Double Exposure (6 page)

"Oh, ah — yes. The program today was particularly interesting," Frank said. "That's all we wanted to tell Mr. Janosik."

"I thought I heard you say something about his life being in danger." The security man stared hard at Frank. "Your voice is very familiar—and the name Hardy rings a bell, too."

"Please, Lieutenant Considine," Janosik said. "They are merely students—and it is young people that I am most interested in talking to."

Considine! Frank thought. He answered the phone last night when I called. He tried not to look nervous as the lieutenant studied him.

"All right," Considine said finally.

"Thank you." Janosik carefully marked his place in the book he was reading and stood. "Perhaps you two young men would like to accompany me on a walk through the park down there?" He pointed past the hotel in the direction of the river.

"We'd be honored," Frank said.

Joe nodded. "You bet."

"All right, then." Janosik smiled.

"My men will stay close behind you." Considine motioned, and two men who had been inconspicuously studying hotel shop windows moved forward. "Have a nice walk, Mr. Janosik."

Frank and Joe flanked Janosik as he started down the hill, the two men following.

"So," Janosik began. "You know Liehm and Krc. I am surprised. You seem a little young to be traveling in their circles."

Frank smiled. "We sort of stumbled in."

"Let me give you some advice, young man — stumble back out. They are dangerous men."

"It's you we're worried about," Joe said.

Janosik laughed again, more harshly. "Me? Liehm, Krc — they cannot hurt me." He shook his head. "I am dead already." · Frank and Joe exchanged startled glances, but Janosik offered no explanation.

They came to the end of the hotel grounds. Two marble pillars stood flanking the entranceway to a small park. Each was engraved with quotations.

"These are the words of your President Kennedy," Janosik said. "You are too young to remember him — but he was a great man."

Frank nodded and said nothing.

"The world was full of great men in those days," Janosik said, staring at the words on the pillar. "Kennedy, his brother Robert, Martin Luther King, Dubcek, Svoboda—" He shook his head as if to clear it and smiled at the Hardys. "Those last two names mean nothing to you."

"No," Frank admitted. "I'm afraid they don't."

Janosik slowly traced the outline of the engraved quote with his hand. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained and harsh.

"They were the leaders of my country in 1968, the year King and Kennedy's brother were assassinated. Now they have been erased from our history books." He turned to the two young men at his side. "Alexander Dubcek tried to reform our government, to give the people a voice in their own affairs, to give socialism a human face, as your western press said."

"What happened?" Joe asked.

"He failed," Janosik said curtly, striding past the pillars and into the park. There was a fountain in the center, with benches carved into the marble around it. More quotations from President Kennedy were engraved on the marble surrounding the fountain.

Janosik sat on one of the benches and continued his story. "The Russians invaded my country. On the night of August twentieth, 1968, their tanks crossed our borders." He shuddered. "Their troops filled our streets. They kidnapped our leaders and dragged them back to Moscow, tried to force them to submit to the Kremlin's will, make them renounce the changes they had begun.

"They held them for seven days, but Dubcek would not yield." His voice shook with remembered anger. "He would not yield! And the country stood firmly behind him. We gave the Russians nothing!" He was silent for a moment, then pointed at the quotation carved into the marble in front of them, and began reading from it.

" 'When at some future date the high court of history sits in judgment on us ... our success or failure in whatever office we hold will be measured by the answers to these four questions - Were we truly men of courage? Were we truly men of integrity? Were we truly men of judgment? Were we truly men of dedication?' "

Frank watched Janosik read those words, and it was as if the old man were somewhere else, reliving the most important moments of his life.

"For seven days—and several months beyond—the people of Czechoslovakia were all those things, and more. Then it ended. The reforms were repealed. Husak," — he spat the name — "came to power. And men like Liehm and Krc emerged from the sewers they'd been hiding in to frighten my country into silence once again."

He sighed heavily. "I sometimes wonder what would have happened if John Kennedy, or his brother, had been president in 1968. Maybe they would have stopped the Russians. Maybe I—and my country—would still be alive."

He turned to Frank again. "It does not matter what they do to me — I am as one dead and have been for more than twenty years. I continue to speak out so the words of men like Dubcek are not forever lost. So that what happened to Czechoslovakia never happens again."

Janosik gave them a tired smile. "But you two are young, you have your whole lives ahead of you. Don't risk them trying to save me." He nodded at Considine's men, who stood at the edge of the fountain. "That is their job."

He stood. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to my room. I grow tired." He nodded in farewell and shuffled slowly out of the park. Considine's two men followed him out.

Frank watched him go. "Still think he's being paid by the CIA?" he asked Joe.

Joe shook his head slowly. "Forget I ever said that."

"I don't care what he said — I'm not letting anything happen to that old man."

"Me, either," Joe said.

The boys were suddenly famished and went in search of lunch. They found a pizza place, which made Joe happy, although he did end up having to pay for the whole thing.

"Didn't I buy dinner the other night, too?" Joe asked.

"You did," said Frank. "And don't think I don't appreciate it."

"Very funny," Joe said. "I'm keeping track, you can bet on that."

Frank didn't bother to point out that Joe had already spent most of the money they had for the entire week on hamburgers.

When they returned to the Charles, it was midafternoon, and the lobby was much less crowded. The same young woman was on duty at the registration desk and smiled sadly when she saw them approaching.

"I'm afraid we're still all booked up," she said.

"I thought you might be," Joe said. "But I really came back to ask you about that motel, I couldn't find it anywhere. Do you think you could show me where it is?" He gave her his most charming smile.

"I'm sorry—I can't leave the desk," she said.

"I could watch it for you," Frank volunteered, 'if anyone comes, I'll direct them to one of the other registration clerks." Frank smiled at the long line of women identically dressed in blue suits. They all seemed to be enjoying a joke and weren't paying any attention to the boys.

The young woman studied their faces carefully. "All right," she said finally. "Come on," she said to Joe. "I'll point it out for you."

Her place was at the end of the counter, and Frank stood and watched them walk out of the lobby. It was easier than he'd expected. He reached over with his left hand and idly logged on to the terminal. The women were still occupied with their stories, and Frank just appeared to be waiting for someone. First he found Janosik's room, and then he quickly discovered that the suites adjoining it on either side were being held empty. He logged on a reservation for himself and Joe in one of them.

He finished in just a couple of seconds. "It really is just up the road — I don't know how we could have missed it," Joe said.

"Then we're set," Frank said, nodding at Joe and picking up his bag.

When they got outside, Joe turned to Frank. "So?"

"We're in," Frank said. He smiled. "But we'll have to be very quiet."

When their reservation clerk went on break, they simply approached one of the others and checked in.

"Easy enough," Joe said, tossing his bag on one of the two beds in their room. "Now what?"

"Now we try that reporter—the one who said she was going to get proof of Janosik's guilt."

"Jean Eykis, you said."

"Right," Frank said, picking up the phone. They put him through quickly when he called the newspaper, and he made an appointment to see her in an hour.

Joe frowned. "Shouldn't one of us stay, and keep an eye on Janosik?"

"He really made an impression on you, didn't he?"

"No," Joe said defensively. "I just don't like the idea of leaving him alone here, without one of us watching him. I'm not too impressed with his police protection."

"Okay," Frank said, checking his watch. "I'd better get going. You stay here—I'll go talk to Jean Eykis." He opened the door and checked the hall for any sign of Lieutenant Considine or his men. The coast was clear. "And remember," he told Joe. "Be quiet."

Their room had a TV, so Joe spent the next couple of hours switching back and forth between various programs. But there wasn't anything worth watching, so he eventually got bored and shut it off.

He stood and crossed to the window. Outside 'it was still bright daylight. He had a view of the courtyard in front of the hotel and the street beyond.

Cambridge, like every other city he'd ever been in, had at least one problem in common with all other big cities—too many cars, and not enough parking spaces. Right now, on the street below, Joe could see some kind of fight taking place over a space.

A man stepped out of one car and leaned through the window of the other. Whatever he said to the driver made that car give up the fight for the space and speed away.

Joe smiled — then he looked closer.

The car now pulling into the parking spot was the silver Mercedes that had shot at them two nights before!

JOE REALIZED THE DRIVER had to be Gregor, and he watched the Mercedes for a moment, his mind racing. Should he warn Janosik? Or Considine? Where was Liehm?

Then he heard the sound of loud, angry voices coming from the room next door. He leaned up to the wall and pressed his ear against it.

"What threats you make! I will not be silenced!" That was Janosik's voice—more passionate than it had sounded earlier in the park. Joe had to smile. Maybe Janosik thought he was dead to the world, but he sounded very much alive.

"Come, Alexander, be sensible." Joe knew that voice, too. Liehm. "We do not require you to stop speaking entirely. All we ask is that you stop making these foolish speeches against our government, and our friends, the Soviets."

"Nothing you can do will make me stop speaking against those invaders!" Janosik said.

"Oh?" Liehm asked. "Let me show you this." There was the sound of furniture, or something heavy, being moved in the next room.

"Watch closely, Alexander

Joe strained to hear but was unable to make out what was happening. They had stopped talking completely.

Then Janosik spoke again. "This is not how it happened — not at all. I met with them, yes — but I never took money."

Liehm laughed—a cruel, barking sound. "Who is to say how it really happened? All that is important is that the television stations will have this tomorrow—unless you change your speech."

Janosik's reply, when it came, was quiet and subdued. "I need to think."

"Fine. I give you until this evening at ten. If I do not hear from you by then, I will release the tape to the TV stations." The sound of moving furniture came again. "Goodbye, Alexander." Liehm's voice was mocking. Joe heard Janosik's door open, then shut again.

The tape? What was going on here? Joe moved from the wall to his door. He cracked it open to watch Liehm walk slowly down the hall to the elevators, carrying a large suitcase.

What could Liehm have shown Janosik that would make him think about changing his speech? Joe had to find out. He had to follow Liehm.

Grabbing his coat off the bed, Joe dashed into the hall. He raced down the three flights of stairs and outside into the courtyard. There was the Mercedes—and Gregor. He itched for a chance to confront him, but Liehm would be coming out of the elevator in a minute. He had to find a way to follow them. If only he had a car . . .

Just then a young boy raced past on a skateboard, and Joe barreled after him.

"Hey, kid!" Joe yelled.

The boy turned.

"I need to borrow your skateboard," he said.

"Borrow?" the boy asked. He looked Joe up and down. "Get real. I don't even know you."

"All right, all right," Joe said. He saw Liehm moving through the hotel lobby and turned his face away. "I'll buy it from you. How much?"

The boy sized Joe up. "I paid a hundred bucks for this skateboard, mister."

"A hundred bucks?" Joe's eyes widened. He didn't have that much on him. "For a skateboard?"

The boy smiled at Joe. "A hundred bucks— take it or leave it."

Joe glanced around. Gregor had gotten out of the car to put Liehm's bag in the trunk. Liehm was sliding into the back seat.

"All I have is a twenty," Joe said desperately. "Twenty to rent it — how about it?"

"Rent it?" the boy shouted indignantly. "You trying to cheat me or something?"

At the curb Gregor turned to see what was happening. His eyes met Joe's, just before he reached into his coat.

"Duck!" Joe yelled, throwing his arm across the kid and dropping to the sidewalk, putting himself between Gregor and the boy.

Gregor pulled out his gun and fired. The bullet clanged off one of the courtyard benches. He'd used a silencer — a couple of people looked up but no cause for alarm.

Gregor fired again. Joe rolled behind a bench, still shielding the boy. The bullet slammed into the walkway, spraying them with chips of cement.

This time someone saw. "He's got a gun," a woman screamed. Gregory holstered it and climbed into the Mercedes. The car screeched off down the street.

The boy looked up at Joe with wonder in his eyes. He wasn't even scared, Joe saw. None of this was real to him.

"Wow," the boy said. "Are you a secret agent, or something?"