Tomáš Zmeškal - A Love Letter in Cuneiform

Mr. Černý sat on a wooden bench in a long narrow hallway. The bench was painted glossy brown. It was three P.M., but no one had called his name yet. A few people stood down the hallway. His summons was for two thirty. He sat and waited. It was an October afternoon, and sounds drifted in through the dusty windowpanes from the street outside. Mr. Černý stood up, stretched, and straightened the knot on his tie. There was nothing on his mind that he was aware of. His head felt totally empty. Totally empty and totally quiet. Another few minutes went by. He stiffly ran a finger along his tie again. He stopped and stood a while, tilting his head slightly to the side, then turned, stopped, and stood again. Rooted to the spot. Then he knocked on the door. On it was a metal plaque with the number eighteen. It was quiet a moment, then he heard footsteps. The door opened and a girl appeared.

“Hello,” said Mr. Černý.

“Hello,” said the girl. The sound of a tram could be heard amid the silence in the hall.

“What can I do for you?” the girl asked.

“I have a summons,” said Mr. Černý. “A summons,” he said again, pulling a twice-folded sheet of paper from an envelope. The girl took the paper from him, turned it upside down, and took a long look at it. She shifted her weight from one heel to the other, then said without raising her eyes: “They aren’t here anymore. They moved to the building next door.” She folded the paper and handed it back to him. “It’s an invitation, not a summons.”

“Oh,” he said, “that’s good, but how do I get there?” The girl looked over his left shoulder out the window into the street and past it into the park on the other side.

“Go two flights down,” she said. “Just two, though! Not all the way or you won’t be able to get there. Two flights! Then stand facing the staircase … the big ones. The main stairs. With Masaryk in front. A statue of Masaryk. Turn your back to Masaryk, so the main stairs are in front of you, and go right. Walk down the hall. Make two turns: first right, then left, till you come to the stairs. Go down them and you’ll be in the building next door.” She paused a moment. “Well, that’s it,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Černý, and he turned to walk away.

“Wait a minute, sir!” she called after him. “Wait. The door number.” The sound of her heels echoed through the hall as she returned to her office, then a moment later came back out. “131B,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Černý.

“This is building A,” she added. “That’s building B.”

“Thank you,” he said again.

“Good-bye,” the girl said.

“Good-bye,” said Mr. Černý.

On his way from building A to building B he had to turn back several times. Twice he stood in front of the Masaryk statue and twice he turned his back to it. On his third try he finally made it. He found door 131B, knocked, and turned the handle. Sitting in the room was a man of about thirty in glasses. He removed them and looked up at Mr. Černý.

“I’m engineer Černý,” he said, introducing himself.

“Hello, sir. I’m Lieutenant Havránek,” the man said, glancing briskly at his watch.

“I was delayed,” said Mr. Černý.

“No problem, sir. No problem at all. Ever since we moved, nobody can find us. Let me guess: You waited and waited, and when nobody called you, you went to ask what was going on. Am I right?”

“Mm-hm,” Mr. Černý said. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t write to you with our new office number, but I didn’t have a chance. I apologize.”

“Should I come back some other time then?” Mr. Černý asked.

“No, if you have time, we can look at it right now. Please, come in and have a seat.”

“How late do you work?” said Mr. Černý.

“Don’t worry about that,” said the lieutenant. “And please, sit down,” he repeated. He stared at the papers on his desk a moment. “Would you like some coffee? It’s all we have right now. You know, with the move. You can imagine.”

“No,” said Mr. Černý.

“Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Mr. Černý said, after a moment adding: “I can’t imagine. The move.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” said the lieutenant. “You sent us a request for an inquiry, or rather investigation, into Mr. Jánský.”

“Yes.”

“Fine, but before we begin, it would be best if you could tell me a little something about yourself.”

“What do you need to know?”

“Well, for example, where you met him. When was the first time you saw him. That sort of thing.” The lieutenant smiled encouragingly.

“You might as well ask me to tell you my whole life,” said Mr. Černý. “It’s all right there in your papers.”

“There are a lot of them missing, you know,” said the lieutenant, wagging his head. “A lot,” he repeated, again wagging his head. “I’m guessing you’re retired now, sir?”

“What has that got to do with it?”

“Nothing, but are you?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Černý.

“Then whenever you’re ready, we can begin,” the lieutenant said, smiling again.

“What don’t you have there in those papers?” Mr. Černý asked.

“We’ve got a thing or two, but according to the law as it stands, I’m not allowed to tell you what I know from the files and what I don’t.”

“Why not? I don’t understand.”

“Not many people do. In fact very few people understand, especially since this is the third law we’ve had on it now, and God knows how many amendments.”

“What does that mean?” asked Mr. Černý.

“That means if you had come six months ago, I could have told you everything, but now I can’t tell you anything.”

“But I wrote to you more than nine months ago, and in your reply you said you wouldn’t be able to get to it for six months.”

“Quite right, Mr. Černý. Quite right.”

“So why didn’t you do it while you still could?”

“The office is under different leadership now, Mr. Černý. Completely different leadership, as you know.”

“I don’t care what kind of leadership it has.”

“I know what you mean, sir. I know what you mean, and I know it isn’t easy to understand. I can’t even properly explain it myself. I understand and I know you’re upset that it’s taking so long. But as an employee of this office I have to proceed strictly according to the law. You understand.”

“But then why didn’t you call me right away?”

“Sir, I wasn’t working in this office yet six months ago. And neither was my boss, and neither was his.”

“So what am I supposed to do then?” Mr. Černý asked.

“Well, you could tell me how you actually met this Mr. Jánský.”

“What for? I was locked up and convicted.”

“That’s true, but you didn’t have your record expunged in the sixties.”

“I applied for it to be expunged.”

“I realize that, Mr. Černý, but …”

“They didn’t grant it because the Russians invaded. You should know that.”

“I do know that, sir, and I know how unpleasant this must be for you, but—”

“If you know it, then why are you asking me?”

“Even what little I know I can’t tell you.”

“But six months ago you could have. Yes?”

“Yes. Six months ago I could have, but not now. Now the law has changed, as I said.”

“And …?”

“You see, if I told you what I know, I’d be breaking the law. Not the previous one, but the current one. And since the accusations you make are serious enough to land Mr. Jánský in court, I have to proceed strictly according to the law. Do you understand?”