He nodded and then said, ‘Please give me an account of all that you do since you arrive in Plzen. I wish every minute to be accounted for, pan Farrell.’
Well, I took him through everything from the moment of my arrival at the Hotel Continental. When I had finished he sat looking down at the papers on his desk, drumming with his fingers. ‘Would you mind telling me why you find it necessary to question me about this meeting between Tucek and myself?’ I asked him.
He looked at me. ‘The man is politically suspect. He has many contacts in England.’ He stopped short there and shouted to someone in the next office. The door opened and the man who had stopped me at the airport came in. For an awful moment I thought he was going to confront me with the night porter of the Hotel Continental. ‘Take pan Farrell back to his hotel,’ he ordered. Then he turned to me. ‘You will remain at your hotel please. If we have no further questions to ask you, you will be allowed to leave by tomorrow’s plane.’
I said nothing, but followed the police officer out of the room. Outside the Reditelstvi police car was waiting. I got in. As we drove off I found I was trembling. The reaction was setting in and I wanted a drink. The rain-wet smell of the streets was very sweet after the dead mustiness of S.N.B. headquarters. Gradually my nerves relaxed. The police car drew up at the hotel and I got out. The officer put my bags on the pavement and the car drove off. I took my things into the hotel and went through into the bar. I was ordering a drink when a voice behind me said in Czech, ‘Perhaps pana would be kind enough to give me a light?’ I turned. It was Maxwell. He made no sign of recognition and when I’d struck a match and lit his cigarette, he thanked me and went back to his seat in a corner of the bar.
CHAPTER TWO
It was obvious that Maxwell wanted to speak to me. In the mirror backing of the shelves behind the bar I could see him seated at one of the little tables well away from the light of the windows. He was reading a newspaper and didn’t once glance in my direction. I waited until the bar had filled up. Then I got myself another drink and went over to his table. ‘Permit me, pane,’ I said in Czech, and took the chair opposite him.
‘I was beginning to get worried about you, Dick,’ he said without glancing up from his newspaper. ‘Are you being watched?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I answered.
‘GOOD. Will they let you take the plane tomorrow?’
‘I think so. They don’t seem to have anything against me except the fact that I saw Jan Tucek on Wednesday. How did you know I’d been arrested?’