Judgment on Deltchev (21 page)

It was an hour before the car arrived at the café, and by that time I had had several plum brandies. I was not
drunk but I felt sleepy. It was silly of Aleko, I thought, to want to kill me. Very silly. I was perfectly harmless. However, I had now acquired another useless piece of information: I knew what it felt like to be shot at in civilian clothes; it was exactly the same as it felt when you wore a uniform. That was interesting. In the car I went to sleep and had to be wakened by the driver when we got to the hotel.

The reception clerk was asleep. I took my room key from the rack myself. The lift was not working. I walked upstairs slowly, yawning. I was really very tired. I was also beginning to feel stiff and bruised. If the water was hot (and late at night when nobody wanted it, it usually was hot) I would have a bath and attend to the knee I had cut on a stone. My suit was a mess too, but that could wait until the morning. A bath, then sleep; that was it. I felt curiously relaxed and happy. The odd thing was that this feeling had almost nothing to do with the plum brandy. It was because I had survived an ordeal.

I opened the door of my room. There was a small foyer with a cupboard and a hat rack between the door and the bedroom itself. I switched on the foyer light, remembered with a twinge of irritation that I had lost my hat and would have to buy one of the local Homburgs next day, and went into the bedroom.

My hand was on the bedroom light switch when I saw what was there. I stood quite still.

A woman was lying face-downwards across the bed. By the foyer light I could see that she had a loose raincoat of some kind spread about her as if it had been thrown there to cover her up.

I pressed the light switch, and the room was flooded
with the bright hard light from the naked lamps in the gilt chandelier.

Her hair was dark and one of her tightly clenched hands concealed her face. I walked over to the bed, and a loose board cracked loudly. I looked down.

She stirred. Her hands moved and she rolled onto her side. The light poured down in her face and she raised a hand to shield her eyes.

It was Katerina Deltchev.

I shook the bed, not gently, and she sighed. Then, with a start and a gasp, she was awake. She sat up quickly and the thin raincoat she had thrown over her slipped to the floor.

‘Good evening,’ I said.

For a moment she stared at me, then she scrambled off the bed and looked round defiantly.

‘There’s no one else here,’ I added.

She drew herself up as if she were about to deliver an oath of allegiance. ‘Herr Foster,’ she said formally, ‘I must apologize for this intrusion, but it was unavoidable. I will explain. I—’ She broke off and looked down as she realized that she was in her stockinged feet.

‘They’re down there,’ I said. Her shoes had slipped off while she had been asleep and were lying beside the bed.

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again, went over to the bed, and put her shoes on thoughtfully. She was a young woman who was used to being in charge of a situation; now she was casting about for a way of taking charge of this one.

‘I am sorry—’ she began.

‘Quite all right,’ I said. ‘You wanted to see me, so you came here. I was out. You waited. You fell asleep. I am afraid I can’t offer you anything but a cigarette. Will you smoke?’

For a fraction of a second she weighed the possible moral advantage of a refusal; then she shrugged her shoulders. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

She took a cigarette and I lit it for her. She sat down again on the bed and looked at me calmly.

‘Herr Foster,’ she said, ‘it is not really quite as simple as that for you, is it?’

‘No, not quite.’

I went into the bathroom, dipped a towel in water, and wrung it out. Then I went back into the bedroom, sat down in the armchair, rolled the trouser leg up, and went to work with the towel on my cut knee. She watched uncertainly.

‘Who told you I was staying here?’ I asked.

‘There were three hotels where you might have been staying. This was the second one I telephoned.’

‘How did you know the room number?’

‘By asking for another room number when I telephoned. Of course I got the wrong number. The operator corrected me.’

‘Who let you in here?’

‘The floor waiter. I said I was your lover and gave him some money. Does it matter?’

‘Not a bit. It’s just that at the moment I am in a suspicious mood. Now, then. How do you get out of the house without being seen? What do you do?’

‘Our neighbours are friendly. Between our wall and theirs there is a tree. With two vine poles one can crawl from the top of our wall to the tree. From the tree one uses the branches to reach their wall. For a child it is easy. For a heavier person there is some danger, but it can be done.’

‘Then why did you ask me to deliver that letter for you, Fräulein? If it was so important you could have delivered it yourself.’

‘I did not wish to risk my life if there was another way.’

‘Are you risking your life now?’

‘Yes, Herr Foster. I am also risking yours.’

‘That I guessed.’

‘But only if I am found here.’

‘Splendid.’

‘If I get back tonight without being seen, I shall be safe too. The guards inspect us only in the morning.’

‘Good.’

‘I would not have come, Herr Foster,’ she said severely, ‘if it had not been absolutely necessary to see you.’

‘You didn’t have to leave the house to do that. I was there myself an hour ago.’

She shrugged. ‘I did not know. I wished to see you because—’

I interrupted her. ‘Do you know a man named Aleko?’

‘Aleko? It is common.’

‘Who was the Valmo you sent that letter to?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I see.’

‘It is true. Valmo was only a name I was given to send letters to. The letter was for someone else.’

‘Who?’

‘My brother, Philip.’

I sighed. ‘The one who’s studying law in Geneva?’

‘He is not in Geneva.’

‘Your mother said he was.’

‘My mother was lying.’

‘I didn’t think so.’

‘She did not intend you to think so. Will you please listen to me without interruption for a moment?’

‘All right, I’m listening.’

‘My brother has been in hiding here since before Papa was arrested. My brother, Herr Foster, had five friends. Their names were Pazar, Eftib, Vlahov, Pechanatz, and Radiuje.’

I dropped the towel. ‘Do you know what you’re saying?’

‘Perfectly. That is what I came to tell you. This evidence that they have brought against my father is quite true. Only it is not he who is guilty. It is my brother, Philip.’

I sat back and stared at her. She was telling the truth. A lot of things were suddenly and appallingly clear.

‘When did your mother find out?’

‘She did not tell me.’

‘Does your father know?’

‘He must have known from the beginning of the trial, or guessed. But what can he do? He cannot accuse his own son, and Brankovitch would certainly not let Philip give evidence.’

‘Nobody would believe it anyway. They’d laugh. Dutiful son takes blame for father’s crimes. I’d laugh myself.’ I thought about it for a moment. It explained quite a lot of things, but not everything by any means. I looked up at her again. ‘What’s the idea of telling this to me, Fräulein?’

‘I want you to publish my brother’s evidence.’

‘Does he want to give it?’

She set her lips firmly. ‘He must.’

‘Does your mother know of this idea?’

‘I would not tell her. She would say that it would not help Papa, only condemn Philip.’

‘She’d be right.’

‘But abroad they must know the truth.’

‘Would your mother agree with that?’

‘I do not know. She is too clever to be simple. She would discuss the idea and think of possibilities nobody else had dreamed of. Then she would say she was tired. You would not know her real thoughts.’

‘What was your brother up to? Is he crazy?’

She shook her head slowly. ‘When Papa betrayed the party,’ she said, ‘he and Philip quarrelled. They were always in conflict, but this time my mother could do nothing.’ Tears came to her eyes. ‘We were all against him, even I was; and when the People’s Party came to power, Philip joined a student political club that had for secretary this man Pazar. Pazar always needed money, but the students liked him. He talked very amusingly and they used to pay him for coaching. When they formed a club they would sometimes make him secretary and give him a commission on the subscriptions. Philip soon felt that the club was not serious, but he became very friendly with Pazar. Then, one day, Pazar told him that he was a member of the Brotherhood.’

‘There must have been pleasure in telling that to the son of the man who had done so much to destroy it,’ I remarked. It was all too easy to catch the flavour of those dangerous exchanges of confidences between the middle-aged drug addict and the fanatical youth.

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps. I know that when Philip joined the Brotherhood it was only to revenge himself on Papa. He did not mean then to do more than join.’

‘But once he had joined, he found that they expected more than a gesture. Was that it?’

She nodded. ‘There were six of them elected, and Philip
was named the leader. Their task was to kill Vukashin at the Anniversary-Celebration parade. But—’

‘Just a moment. Who was the man who gave them the job?’

‘It was not one man, but a group of men. They called themselves the Survivors.’

‘When did Philip tell you all this?’

‘Before he went to Switzerland. Mamma had become worried about him. He looked so ill and tired. She persuaded Papa to send him there to study. Naturally, he refused to go at first, but after a day or two he said no more. That was at Christmas. He had arranged to return in secret when Pazar sent for him.’ She paused before she added, ‘I knew then that he was not the real leader, but had been given the role of leader because of his name.’

‘Did you say that to him?’

‘He already knew it, I think. But if I had said it he would have made some other foolishness to prove to me that I was wrong. Besides, I thought that in Geneva he might change his mind and forget about it.’

‘But he didn’t.’

‘No. We had arranged a code for our letters, and when the attempt on Papa was made, I heard from him that he was returning. I only saw him once. We met secretly at a place near the station.’

‘Patriarch Dimo 9?’

‘No, another. But he gave me two addresses which I might send letters to. Valmo, Patriarch Dimo 9, was one of them. The other he told me I must use only in case of an extreme emergency if I had to find him.’

‘What was in the letter you gave me?’

‘I begged him to escape to Greece and publish the truth about the conspiracy against Vukashin from there.’

‘What made you decide to come to me?’

She frowned impatiently. ‘Today’s evidence, Herr Foster. Surely you see. The police know everything. Philip and Pazar are the only two left. They must be in hiding somewhere, helpless. Philip can do nothing now even if he wished. It must be done for him.’

I thought hard for a moment or two, then I shook my head. ‘I don’t think that it’s as simple as you believe, Fräulein.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, to begin with, Valmo was the name Pazar was hiding under. When I tried to deliver your letter, I found him dead. He’d been shot through the back of the head and had been there some days.’

‘What happened to my letter?’

‘That was burnt by a man named Aleko who said that he was of the secret police and that
his
name was Valmo. He also said that your letter was addressed to him and was something to do with the attempt on your father.’ I described Aleko. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’ I added.

She looked utterly bewildered. ‘No, Herr Foster.’

‘What does your brother look like?’

She gave me a description.

I nodded. ‘A young man who looks like that came into Aleko’s apartment while I was there. I only saw him for a moment. Aleko called him Jika.’

She stood up quickly. ‘That is Philip. He likes his friends to call him that. Herr Foster, where is this place?’

‘I don’t know for certain, but I should think that it
may be the other address your brother gave you. Have you got it?’

‘Philip made me remember it. He said it was too dangerous to write down.’

‘What is it?’

‘Pashik, Pan-Eurasian Press Service, Serdika Prospek 15,’ she said.

I went to the wardrobe, got out the bottle of plum brandy, and poured myself a big drink.

‘Do you like this stuff?’ I asked.

She shook her head.

‘All right, Fräulein. You’d better go back now. I think I know how to reach your brother.’

Pashik lived in a modern apartment house near his office. He had pointed out the place to me on the day I had arrived. I thought now that I could find it without much difficulty. There were no taxis. I walked.

The way there lay through the business quarter, and by that time the streets were mostly empty and still. Earlier that day they had been decorated in preparation for the anniversary parade, and the bright moonlight striking obliquely through the flags overhead cast a multiplicity of shadows that stirred and twisted in the warm breeze. It was like walking through the dark forest of a dream. But I had gone some distance before I became frightened.

It was a very unpleasant sensation. The brandy-engendered resolution with which I had set out seemed to drain suddenly away. I began to shiver uncontrollably and an icy, numbing kind of logic invaded the small corner of my conscious mind now whimpering with the effort required to keep on walking. What I was doing was incredibly foolish. Not three hours ago two men had tried to kill me in the street. I had been very lucky to escape. Now here I was in the streets again, giving them another chance. For obviously they must be waiting for me. Ruthless determination of the kind they possessed would be intensified by failure. They would not fail a second time.

Soon every shadow had become a man with a gun,
every doorway the place of an ambush. I kept on simply because I was afraid to go back. I walked now simply because I was afraid to break into a run that might precipitate action. My legs ached with the strain. My shirt clung to my back. I had so completely lost my head that I went on fifty yards past my destination without seeing it. There was a frantic ten seconds on the corner of the Boulevard Sokolovsky while I got my bearings. Then I saw the apartment house from a familiar angle. I ran the fifty yards back.