There was no more I could do. He had opened the door. I went out. It was only after the door had closed behind me that I realised he had not called any one to escort me out of the works. I had begun to walk down the corridor before I realised this. I stopped and looked back. At the far end of the corridor was a big mahogany door. On it I saw — Jan Tucek, predseda a vrchni reditel. I quietly retraced my steps and stopped outside the door. There was the sound of somebody moving inside. I turned the handle and walked in.
Then I stopped. Opposite me was a big, glass-fronted bookcase. The glass doors had been flung wide and books littered the floor. A man paused in the act of rifling through the pages of a gilt-bound tome. ‘What do you want?’ He spoke in Czech and his voice was hard and authoritative. I glanced quickly towards the desk. Another man was seated in the chair Jan Tucek had occupied the previous day. The drawers had all been pulled out on to the floor. The carpet was littered with files. And from the midst of the pile the smiling face of Tucek’s daughter looked up at me. The steel filing cabinets against the wall by the windows had also been rifled. ‘What do you want?’ The man by the desk was also looking at me now. The sudden chill of panic crept along my spine. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I was looking for pan Novak.’
Fortunately my Czech is quite good. The two men looked at me suspiciously. Then the one at the desk said, ‘In the next office.’
I murmured apologies and shut the door quickly. I tried not to hurry as I walked back along the corridor. But every moment I expected to hear the sound of Tucek’s door opening and a voice calling me to stop. But apparently they were not suspicious. Nevertheless, it was only after I’d passed through the swing doors and heard the sound of my feet on the concrete passage beyond, that the feeling of panic left me.
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.