At the stairs I hesitated. If I left now, without knowing what had happened, Maxwell would think me scared. I hurried up the two flights of stairs and went into Marie’s department. ‘I think I left my gloves in pan Marie’s office,’ I told his assistant. ‘Can I go in?’ I didn’t wait for him to answer, but walked straight through into Marie’s office. He was sitting at his desk, staring out of the window. He turned with an obvious start as I entered.
‘Oh, it is you, Mr. Farrell.’ The sudden panic drained out of his eyes, leaving them expressionless — as blank as Novak’s eyes had been when I had asked to see Tucek. ‘Is there — something you wish to see me about?’ His voice was nervous and he fidgeted with the ruler on his desk.
‘Yes,’ I said. I glanced towards the door and then lowered my voice. ‘What’s happened to Jan Tucek?’
‘I do not know what you mean.’ His voice was wooden.
‘Yes, you do,’ I said.
He got up then. ‘Please go,’ he said. He was very agitated. ‘My assistant—’ His mouth dropped at the corners.
‘I’ll go as soon as you tell me what’s happened to Tucek,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been down to his office. There are two men there, searching it. There were files and books all over the floor.’
He sat down then and for a moment he said nothing. His body, hunched in the big armchair, seemed suddenly shrivelled and old. ‘Jan Tucek has been arrested,’ he said slowly.
‘Arrested?’ I think I’d known it ever since I’d walked into his office. But to hear it put bluntly into words shook me.
‘Why?’ I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Why is any one arrested in Czechoslovakia to-day? He fought in England during the war. That alone is sufficient to make him suspect. Also he is an industrialist.’ His voice was low and somehow fatalistic. It was as though he saw in this the beginning of the end for himself.
‘Is he in prison?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘They do not go so far yet. That is why they search his office. They look for evidence. For the moment he is confined to his house. Perhaps he will be released tomorrow. And then — perhaps not.’ He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘This sort of thing hangs over all of us of the old Czechoslovakia. So many have disappeared already.’
‘But what has he done?’ I asked.
‘I do not know.’ He took off his glasses and began to polish them as though afraid of showing some emotion. There was a heavy, audible silence between us. At length he picked up a newspaper from under a pile of papers, peered at it and then held it out to me. ‘Column two,’ he said, ‘The Rinkstein story.’
It was down-page quite a small story headed: DIAMOND DEALER ARRESTED — RINKSTEIN ACCUSED OF ILLEGAL CURRENCY DEALS. ‘Who is Rinkstein?’ I asked him.
‘Isaac Rinkstein is one of the biggest jewellers in Prague.’
‘What’s his arrest got to do with Tucek?’
‘Everything — nothing. I do not know.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘All I know is he deal in diamonds and precious stones.’
‘But he’s been arrested for illegal currency operations,’ I pointed out.
He smiled wryly. ‘That is the legal excuse. It is his dealings in precious stones that will interest the authorities, I think.’ He bent the ruler between his two hands till I thought it must break. ‘I am very much afraid Rinkstein will talk.’ He got up suddenly and took the paper away from me. ‘You must go now. I have talk too much already. Please repeat nothing — nothing, you understand?’ He was looking at me and I saw he was frightened. ‘Sixteen years I have been with the Tucek company.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Goodbye, Mr. Farrell.’ His hand was cold and soft.
‘I’ll be back in Pilsen in about three months,’ I said as he took me to the door. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you again then.’
His lips twisted in a thin smile. ‘I hope so,’ he said. He opened the door and called to his assistant to get me a car. It was with a feeling of relief that I was swept through the factory gates and out into the streets of Pilsen. Black clouds were coming up from the west and as I got out at my hotel the first drops of rain fell on the dry pavements.
I phoned the airport and checked that my passage to Munich and through to Milan was fixed. Then I got my raincoat and hurried across the road to the bookshop on the corner. It was not quite five. I searched through the paper backs with my eye on the door. Five o’clock struck from a nearby church. There was no sign of Maxwell. I stayed on until the shop shut at five-thirty. But he didn’t come. I bought several books and after waiting for a bit in the doorway, went back to the hotel. There was no message for me at the desk. I ordered tea to be sent up to my room and tried to finish off my report. But my mind could concentrate on nothing but Tucek’s arrest. Also I was worried about Maxwell.
In the end I went down to the bar. For a while I tried to persuade myself that Tucek and Maxwell were nothing to do with me. But it was no good. What had happened filled me with a sense of helplessness. It made me want to get drunk again, so I went in to dinner. And after dinner I went out to a cinema where an old English film was showing. I got back shortly before eleven. There was no message for me and nobody had called to see me. I got a drink and took it up to my room. I stayed up, waiting for Maxwell.
But he didn’t come and when the church clock struck midnight I went to bed. It was a long time before I could get to sleep. I kept on thinking of Jan Tucek, somewhere over on the other side of Pilsen under house arrest, and wondering what had become of Maxwell.
I was called at eight-thirty the following morning. The rain was beating in at the open window and the clouds were low and wind-blown. It looked like being a dirty trip over the Alps. But I didn’t care about that. I was glad to be leaving Czechoslovakia. I knew I’d been on the fringe of a political whirlpool and it was good to know I was getting out before I was sucked down into it.
I had breakfast, paid my bill and got a drozka. The flight was scheduled for eleven-thirty. I paid one call on the way out to the airport and arrived well before eleven. I checked my bags and then went to the passenger clearing office. I handed my passport to the clerk. He looked at it, flicked over the pages and then nodded to a man standing near me. The man came forward. ‘Pan Farrell?’
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I knew what he was.
‘You will come with me please.’ He spoke in Czech. ‘There are some questions we must ask you.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, putting a front on it. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am of the S.N.B.’ His hand was on my arm. ‘Come this way, please. We have a car waiting.’
I looked about me quickly. I had a sudden, urgent desire to make a break for it. I’d been through all this before. I knew what it was like. I’d lost a leg and nearly lost my reason, too. But the grip tightened on my arm. There was another of them on my other side. And then suddenly I was angry. I’d done nothing, nothing at all. They couldn’t arrest me without a reason. I shook my arms free and faced them. ‘Are you arresting me?’ I demanded.
‘We wish to question you, pan Farrell.’ It was the smaller of the two who replied, the one who had spoken before. He was very broad in the shoulders and his small eyes were protected by sandy lashes that blinked very rapidly.
‘Then please put your questions to me here. My plane leaves at eleven-thirty.’
The corners of his lips turned down slightly. ‘I am afraid you will miss your plane. My instructions are to take you to the Reditelstvi S.N.B.’