Chapter 33

33

One evening in late September, Jana took a walk in the cool, autumn air. The colour of the leaves matched the city as it turned golden in the setting sun.

Lost in her thoughts, she wandered across Wenceslas Square where Lenka had been arrested. Without Andrej's help, she could no longer get letters to her friend; Ivan had been trying the official route to keep contact with his wife but without success. The absence of information on Lenka and baby Alena's well-being was torment.

She crossed Charles Bridge, weaving through the crowds, and found herself climbing the narrow, shop-lined street in the direction of Prague Castle. An inexplicable urge to see the castle drew her on. She hadn't been near its walls for months and her heart quickened as she approached.

Too late, she realised her mistake. A Wehrmacht soldier was marching towards her.

She stopped in her tracks, her breath catching at the sight of the wide, pockmarked face .

Brandt. His eyes lit when he saw her, a smirk crossing his lips.

The pavement was narrow, allowing only one person to pass. She stepped aside, glancing around for her nearest place of refuge, but he was faster and blocked her way.

‘Ah, what a lovely surprise – the bookshop girl,' he sneered.

The last time she had seen the vile man was when she'd witnessed the shooting of Janek the gardener. An image of the terrible moment sprung up and she glowered at him as he continued.

‘It was very fortunate that you were released from prison after the assassination of our beloved Blond Beast.'

‘I had merely been helping with enquiries. It was standard procedure.' She kept her tone even.

‘I was never convinced by your innocent, dust-cleaning charade.' He stepped closer, his beady eyes glinting with danger. ‘One wrong step, my little cleaning woman, and I'll be on you like a ton of bricks.' She could smell it on his stale breath, sweet and sickly – that odour of his; it reminded her of something she didn't like. Then she noticed the black smear on his lower lip and the memory finally popped: liquorice. She had always hated liquorice.

‘I really don't know what you're talking about, so if you would please let me pass?'

He remained still, leering at her. He was deliberating trying to intimidate her and she wasn't going to let him.

She stuck out her chin, turned on her heel and strode swiftly back down the way she'd come. It wasn't a surprise to hear his army boots clomping behind her, following her. She picked up her pace and so did he. Her mind raced. How could she be rid of him? Where could she go? She wasn't far from the little restaurant she used to frequent years ago. The last time she had been there was with Pavel. The memory of how she had given him an experimental kiss popped up. She brushed the thought away; she must focus.

Jana remembered the owners of the restaurant – a kind, hardworking couple. She would take a table there and hoped he wouldn't make a scene in front of them and the customers. Relieved, she turned down the narrow street. It was remarkably quiet, with only a couple of pedestrians. The familiar shops were now boarded up and when she came to the restaurant entrance, her heart sank; it was closed. Daylight was fading as dusk drew in.

She glanced up to see Brandt marching towards her, his expression intent.

She ran.

As she swerved to avoid a middle-aged couple who stood in her path arguing – the stout woman searching for something in her bag – Jana lost her footing on the cobblestones. Her left shoe flew off and she was about to slip it back on when Brandt was on her, his large hand clasping her free wrist. She yelped and tugged against his grasp, but she was no match against his steel grip. He yanked her arm so hard she thought her shoulder would be pulled out of her socket.

The startled coupled stared, mouths open. Jana caught the woman's eye.

‘Excuse me, sir,' the woman said, addressing Brandt. ‘Has this woman done something wrong?'

‘Mind your own business,' he growled.

‘It's just that you're being rather heavy handed with the young girl.'

A moment of gratitude towards the woman. But then hope faded .

‘Get out of here before I put you all under arrest,' he bellowed, his free hand gripping his pistol.

Fear flickered across the woman's face. Her husband took her elbow.

‘Come on, dear. Let's not meddle.'

Jana's heart sunk as the couple scuttled off. Glancing up the street, she saw a young man sloping away; she was alone with Brandt. With a strong tug of her arm, he threw her with her back against the wall, his boot clipping the edge of her bare foot. She winced from the pain.

She clutched her errant shoe in her hand as he held her by her shoulders, his face up close, his liquorice breath causing her stomach to turn.

‘Let go of me,' she said. ‘I've done nothing wrong.'

‘Oh, I'll find something. Unless you can be more accommodating.'

His hand travelled from her shoulder, his fingers snaking towards her breast, but then paused, hovering over her locket.

‘Nice,' he said and yanked the chain from her neck, breaking the clasp and stuffing it into his trouser pocket. Jana gasped and in the brief moment he weakened his hold on her, she flung out her hand that still held the shoe and smashed the heel against the side of his head. He howled, the sound echoing down the empty street. She struck again with all her might. His hands flew to his wounded head and she slipped from his grasp, bolting down the street, one shoe on, one shoe off. She threw back a glance before she turned the corner. He stood glowering at her, blood trickling down the side of his face.

‘Next time, bookshop girl,' he called after her, ‘next time.'