The guard led him to a dank room one floor above Jozef’s cell. A metal table took up most of the small room, along with two metal chairs. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow. A barred window allowed a weak amount of sunlight to filter through a dirty windowpane.
“Let me know if you need anything,” the guard said, motioning Jozef inside.
Jozef dipped his head in a nod and stepped into the visitor’s room. The door slammed shut behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the small space.
Krystoff looked the same as he remembered, except for a few more lines around his eyes. His beard obscured the lower half of his face, but his dark blue eyes, the same shade as Jozef’s, spoke eloquently. Jozef saw compassion and concern there, but he wasn’t convinced it was real.
What do you want? Jozef asked, dragging the metal chair away from the table, scraping it across the concrete floor and dropping into it.
It’s time to come home, son.
Jozef narrowed his eyes. If his uncle was using Jozef’s method of communication, then he wanted something. They hadn’t parted on good terms and when Krystoff was annoyed, he wouldn’t sign. It put distance between him and his nephew. Jozef hated when people did that to him. Whether subconscious or not, it never sat well when he was unceremoniously cut off from his chosen language.
What’s that supposed to mean? Jozef asked. Last I checked I have two life sentences to serve.
I pulled some strings with the higher-ups. Krystoff leaned on the table, his face settling into earnest lines. The justice office agreed to look over your case two months ago and they found some inconsistencies.
What inconsistencies? Jozef demanded. I killed the two men I was accused of taking out, I earned prison.
“Fuck Jozef, what’s wrong with you?” Krystoff exploded, smacking his palm down on the table and switching to verbal in his agitation. “You can’t say shit like that. Our official position is not guilty.”
Krystoff ran a hand through his steel grey hair and took a breath, calming himself. “The justice department wasn’t able to find more than circumstantial evidence linking you to the death of Danilo Melnychuk. The witnesses at the hospital were proven to be unreliable and the evidence found in the basement outside of Luhansk, while linking you to the scene, wasn’t enough to prove you killed Gustav. Without a body, they have nothing.”
Yet, here I am, incarcerated. If the evidence doesn’t hold up, why was I convicted?
Jozef had been stupid to leave evidence at the house. He’d been preoccupied by Shaun and hadn’t disposed of the bucket. He’d taken his gloves off for a few minutes while filling it with water, leaving his fingerprints on the side.
They both knew the witnesses at the hospital were infallible. A nurse and a patient had described Jozef right down to his combat boots, leather jacket and the tattoos on his neck. If they’d been proven unreliable, it was likely due to coercion or a fabricated drug problem. Jozef knew the drill because he’d used the method himself. Discredit a witness by planting evidence to make it look like they were a drug abuser.
“The justice department has decided otherwise; you get out on Saturday. The Prime Minister doesn’t want to make a fuss, so you’ll be released quietly. No media, no questions. I’ll have a car sent for you.” He leaned over to emphasize his point. “You get out in two days and you’ll come back home where you belong.”
Jozef felt numb. Not at the news that he was getting out. He’d been expecting that, but not from his uncle. Havel was close to reaching an agreement with the justice department as well. It would have been a matter of weeks before he was freed.
He’d been numb for a year, since losing Shaun. Since taking the fall for Krystoff’s rescue and joining the ranks of the men who filled Czechia’s crowded prisons. Somehow, he knew he wouldn’t feel a damn thing again until he could touch her. Look at her face, feel the heat of her sunshine as she smiled at him.
“You don’t seem pleased by my news.” Krystoff’s tone indicated disgruntlement. He expected gratitude from his nephew.
His uncle could go to hell. There had to be trust before there could be gratitude. Jozef was short on both.
He leveled a narrow-eyed glare at his uncle and clenched his fists beneath the table. Perhaps his uncle hadn’t directly tried to kill Shaun, but he was responsible for keeping his house in order and he’d failed. Someone had tried to kill Jozef’s woman under Krystoff’s roof, while she was under his protection.
I won’t be coming home, Jozef signed. When I’m released, I’ll be moving to the club.
Jozef referred to the building he owned in Prague where the club was located. An old five-story brick and concrete structure in the heart of the downtown sector. Prior to his imprisonment he’d used the non-club floors for meetings and storage. After his imprisonment, knowing he couldn’t go back to the Koba estate, he’d ordered Havel to overhaul the top floors as both work and living space. As far as he knew, he had an apartment ready and waiting for him in Prague.
Jozef pushed away from the table and stood. Let Havel know how much you spent greasing the authorities. The money will be transferred back to you tomorrow. Don’t bother sending a car. I’ll find my own way.
Jozef turned to leave.
“Jozef Koba!” Krystoff snapped, also rising from the table, his chair clattering as he shoved it back. “This is ridiculous. You’re imagining this vendetta. Not a single member of our family would have betrayed you. Please come home, your aunt has been distraught.”
Jozef turned back to face his uncle. Find the person who poisoned my woman and we’ll talk.
