‘I do see the problem Juraj, and that is why I am here. I can assure you I mean well and I fully understand I may not be welcomed by all in this nation, but I am neither here to make friends nor disrupt the order. The politics of Moscow are not for my concern or concentration. My task here is both simple and direct: find the person responsible for killing your brother and bring them to swift justice. If there is one assurance I can give you, Juraj, it is that an example will be made of whoever is accountable. No one will ever dare execute a Soviet, Teralov, or any other persons in this nation again after the fact. The hammer of the Soviet Union falls hard and strikes fast against its enemies, Juraj. You know this.’
The room continued to buzz with excitement and the light-heartedness of their environment made for a peculiar contrast to their topic of conversation. The talk was more fitting for a place of dark and desperate solitude than that of the most lively and upbeat drinking establishment in the whole of southern Czechoslovakia.
‘But enough of this!’ exclaimed Edgar, a bright smile now emerging from his face, his eyes shined fondly upon Juraj; the hum of the atmosphere gave him an almost transcendent persona.
‘I do not say this too often, Juraj—believe me, I do not. But I like you and I find your company to be quite decent, although I will confess I found you to be most intolerable at first.’ Juraj’s face remained blank, staring at Edgar with a questioning nature, but the sly grin creaking from the edges of his mouth made it almost impossible to not release a burst of laughter once again. The pair roared and howled together, a bizarre situation unlike any either had truly encountered before: a mutual understanding of an unlikely and unspoken friendship was clear.
‘For a Soviet,’ started Juraj, the words breaking in between jolts of laughter, ‘you are not so bad.’ Grinning, they enjoyed the moment whilst it lasted, a welcome break from the turmoil and woes that had led one another into each other’s paths in the first place.
‘Edgar?’ queried Juraj, his expression turning more serious now. ‘What exactly are we doing here? I mean, what are we really doing here?’
The detective looked around the room, without facing or responding to Juraj. His eyes rested on an area towards the back, where a few men and a congregation of women were talking and enjoying themselves, laughter and merrymaking booming through the halls of the establishment. Edgar smiled with satisfaction.
‘We are here for him,’ said Edgar, pointing at one man within the group, singling him out.
Clearly puzzled, Juraj could not help but ask questions. The existence of a random stranger within a beer hall and his relation to the case did not seem apparent to the young, inquisitive nobleman.
‘How so, Edgar?’
‘Come with me and I’ll show you an old Soviet trick.’
Hustling and brushing past the crowd, the flocks of people standing as they talked and drank, the inconspicuous pair pushed their way through. Edgar was leading the way, heading towards the corner of the room he had identified. Anxious and nerved now, Juraj was unsure of what to suspect and his senses began to heighten. The mustiness of the room, complete with the bodily odours compiled by the now-intensified heat of the room, made for a cocktail of epic nauseousness.
Finally, after what felt like much longer than it might have, they arrived near the group. The people were clearly in good spirits and enjoying themselves very much. Noticing the pair standing beside their table, the back and forth buzzing between them quickly simmered into silence, and the man Edgar pointed out was the first of them to speak.
‘Can we help you with something, grandfather?’
Speaking with obvious jest, the group burst into a haze of laugher, drunk and giddy with amusement at the proud detective’s expense. Edgar remained steadfast. In fact, Juraj noted he was beaming with delight—a wide-eyed smile, his arms open and clutching his stomach, laughing along too. Unimpressed, the man’s face became straighter, clearly annoyed his insult had not faltered or demoralized Edgar.
‘What do you want?’ the man now spat abruptly, with more anger than humour forming the undertone of his intent. He wore a white shirt with red leather breeches that strapped up and over his broad shoulders.
‘You are a man who knows people, are you not?’ spoke Edgar now for the first time, his eyes cast across the group and settling directly on his target of interest. Looking at one another with confusion, it was not the appearance of Edgar that startled them but his accent and the way in which he spoke. Juraj could sense it too: Edgar was not a man to be unreasoned with.
‘What is it to you, Soviet?’ the man hissed, his discontent for Edgar now clear and dangerously apparent.
‘Well, for one thing, I am here on official business—an envoy from Moscow, as you have correctly asserted,’ began Edgar calmly, not yet reacting with haste or impulse. ‘Another point you may take great credence and council in would be that of the fact I’ve duly noted your balance is lacklustre this evening. So, any physical confrontation we may find ourselves in would more likely be unfavourable for you.’
Bemused and off keel, the man stood to confront Edgar directly, clearly unimpressed and embarrassed in front of the group—he had his bravado to protect. Pushing his way out of the group, he met Edgar’s face, but not before Edgar had already placed his hand above the cuff of his collarbone, pressing deeply into a pressure point. It had the man squealing and crippled down onto his knees swifter than a hare jolting through the forest.
‘Okay, enough!’ he cried, ‘I submit. What is it you
