Murder In Steel

Chapters 15 7 16

      After the end of the Colonel’s first interrogation, the Chief was on the phone immediately, ordering two cruisers to meet him behind the Four Seasons Hotel.  He was quite certain that the General’s hired guns were there, waiting for their chief to show and to be told of their next assignment. They had no idea that the General was in detention, already. The plan at the hotel was the usual scam: knock on the door, say they are there to fix the telephone, and when the door opens, simply pull guns and make the arrest. None of us could predict how the underlings would react. They might be relieved or they might fight. If they cooperated with the law, they might well be treated a bit more leniently for it. We didn’t know if they were armed but we had to assume that they were. Should pepper spray meet whoever was opening the door?
       Perhaps wisely, I wasn’t allowed to be part of the team, though I would really have liked to be there. The Chief told me later how the raid happened. He was the first at the door, he knocked and as planned and expected, the door opened to let the phone repair people in. The arrest of the four people in the room was easy. Nobody was armed and nobody resisted. Nobody asked where the General was. Nobody contested the arrests. They all identified themselves openly, using valid Hungarian passports. They accompanied the officers peacefully. They were to be questioned and possibly charged later.
       The Chief told me, “I know two of them well. One was a janitor in the Secret Service headquarters. The other was the physician at the same place, Dr. Mater, the one who administered lethal drugs to anybody, on a whim or on special request by an interrogator. Most of the time he was working with the General and did his bidding. He was disbarred from general practice when he went too far and overdosed someone whose testimony was needed. He was to be executed but the General intervened and the two had been together ever since. Unsubstantiated rumours about their love affair abounded. No proof existed, nor was it necessary.
      “They will be kept in administrative custody for the time being.  They may be asked to give testimony for the prosecution. I am sure that a plea arrangement would be helpful here. I will talk to Woronsky.”

       Chief Rákossy welcomed the Colonel next morning, who entered, again dressed elegantly, her hair and her face artfully prepared, her nails manicured and her shoes shined. It was evident that she wasn’t treated too badly in jail. Her freshly pressed clothes and the effort her appearance must have required implied full cooperation by the jail’s personnel, probably for significant amounts of cash and promises of more to come on her release.
       Again, I was allowed to watch the proceedings through the one-way mirror.
       Rákossy’s questions about the lady’s wellbeing, her treatment by the guards and his extended hand were ignored totally. The antagonism was tangible. The lady sat down, remained quiet and looked at the upper corner of the room. She sat motionless, holding her back straight. Her eye was twitching. The Chief started the session, attempting to re-establish the previous day’s rapport. 
       “Mrs. Williams, you recall that you gave me the location of the General’s people. You will be pleased to know that four men have been arrested without incident.”
       The response was surprising. “What?” barked the Colonel, gruff, angry, and hostile.
       “Room 420, the Four Seasons Hotel, remember?”
       “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” retorted the Colonel and for a millisecond only the Chief looked confused. He followed the momentary hiccup by silently turning on the recorder and replaying the Colonel’s comments and when she heard her own voice, the icy control was lost, she jumped up, upending her chair. She was shouting, the walls were shaking, her voice was suddenly hoarse and furious, her face was distorted.
       “This is a trick, I want that tape checked by acoustics experts, you fucking miserable scum, you spliced it together, that’s not even my voice. You are trying to upset me, I am not a rat, I am a Colonel in the Secret Service, how dare …,” and as suddenly as the tirade began, it was over. She slumped on the floor and was sobbing, uncontrollably.
       Rákossy bent to help her but the lady shook off his hand and yelled, “Don’t you touch me,” and stood up. Miraculously, her make-up suffered no damage at all.
       The Chief watched silently but I noticed that his finger was under the table top, and it looked like he was ready to ring for help but the tirade and the yelling ended as suddenly as they began. His hand appeared on the top of the table again. He started his questions once more, calm, low keyed.
       “Dear lady, just to clarify, do you recall that you gave me the information on those people?”
       “I never did any such thing. I never gave you any information. I would never give you any information. I would never betray anybody. I would never betray people who trust me. I would never give them up,” said the Colonel, now calm.
       “Who would you never give up?” asked the Chief, not really expecting a reply and he wasn’t getting any, other than another rigid stare. The icy-blues were now focused at the same corner of the room again.
       “I would like you to meet somebody,” said Rákossy. The door opened and in walked Lola. She appeared relaxed and collected, even cheerful, but she must have felt some apprehension. She wouldn’t be human if she didn’t. The Colonel looked up, saw her, and her mouth was literally stuck open. She was lost for words, a rare event. Lola simply walked to the other side of the table, and sat in the chair directly facing her mother. The two locked eyes. Lola was smiling a little, the Colonel was grim and her lips trembled. The Chief spoke first.
       “Mrs. Williams, is this the daughter you left to die in a toilet when she was two days old?”  There was no response. The Colonel was now white as a sheet and I was beginning to wonder if the meeting was becoming too stressful.
       “Do you claim that this lady is the mother of your grandson whose life you threatened?” And still there was no response. Suddenly, the Colonel stood, her chair fell to the ground behind her again, and she was having another tantrum. Yelling, swearing, thumping the table, spittle on her chin, her face soaked with perspiration. The bout went on for a couple of minutes. There was foam on her lips. The words came fast and were totally impossible to understand. At the end the lady collapsed on the floor. She was convulsing. A minute went by and the tremors stopped. The Chief got her a glass of water and helped her back on her chair. She clutched her face and appeared to be howling uncontrollably, breathless. Her daughter watched silently. As the Colonel’s sobs began to subside, Chief Rákossy started asking a few more questions, accepting the lack of a response to his previous inquiry. He spoke calmly, at a normal volume, as before.
       “Mrs. Williams, is it true that you used threats to coerce your daughter to be in the passport booth at the airport and to bring Professor Lederer to you for interrogation?” The reply wasn’t really surprising.
       “No, this is absolutely not true.”
       “Is it true that you kidnapped your grandson and held him and threatened to maim and kill him unless your daughter did as she was told?”
       “No, this is absolutely not true.”
       “Is it true that you sent one of the severed fingers of your grandson to your daughter, by courier, and threatened to cut off all unless she went with you to Yekaterinburg?”
       “No, this is absolutely not true.”
       “Is it true that you released your grandson as soon as your daughter complied with your wishes?”
       “No, this is absolutely not true.”
       The Chief now produced a photo from the file. He showed it to Colonel Hegedus who looked at it for a fraction of a second and started to cry again. The Chief now talked into the tape recorder.
       “For the record, the photograph shows a severed forefinger. Also, it shows a hand from which the forefinger had been severed. As well, it shows a certificate signed by two surgeons, identifying the hand as belonging to the son of this lady and that the finger had been removed from his hand.” Then he continued the questioning.
       “Mrs. Williams, do you recognize the hand and the finger in this photo?”  The lady was sobbing again, completely out of control. She wasn’t looking at the photo. She stood up, trying to leave. She was unsteady on her feet and a warden entered, holding her hand and leading her away.
       Lola watched the display quietly but she was also highly distressed. I was sure she was relieved that the confrontation was over.
       The Chief told me on the way out, “I didn’t feel sorry for the Colonel. I have a feeling though that she is not completely sane. I will request the presence of a trained psychiatrist in the court during the trial. There will be a need for one, I am certain.”