'Tell them what?' Daniel was possessed by that need too. It is a male characteristic. Daniel retells an ancient message, trying to inflame even the hearts of those who seemed bent on taking the opposite view. Because of it they had lived in poverty and had to live for a time in a remote village. And they had not been allowed to travel at all.
'That's not easy to answer in a few words. At one time I had an urge to tell people at least something about the world they were not allowed to see: what it looked like, how the people behaved, the way they thought, what customs they had. You see, the world was divided into two in those days. Our part was good, the other part was bad: now its
the other way round, in a sense. Nevertheless there is only one world and it is both good and bad. Most important of all, it is threatened by what we do in it. We rush forward somewhere without looking to right or left. That's something you become aware of in that place, where, since time immemorial, they have acknowledged values other than just progress and the pursuit of success and change. When you return you are bound to ask: where will it all end? And your answer is: in the end we will destroy ourselves and life in general.'
'People always expect catastrophe,' Hana says. 'At one time people actually expected the end of the world. My husband often talks about it in sermons: how the sun will turn black, the moon will run blood, the stars start to fall to earth and the skies disappear. It's a horrifying thought.'
'That's true,' the journalist admits, and he excitedly starts to tell her how these used to be only nightmares. The beast rising out of the sea had seven heads and ten horns. The Hindus believe that when the age of Kali arrives, the gods will massacre each other, the earth will be engulfed by fire and water, and there will be a return to the chaos that reigned before Creation. The Persians believed that life would perish in the convulsions of the earth, after which would come fire, flood and the fall of the heavens. It was always something that would come irrevocably by a higher will. Nowadays we are preparing our destruction ourselves because we are too attached to material things. Man should fix his mind on other values. He should seek the love that sees and is wise, as well as harmony and the fundamentals of the order that rules the universe.
'My husband says everything happens by the will of God. Without it, not a hair will grow, or fall from the head. But he also appeals for love.' It is odd how easy she finds it to talk to this man. She would never dare broach such subjects in front of Daniel. Daniel was too learned, serious, genuine and responsible. She would be afraid of blurting out in front of him something that would betray her ignorance. She finishes her coffee. 'Thank you for inviting me,' she says, 'and for the coffee.'
He asks her then where her husband preaches, and she tells him.
'I must come and hear him some time. Maybe I'd get to see you at the same time.'
She takes her leave of him. She can't fathom out why he should want to see her again, but when she emerges from the smoky and noisy
room she realizes her mood has improved, and she actually feels vaguely pleased. Someone has felt it worth his while to spend some time with her.
5
Captain Bubnik lived in a four-storeyed house in Vokovice. As Daniel mounted the staircase he was unable to dispel a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He always used to feel something similar when he was summoned to an interrogation or to the office of the Secretary for Church Affairs.
The State Security was no more, even the police uniforms had changed, but the incidents and experiences of the past had not disappeared, they remained — indelibly — lodged in peoples memories.
He rang a doorbell on the third floor. The door was opened by a little grey-haired old lady in a flowery apron.
He introduced himself and she said she knew who he was and that her husband was expecting him. Then she asked if he preferred coffee, tea or beer, maybe. He refused everything, still obedient to the old wisdom that it was better not to accept anything from such people. By now a man appeared in the doorway, and having overcome all his distaste and embarrassment, Daniel announced himself.
'Is that the pastor?' A slightly corpulent seventy-year-old with a grey deadpan face, rather gingery eyebrows and senilely expressionless eyes behind cheap spectacles stepped towards him. 'You're very welcome.' The man shook his hand firmly like an old friend he was meeting after many years. He led Daniel into the room which looked 100 per cent mass-produced, from the carpet on the floor to the pictures on the walls and the ceiling lamp.
'Pastor,' he repeated when they were seated at the chipboard table. 'That's an honourable calling, caring for souls and their salvation. I've been retired for thirteen years now. I always used to say what a treat it would be not to have to get up in the morning, except that these days I wake up at 4 a.m. and I'm not able to go back to sleep. More aches and pains, fewer joys and pleasures. You mentioned your father in your letter, didn't you?'
'I understand you,' he said when he had heard him out, 'those
pirate lists caused a lot of harm. And above all among the survivors, because they weren't able to seek redress. Where they had been wronged.'
'Were they often?'
'It depends what you mean by wronged, Reverend.'
'Wronged is probably not the right word. Duped or misled would be more accurate, seeing that people were often included on the list without their knowledge.'
'I shouldn't think so, Reverend. And anyway it's neither here nor there. Some didn't sign and even made things up; others signed and you didn't get anything important from them anyway.'
'And my father?'
'Your father, your father. He was a doctor, you say. Dr Vedra?'
He looked as if he was trying to call the name to mind. Then he shook his head. 'I've got a bad memory for names. There was a time when I could remember all sorts of things, I knew all the Sparta football team line-ups for the previous twenty years, but nowadays — you know what its like for old people.'
'I've brought a photograph.' Daniel took an envelope containing two likenesses out of his bag. As he passed it across he had the impression of doing something dishonourable. As if it was he, now, who was acting as an informer by offering a picture of his own father.
'Yes,' said the man opposite, 'the face is familiar. At least I think so. On the other hand, nothing definite comes to my mind. After all, it's thirty-five years ago or thereabouts. Are you able to remember people you dealt with thirty-five years ago?'
'I used to deal with people in a different fashion. And yes, I do remember the people who attended church.'
'You've got a good memory, and you're younger. But I will tell you one thing: the fact I don't remember means your father was totally insignificant. From the point of view of being of any use, I mean. The big fish — the ones that really meant something — you remember them even after all those years.'
'Can't you recall even a single interview?'
'No I can't, really. Don't forget that I was given the boot from there. After that you try to forget it all. I had other worries. The only ones that stuck in my memory were those that stood out in some way. From the intelligence point of view, I mean. As well, of course, as the ones we pumped regularly. They were the ones that yielded a lot. Your
father was definitely not one of them.' He leaned over towards Daniel and said, 'There's no sense in investigating it like this. You must know best of all the sort of person your father was. Even if there were some files still around and you got access to them, you wouldn't learn much from them because everything was far more complicated than anything you might read there.'