Judgment on Deltchev Read online

  He paused for a moment and looked round. ‘One typical case,’ he said, and sighed. ‘No doubt,’ he went on, ‘much could be said about a government that allowed itself to be intimidated by such means, but it is easy to miss the point. There were, in fact, many members of the Brotherhood in government circles. This we have found out later, for, of course, membership was always secret. Who were these men? We know of two who were ministers and twenty-seven in posts of high authority in the civil service, the police, and the army. There were certainly others in these high places. The plain truth is that membership in the Brotherhood ran through every class of our society except that of the ordinary workman. This Brotherhood is a bourgeois disease. It is difficult to conceive, I grant you, that a man, presumably of more than average intelligence and ability, who has made his way to a position of authority and responsibility, could have any direct relationship with, for example, the murderous perverts who entered the Shatevs’ house that Sunday or with others equally vile. But we found it so. When, during the life of the Provisional Government, we began the attack upon this evil, we had many terrible surprises. Yes, I say, terrible. To despise a man politically is one thing. To discover that he is a criminal lunatic is another. It is difficult to believe the most incontrovertible evidence in such cases. Yet we must.’

  He paused again and there was dead silence. We knew that now he was talking about Deltchev. He clasped his hands in front of him.

  ‘Let me give you an example from history, gentlemen,’ he said; ‘not the history of our own country, but that of Italy and France. In 1830 there was in Italy a young exile named Louis Bonaparte, a nephew of the first Napoleon and once his adopted grandson. In Italy also at that time there was a secret terrorist society called the Carbonari — the Charcoal Burners. Among the members were nobles, officers, landlords, government officials, peasants, and priests. The members called each other “cousin” and the only form of resignation ever accepted from a member was his death. This young Bonaparte became a member of the Carbonari and a year after was imprisoned by the Austrian police for his part in a murderous affair. He was not then a very important or responsible person. But twenty-eight years later, when that same man was Napoleon III, Emperor of France, the Carbonari had need of him and sent a reminder by an assassin named Orsini. The reminder was a gift of three bombs, and they exploded one evening in the January of 1858 as the emperor was arriving at the Opera in Paris. Eight innocent bystanders were killed and a hundred and fifty wounded, but Cousin Bonaparte was quite safe. What the Carbonari wanted from him was help to make a bourgeois revolution in Italy. He did not hesitate. The responsibilities of Napoleon III, Emperor of France, toward the people he ruled were as nothing beside those of Cousin Bonaparte toward the Carbonari terrorists. And so the Italian Risorgimento was paid for with the blood of the French soldiers that soaked the fields of Montebello and Turbigo and Solferino. It is not a pretty story — no prettier than that of Shatev and his family.’

  There was silence for a moment.

  He added quietly, ‘Gentlemen, our people will fertilize no more fields for the “cousins” or “brethren” of this century. We intend to seek out all the murderers whether they sit on cafe chairs or on the thrones they have made for themselves above the heads of the people. The People’s Party and its great leader Vukashin are pledged to that.’ He looked round at us again and then sat down. ‘I will answer questions,’ he said.

  It was quite well done and for a space nobody moved; then an American in front of me got up.

  ‘In December of last year, Minister,’ he said, ‘the People’s Party Government announced that the Officer Corps Brotherhood had been completely — eliminated. I think that was the word used. Are we to understand now that that announcement was incorrect?’

  Brankovitch nodded. ‘Unfortunately, yes. At the time, of course, we believed it to be true. Later developments have shown that we were mistaken.’

  ‘What later developments, Minister?’

  ‘I would prefer not to anticipate the court proceedings.’

  A small dark man got up.

  ‘Minister, was not Deltchev himself responsible for the very vigorous proceedings taken to eliminate the Brotherhood?’

  ‘He was certainly responsible for the action against the Brotherhood that we now know to have been ineffective, but the decision that there should be action was taken by the Provisional Government as a whole. In other words, the People’s Party participated in the decision but not in the carrying out of it.’

  Others began to rise and now the questions came quickly.

  ‘Minister, can your allusion to Napoleon III be taken to mean that the government links the allegations about Deltchev’s peace negotiations with the allegations about his membership in the Brotherhood?’

  ‘You may draw that conclusion if you wish.’

  ‘The charge is that Deltchev was to be paid for his efforts. Aren’t the two suggestions inconsistent?’

  ‘Possibly. But remember that Napoleon III also had his reward — Nice, the Riviera, Savoy.’

  ‘Minister, do you consider that the evidence heard so far in court has gone any way toward proving any of the charges against Monsieur Deltchev?’

  ‘The evidence must be considered as a whole.’

  ‘By whom was defending counsel appointed, Minister?’

  ‘By the government. In all cases when a prisoner fails to appoint counsel to defend him that is done.’

  ‘Did this prisoner fail to appoint counsel? Did he not, as an advocate, wish to defend himself?’

  ‘On a criminal charge a prisoner is not by law permitted to conduct his own defence. The law was made for the benefit of poor persons certain of conviction who feared to burden their families with legal costs.’

  ‘Minister, could not the law, clearly not intended for persons in Monsieur Deltchev’s position, be waived in this case?’

  ‘Are laws waived in England for the benefit of persons in high position?’

  ‘Then you agree, Minister, that it would be to Monsieur Deltchev’s benefit if he could defend himself?’

  ‘It would be to the benefit of you gentlemen, I have no doubt. I apologize for our reluctance to have the court turned into a circus entertainment.’

  ‘Will the Minister say if, as a result of the Prosecutor’s unhappy efforts yesterday to provide the court with entertainment, the prisoner will now be allowed proper medical attention in the prison?’

  Brankovitch rose to his feet with a smile. ‘The prisoner is receiving ample medical attention,’ he said, ‘and as much insulin as he wishes. It was nothing more sinister than a stupid administrative blunder that prevented his having attention a few days ago. Disciplinary action has been taken against those responsible. Naturally the prisoner took the utmost advantage of his plight to gain sympathy…’

  ‘When driven to do so by the Prosecutor?’

  ‘Or when a favourable opportunity presented itself.’ Brankovitch smiled again. ‘We interpret motives from the standpoint of our own prejudices. But please note that the prisoner was not prevented from addressing you.’

  ‘What he said was not reported in the official press, Minister.’

  ‘Quite properly. The fact that a man is diabetic surely does not affect his responsibility to the community for criminal acts. Gentlemen, perhaps you would care to continue our discussion over the refreshments. I hope you will not think I am attempting to corrupt you if I say that there is champagne and caviar for you to sample. I am merely performing another of my functions as a Minister in introducing to you two products of our agricultural and fishing industries which we are anxious to export. The champagne is not French, of course, but it is a dry, sparkling wine of pleasing character and I think you will like it.’

  There were one or two murmurs of amused assent and a scraping of chairs. Waiters entered, obviously in response to a signal, and whisked away the napkins from the buffet.

  ‘He is clever, the Minister,’ said Pashik seriously.


  ‘Yes, he is. Shall we go?’

  He looked shocked. ‘Do you not wish to ask questions, Mr Foster?’

  ‘What about? Napoleon the Third?’

  ‘I think it would be impolite to go,’ said Pashik earnestly. ‘The Minister will surely wish to meet you. There is protocol to be observed.’

  ‘There are others going.’ Though most of those present had moved over to the buffet and stood in groups talking, I noticed several making unobtrusive exits.

  ‘Those are local agency men, Mr Foster. They have met the Minister before.’

  ‘All right. Shall we go over?’ Brankovitch was talking to a group that included Sibley, the man who drank too much and was indiscreet.

  ‘No, Mr Foster. Let us quietly have some refreshments. Presently matters will arrange themselves.’

  We were joined after a moment or two by an American I had chatted with once or twice at the courthouse. A waiter brought us wine and caviar sandwiches. One of the secretaries delivered copies of a long blood-curdling piece on the Officer Corps Brotherhood.

  ‘Did you know that Byron was a member of the Carbonari?’ the American was saying. ‘I think we ought to rechristen our friend Brankovitch. When Ferdinand of Italy tried to liquidate the Carbonari he had his Minister of Police set up another secret society called “the braziers of the counterpoise”, Calderai del Contrappeso. The Minister recruited all the worst characters in the country for it and what they did to the Italian liberals makes Little Bopeep of that Shatev story. The Minister was a man called Prince Canosa. What about Creeping Canosa for our friend?’

  Pashik had left us. I talked to the American and ate sandwiches. After a few minutes Pashik came back rather breathlessly with one of the secretaries, a stony-eyed young man with over-neat clothes.

  ‘This is Monsieur Kavitch,’ he said; ‘he is of the Minister’s bureau.’ The secretary bowed and we shook hands. ‘The Minister is most anxious to meet you, Herr Foster,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘I shall be honoured.’ I caught the American’s eye and he put his tongue very obviously in his cheek.

  The secretary stared hard at me. ‘Have you yet had time, Herr Foster,’ he said, ‘to visit any of the well-known beauty spots that abound in the vicinity of our city?’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t.’

  ‘At this time of year,’ the secretary continued steadily, ‘there are many varieties of the most remarkable rose blooms in the world to be seen and savoured. Our country is very beautiful. However, it is to be hoped that you will wish to be present on Saturday at the official parade and celebration in honour of the twenty-seventh anniversary of the founding of the People’s Party.’

  ‘I don’t-’

  ‘Herr Foster’s special pass has already been applied for,’ Pashik put in smartly.

  ‘Ah, then he will see some of the beauties of the country brought to the city,’ pursued the secretary steadily. ‘This year the parade will be a symbolic integration of peaceful husbandry and armed might — the plough and the sword in harmony together.’

  ‘Very interesting.’

  ‘Yes. It is of the utmost importance that all our visitors leave us with a correct impression. I will myself see that you have an advantageous place, Herr Foster. Here, now, is the Minister.’

  He stepped aside nimbly, like a compere effacing himself for the entry of the star. Brankovitch, with the other secretary in attendance, had stopped to say a word to a Scandinavian group. Now he turned in my direction. The secretary beside me said something in his own language with my name in it. Brankovitch held out his hand and turned on a watery smile.

  ‘How do you do?’ he said in English. His warm hand released mine almost as soon as it touched it. He nodded to Pashik as I answered him. ‘You have not been to our country before, Mr Foster?’

  ‘No, Minister. But I’m finding my first visit most interesting.’

  He nodded. ‘Much fiction has already been written about it, but mostly by strangers. Now that cultural activities are being widely encouraged, however, perhaps a native school of writers will emerge. There is the language difficulty, of course. A knowledge of our language is rare. Yet Ibsen, also writing in a narrowly spoken language, achieved world fame.’

  ‘Ibsen’s heroes and heroines were not obliged to be positive, Minister.’

  ‘Ah, I see you have heard of our special problems. Yes, we are compelled to consider the standard of education of the public here. We must pay still for past injustices. The percentage of illiteracy is high and those who are literate are for the most part still uneducated in the Western sense of the word. But in other cultural fields — the visual arts and music, for example — greater freedom is already possible.’

  ‘Ideas do not have to be expressed in words to be dangerous, Minister.’

  ‘We do not hinder truth, Mr Foster — only the facile repetition of lies. But we must have a long undisturbed conversation about such things, for I would be glad to hear your opinions. Tell me, how did you find Madame Deltchev last night? In good health?’

  I sensed rather than heard Pashik’s sharply indrawn breath. Brankovitch’s gaze rested on me with unwavering affability.

  ‘She seemed very well.’

  He smiled again. ‘She is not being persecuted?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘We have tried to spare her as much as possible. Naturally her position is difficult and we have to protect her against possible demonstrations. But I am glad to hear that she is well. You are the only journalist who has interviewed her, I think.’

  ‘I think so.’

  He nodded vaguely. ‘I am so glad to have had this opportunity of meeting you, Mr Foster,’ he said. ‘We must have another talk. Most interesting.’

  He nodded again and turned away. The secretary slid past me after him. The interview was at an end.

  I looked at Pashik. His face was quite expressionless. He stepped up to me.

  ‘Do you wish to go now, Mr Foster?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘You did not tell me that you had seen Madame Deltchev,’ he said as we walked away.

  ‘No. I thought you’d prefer not to know.’

  ‘We must hope no harm is done.’

  ‘What harm can be done?’

  He shrugged. ‘Such things attract attention.’

  ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘We must hope not. But I would have preferred that you had told me. I could at least have prevented the embarrassment.’

  ‘What embarrassment? The sentries on the house looked at my permit. They reported. What of it?’

  ‘You do not understand.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t. I think you’re over-anxious, as I’ve said before.’

  ‘I think my opinion about that may be better informed, Mr Foster.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Pashik. I certainly have no wish to compromise you, but I have a job to do.’

  ‘I have the responsibility, Mr Foster.’

  ‘You must try to shoulder it.’

  Before he could answer, there were quick footsteps behind us. Pashik turned round as if he expected to be attacked. It was Sibley.

  ‘Hullo there,’ he said breezily; ‘how are you, Foster? And you, Georghi my friend? What a dreadful party! When are we going to have that drink? Now? I feel the need.’

  ‘Please excuse me,’ said Pashik hastily, ‘I must go to my office. Mr Foster, you have messages to send.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  He hesitated. We had reached the door. He gave up. ‘Very well. Good night, Mr Foster. Good night, Mr Sibley.’

  ‘Good night.’

  He went, leaving a slip-stream of malodorous disapproval.

  Sibley chuckled. ‘Poor little man,’ he said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  We went to a nearby cafe and ordered drinks. Then Sibley disappeared to make a telephone call. When he came back the drinks had arrived. He picked his up, peered into it as if it were a crystal ba
ll, then downed it at a gulp.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ he said grimly.

  ‘About this evening’s performance?’

  ‘Performance! Exactly.’ He snapped his fingers at the waiter for another drink. ‘Incredible, isn’t it?’

  ‘In what way do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, all of it. That old, old routine! Prejudice, friends? Not a bit of it! Anyway, judge for yourselves, friends. Here are the simple facts given as simply as we know how — the facts about the Brotherhood. What has that to do with Deltchev? Who said it had anything to do with him? You’re drawing the conclusions, friends, not us. We’re only giving you the nasty facts. And to show you that the facts are really nasty we’ll pull an old atrocity story out of the bag. Castration and rape, friends! Yes, we thought that’d get you where it hurts. What has that to do with Deltchev? Well, we don’t say definitely that it has anything to do with him but — well, you’re drawing the conclusions and we can’t stop you, can we? In fact, although we’re not exactly saying so, the same ugly thought is beginning to cross our minds now. How clever of you to think of it first, friends! But it does seem fantastic, doesn’t it? Though, wait! Isn’t there a historical precedent that fits the situation like a glove? Of course it does. In fact, there is one point of coincidence we didn’t mention. When Murat decided to destroy the Carbonari he gave the job to his police chief. The police chief destroyed a lot of people, and Murat thought the job was done until he found out that the police chief had always been a Carbonaro himself and that the Cousins were stronger than ever. Strange, isn’t it, friends? How clever of you to remember without our telling you! Any more questions? Yes? Well, let’s not get into tiresome arguments. Let’s have some caviare and a nice glass of aerated cat water. They make me tired.’ He swallowed another large plum brandy and sat back.