‘Lichnova,’ he spoke tenderly, a mixture of happiness and pain weaving into his voice. ‘I thought you were—’
‘You thought wrong,’ she smirked, blood covering her white teeth.
She slowly raised her torso, legs still sprawled across the floor. Looking around the room, her eyes met the slain shadow, now no more than a flayed corpse.
‘And?’ she quizzed. ‘What happened to him?’
Juraj sighed in disbelief, the panic slowly subsiding and draining away, almost distrusting his own words that slipped from his mouth as he explained the killer’s final words and action. The meaning behind it was all as much of loss to himself and, from Lichnova’s expression, equally so to her.
‘This is going to be one hell of a lot to write up,’ she exclaimed, a brief smile escaping her lips as she pawed at the wound on her head. ‘Damn bastard, didn’t even see him coming, right out of the darkness.’
Juraj offered a hand to the inspector, which was gratefully taken, and he pulled her up from the ground. They stood and stared silently for a moment, the tension and electricity of the room subsiding and transcending from their bodies, dispersing outbound and away.
Finally, Juraj felt safe.
18.
Juraj and Lichnova sat together back in the police townhouse, staring at the ground in disbelief and shock.
‘You got him Juraj, you got the person responsible for all these deaths,’ spoke Lichnova with a soft comforting tone.
‘I merely followed you,’ muttered Juraj with an embarrassing disposition. ‘You are the one who figured out where we could find him. How did you know?’
‘It’s a simple one,’ proclaimed Lichnova, tightening her bootlaces, a bloody towel thrown across her shoulder. ‘The Dock House we found him at, it’s a known place for the homeless and people who’ve got nowhere else to go. They will break in and stay awhile; I must get called out to the place at least three times a year. The rope they keep stocked in there… well, it’s the only place in the whole of Bratislava that has that type, the same that was used around Milos’ neck. Moorhouse quality.’
‘I guess he wasn’t so smart and sophisticated after all then?’ stammered Juraj, shaking his head in disbelief.
‘You’d be surprised,’ replied Lichnova. ‘Often the smartest ones are the craziest, and they don’t care much for finer things or ways of life—it is about principle and morality that matters for these types. You heard the way he spoke. “Doing it for the one he loves,” “Edgar was never meant to be involved.” The guy was cuckoo and taking his own life only confirms it. He just didn’t want to rot in jail or hang for his crime. He was a coward Juraj, and he got what he deserved.’
The room was void of the sight of Milos now, for which Juraj felt relieved. He had stared death in the face enough times today already and could quite simply bear to see no more. No other prisoners were currently inhabited, so their voices echoed against the empty black walls.
‘Yeah, I suppose you are right about that,’ nodded Juraj in agreement, after a while of consolidation and reflection. He no longer had the strength to try to place himself within the mind of a madman. He finally accepted everything for what it was.
‘Inspector?’
‘Yes, Juraj?’
‘Do you have a first name, something more familiar I can call you by?’
Lichnova looked at Juraj strangely for a moment, her dark green eyes fixated on him. The light caught them, making them appear like jade crystal, lost in time.
‘I—’ started Lichnova, then she paused. Thinking for a moment, her face turned into one of softness, then back into one of a sterner familiar formality.
‘It is Inspector Lichnova, Juraj. Nothing more.’
‘I understand,’ replied Juraj, looking slightly dejected. ‘Don’t you find it strange that you know my name, yet I do not know yours?’ he finally added, after a moment of consideration.
‘I do not. I knew your name long before you came to Bratislava, Juraj. The Teralov name has a long and gripping reach. The arm of your family stretches from here all the way to Košice. I am surprised nobody has approached you sooner asking for an autograph,’ she spoke with a slight smile towards the end. ‘Although you should know, not everyone adores your family and what it stands for here, as much as they do to the West.’
Juraj smiled in reply, his features flush with energy for a moment. ‘This I am quite aware of, Inspector Lichnova. As much as you are aware of my name—as am I of its reputation. Perhaps, when all of this is over, I will shed the responsibility of my namesake, the same way as I now intend to release myself from the responsibility of any further inquiry into this dammed mess of events.’
Looking around the room with a considered disposition, a spark of energy suddenly fluttered back into Juraj’s mind, almost at the same instantaneous moment of which he had relieved himself of further responsibility. His mind had just perceptibly refused to adhere to any further deliberation, and yet new questions sprung back into his mind in the same instant—this was a conflict of interest which had inundated and made him agonise his whole adult life. A restless mind, one which could wander and relay thoughts, feelings and circumstances in endless circles of days on end without relief or respite.
‘Lichnova? Do you remember, I came here in the first place for a reason, before Milos…?’
‘Oh, yes? We never did have the chance to discuss why. Let me guess, you have something important to tell me now.’ Lichnova stood with her hands placed upon her hips, looking down at Juraj, who nodded in affirmation, restored in his pride and resolute with fortitude.
‘The diary you gave me,
