Ivan Klíma - Judge On Trial

1

ADAM KINDL STOOD in the chambers of the Presiding Judge holding the green file he had just been handed (Indictment of Karel Kozlk on the charge of murder) and waited for his superior to come off the phone. He could have taken a seat, but sitting in this room only made him nervous, so he remained on his feet and paced up and down instead. From time to time he absent-mindedly straightened his tie or smoothed down the flaps of his jacket.

There was generally something unkempt about his appearance a button left undone or one cheek more cleanly shaved than the other. His wife would criticise his untidiness and maintain it was the sign of an untidy mind. In his opinion, his wife had no idea what kind of mind he had: he was sure that in matters and situations of importance he did things properly. He was faithful to his wife, he did not drink to excess, he was a non-smoker, he ate in moderation and, like his father, he regarded diligence as the supreme virtue.

From outside came the roar of traffic, though he noticed it only when particularly large lorries rumbled past. His daughter used to call them dragons. That was when they were still in America. Long-distance trucks over there were enormous, garishly painted affairs. They looked like grotesque monsters as they tore down the freeway. On second thoughts, it may have been that Manda mistook the word truck for the Czech word drak after all she was only four and a half at the time and scarcely spoke any English.

In his minds eye he could see the long white ribbon of highway stretching out across the plain, stitched with bridges and flyovers. He recalled the distant towns and the oil-rigs, the dust rising in swirling columns above the dried-up landscape. If Id stayed there Id probably be somewhere in a university by now. In fact Id just be starting my summer vacation, and could take Route 87 south to Big Spring, San Antonio or Port Lavaca, or even take off along Route 385, like I did that time.

He opened the file but immediately closed it again. He was already familiar with the case and realised that for a double murder committed as atrociously as this the supreme penalty would be demanded: a life for a life. He knew he ought to refuse the case, but that was precisely the sort of thing they were waiting for in order to get rid of him.

At last the Presiding Judge put the phone down and turned his fleshy face towards him, squeezing it into a smile. Some people are incapable of smiling and talking at the same time, its supposed to be a sign of necrophiliac tendencies. He had read somewhere that Hitler was a case in point. The smile went from the Presiding Judges face and he asked, Your brother not back yet?

No, theyve extended his stay till the end of the year. His brother Hanu was never going to return now, of course. So long as there was no change in the way things were in this country, there would be no reason for him to come back.

He ought to come home.

Hes there legally. His brother had even got married out there last winter. His wife was a Czech girl that Adam had still to meet although he was unlikely to for some time yet. She was called Olga. It was a name that meant nothing to him. Dear Olga, or Mil Olgo, seeing that youre Czech too: your legs look nice in your photo, even if your nose is a bit on the small side. What pretty babies youll have! The two of them would have children and he was never likely to set eyes on them either. The kids would speak English and be subjects of her Britannic Majesty. And even if they did meet one day, theyd have nothing to say to each other by then. Theyd be strangers. A pity, really.

All the same, said the Presiding Judge, you realise the way things are and the situation were all in.

He meant the situation youre in, but his kind never said things like that straight out.

Of course he realised the situation he was in. He was here, and so far he had been permitted for some unfathomable reason to go on doing his job. To whom did he owe this favour and why? And what did they want in return? And how long would it be before he fell out of favour again?

He became aware of a slight queasiness in his stomach.

Id sooner not give you the Kozlk, but Im short-staffed you know how it is yourself. At least itll give you a chance to show they can trust you.

Yes, from now on hed have to show them all the time that he was worthy of their trust. For one thing, he was no longer in the Party, and for another, he had friends who were no longer members either. They, like him, had lost the trust of the powerful ones who decided who would work or not and where: those who had the final say about who could pass judgement in the name of the republic, and how.

The queasiness now spread to the rest of his body and the strength went out of his arms and legs.

At least itll mean less work for you than some niggling nonsense case.

It had nothing to do with the amount of work involved and the Presiding Judge knew that very well when he assigned him it. But whats the point in explaining my position? Theres little chance of us seeing eye to eye. He worked as a judge during the worst years, and sent more people to prison than he could ever count. He even sent some to the gallows. Most of them were innocent, so he was suspended and they wanted me to review similar cases. But they didnt manage to get the process under way before everything swung back again. Or rather, everything was swung back. This fellow has been reinstated and its my turn to wait for suspension and wonder where Ill be sent. He cant wait to give me the push. And those who went through the prisons or the concentration camps go on waiting for justice, as they have done for most of their lives.

I was hoping to take some leave, he said, fully aware that this wouldnt let him off the hook.

And why shouldnt you? Youll have this business sorted out in a couple of days. Its an open and shut case. Theres no need to waste any fucking time on it. Then you can take your leave. Anyway the gamekeepers tell me were in for better weather in August than July this year.

The Presiding Judge was of the hunting fraternity. He enjoyed killing hares, pheasants and deer. And maybe people, even. No, perhaps not, perhaps he just followed orders. He was not the sort to worry himself about the life of someone he believed maybe rightly to be a murderer. Of course he knows why Id sooner not take this case. Hes bound to know more about me than I do about him. Thats their main qualification after all: knowing as much as they can about other people. He is certain to know I wrote an article calling for the abolition of the death penalty, even though it never got published which means he never read it. He knows why I dont want the case, and thats why hes given it to me. Ill do what I can, he replied, and hurried out of the room.

Back in his office he did not open the file but just pushed it into a desk drawer. It was almost noon and there was no sense in getting down to work now.

He usually lunched with his wife, and they would meet on the corner by the National Theatre. But Alena wouldnt be coming back until the next day. He couldnt really say he missed her over much (on the contrary, almost: he was relieved to be freed for a while from the duty to show anyone love and devotion) but he was at a loss to think of anyone else he might have lunch with.

It was ages since he had seen Oldich, but he had no real inclination to meet his former colleague. Oldich had changed a lot in recent years. He still came out with the same witticisms about the state of the country, the regime, violence and the bloody bolsheviks, but he was becoming more cautious of late; he had no wish to jeopardise his tranquil existence at the institute or his home comforts. As for Matj, he was out of touch, stuck in a workmans caravan somewhere in the sticks measuring water flows. He could always call Petr. Petr was chucked out of the faculty too, but at least he had stayed in Prague: he had just changed his job and become an insurance clerk. The trouble was that the last time they had talked together he had promised Petr that he would find him someone abroad to bring in the books he wanted. But he had done nothing about it so far.