Read THE HEART OF DANGER Online
Authors: Gerald Seymour
Tags: #War Crimes; thriller; mass grave; Library; Kupa; Croatia; Mowatt; Penn; Dorrie;
field, and the grave pit in the field.
"Don't come back empty, squire."
Penn let himself out of the room. He walked down the corridor towards
the wide central staircase, and the sharpness of the pain in his body
was replaced by a stiff ache that was everywhere. There was a
television crew in the lobby with their boxes around them and their
light meters and clipboards and their self-importance and they
noticed
him as he came down the stairs, and the plasters and the cuts and
the
bruises and the grazes seemed to amuse them.
He asked for a bottle of Scotch at the reception, soonest, charged
to
his room, and he gave the woman on reception the two sheets of paper
for the fax.
"Yes, send it now, please .. ."
Fifteen.
"Good God, didn't realize it was so late .. ." Henry Carter had a watch on his wrist and there was the big digit clock on the wall,
and
it was many hours since he had looked at either. Past midnight, and
time did not seem any more to matter that much, not now that he had
reached the chronological moment when the fax sheets assumed
relevance.
The supervisor, apologetic, as if it were an intrusion to disturb
him,
handed him a bacon sandwich. '.. . That's really too kind, that's
very considerate. The time just seems to have run away with me."
As
it had .. . The dragon of the day shift would not have brought him
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a
bacon sandwich, not if he had been faint with hunger, and the dragon
would most certainly not have permitted the transistor radio that
played jazz piano. Rather a pleasant atmosphere, if he had not had
the
photocopies of the fax sheets in front of him .. . He pushed them
aside
so that the diced onion filling would not fall on them. It was as
if
they tolerated him as a harmless fool, without snap or bite, but the
old desk warrior had the hard core of experience that helped him to
understand only too well the compulsion that pushed men forward. One
memory hurt him the worst. Mattie Furniss, running a section,
revered
and respected, had been held in a torture cell in the Iranian town
of
Tabriz and had broken out. Mattie Furniss, given up for lost, had
walked alone to the mountains on the Turkish border. Proud Mattie
Furniss had declined to admit that the pain of torture had broken
him
.. . They'd sent for Carter, summoned the weasel. Carter, the
weasel,
had destroyed good old Mattie Furniss and won from him the truth.
Of
course there were bloody casualties in this life .. . Mattie Furniss,
with the shotgun barrel in his mouth and his toe on the trigger, was
a
casualty. He could see as yesterday the church, hear as yesterday
the
hymns, recall as yesterday the shame as he had sat far from the altar
and the widow with her daughters. The file on the desk in front of
him, taking on an ordered shape, scratched the memories.
"Totally illegal, cooking on the premises. We've had to invest in
a
very powerful deodorant spray, the sort for the most sweaty armpits
..
. Are you going through the night, Mr. Carter?"
"Looks like it. I'm hoping to get away at lunch time, mid-Wales.
To
tell you the truth, this isn't the sort of file that I'd want to leave
over until next month .. ."
"Interesting one?"
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He spoke through a mouthful of the bacon sandwich, so good, plenty
of
fat left on the bacon. "Not just interesting, rather tragic, and
it's
a text book on interference, what happens when you shove your nose
in
without thinking through the end game .. . Sorry, that's rather a
heavy
speech .. . If you'll excuse me .. . Oh, and thank you so much for
the
sustenance."
The supervisor of the night shift drifted away and his feet glided
and
his hips swayed with the motion of the jazz beat. There were many
triggers to what had happened, to the tragedy, but he thought the
two
sheets of the photocopied fax message were at the heart of the matter.
The music was gentle, lulling him, but he was too old a dog to be
seduced by atmosphere. Gentle music did not ameliorate a barbarity.
The two sheets of paper sent from the hotel in Zagreb would have been
a
sledgehammer knocking down the doors of Mary Braddock's home. He
returned to them, drew the blood from them .. .
REPORT ON THE DEATH OF DOROTHY MOW AT
(MISS)
by
William Penn Alpha Security Ltd
(Prelim, report interviews)
GOVT. CROATIA WAR CRIMES INVESTIGATOR: Is preparing evidence for
future use in war crimes prosecution. No interest shown in this
particular case of killing of Dorothy Mowat (DM), a foreigner.
PROFESSOR OF PATHOLOGY, UCLA: Supervised exhumation of DM. Killed
with
Soviet-made Makharov pistol. "A fine young woman because she did
not
have to be there, because she stayed with the wounded' from the battle
for Rosenovici tho' she herself was not a casualty. Could have made
her own escape. At the end DM was trying to shield one young wounded
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fighter from 'the knives and the blows and from the gunshot'.
EYEWITNESS I/MARIA .. .
And the sledgehammer would have brought a cold wind into Mary
Braddock's home. "They get on wonderfully, but then Jocasta's such a
caring girl, and Tarquin's so easy. It's such a relief .. ." It
was
prawns and crab with cubes of turbot, done in a cheesy sort of sauce,
for the first course. Guests didn't talk, not these
recession-ridden
days, about the value of their houses, nor about the cost of the school
fees, nor about their Jules Verne holidays. Houses were
repossessed,
children had to be withdrawn from schools, holidays for some were
impossible. Safe talk, talk that would not, in ignorance, wound,
was
about how first-marriage children tolerated second-marriage
children.
Charles always poured the neighbours fierce gins before bringing them
into the dining room, he was good at giving the conversation a hefty
kick-start, and children were safe talk. "I don't know how I'd do
without Emily, she wants to be a nanny, poor sweetheart. She's
getting
the training with Ben, don't know how I'd do without her." The
Belgians hadn't finished eating. Mary wondered if they slept
together,
the big Belgian with the stomach and the little Belgian with the
shaved
head. They hadn't finished and they hadn't said much, as if the
offspring melding of first- and second-marriage children was low down
on their agenda. Well, it would be, wouldn't it, if they slept
together ... It was prattle conversation, washing over her, and when
the bloody Belgians had finished she could get back to her kitchen
and
heave the bloody lamb out of the Aga oven. "Tanya's become really
excellent at soccer, that's because Jake is so marvelous with her.
But
I do worry for Jake. Jake gets more soccer with Tanya than with his
father. His father's quite hopeless .. ." Mary stood. If the
bloody
Belgians didn't like her crab and prawns and turbot, in a cheesy sort
of sauce, then they could bloody go without. One perfunctory "Can
I
lend a fist, Mary?" from Giles, the bankruptcy accountant, and a
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curt
shake of her head. She put the bowls on the tray. "We were allowed to
have Jocasta for Christmas, but only after a solicitor's letter ..
.
lovely, darling, quite delicious .. . she's so much happier with us
..
." She carried the tray out of the dining room. She left the door ajar. If the Manor House had not been listed, Grade 2, then they'd
have been able to knock a hatch through from the kitchen, but Charles
had said that a hatch knocked through would be an act of heritage
vandalism. She toed open the door of the kitchen and clattered the
tray
down onto the table. She was by the Aga. She was away from them,
and
they could talk now freely, ditch the safe talk. She heard them.
"Do
you think she's getting over it, Charles? .. . God, what a trial
for
you both, Charles .. . She put you both through a hell of a hoop,
Charles, but Mary particularly ... I think you showed the patience
of
saints .. . Don't take me wrong, Charles, but I think Dorothy was
quite
wicked, and God knows where that came from .. . Time's a great healer,
Charles, like an open window with a smell, time will make her forget
..
." Mary heard their voices, and she heard the low bleeping from her den room, not much more than a broom cupboard, off the kitchen. She
had the lamb in the basting dish out of the Aga oven and onto the
table. She was tipping her vegetables, potatoes and carrots and
leeks,
everything that was boring, into the serving dishes. If the bloody
Belgians hadn't taken so long then the cutlets wouldn't have dried
out.
She tilted her head, and she could see over the back of the settee
in
her den room to the fax machine on the table beside the television,
and
she saw the paper spilling out. And Judy with her tail, silly wagging
tail, had broken the plastic frame that caught the completed faxed
messages, and Liz would chew anything that was paper or cardboard,
and
Judy and Liz were craning from their baskets on either side of the
Aga,
alerted by the working sounds of the machine. She left the
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vegetables
and the lamb cutlets and the gravy and the jelly, she strode off into
her den room on her mission of protection for the fax message. She
picked the first sheet off the floor, and the second sheet was
rolling.
She read the address of the headed notepaper, and the title of the
message, and the name of the sender. She sat on her sofa, and the
dogs
came against her legs, and she read. She heard the voices through
the
opened door of the kitchen, across the hall, through the opened door
of
the dining room. '.. . So much love for such an undeserving child
...
I think she's coming to terms with it, the reality that Dorothy was
just a shameful little minx .. . Such a dreadful place she went to,
I
won't read about in the newspapers, I switch the telly off when it's
Sarajevo. She's got to wash it out of her mind. It's not our
responsibility if they want to behave like animals there ... I think
she's on the mend .. . You should take her away, Charles, about as
far
away as you can go, where that dreadful girl can be forgotten .. ."
She read what she had demanded to know .. . EYEWITNESS 1/MARIA:
Refugee
from Rosenovici. DM had come to the village with a Croat/Australian
boy who joined village defence force, was wounded. DM carried
wounded
back from front line to the cellar. There when village surrendered.
"She was an angel in her prettiness, an angel in her courage."
EYEWITNESS 2/ALIJA: Muslim Bosnian refugee, trapped in Rosenovici.
DM
organized collection, under fire, of dressings for wounded. After
surrender DM was brought with wounded from cellar, beaten by Serb
militia, but refused to be separated from the wounded. "She was so brave .. . she was an angel." EYEWITNESS 3/SYLVIA: Refugee from
Rosenovici. During the battle DM, alone, nursed the wounded. After
the surrender, the Serbs attempted to separate DM from wounded, she
fought them. The wounded were taken down a lane, DM helped carry
two
of them, DM was beaten. "The young woman was an angel." CROATIAN
DEFENCE FORCE LIAISON OFFICER (name withheld): Rosenovici is now a
'dead' village, destroyed so that its inhabitants have nothing, ever,
to return to, even the cemetery bulldozed. Names MS (see below) as
local militia commander, who would believe himself safe from
accountability for death of DM and wounded. SIDNEY E. HAMILTON:
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Mercenary, serving with Croat Defence Force, ex-3 Para, provided
necessary info, weapons and general material for my entry to Sector
North, Rosenovici area. BENJAMIN (BENNY) STEIN: Crown Agent lorry
driver, Brit aid convoy, rescued me (life threatened situation) from
Sector North at considerable risk to himself, his colleagues and the
future shipment of aid through Serb-occupied territory.
HEADMASTER/SALIKA VILLAGE SCHOOL .. '.
She had the photograph in the old silver frame on the table beside
the
fax machine. Because Charles never came there, she had the
photograph
in her den room. She read .. . "Well, my dear, you wanted to be told, and you have been .. ." He said it out loud, then caught himself
and
smiled, and he saw that at least three of them in the quiet of Library
where the jazz music played softly, were watching him and curious.