The Confession

79

It gave us forty-eight hours to watch Louis. Leonek took the first shift. He paid for another room one floor up and took Louis to it. The hotel staff would notice the broken door and window, but there would be no one left in that room to blame.

Before I left, Leonek pulled me aside, and whispered, “Let’s keep this between us for now.”

“We could call in Emil.”

“I trust him to be quiet, but he won’t keep it from Lena, and she doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. Then Brano Sev will know. Wasn’t he the one with Nestor’s file?”

I thought about that, but admitted that, despite everything, I still found it hard to believe that Brano Sev would kill Stefan.

“Believe it. That man has no friends.”

This was true. “But I also haven’t noticed any bullet wounds on him. Have you?”

Leonek shook his head. “Brano Sev is a machine.”

And I’d been wrong about plenty of things already.

At home I sat beside the radio set and considered giving Vera a call. The apartment was lonely without even her bleak company. But she hated me now.

So I drank in the empty apartment and wondered what Malik Woznica’s body looked like now, if it was covered or if the wind had blown the leaves off of him, exposing him to the elements. I closed my eyes.

The sound of the ringing telephone made me reach, instinctively, for my pistol. But I’d left it in the bedroom. I walked into the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“Ferenc?” My legs tingled. She was crying.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“What happened to Leonek?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“I tried to call him all day.”

“He’s fine. He’s working.”

“I have to speak with him.”

“I’m not going to be your liaison, Magda.”

“You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“I was calling him to end it. I can’t believe what I’ve done to you.”

I let that hang between us.

“Ferenc?”

“I’m here.”

“Can you…”

“Can I what?”

“Can you forgive me?”

I hadn’t thought of that before. There had been no reason to. All I’d known was that my wife was leaving me, and that there was no decision to make. I could either accept it or go crazy. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re right. We can talk about it later.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“Dad has a key to the cooperative office.”

“Oh.”

“Goddamn.”

“What?”

“Do you have a number where I can reach him?”

“I’ll get him to call you. How about that?”

“Thank you.” Then she started to cry again.

I wondered afterward if it had been a dream. Almost two in the morning-it seemed impossible that this had just happened. There was no evidence, except the sweat on my palm.