Daniel Gavla had been stuck at a meeting all day. It was infuriating. It was a beautiful October’s day outside, ideal for some golf practice, and he had to swelter in an office with a bunch of idiots who didn’t understand what he was telling them. It was futile and a waste of time for Gavla. A load of unnecessary chatter. It was clear to him that nothing would come of it. The only thing that made any sense at that moment was a little round ball on the green.

He closed his notebook with a loud snap.

“Well, gentlemen, there’s nothing more I can do for you. I’ve told you your options and what I’d need from you in return. I’m going to Prague next week. It would be possible to pile on the pressure there too, but without your help…I can’t do anything on my own.” He spread his hands as if to suggest that he’d done all that he possibly could everything for the good of mankind.

“If you do agree to my offer, it’d be better to meet at my house next time. I have some first-class nine-year-old port.” He winked and smiled broadly, nonchalantly grabbed his bag and took his leave with a firm handshake all round. As soon as he was out the door the smile vanished and his mouth stiffened. With long strides he left the building, entirely ignoring the secretary. He was in a hurry. Each movement was perfectly mastered for maximum efficiency. He apportioned his energy precisely and purposefully. Nothing that he did was random, meaningless or even irrational.

His SUV gave a short bleep. Without indicating he joined the flow of traffic. He used voice dialling to call a number.

“Jana, can I entice you out for dinner?” he said in a mellifluous voice.

“Sorry, I’ve got a visitor,” replied the woman’s voice firmly, almost coldly. He knew he had to take it slowly with her. She wasn’t the type of woman who was given to sudden emotional outbursts. Although this suited him, it did complicate the situation. He sensed that she was out of sorts. He changed tactics.

“Your visitor can wait. I need your advice about something.” The traffic light turned red. He stepped on the accelerator. Some idiot beeped his horn.

“I can’t believe that you need advice!” she gave a short laugh. “Isn’t this just another of your tricks? They’re going over the tenders at the moment, so we shouldn’t be seen together.

“Oh, come on… My place,” he chirped, smiling broadly. He turned the steering wheel sharply and moved into the left lane.

“No, I’d rather not.”

“Jana, that’s crazy. We go on holidays together and suddenly you’re getting cold feet. Everyone knows that we know each other.

“Exactly,” she said.

As virtuous as the Maid of Orleans. She had really pissed him off with that. He had thought he would have an ally at the City Hall, and so far she was acting like a crusader for justice and a better world. Those types had been there before and hadn’t even survived the first electoral term. She painstakingly attended to all the formal processes, decrees, rules and regulations. Nothing more than an uptight clerk. She didn’t have the balls or the brains for real politics. Stupid woman. And it was him who had landed her that job, but it had been a bad move. He’d miscalculated and now he’d need to change horses.

“Golf on Saturday then?”

“You know I can’t stand it there. Anyway, Milan is away on business and I don’t want to go there by myself.”

Yes, Gavla knew that Milan was in Prague on business. They had had a meeting there together three weeks ago. Milan had told his wife that he’d be away for a fortnight, but in reality it was only for a week. The rest of the time was spent with his lover. Everyone knew about her, even Jana, but for the sake of her daughter she acted as though that other woman didn’t exist. The only problem was that the fortnight had flown by and Milan still hadn’t returned.

Jana felt humiliated, so much so that she almost wanted to cry. She had received a short message the day before that he’d be away for another two weeks, or perhaps even longer. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He didn’t offer a single reason – she wasn’t even worthy of a brief explanation, and he wasn’t answering her calls. He only communicated with her through text messages. How embarrassing. She vowed not to do anything until he phoned and apologized. He could wander off wherever he wanted – the house was hers.

She had no doubt that that slut of his had a hand in this. Up until now she had always kept her head in the sand. She wasn’t going to stoop so low as to compete with her for her husband’s affections, but it did seem that the bitch had an unusual hold over him. He had never done anything like this before, although it was certainly not the first time he’d been unfaithful. Could it be that he’d fallen in love? She immediately rejected the idea. Her husband was too cynical to be capable of something like that.

Despite all of his faults, he was always very attentive and gentlemanly towards her, especially in public. This was precisely in keeping with his hypocritical nature. It was the first time in her life that he had ignored her in this way and she felt terribly offended.

But her overall feeling was one of sadness rather than anger. At home she drank a bottle of wine and two shots of top-quality cognac, which she opened out of spite.

“You know what, I’ll stop by your house tomorrow. I can’t leave you all alone,” said Gavla in a playful tone. She sighed loudly.

“Well, all right then,” she said hanging up.

“Don’t make me have to beg, you cow.” He felt relieved and drove into the garage at his villa. He entered the hallway and flew into a rage. On the floor were the last two boxes belonging to his ex-girlfriend, who he had thrown out of his house a month ago. She had promised to take away her junk, but it was still stinking out the place.

He chucked his notebook onto the leather sofa, quickly took off his sweaty shirt and put on a comfortable T-shirt. He switched on the computer to answer an email that he had skim-read on his mobile during the meeting. He hadn’t batted an eyelid when reading it as he didn’t want to damage his professional reputation in front of his clients, but the truth was that he’d been overwhelmed by a wave of emotion which he’d had to suppress. He rushed home to think carefully about what to do with a message like this. At first he had thought that it was spam, but the content suggested that whoever wrote it knew Gavla intimately. It was signed KS. The address mariage@gmail.com gave nothing away. Mariage, the French word for a wedding. What the fuck did it mean? His eyes darted over the lines:

We don’t no each other, but we have the same intrest. You wanna destroy Bittnerová. To start with, try her da. That could brake down her nice little political fasad. KS.

Gavla read through the email several times. No, he didn’t want to destroy her. That was too strong a word. He wanted to DISCREDIT her – that was the right expression. After all, he was a decent, normal person. He wasn’t interested in destroying anyone, just purposefully discrediting them. And there was a difference. He used various methods, but always within the bounds of the law. And sometimes the law permitted a lot of things, because it didn’t expressly forbid it. It was as pliant as a worm.

And he still had plan B in reserve – admittedly, it was risky, but he had not entirely dismissed it either. An abandoned and angry woman like Jana would soon jump into bed with him – he had no doubt about that. And a woman in love runs like clockwork, all you have to do is wind her up properly. And then a couple of saucy photographs from their games in the sack might come to light and suddenly you’ve got a full-blown political scandal on your hands. In business it doesn’t matter who you sleep with, but in politics it does.

He had been subtly reeling her in now for several weeks and she was finally beginning to take the bait. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t find her very attractive, but you have to make sacrifices for the greater good. When looking at the sterile Jana he understood why Milan had picked up such a wild slut. However, that image made him feel as if he had swallowed vinegar. He quickly shook off the memory of Milan and his slut with the witch-like mop of black hair.

The anonymous email was a plan down near the bottom of the list, in the event that everything, including his charm, failed. He should really have sent it straight to the police, but he’d probably just put it in his virtual trash. The sender was a nobody, and even though he knew a dangerous amount about Gavla, he was basically an ignoramus. He’d made several obvious grammatical mistakes in those four sentences. It was easy to deal with people like that.

For a moment he considered whether he could put himself at risk or lose something by answering it. In the end he decided to wait two days and write back cautiously to find out what the person really wanted. He was sure it’d be money.

 

(Translated from the Czech by Graeme Dibble)