the people in the country, like in no other country in the world.”
Gavra was losing strength. The barrage of accusations thrown back and forth seemed to be hitting him in the stomach. But Pankov’s last words made him squint at the old, deluded man. A decent and rich life… like in no other country in the world.
That truly was a surprise. All you had to do was walk down the street to see what a miserable place our country had become. Breadlines, ration cards, electrical shortages. He thought back to that place in Virginia called Brandermill, the enormous houses made of wood, not concrete, and the forests, and the large rooms and unbelievably large refrigerators. How could someone who had ever stepped into another country say those words?
Maybe that’s what began to urge Gavra toward the path he would follow. It certainly pointed the way.
“We have always spoken of equality,” said the prosecutor. “We are all equal. Everybody should be paid according to his performance. Now we finally saw your villa on television, the golden plates from which you ate, the food you had imported, the luxurious celebrations- pictures from your luxurious celebrations.”
Pankov stared back at him, blank, perhaps shocked that dirty hands had been rummaging through his stuff. Ilona, though, recovered quickly.
“Incredible!” she shouted. “We live in a normal apartment, just like every other citizen. We’ve ensured an apartment for every citizen through corresponding laws!”
“You had palaces.”
“No,” said Tomiak Pankov. “We had no palaces. The palaces belong to the people.”
“Yes, yes.” The prosecutor nodded in a simulation of agreement. “This is true. But you lived in the palaces while the people suffered.” He spread his hands. “Children can’t even buy plain candy, and you’re living in the palaces of the people.”
“Is it possible we’re facing such charges?” said Pankov, as if truly surprised.
“Let us now talk about the accounts in Switzerland, Mr. Pankov,” said the prosecutor. “What about the accounts?”
“I’m not mister,” sneered Pankov. “I’m comrade.”
“Accounts in Switzerland?” asked Ilona. “Furnish proof!”
“We had no account in Switzerland,” said Tomiak. “Nobody has opened an account. This shows again how false the charges are. What defamation, what provocations! This was a coup d’etat.”
The prosecutor was all smiles. “Well, Mr. Defendant, if you had no accounts in Switzerland, will you sign a statement confirming that the money that may be in Switzerland should be transferred to the state, to the State Bank?”
“We’ll discuss this before the Grand National Assembly.” Again he crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not say anything here. This is a vulgar provocation.”
The prosecutor took some stapled papers from an assistant. His voice rose belligerently. “Will you sign the statement now or not?”
“I have no statement to make, and I will not sign one.”
Stepping back, the prosecutor faced the president of the court. “Note the following: The defendant refuses to sign this statement. The defendant has not recognized us. He also refuses to recognize the new forum.”
Pankov nodded, pleased to hear something, finally, that he agreed with. “I do not recognize this new forum.”
The prosecutor turned back. “So. You know the new forum. You have information about it.”
“Well, you told us about it.”
“Yes,” Ilona said. “You told us about it here.”
Pankov leaned forward and explained it to them as clearly and simply as he could. “Nobody can change the state structures. This is not possible. Usurpers have been punished severely during the past centuries of our history. Nobody has the right to abolish the Grand National Assembly.”
As if Tomiak Pankov had not spoken, the prosecutor said, “Tell us why you starved the people!”
“Nonsense. Speaking as an ordinary citizen, I can tell you that for the first time in their lives the workers had two hundred kilos of flour a year and many additional benefits. All you allege are lies. As an ordinary citizen, I can tell you that never in our history has there been such progress.”
“What about the golden weighing machine your son used to weigh the meat he received from abroad?”
“It’s a lie!” shouted Ilona. She rose from her chair. “He was a mayor. He had an apartment, like everyone else, not a villa. Nothing was brought in from abroad.” She settled down and shook her head. “This is outrageous.”
The prosecutor came nearer to Ilona. “You’ve always been wiser and more ready to talk, a scientist. You were the most important aide, the number two in the cabinet, in the government.”
She shrugged.
“Did you know about the genocide in Sarospatak?”
“What genocide?” Then: “By the way, I won’t answer any more questions.”
Her husband nodded, agreeing. “She will not answer.”
The prosecutor pointed with a ballpoint pen. “Did you know about the genocide, or did you, as a chemist, only deal with polymers? You, as a scientist, did not know about it?”
“Her papers were published abroad,” said Tomiak. “Science and polymers!”
“And who wrote the papers for you, Ilona?”
Ilona Pankov, faced with more insults than she’d heard in the entire thirty-two years of her and her husband’s reign, burst. “Impudence! I’m a member and the chairwoman of the Academy of Sciences!” Her lips were damp. “You cannot talk to me in that way!
The president of the court, agitated, glanced at his watch and said to the prosecutor, “So she’s an academician, and there’s nothing more to say.”
“By insulting us,” said Pankov, “you’re insulting all the learned bodies throughout the world that conferred these degrees on us.” He patted his wife’s arm.
The prosecutor opened his hands as if holding a large bowl. “That is to say, as a deputy prime minister you did not know about the genocide?”
“She’s not a deputy prime minister,” shouted Pankov, “but the first deputy prime minister of the Socialist Republic!”
Again, the prosecutor ignored him. “But who gave the order to shoot? Answer this question!”
“I will not answer,” said Ilona. “I told you right at the beginning that I will not answer a single question.”
Tomiak cut in. “You as officers should know that the government cannot give the order to shoot. But those who shot at the young people were the security men. The terrorists.”
Ilona nodded. “The‘terrorists’”-she quoted with her fingers- “are from the Ministry.”
The prosecutor’s head popped back, shocked. “The terrorists are from the Ministry for State Security?”
The mustached man jerked to his feet with the same look of surprise etched across his features. “And who heads the Ministry? Another question-”
“No,” said Ilona, realizing her mistake too late. “I’ve not given an answer. This was only information for you as citizens.”
Tomiak Pankov raised a finger. “I want to tell you as citizens that in the Capital-”
“We’re finished with you,” the prosecutor said. “You needn’t say anything else. The next question is,” he said, turning back to Ilona, “how did Lieutenant General Yuri Kolev die? Was he killed? And by whom?”
“Ask the doctors and the people,” said Ilona, “but not me!”
Michalec was already staring at Gavra with a broad smile, as if he knew Kolev’s name would be mentioned at that moment. Gavra leaned close to his large ear. “They didn’t kill Kolev.”
“I know,” Michalec whispered back, then returned to the scene.
“I will ask you a counterquestion,” said Tomiak Pankov. “Why do you not put the question like this: Why did Lieutenant General Yuri Kolev have a heart attack?”
The prosecutor raised that finger again. “What induced him to have a heart attack? Earlier, we spoke, and you called him a traitor. This was the reason for his heart attack?”
“The traitor Kolev died naturally. His heart failed.”
