Rex Stout - The Black Mountain

“Hold it,” I cut in. “I’m not going to back clear to Titograd.”

“I’ll finish Article Four. It’s Article Four that has us in this mess. ‘The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.’ ”

“Is that all?”

“That will do.”

I turned around.

We arrived in Titograd in style, in an old Ford truck that Zov requisitioned at the first farm we came to that had one, and pulled up in front of police headquarters at twenty minutes past three, just twenty-two hours after Jubé Bilic had delivered us there the day before. As we piled out, Wolfe told me to give the driver three thousand dinars, and I obeyed. I was stuck again with the knapsacks, which we had taken off when we boarded the truck, and with the sweaters. We followed Zov into the big old stone edifice, along the dingy corridor, up the stairs, and into the room where the two clerks sat on stools. Zov spoke to Wolfe, and Wolfe told me we were to wait there and went to a chair and sat. Zov didn’t go on in. He sent one of the clerks, who entered the inner room, returned in a moment, and motioned Zov to come. I put the luggage on a chair beside Wolfe and myself on another one.

It was a long wait, so long that I began to nurse the possibility that Gospo Stritar was going to relieve us of our problem. Evidently Zov had been completely confident that his loyalty would not be questioned, but Stritar might not see it that way. The idea had its attractions, but it led to another, that if a visit to the Albanians was enough to do for Zov, what about Toné Stara and his son Alex? That wasn’t so attractive. I would have liked to ask Wolfe a couple of pertinent questions, but his head had fallen forward until his chin touched, his eyes were closed, and he was breathing as if he were a week behind on oxygen, so I let him alone.

I became aware that someone was yelling at somebody named Alex, and wished Alex would answer. Also someone had hold of my shoulder. I opened my eyes, saw Wolfe, and jerked upright.

“You were sound asleep,” he said testily.

“So were you. First.”

“We’re wanted. Bring the knapsacks.”

I gathered them up and followed him between the counters and across to the inner room. Zov, holding the door for us, shut it and went to a chair at the end of Stritar’s desk and sat. Stritar waved us to chairs without getting up. He hadn’t got a haircut. His underhung jaw didn’t seem quite as impressive as it had the day before, but I had seen a lot of underhung rocks in the meantime. After giving Wolfe a sharp glance, he concentrated on me as I went to the chair, and after I sat he looked me up and down. Not knowing what our line was going to be, or his either, I neither grinned nor glowered at him but merely looked self-reliant.

He turned to Wolfe. “It’s too bad your son doesn’t speak our language. I’d like to talk with him.”

Wolfe nodded. “I was wrong not to teach him. I would be glad to interpret for you.”

“That’s not the same. Comrade Zov has told me what happened today. You and your son have acted boldly and bravely. It is appreciated by me and will be appreciated by my superiors. You can add to that appreciation by giving me a full account of your movements since you left here yesterday.”

Wolfe raised his brows. “I’m surprised that you ask. You said everything would get to you.”

“Perhaps it has. I would like to hear it from you.”

“You may. We went first to the house where I visited my friend Grudo Balar many years ago. A stranger was there who had never heard of him. We went next to an address that someone in Albania had given me. I had been told that a man named Danilo Vukcic could give me much information if he would, particularly about the Spirit of the Black Mountain.”

“Who in Albania told you about him?”

Wolfe shook his head. “I told you yesterday that I will not cause trouble for anyone who has helped us. We found Danilo Vukcic at that address, and he did indeed have information. It seemed to me that he was overready to impart it to strangers, but later, thinking it over, I realized that it was only such matters as were probably common knowledge — or merely current rumors. I was quite candid with him. You may remember I told you that we had cached a considerable sum in American dollars somewhere in the mountains, and I told him about it too. I now think that was a mistake. I now think it was my telling him about that cache that caused him to offer to take us to a place in the mountains where we could meet one of the leaders of the Spirit of the Black Mountain. Anyway, we accepted the offer, and he took us. After a difficult journey we arrived—”

“One moment. Did you see Jubé Bilic anywhere? The boy who brought you here yesterday?”

Wolfe was surprised and puzzled. “Him? Where? In the mountains?”

“Did you see him anywhere after you left here?”

“I did not. Why?”

Stritar waved it away. “Go on.”

“We arrived at a cave — near the Albanian border, I was told — in the middle of the night. There were five men there, and Vukcic said that one of them was a leader of the Spirit, but he didn’t impress me as a leader of men or of a movement. By that—”

“What was his name?”

“I was given no names. By that time I was suspicious of the whole business. They insisted on knowing where our dollars were cached, and at one time I thought they were going to try to force us to tell by methods that I consider barbarous. Also I distrusted Vukcic. I have had many dealings with men, mostly in America, and I concluded that Vukcic was not honest or sincere, and that I would have nothing to do with a movement in which he was prominent or influential. I didn’t tell him that, of course. If I had we might not have left the mountains alive, in spite of the fact that they would rather not lay a hand on American citizens. The question was, how to get away from them without serious trouble, and I think I managed it pretty well. In the morning I said we would like to have a look at the border, at Albania, and Vukcic went with us to show us where the border is, since it isn’t marked. When we got there we simply kept on going. Vukcic wanted to stop us, but we paid no attention to him. He stuck to us for a distance, protesting, but stopped when we emerged from a defile. We soon knew why, when we saw the fort. We went to it and were about to enter, when we heard a scream, and we went in to investigate. You have heard the rest from Comrade Zov.”

“I want to hear it from you. All of it — if you can, every word.”

When Wolfe reported to me later, I liked that. Up to that point the indications were that Stritar really trusted Zov, which would have been silly. The one rule everybody in Yugoslavia stuck to was: never trust anybody, anywhere, any time.

I don’t need to report the rest of it to you, as Wolfe didn’t to me. He gave it to Stritar just as it had happened, omitting only his conversations with me and Danilo’s visit to the fort. I will, however, include something that he tacked on at the end, after he had got us into the truck on our way to Titograd. “My son and I,” he said, “claim no special credit for what we did, but you expressed appreciation for it. If you would like us to have a token of your appreciation, one little favor would be welcome. For some time my son has wanted a Luger pistol, and he says that Comrade Zov’s is in excellent condition. He would like to trade his Colt for it if Comrade Zov is willing.”