by Maggy Diak
21.
Otrin lay curled up on his bed, his face to the wall. Although he must have heard me, he did not turn. He looked fragile and helpless. I sat in the chair next to his bed. Clearing my throat, I said: “Kate was looking for you. She was in Paris and in St. Rémy as well.”
Without turning, he asked wearily: “Who are you?”
“My wife and your wife are friends. They asked me to find you. We, your wife and I, came to France …”
“Where were you so long? The woman nearly killed me!”
Anger in his voice made me angry, too! Who the hell did he think he was? He did not even bother to ask how Kate was! He was not interested if she was still here! He did not express the wish to see her! Besides, he could have shown at least some gratitude, for we really took great pains to get him out of the mess, he had put himself in. And dragged us all into it too.
“Are you at all aware of how many people you put in jeopardy?” I said crossly. “Including me! Because of you, I will be left to rot in this jail for the rest of my life!”
The old man finally turned around. “You? Why you?”
“Because I know you and tried to save you!”
He remained speechless for some time. All he could do was slowly shake his head. Then he said bitterly, half crying: “I really do not know what got into that girl’s head. We were having such a good time. I thought we were having fun. Then suddenly she got completely mad. In addition to that I have no idea at all what this J.E. wants from me! Why he treats me like a criminal. When he came to the airport after I had reported my lost suitcase, he acted as if I had stolen it myself! What is the matter with that man?”
Now he raised his head and inquiringly looked at me.
“I will explain what,” I answered. Then I told him what J.E. was accusing him of. Otrin’s jaw dropped. After I had finished, he stammered: “The first minute I stepped on the French soil, I knew things were going to go wrong, and I immediately wanted to return, but J.E. would not let me go home.”
“Peter, I know you don’t like being interrogated but you cannot avoid it. When J.E. returns interrogation will become even uglier. I’d like to help you, but first I have to know the truth. So, please, answer this question without getting angry again: Have you ever, ever in your life come into contact with terrorism? I mean, have you met anybody, who had strange, violent ideas. Threatened to destroy …”
He stopped me by raising his hand. “For God’s sake, detective …”
“Call me Tibor …”
“Tibor, I haven’t met either terrorists nor non-terrorists for ages. I don’t have time for meetings. I’m preoccupied with studying and writing. I am always running out of time for even most necessary things in my life. Thank God, Kate takes care of them. My answer is no. I have never met a terrorist in my life! I do not know what they look like! I know terrorism only as a word! It means …”
“Okay, okay,” I hurried to avoid new explanation of words. “I had to ask.”
“I know,” he said.
“J.E. is convinced that the names in your lectures, like Bush, Laden, Sarah, Kriemhild and so on are codes. He thinks that, in fact, these names are the names of the terrorists who cooperate with you.
Moreover, he is sure that the names of places like Karsag, Worms and others are coded messages of places you intend to blow up.”
“You must be kidding!” He stared at me as if I were a ghost. “When he was asking me about bombs and other stupidity, I thought they were just rhetorical questions. To anger me.”
“No, Peter, they were not rhetorical.”
He closed his eyes. I saw that his breathing became heavy. He looked so pale and ill and old that I feared he was going to die right now in front of my eyes.
“Are you okay, Peter?” I asked worriedly, getting up to feel his pulse.
To my relief, he opened his eyes and I sat down again.
“I have always been saying that the greatest danger comes from illiterate, stupid people,” he said slowly, disappointedly. “From people with empty heads, being too lazy to fill them with some knowledge! Emptiness in your head easily becomes a hotbed for fears and ghosts. Stupid people are to be afraid of, believe me. Are to be avoided. They themselves arouse troubles and violence against which they are fighting. Because of the lack of knowledge. I tell you, stupid people are the real threat to this world. Bigger than any natural catastrophe.”
“Peter, where the hell were you and Isabelle hiding all this time and what were you doing” I asked next. “You have to tell me everything, you have to tell me the whole truth, only then I might find a way to save us both.”
“She invited me to go with her to the Provence for the weekend,” he said.
“She invited you? Did she not force you to go?”
“No, she did not. Not at the beginning. She said it would be good for my writing if I visited Provence. You know, Provence plays an important role in my works.”
He made a stop. Then he continued: “I don’t like traveling, you know. In fact, I hate long travels, especially by car. Nevertheless, I decided to accept her invitation because Provence is strongly connected with the dynasty of the Merovings.”
“Why didn’t you tell Kate, your wife, that you intended to go away? Why didn’t you answer her calls?”
He could not hide his embarrassment. “Hm … well … Isabelle suggested this trip should be our tiny secret. She was not going to tell Maurice, and I should not tell my wife. It was only for two days. I agreed I had the right to a two-day's peace, and so we turned off our phones. She was … well, at the beginning she was such a wonderful person. I must admit I was overwhelmed by her kindness … She helped me with everything. She even dined with me because I am not good at those self-service things. I don’t know what to choose, what’s good and what isn’t. You know, at home Kate takes care of my food … my everything. I don’t have time to. I must work. That girl led me to the shops with personal equipment like toothbrushes, toothpaste, shaving razors and so on. I had mine in the suitcase that got lost. You have probably heard that a woman had stolen it from me?”
“No, she did not,” I surprised him. “Your suitcase was found in Ethiopia. It was sent there by mistake. Now it’s already waiting for you at home.”
This remark left him speechless for a few seconds. Then he murmured: “I was sure, she had stolen it.”
“The woman, who was thought to have stolen your suitcase sat next to you in the van today.”
He widened his eyes in amazement: “She? Next to me? How come, I did not recognize her?”
I risked an accusation to see his reaction. “Don't lie! You knew who she was. You had an appointment with her in Brussels! When she saw you she ran toward you like mad. I saw her. I saw both of you, so there is no need to keep it from me.”
“Whaaaat?”
“Peter, you promised to tell the truth! However, if you do not want to, I will! You planned to meet at the Congress palace in which the European Parliament was in session that day. Tell me why!”
“I did not plan anything!” he shouted wildly. “Yes, I was on the way to the Congress Palace because I had no other choice! Isabelle was pressing the razor against my ribs!”
“This lie has no sense, Peter! The three of you came in front of the Congress Hall at the same time! You knew each other because you had met before. When Marija Doval saw you, she …”
“Wait until I tell you why we came. Isabelle and I. I don’t know about the other woman. You'll have to ask her. We came with the intention to present Isabelle to the members of the European Parliament as the new European ruler!”
“Come on, Peter, you should try better!”
“I’m telling the truth and nothing but the truth! I have already told you that she kept me prisoner, threatened me with the razor the minute I did not obey her. I knew she would kill me if I acted against her will. I was in constant fear, I …”
“Why, the hell, didn’t you try to take that damn razor out of
her hands? She’s weaker than you are! You are a man, for Christ’s sake!”
“If you feel the cold, sharp blade on your neck or on one of your veins, you don’t dare move, believe me! You are a fool if you think that a razor in a woman’s hands is less dangerous than in a man’s! Isabelle did not joke! She would not hesitate to kill me!”
After showing me cuts, some of them still fresh on his wrists and neck, I said to myself, well she might have after all, meant it.
“It was my idea to go to Brussels,” he continued. “I persuaded her that the best time for her inauguration was when the whole European Parliament was assembled. And that was today. I hoped to get a chance to tell somebody that she was mad. I hoped to be able to cry for help. The fact is, that I would have been saved by now if that fool hadn’t caught us and taken me prisoner again. Nothing has changed except that one fool was replaced by another!”
His story seemed logical. Acceptable.
A wry smile flickered across his face when he said: “As a man to man, I have to admit that at the beginning the attentiveness of this girl did me good. Not only because she was more sophisticated than most of the students I had known, not to mention that she was the only one who knew my written works, but also because she was young and pretty. I would lie if I denied I did not wish to be at least twenty years younger.”
I started to like him for his frankness that I didn’t expect.
“When she asked me if I wanted to spend the weekend with her, I felt like a teenager,” he added, somewhat shamefully, but immediately burst into a self-mocking laughter again, while pointing to his flowery shirt: “She even managed to talk me into buying this! When my wife sees it, she’ll think I lost my mind. In fact, I did!”
“What did you expect from the weekend with her?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what. I was trying to convince myself that Provence made me go, but deep inside me, I knew this wasn’t the real reason. More than I was ready to admit to myself, I liked the idea of spending some days with that girl. Secretly, I even hoped … Well, you know what!”
I thought of Kate and nodded. Yes, I knew what.
“When did you find out what Isabelle really expected from you?”
“When we were about half the way to St. Rémy. At first, we were having great fun in the car. We were talking, laughing, discussing millions of things …”
“Her names among them?”
“Yes, and other things as well. History, for example. In addition, we enjoyed the wonderful landscape of Provence. We stopped here and there, tasted the famous Provencal wines. I felt heavenly. We were sitting in a restaurant on the highway when she asked me to read her destiny from her coffee cup. Of course, I told her only good, brilliant things. When I predicted her successful, brilliant life, life of a queen, I didn’t even dream that I had just sealed my own fate! She thanked me for the final proof she needed. ‘You know, Peter, ‘she exclaimed happily, ‘I have known all along that I am to be the next European ruler. And you confirmed it now. Thank you. Thank you!’ The way she said it, the seriousness with which she had said it, made me laugh. She was silently, strangely watching me for some time before asking:
‘Are you laughing at me? ‘
‘Yes, no … Well, my dear, you were so cute when pretending that you believed in my fortunetelling, that I could not help laughing. You should be an actress. You missed your profession.’
Her face darkened, and I saw anger flicker in her eyes.
‘Don’t you ever again dare to make fun of me!’ It was then that my drunkenness left me.
‘Isabelle, don’t be insulted, I was not making fun of you,’ I started to apologize. ‘I’d be happy if you became the ruler. I think you would make the best ruler in the world. I’ll vote for you if it comes to that.’
‘What do you mean I would make?’ Her eyes were feverish, her face flushed with indignation, her voice hissing: ‘I will be! There is no question about it! Don’t doubt it or I’ll have to kill you!’
Suddenly I realized that that girl was mad as a hatter. I got scared and decided to get rid of her as soon as possible. I made a plan to immediately return to Paris!
When we were leaving the restaurant, I put a worried grimace on my face and said desperately: ‘Isabelle, I’ve just remembered I have a very important meeting this evening. With the Head of the Sorbonne and the Mayor of Paris. I should have cancelled it, but I forgot. I must go back. I really must! You understand it, don’t you? I’ll call a taxi, don’t worry about me. You just go on, enjoy the weekend …’
Before I finished the sentence, a razor flashed in her hand. ‘Get into the car!’ she ordered. Needless to say, I obeyed.”
After a short pause, Peter continued: “We spent the second part of the way mostly in silence. Or, I spent it in silence. Isabelle was talking about what made her the next European ruler. She said she had found all the necessary information in my books. With the help of my theories, she found out that Isabelle was the same as Issu/Essu. Jesus. She believed she was Jesus. She told me she had searched her family history and discovered that the grandfather of her father was an Austrian, which meant a Habsburg and that his name was Dagobert. As Dagobert was one of the Merovingian kings she was, without any doubt, the new European ruler and my duty was to help her to the throne.
We arrived at St. Rémy late in the night. The block of flats where she lived was in darkness. People were asleep. When I stepped into her flat, revealing her true origin, true social position, I was shocked.
But it wasn’t the poverty that really took my breath away, it was the wall of the room, which was to be my bedroom. A big map of Europe covered almost all of it. There was a red circle around Brussels. Small pictures of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Queen Victoria and her own were pasted around the map. At the top of the map the name Marat was written in red big, fat letters, at the bottom Habsburg, on the right side in even bigger letters Meroving.
Then I knew that she had studied the names long before my arrival to Paris. She invited me after she was certain that it was she who ought to be the new ruler. My role was only to confirm this. To prove it. Scientifically.”
“Was there really no way for you to call somebody? “I asked. “When you were in her flat could you not draw any attention of the neighbors?”
He answered that he couldn't. Isabelle was close on his heels all the time. Even when going to the toilette the door had to be left half open.
“I am sorry, that the idea of going to Brussels and the Parliament to present her as the new ruler didn’t enter my head sooner. She would have taken me there and in the Parliament I would have been able to shout for help. Instead I was trying to convince her that the names Isabelle and Victoria were bad for her, hoping she would decide to drop the idea of becoming the ruler. But I was wrong. She wouldn’t believe me. She demanded from me to find the code for awakening her DNA Each time I said I couldn’t, she gave me a cut on the skin. It lasted until I started to play her game. I told her I had discovered the code and gave it to her. It was murmuring pnspnspns. I warned her that the code needed some time to be activated and that in the meantime we could go to the Parliament to take the throne.
That fool agreed! That’s why we were in Brussels heading for the Parliament building.”
“I found your cry for help,” I said. “And I read your efforts to dissuade her from the idea of becoming the ruler.”
“I hoped somebody would find it and be able to read it,” he said. “At that time, I was in extreme danger. Isabelle suddenly got an idea that I was the reincarnation of Charlotte Corday! Do you know who Charlotte Corday was?”
“After having read your lectures, I know everything,” I laughed.
A sour smile spread over his face. He continued: “Charlotte Corday killed Marat. Isabelle was the reincarnation of Marat, so, according to our hostile relationship, I was probably the reincarnation of Charlotte Corday. After this recognition, she started to feel endangered by me. S
he thought Charlotte would try to repeat the same action in this life too, i.e. kill her. I went to great pains to make her believe that reincarnated people were reborn to repair the damage they caused in their past lives. That they try to make their karma better by acting differently. However, I did not convince her Upon a long reflection, she suddenly established that her karma, a karma of a victim of a terrible crime having been performed by me in my previous life when I was Charlotte Corday, demanded revenge from her. If she didn't revenge, she would be restless to the rest of her life, unable to reach her goals. It was then, out of despair, that the idea of Brussels, of her immediate inauguration in the Parliament, entered my mind and saved me! She needed me for this last act. After that she would kill me. “
A shrill scream came through the wall. It was Isabelle, shouting: “Pns! Pppppppppnns! Pnnnnnnnnnns! Pnsssssss!”
“She’s trying to awaken her sleeping supernatural abilities?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“And what does pns mean?”
A roguish smile showed on his face. “It means penis. She is vibrating the word penis! pns.”
I joined him in laughter. “Is pns the code, you are all looking for?”
“Perhaps it is,” he answered. “Nevertheless, Isabelle is sure it is. She came across the paragraph in my book that gives some solutions to how man can regain his lost image of god. You probably know,” he said seriously, “that according to the Bible, the first man was perfect, made in the image of God. I’m convinced that man's regaining this image will happen through the penis, which is a tunnel, where daena/daemon, meaning dom (home in Slovenian), waits for him to take him into the birth egg, which is cosmos, in fact.”
“If I understood correctly, Isabelle thinks that penis is the word that would, if pronounced correctly, open the door to the supernatural abilities?”
“Yes, she thinks that word is the door to heaven.”
“And is it?”
“I don't know. Penis is only one of the words, which offer that possibility. Although it is, I admit, the strongest because of its reproductive role.”
“Which are the other possibilities?”
“Words indicating things or persons with their heads down.”
I stared at him in amazement.
He smiled understandingly.” Let me give you some examples:
- Saint Peter who was crucified with his head down,
- a lamp (you know it hangs on the ceiling or stands on a desk, 'looking' down),
- a lamprey,
- a bat,
- a penis,
- a daffodil,
-a hangman (tarot cards).
You see, I enumerated a wide range of words, however, Isabelle decided to choose penis and from then on she keeps persistently murmuring it!”
“A good choice,” I smirked. “It seems she trusted your theories more than anything in the world. How come, she did not take you seriously when you revealed all the bad characteristics of the names Isabelle and Victoria?”
He smiled bitterly. “I shouldn't have told her about substitutional victims.”
“Substitutional victims? What's that?”
“Princess Diana was a substitutional victim, for example. Instead of the Queen.”
I took a deep breath. “Are you suggesting, Diana was sacrificed by somebody or some of the people instead of the Queen?”
“No, no! She herself chose to be sacrificed! Sacrifice is not a sacrifice if it is not voluntary. She saved the Queen. And because she was pregnant, her child was a substitutional victim too, sacrificed to save the Prince, the heir to the throne.”
“They proved she was not pregnant,”I insisted.
“I know better, “he answered stubbornly, not wanting to discuss that any further.
“You said that somebody decides to be sacrificed for somebody else. Who sacrificed herself or himself for Isabelle?”
“Nobody! And that's the point. She got it all wrong. She has put it into her head that a substitutional victim meant you could choose somebody to suffer instead of you. Somebody you can burden with your troubles, inconveniences, accidents, failures and so on. For example, you can redirect an accident, which was meant for you, to another person. To your substitutional victim.”
“Oh, I see. Just like that donkey, who carries the sins of a whole village into the desert and dies there? “
“Something like that. When I tried to make her visualize all the horrors she would have to go through if she insisted on becoming the ruler, she carelessly waved her hand, saying: 'Don't worry, I'll find somebody who will have to undergo these troubles. And if she dies, I'll choose another one. It can't be easier!' I couldn't make her understand that the sacrifice must be voluntary. So you can see why I achieved nothing by warning her not to take the throne.”
It was time to go to the other two prisoners, so I got up.
“I believe you, Peter, but that is, sorry to say, not enough. You'll have to convince J.E. as well. I advise you to be as cooperative as you can. Don't let him throw you off balance. Answer all his questions. You'll do no good to yourself if you keep silent.”
He immediately got excited again. “Who, the hell, is that J.E.? A God? Our government sent you to bring me home, so he must let me free! He has no right to keep me here!”
“The fact is, Peter, that this man is said to be an expert for terrorism. All governments respect him and give him a free hand to act as he thinks is best. Now he thinks the best thing is to take us all prisoners. Me too. He even took my phone so right now I cannot inform our government where we are, what is happening to us and ask them to help us. We are left on our own. Therefore, we must be more than careful.”
Finally, for the first time since our meeting, fear shone in his eyes.
“Don't worry Peter, I'll find a way to get us out of here. Trust me and do as I said.”
He nodded and I left his cell.
I ordered the officers to take me to Marija Doval's cell but to my surprise they did not want to. While I was talking to Peter, they obviously decided that I had no right to investigate the prisoners. They escorted me back, by force, of course, to the office to wait for J.E.
While waiting, I was silently grinding my teeth, throwing furious looks at the officers. They did not care. They were standing like two statues at the door, guarding me.
“What is he doing so long?” I asked angrily after a while. “Where is he?”
They remained motionless as if they hadn't heard me. I knew they were afraid of J.E. I had heard him before accusing them of being ineffective and clumsy. He had threatened to fire them saying he didn't need them because he always had to do all the job by himself. If he hadn't caught us, he shouted at them, Brussels would be in ruins now.
No, I could not count on their sympathy and understanding. They were too scared.
I focused on J.E. When I told Peter that J.E. had a free hand regarding terrorism, I did not tell him the whole truth. He was doing things, which no government would approve of, so he was doing them secretly. And that was dangerous. For, instead of handing the suspects over to the prosecutors, as he was obliged to, he judged and sentenced them himself. Often to death and nothing happened to him. The government turned a blind eye on that. That's what I'd heard of different people. I feared that might be the case with us too.
My only hope was Frank. If he had tried to call me and couldn't reach me that must have seemed strange to him. He knew I would never turn off the phone if I was on a case. Especially a case like that. I hoped that his help was on the way and that it will arrive on time.
“I’d like to get my cell phone back,” I said. The answer was no.
“I have the right to a lawyer!”
Now they didn't even bother to answer.
Suddenly, the door opened and J.E. came in. He was not alone. With him was a tall man, all muscles, shaved to the skin, big black spectacles on his nose, so I couldn't see his face. The man gave me the creeps.
I knew why he was brought.
Without a greeting, without a word he threw himself into a chair, arms crossed over his chest. A satisfied smile showed on J.E.'s face.
“I brought an expert for hearings,” he said maliciously. “He knows how to make our birds sing, don't you Claude?”
Claude nodded. I grabbed the sides of my chair so tightly that the knuckles of my hands became white. I was asking myself how much pain I would be able to endure if I was tortured.
“Bring the woman!” J.E. ordered and the officers left the room.
Marija Doval entered with a frightened look on her face. J.E. had to tell her twice to sit down before she was able to understand what he was saying. She sat on the edge of the chair as if prepared to run out of the room in case of a danger.
“Introduce yourself!”
Marija told her name.
“What is the reason of your coming to Paris?”
“I came to visit my friend, “she answered politely. “Were you in Madrid last June?”
“Yes, sir. I was. I have a friend there too.”
“What about Rome in September?”
“Yes, I was …” She frowned. J.E. ‘s questions finally struck her as odd.
“Why did you come to Brussels?”
“I … I came sightseeing … I … Here … What did I do wrong?” Her lips started to tremble. She was scared to death. Tears sparkled in her eyes. She repeated: “What did I do wrong?”
I suddenly felt sorry for this poor, old lady. I opened my mouth to tell her some comforting words, but seeing J.E,’s threatening look, I changed my mind.
“Where did you plant bombs?”
Covering her mouth with both her hands, eyes wide open with horror, she stammered: “Oh, my God, what bombs? I don’t know anything about bombs …”
Tears were starting to run down her cheeks. Her eyes wandered from one person in the room to another, asking for help. Nobody dared.
“Where are the bombs?” J.E thundered again while the gorilla with the dark spectacles was slowly, dangerously rising from his chair and stepped behind Marija’s back.
“I, I came to Brussels to find my brother!”
“Look, look, so now we have a brother too,” said J.E. mockingly. “Names! I want names! You can start with your brother’s name!”
“I … I don’t know, sir. I can show …” She wanted to open her bag.
J.E. jumped up, hysterically shouting to the gorilla: “Watch out! She’s got a gun!”
The man knocked the bag out of Marija's hands. It fell on the floor, but before he picked it up, he twisted her hands on her back and cuffed them to the chair. Marija was loudly sobbing. Then he investigated the bag.
“There is no gun in there, “he said, throwing on the table the content of the bag. Keys, a purse, a photo, a piece of paper.
“I … I … wanted to find … to find my brother … my half-brother …”
J.E. angrily sat back again. He would have liked it if there had been a gun in that bag. He could act immediately! It would be so much easier!
“Your brother is the Foreigner, isn’t he?” he howled.
Puzzlement showed on her face. “Sir?”
“The Professor,” I explained and received a dirty look from J.E.
“No! No!” she cried. “I saw this man for the first time in my life on the plane! We were talking about his Prophecies. I was interested in what would happen to Ljubljana. I live there and …”
J.E. interrupted her, shouting: “Where did you plant the bomb?”
“I, I … there was no bomb… I….”.
“When did you make arrangements to meet in Brussels?”
“Sir, we didn’t make any arrangements. I was with my friends. We were admiring the nice buildings. Then I saw the Professor. I wanted to introduce him to my friends. They would be interested in his prophecies …”
“Where is the explosive with which you intended to blow up the Congress Palace?”
“I don’t know anything, you must believe me, sir, I don’t know …” Her nose was running but she could not blow it for her hands were cuffed. Her face was blushed, eyes wet.
The man behind her back grabbed her hair and pulled it. She screamed from pain. I could not endure it anymore, so I rose, but J.E. brutally shoved me down into my seat.
“I… I really know nothing about the bombs and explosives. Why don’t you believe me? Please, please, let me go. I did nothing wrong … Pleeeease …”.
“What were you doing in Brussels?”
“I told you, sir. I came to find my half-brother. My father and his mother were together in a German camp during the second world war. They fell in love. She got pregnant … They had to part. My father told me about her and my half-brother on his death-bed. My mother knew nothing about this. That woman wrote to my father that he bore him a son. He tore the letter. But on his deathbed I had to promise him that I would find him. On his death bed … That’s why I came.”
“Where is the bomb? Where is the explosive?”
“Please, please … auuuu … auuuu … it hurts. Please, believe me. Look at the photo … It’s the photo of the woman. Of my brother’s mother. On the paper is her address. You can verify it. I am not lying. Auuuu, please, no, it huuuurts …”
I grabbed the photo and held it in front of J.E.’s eyes. His eyes swept over it, uninterested, and then suddenly, he stretched out his hand and pulled the photo out of my hands. He gave it another look; I saw his face fall, his lips and hands tremble. Sweat broke out on his brow.
“Where did you get it?” he shouted angrily, jumping up from his seat. He was shaken to the core! He beckoned the gorilla to let go of her hair.
“Where did you get it?”
“My father gave it to me. The photo was taken in the camp …”
“You are lying, you … you communist whore! Lying! This is forged! Forged!”
With the photo in his hand, he rushed out. Dead silence fell upon us. We were exchanging glances. Nobody understood what had just happened. What had driven J.E. away. I decided to use the moment of confusion.
“Take the woman back into her cell,”I ordered to the officers. I feared that when J.E. came back and saw her, he might kill her, so upset was he about something connected with the photo. The best thing was to move her away from his eyes and then try to bring J.E. to senses.
As soon as the officers moved to do what I had said, the gorilla blocked their way, saying coldly: “Nobody is going to take anybody anywhere! We’ll all wait for J.E. to return!”
“But …,” I started.
“Shut up! No talking!”
We were sitting in complete silence in the office for five hours! Finally, J.E. returned. His face was the face of a dead man! White and ghastly! His eyes were full of hatred.
He pulled a gun out of his pocket and aimed it at Marija. I intended to jump and take the gun out of his hands but was stopped by the gorilla who grabbed me, pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed me.
Aiming at Marija with a trembling hand, J.E. shouted: “You bitch! You damn bitch!” To our shock, tears began to run down his cheeks.
I saw Marija close her eyes. Her lips were moving slightly. Was she praying? I thought so.
At the next movement of J.E.’s hand holding the gun, we all held our breath, expecting him to … Hey, what was he doing? He was not pointing the gun at Marija any more, he turned it to himself! He opened his mouth, put the gun into it and pulled the trigger. A second later, his blood gushed out from a big hole in his head.
