Platnéřská 110, Prague, Czech Republic
November 29
“Are you sure I can’t offer you something to drink, Mr Carey?” asked Sestak, pouring himself a glass of scotch behind his large, ornate desk.
“No sir. Thank you, sir,” said Carey, bowing politely, the stiff leather of his suit creaking with every movement. “I’m afraid I can’t take the mask off to enjoy it.”
“Ah,” nodded Sestak. “Quite right. I apologize. But do you mind if I…?”
“Not at all, Director. It’s your home.”
Sestak smiled serenely, putting the glass to his lips, pausing to watch the absurdity of the scene: this almost inhuman monster standing in the middle of a classic Prague drawing room. Buckles and air filters met plush velvet curtains, and the result was unpredictably obscene to his sensibilities.
“Shall we get straight to business? I have a call I must tend to soon, unfortunately tight due to your late arrival.”
“Ah yes,” Carey nodded, rubbing the back of his head absentmindedly. “Again, I apologize for the delay.”
“Not at all. But if you please, time is tight.”
Carey quickly brought his dented and scraped metal case around to his lap, unlatched it with a few quick turns of the dial, and pulled out a mid-sized envelope with both hands. It sounded like metal inside. Heavy pieces of metal. He carefully placed it on Sestak’s desk.
The Director stared at it a moment, but did not move.
“What is it you’re after here, Mr Carey?” he asked.
“A British national living in Prague. Mr Daniels.”
“The Zemus fellow,” Sestak said ominously. “Yes, what of him? What’s he done now?”
“Now, sir?”
Sestak grunted unhappily, swirled his drink.
“He’s an insufferable fool, that one,” he said. “Constantly second-guessing city policies, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Why, once he tried to convince me to keep the opera house open, despite all indications that it was a major infection point for the city. He tried to bribe me to keep it open, the fool. Bribes are beneath me. Offends me to no end when fools think they can buy away my sense of duty.”
Carey nervously glanced at the envelope on the desk.
“So Mr Carey,” Sestak said, leaning back in his chair. “What has he done this time?”
“I’m… not at liberty to discuss the details of his case, sir, as you know. But I can assure you that his behaviour poses no risk to the city of Prague. Or its citizens.”
Sestak sipped at his scotch again, scratched the tip of his nose with a carefully-manicured nail.
“I’ve already granted you free reign of the city. What more do you need?”
“Well, sir… first of all, I would appreciate if you could convey my status here with your local police. I had a small mishap earlier which has greatly… um… impeded my ability to operate.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Nothing a good night’s sleep and some painkillers won’t help, I’m sure. But if you could…”
“I will pass along the warning,” Sestak said, jotting down a note on a pad of paper.
“Thank you, Director,” said Carey, genuinely appreciative. “And also, if I may ask… do you have an address for Mr Daniels on hand? The house we suspected him of occupying is empty, and I’m afraid I’m running out of leads.”
“You’ve tried the place across the Charles, then?”
Carey sat up straighter.
“No, sir. Do you happen to know the—”
“Indeed I do,” Sestak said, scribbling an address on the bottom of a sheet of paper and ripping it off for Carey. “Since my secretary passed last year, I’ve found I’ve a better memory than I knew. Send enough bottles of wine to someone, and you remember their address forever, I suppose.”
Carey got to his feet, hand out to shake, happiness showing through the mask. Sestak accepted the hand, if hesitantly.
“Thank you, sir,” said Carey. “You have been a very great help to me.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mr Carey,” said Sestak, glancing down at the envelope again. “Don’t forget your package, please.”
Carey quickly slid the envelope back into his case, snapped it shut and backed towards the door, bowing like a fool in the presence of royalty. Sestak replaced his glass on his desk and walked Carey out, patting him on the back jovially.
“One last word of advice, Mr Carey, if I may,” he said as they reached the exit out into the hall.
“Yes, sir,” said Carey obediently. “Absolutely.”
“I would leave your trip across the Charles until tomorrow. It’s late in the day now, and with the cold and the summer we endured here… and with your suit looking so much like…” he trailed off, then smiled. “Well, I can’t imagine you’ll want to be seen out in the dark dressed like that. For your own safety, naturally.”
Carey barely responded. His voice was small and weak.
“No, sir. Thank you.”
As soon as they opened the door, Sestak’s assistant rushed forward, notepad in hand, clicking and unclicking his pen as if to punctuate his displeasure at the schedule being thrown off-kilter. He bowed politely to Carey.
“Sir, if you please… one of our men will help you back to your accommodations.”
Carey was led by the arm down the hall and away. As soon as he was out of earshot, the assistant began speaking in hushed tones to Sestak as they made their way back down the hall.
“Was it a good meeting, Director?” he asked.
“Fine enough,” grunted Sestak. “Any news from the Golden Tree apartments? Any more cases?”
“None reported, sir. I am still getting hourly reports, but it seems limited to the fourth and tenth floors.”
“Excellent. That’s good news. Keep the ventilation shut down, and tell the army to keep its position until I give the word.”
“And what of the press, sir? They’re asking about the barricade.”
“Tell them nothing for now. I don’t owe them anything. If we start torching — and that’s if — release a statement detailing the facts. Otherwise, this is just a routine quarantine. If anyone knew it was Nuremberg, we’d have a riot on our hands, and I can’t handle one of those right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any further word on the Healer?”
“Scattered reports, sir. Housing complexes in the south, Stadium Eden just recently. A few deaths, but nothing actionable.”
Sestak growled, checked his hair in the glass of a painting along the wall.
“Call the Chinese ambassador and express my displeasure at civilian deaths in my city.”
“Yes, sir. Certainly. Should I demand they recall the agent?”
“Gods no, man! Whatever you do, don’t upset them over this. I won’t have Prague mentioned in the same breath as Kiev, not over a few fools with an inflated sense of their ability. Nobody burns this city to the ground but me.”
“No, sir. Understood, sir.”
“Oh, and can you please remind the police that they’re to leave the damn Healers alone. I thought it was well-established, but apparently not. I can’t control the populace, but law enforcement is supposed to understand the law, at least.”
The assistant touched a hand to his ear, eyes darting left and right. Sestak began adjusting his jacket sleeves impatiently.
“Is Sobotka on the line yet?” he asked.
The assistant blinked to attention.
“Yes, sir, but if I may… it’s confirmed that both Mr Kopecky and his son have died.”
Sestak stopped dead in his tracks, stared at the floor.
“Damn,” he breathed. “God keep their souls. Who else knows about this?”
“The city bells are tolling, sir. It can’t be long before it’s everywhere.”
“Damn and damn again. Prepare a press conference. We have to get ahead of this. Have Dr Mueller check Ana Kopecky’s blood and get her over here for the cameras. We need to show the city there’s hope in the face of tragedy.”
“Sir, that’s the other thing,” said the assistant haltingly, “Ana Kopecky… she’s already here.”
Sestak paused, turned urgently.
“Here? Why?”
“She says she has a message from her brother. A personal message. For you, sir.”
Sestak nodded, loosened his tie and removed his jacket, immediately taking on the air of a concerned grandfather: caring, compassionate, mourning with the people he loved.
“She’s in the library?”
“Yes sir,” the assistant said.
Sestak rushed down the hall, dropping his jacket on a chair, and paused outside the library door.
“Call the Mayor, have him declare it a day of mourning. Help him with the details if need be. And tell Sobotka I need a progress report when I’m done here. If I’m not out in ten minutes, remind me of the time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sestak clicked open the door, stepping into a the dark library, windows sealed shut and the only lights set to a dim glow, disappearing into the rich stained wood at all sides. A sheet of clear plastic hung through the middle of the room, sealed to all sides with thick tape. On the other side of the room, beyond the plastic, was a young woman, standing facing away from him, breathing softly.
“My dear, I’m so sorry to hear about your brother…”
The woman turned slowly, mask dangling from her face, letter opener gripped tightly. Sestak jerked back.
“You’re not Ana…” he gasped.
“No,” said Eva gravely. “But you and I still need to talk.”
