THE HEART OF DANGER (46 page)

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Authors: Gerald Seymour

Tags: #War Crimes; thriller; mass grave; Library; Kupa; Croatia; Mowatt; Penn; Dorrie;

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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

269

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?"

270

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

271

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

272

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

273

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:

274

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.

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