Lawrence Block - The Canceled Czech

“I am walking as fast as I can.”

“All right.”

“You should show more respect to your superiors, Tanner. That is your name? Tanner?”

“Yes.”

“What is your rank?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your rank. Private, corporal, sergeant-”

“Oh. Captain.”

“Get us out of here safely and you will be a major. I solemnly guarantee it.”

He was impossible. I wanted to tell him to cut the talk and save his energies for walking, but I didn’t even bother to try. We crossed the street and headed for the house. Already they were behind us. Gershon and Haim and Zvi, back in their civilian clothes again, and coming through the gate on our trail.

In front of the house, just ahead of us, was a Russian-made sedan with the motor running.

I couldn’t believe it. How had she done it? What had she done with Ari? Where had she found the car? It didn’t matter. We just had time. They were on the other side of the street. We could duck into the car and be gone before they knew what was happening…

Oh.

Greta was on the passenger’s side. And seated next to her, behind the wheel, was Ari.

He rolled the window down. “Here’s the car,” he said. “I came back with Greta and she told me you wanted a taxi, but I got us a private car instead.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Ari is very clever,” Greta said. “He knows how to start a car without a key. He used the tiniest piece of wire.” I couldn’t help it, her eyes added. He just came along, and what could I do?

And Ari said, “Why did you want the car, Evan?”

I looked over my shoulder. Gershon and Zvi and Haim were crossing the street, their faces aglow with comradely smiles. “For later on,” I said, weakly, “when we all make our getaway.”

“So we get the car ahead of time?” He nodded approval. “You are a good planner, Evan. Excellent.”

Zvi did not want to hold a trial. I think he was still upset because we had not permitted him to kill the Czech guards. “What is the point of it?” he demanded. “We all know he is guilty. We all know we are going to hang him. Why have a trial?”

“Because it is a necessary procedure. We are not barbarians.”

“Did his kind ever hold trials?”

“Would you place yourself in his class?”

“It is not the same thing.”

“My dear Zvi, it is precisely the same thing.”

“Bah.” Zvi turned his back on Gershon, who had been upholding the principle of law and order. “You can see the folly of it, can’t you?” he asked me. “Among other things, the butcher does not speak Hebrew. What does he speak? Slovak?”

A few other languages as well, I thought, but Zvi had given me an idea. “Only Slovak,” I told him.

“So! How can we have a trial?”

“Evan speaks Slovak,” Haim said.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we might as well have this farce of a trial. You will interrogate him, do you understand? We will give the questions, and you will repeat them to him and translate his answers for us. Is that all right with you, Evan? It should not take long.”

“I’m willing.”

“And then,” Zvi said, “we take the rope and stretch his neck.”

“Providing he is found guilty.”

“You are joking, Haim.”

“Well…”

We were in the basement. Kotacek, wholly incapable of understanding what was going on around him, sat in the same chair in which I had regained consciousness a night ago. Greta was near the door motioning to me. I went to see what she wanted.

“I couldn’t help it,” she said. “He insisted on coming with me.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t get rid of him. I told him he should stay at his post, but he wanted to come with me. Do you want to change your clothes? I brought your clothes.”

“I’ll change later.”

“You look very pretty in your uniform. At least we got the car, but it is no good now, is it? I am sorry. He wanted to make love to me; that is why he came with me. The one time in my life I had something better to do, and he wanted to make love to me!”

“It’s all right.”

“What do we do now?”

“We’re going to try him.”

“For what?”

“For killing Jews.”

“Him. He couldn’t kill a gnat. What is going to happen?”

“I don’t know.”

They were readying the scene for the trial. Kotacek’s chair was moved to the far wall, four other chairs grouped in a semicircle facing him. I moved toward them all, scooped the pencil-beam flashlight from the table top. I hefted it in one hand and slapped it against the palm of the other hand.

“Talk to him,” Ari said.

“What should I tell him?”

“Explain that this is a court of law, and tell him the charges against him…” He went on to give me a long message for our prisoner. “Make sure he understands what is going on,” he added. “He does not look particularly intelligent.”

I stood in front of Kotacek. “Be very calm,” I said in Slovak. “Look only at me and do not say anything just now. We are in very dangerous trouble right now. These men you see here are Jews.” His lip curled in a sneer. “Don’t say anything. Listen to me. You have to trust me. Nod if you understand.” He nodded. “Good. If you cooperate, I think I know a way to get out of here. But you will have to do as I say. Do you understand?”

“If you are quick with your revolver,” he said, “you can murder all of these Jewish swine before you know it.”

Gershon touched my arm. “What did he say?”

“He says that he is sorry for whatever may have happened in time of war, but he was only following orders.”

“They all followed orders,” Zvi said. “This is a farce. Why is it that no one ever gave an order? Ask him if he signed the order consigning the Jewish population of Bratislava to Belsen.”

I looked at Kotacek. “I have a flashlight in my hands,” I said. “I am going to shine it in your eyes. You must look directly into the beam. Do not take your eyes off it for an instant. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“He admits it?”

“He does. What else shall I ask him?”

I pointed the pencil-beam light at Kotacek. I moved the switch to the middle position, for sending code, and I worked the little button rhythmically, a nice steady tempo, flashing the light monotonously on and off, on and off, and keeping the beam directed right between Kotacek’s eyes.

“Ask him about his role in the extermination of the ghetto of Spisska Nova Ves. And the ghetto of Presov.”

I said, “Stare at the light, straight at the light, keep your eyes directly on the light.”

“But what is the point?”

It wasn’t getting to him. I flashed faster, upped the tempo. The frequency of the flashes was supposed to have something to do with it. I didn’t really believe it would work, but I considered it a slightly more realistic prospect than divine intercession, and without one of the two we were lost. Of course he would get a shock when they put the rope around his neck, but it might be too late by then. And it might not send him into a seizure anyway.

“Ask him if he also ordered the extermination of the Gypsies, and the Slovak Socialists, and of thirty-five thousand Ruthenians, and…”

I speeded up the frequency of flashes again as Haim completed his question. When I saw Kotacek’s eyes glaze I knew I had him. I held the tempo steady, worked my thumb in and out on the flasher button, and his eyes rolled and his mouth dropped open and I had him, I had him. He tried to stand up and barely got halfway out of his chair before his hand flew to his chest and a moan escaped his lips and he pitched face forward onto the basement floor.

“What has happened?”