted the attention of a cleaner and after that, they finally read the address written on it and decided to send it back.”
“Send it back to Slovenia?”
“Yes. The airport has already handed it over to Otrin's wife.”
For a moment, my thoughts wandered to Kate. I could imagine what she felt, receiving Peter's suitcase and still not knowing whether Peter was alive or not. It must have been hard. But, when she finds out that it is true what J.E. said about him, being the leading terrorist, she’ll wish he were dead.
However, the suitcase did not get out of my head. This suitcase was the central part of this terroristic group. It was supposed to be stolen by Marija Doval, which was Otrin’s lie, of course. The reality was that there was a bomb in it and to avoid police and customs control Marija Doval took it, claiming that it was hers, expecting, according to her previous experiences, that they would not examine the luggage of an old lady. The expectation proved to be justifiable. But now, that the suitcase has been found in Ethiopia with no traces of a bomb in it, …. Well, it means … What does it mean? That, after all, Otrin and Marija Doval are no terrorists at all or that the suitcase was sent to Ethiopia to cover the tracks? If that were true then they must have collaborators at the airports, in Paris and the one in Ethiopia. J.E. was talking about the terroristic world net. What if he was right? The bus stopped and the women got off. One by one, like ducks, they followed the young woman. Was she a terrorist too? Were they all terrorists?
We left the taxi and secretly followed the group. I, hiding behind Maurice’s back. I’d never been to Brussels before, so I gaped at the nice sight opening in front of us. It was marvelous. Breathtaking! The market was not paved, as is the habit in our country but was covered with enormous, soft, colorful flower carpet, watered by fountains and cooled by low trees. Three beautiful houses, palaces in fact, like those I had seen in Rome and Vatican were arranged around it. From under the roofs of the palaces facing each other, each standing on one side of the flower carpet were hanging European flags.
In those buildings the European Parliament is probably having their sessions when they are in Brussels instead of Strasbourg, I thought. Suddenly, Maurice uttered a hysterical cry: “Isabelle! Isabelle!” He was pointing towards the third palace. At that moment, my eyes caught the glimpse of Marija Doval! She rapidly left her group and hurried towards Isabelle who was accompanied by Peter Otrin! Both, Isabelle and Otrin, were moving slowly, somewhat cautiously towards the first palace! The one in which at exactly that moment the European Parliament was holding a conference! The thought that they intended to blow it up made me start to run as mad in the direction of the three to stop them. Maurice was close at my heels. I could hear his heavy breathing. Being only a few paces away, I suddenly, to my horror, spotted J.E. in the crowd, followed by two police officers! The officers grabbed Isabelle and Otrin, J.E. caught Marija Doval by the arm. She, screaming angrily, began to wriggle violently, trying to get rid of his hands. A large group of people gathered around them. Maurice furiously started to elbow his way through the crowd. “No!” I cried. “Maurice, don’t! He’ll arrest us, too! Let us run away!”
But that fool would not listen to me, so, the only thing I could do was to follow him!
The van with Otrin, Marija Doval and Isabelle was about to drive off when J.E. noticed Maurice hurrying towards them. He jumped out of the van like a wild cat, knocked Maurice to the ground, twisted his arms behind his back and forced him to get up, then pushed him into the van.
“J.E.!” I cried. “He has done nothing wrong! Let him go!”
J.E. turned around, one leg in the van, starting to grin
broadly at the sight of me.
“Well, well, what an honor. Let me invite you to join us!”
He pulled his leg out of the van to make room for me to enter.
“And if I turn down your invitation?” I asked. I was well aware that it was not an invitation.
“Something tells me you will not,” he answered with an unpleasant smile on his face.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Of course not,” he answered sweetly. “You’ll help me with interrogations. I need experts.”
I was not far from smashing his hypocritical, insolent face. But not to make the situation worse, I quickly pulled myself together and climbed into the van. I had the honor to get the passenger seat. The van was divided by a glass wall. I could see Maurice, Isabelle, Marija Doval and Otrin behind it, but I was unable to hear them. The glass was soundproof. Maurice was embracing Isabelle. Otrin’s gaze was blank; he was pale, shrunken. In a word, in a very bad condition.
He seemed not to know where he was or what had just happened. He was obviously not aware of the presence of the others. Beside him was sitting Marija. Judging by her swinging arms and movement of her lips I knew that she was still screaming.
J.E, pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the police station. Handing me handcuffs he said: “Handcuff them!”
“But, J.E.,” I protested, “there is no need to …”
“Do as I told you!”
Using the back door, I climbed in. Maurice looked hopefully at me, but I said nothing to calm him or the others down, to reassure them that everything would be okay, knowing it was not going to be, not in the hands of J.E. Besides I did not know whether they were terrorists or not, so I just said: “I advise you to cooperate or you’ll make things worse.”
They didn’t cooperate. Maurice stubbornly stuffed his hands into his pockets instead of stretching them ahead, Isabelle hid her hands behind her back and when I tried to touch her, she snarled, showing her teeth to me, two rows of beautiful white teeth, ready to sink into the skin of my hand. I left her alone. Marija Doval was flailing her hands like mad, still screaming hysterically, only Otrin was sitting silent and lifeless, he didn’t even as much as bat his eyelid when I handcuffed him. As for the other three, J.E. had to call for help. Six of his officers had their hands full to shove them into the building.
20.
After J.E. had given hard, furious and emotional lecture to the four young officers on how they were totally inefficient, how they did not care about their own country, how the most beautiful buildings in Brussels would already have been blown up if he hadn’t prevented it by catching the Foreigner, his accomplices Marija Doval, Isabelle, Maurice and me, after he succeeded in making his officers stand in front of him with tails between their legs, he ordered one of them to fetch the Foreigner, Peter Otrin in fact and it was then that I was happy that Kate was not with me anymore. I was looking for the opportunity to tell Otrin who I was and about Kate having been here, looking for him ever since J.E. brought us to this police office, however, J.E. made sure I never got this opportunity.
Otrin seemed exhausted. He was pale and emaciated. He looked ill. I tried to talk J.E. into having him examined by a doctor first, but he refused.
“We don’t have time for that! Who knows what they were planning to do when I caught them. They might have already planted a bomb, which is going to explode any minute!”
Then he turned to Otrin, yelling: “Where have you been the last week?”
Peter wearily looked at him. But when he spoke, his voice did not sound tired, it sounded angry and bitter. “Everywhere. This bitch is crazy.”
“Why did you disappear?”
“Because of the razor blade on my neck!” Now he was shouting.
J.E. warned him not to raise his voice again, which made Otrin even more furious.
“Not raise my voice? You treat me like a criminal, and I shouldn't raise my voice? That crazy woman nearly killed me, and you cuffed me instead of her! What kind of police are you? She had been dragging me around like a sack of shit for one whole week! Where were you all the time? Hiding somewhere? And then, when you finally decide to act, you cuff me and treat me like a murderer! Me! I demand that you immediately release me. Immediately!”
His lips were trembling. His black eyes were glowing with anger. He jumped up, but two policemen shoved him back into his seat. When listening to him, looking at him I couldn’t but ask myself, if he was, after all, not telling the truth. He sounded so convincing, was so sincerely agitated that I nearly believed him. Wasn’t he, after all, a victim and not a terrorist? To tell the truth, I would be disappointed if terrorists looked like Otrin. Not only physically, but … Well, don’t get me wrong, I do not sympathize with the terrorists, I hate them, however, if they were like Otrin, then there would be something terribly wrong with the rest of the world. Including me. And please, don’t say, that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Not in this case. Otrin was hiding nothing. Nothing at all. He was what he appeared to be. An angry, worn out, stubborn old man. To be intimidated by people like Otrin, would be ridiculous. But J.E. was too infatuated with himself to see it.
“Let's start again,” he said firmly. “What is your name?”
Otrin stubbornly pressed his lips together. He gazed blankly at the wall behind him.
“Why did you come to France?”
No answer.
“What did you have in your suitcase?”
Silence.
“Where did you hide the explosive?”
Now Otrin's eyes became filled with horror. “What? Are you crazy? What explosives?”
“I’m the one to ask questions, not you! Where have you hidden it?”
Otrin unbelievingly stared at him. “Did I come into the land of fools, or what?”
“Answer!” J.E. was losing his temper. “Who are your accomplices?”
“What do they intend to do? What is their next target?”
Silence.
“Where are they hiding?”
Finally, J.E. hissed through his clenched teeth: “As you wish!”
He grabbed a folder, lying on the table in front of him and threw it into Otrin’s lap.
“There in this folder is everything, each word you uttered in the Sorbonne lecture room! I order you to decipher all of your codes and write them on this paper!”
He threw some blank sheets at him. As Otrin did not bother catching them, they flew scattered on the floor. One of the policemen picked them up and shoved them into Otrin’s hands. “You have time until evening! And remember I know your codes mean people, places, events! I want names! Names, have you heard? I want the exact time of the events! I want the names of the locations!” He shouted at the policemen. “Take him back to his cell!”Then he pointed with his forefinger to Otrin: “And remember, until evening!”
Now it was Isabelle’s turn. I was not so sure about her innocence as I started to be with Otrin’s, nevertheless, I had to admit to myself again, that she was the most beautiful girl, I had ever seen. No wonder Otrin fell for her charms. I would, too. Even the razor would not bother me. I had to lower my head to conceal the suppressed laughter at the thought that this tiny girl intimidated him, a grown up man, though not very strong, yet a man, with a razor! And once again I could not help thinking that his one-week capture was after all voluntary. And that Otrin’s anger when trying to convince J.E. that he was a victim of the insane girl, was faked.
“Well, Isabelle,” started J.E. kindly, “I want you to tell me about Professor’s plans. I know you took him a prisoner and had to threaten him with a razor to prevent him, the dangerous terrorist, from escaping, and you will be awarded for that, but first you have to tell us, what this man was up to.”
“I want the code!” she retorted, the color of her eyes turning from soft blue to cold grey.
J.E. faked enthusiasm. “That’s it! Good girl! The code! Did he tell you the code? What is it? Put it down on this piece of paper, will you?”
He shoved the paper and a pencil before her. Isabelle’s, somewhat dreamy look, wandered past him to the same wall that just some minutes ago hosted Otrin’s stubborn eyes. She started murmuring: “pns, pppppppns, pnnns, pns … “
“Put it down, Isabelle,”J.E. impatiently urged her. “Put down the code. Write the meaning of it.”
He rose and went to the other side of the table. When touching Isabelle’s shoulder to encourage her, she wildly jumped up from her chair, screaming: “Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare to touch me! I am Victoria Isabelle de Saint Rèmy! The new European ruler! I want my throne! Get out of my way!”
J.E. astonishingly looked at her for some time. Then ordered coldly: “Isabelle, sit down!”
She seemed not to have heard him, so he beckoned to the police officers to shove her into her seat again. However, when they neared, she violently started fighting them back, kicking at them and screaming: “I am Victoria! The new European ruler! Victoria is Magdalene, because Magdalene is Vagdalene and Isabelle is Jesus, because Isabelle is Issu and my father was Dagobert, and he is a Meroving and I am Marat. My mother is a Habsburg …”
Finally, the two men held her firmly in their grip. J.E. went back to his seat. He studied her face for a few minutes, then, obviously fed up with her, waved his hand towards the door, and the officers carried her out. Yes, they had to carry her because she wouldn’t walk! Long after the door had closed behind them, we still heard her screaming: “I’ll have all of you beheaded! All of you! Ppns, pnnnnns, pns…”
After her voice faded out, I said to J.E. that she should be taken to a hospital. There was something terribly wrong with her. However, he again rejected my idea saying that Isabelle was bluffing.
“They are all liars! They are all trying to make a fool of me! “he shouted. “But I’ll teach them a lesson they’ll never forget!”
Breathlessly, he hurried to the door, turned around, pointed at me and hissed: “I’ll be away for a while. Until I come back you are in command. However, I am warning you. If anything happens to a prisoner, if anybody escapes, you will pay with your life! Understood? “
I nodded. I understood and believed. Then he turned to the officers: “And you two are responsible for him (meaning me)! If he escapes, you are dead! Understood?”
They said it was. They, too, understood and believed.
After J.E had gone, we were looking at each other in embarrassment. My first thought was, of course, to escape. If it came to fighting, I would probably overcome these two boys, who were staring at me more with fear than hate. But, if I escaped, leaving Otrin here, how would I explain that to Kate? Or to my wife? Or to my friends who counted on me?
No, I decided. I will not escape. Yet, I'll not wait helplessly for J.E. to return either! I have to talk to Otrin, at least! I have to find out what he, Isabelle and Marija were looking for in Brussels. Did they really intend to blow up the Congress Palace?
I have to talk to Otrin, I repeated to myself. But how? Will the officers allow me to visit him in his cell? J.E. had told them to take care of me, to prevent me from escaping, but he had not told them explicitly not to allow me to talk to the prisoners. He even put me in command of them. I could make a use of that.
“I'm going to put some questions to the prisoners,” I said trying to sound as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “One by one. The first will be the Foreigner. Take me to his cell.”
The officers exchanged a perplexed look, not knowing whether they should allow me or not. I quickly resumed talking. I must not give them time to think, I said to myself, quickly changing my tactics. I switched my bossy way of communicating with a highly confidential, kind, persuasive one hoping to make them feel like allies. Allies, doing something good for their boss and themselves. I talked nineteen to the dozen how my investigation was going to help J.E. and how they were going to be awarded by him and so on. Finally, they agreed. They took me to Otrin.
“Call us when you finish,” said one of them, and then they went back to the main entrance to guard it.
