4. The Police Bureau

It happened the day after the next day. I was at my desk copying things out of an old ledger when the office boy came up and tapped me on the shoulder.

"The director says you should come right away."

I immediately put my pen away and threaded my way between the other desks and opened the door of the director's office.

He was holding a piece of paper and had a fierce expression even before the door opened. He watched me approach his desk and continued to watch as I bowed deferentially, then silently passed the paper to me. It read as follows:

                              IPB No. 3256
                              29 June 1929
     The following person is to report to the Personal
     Affairs office of this Police Bureau for examination
     at 1500, this day.
                         Iyhatovo Police Bureau
     Leono Kust,
     Grade 18 Official

This was Destupago's work, I thought to myself, and should be interesting. The director was still watching my expression in silence. He finally asked, "Do you know what this is about?"

"Yes, sir. I do," I replied, dropping my hands to my sides.

The director relaxed his expression enough to look relieved, then glanced at the clock. "Good. You'd better go now."

I made another respectful bow and left the office. I returned to my desk, cleared the top, and quietly left the office. As I walked along a street lined with huge cherry trees and stopped in front of the red brick building of the police, I was surprised to feel my pulse race. But I encouraged myself by saying I hadn't done anything wrong, and boldly approached the reception desk in the front entry.

"I've come at your request-- Leono Kust."

The patrolman at the desk silently flipped through five or six ledger pages, then said, "Oh, it must be the missing person case. Please go to Personal Affairs, through that door on the right, and wait there."

What did he mean by missing person? I expected him to say the dueling case-- the dueling was done with table knives with rounded tips, but I didn't know whether Destupago had bled or not; I entered the room wondering if there had been some mistake. It was a large, nearly empty room with seven windows along one side. Sitting in one corner, unnecessarily stiffly, was Dr. Wildcat's coachman. He was waiting with a strange, pallid look. "Say, grandpa. Did you get called in today, too?" I walked over and greeted him with a smile.

The old man squirmed as though he didn't want to be seen talking with such a villain as me; he remained in his seat without saying a word.

"Is your master not around?"

"He is not," the old man finally said, but he began shaking as he did.

I kept asking. "I wonder what happened?"

"They're grilling her now."

"Who?" I asked in surprise.

"Rozalo."

"Rozalo! Why?" I was completely serious now.

"Because Fazelo is gone."

"Fazelo?" I raised my voice without thinking.

"No talking!" we heard as the inside door rattled open. "Witnesses are not to talk to each other. You-- come in here."

The old man struggled to his feet and went into the next room. As I looked at the officer who addressed us, I saw that Rozalo was indeed in the next room being examined by someone. She seemed to have been repeating her answers quietly for a while. I felt a great pressure on my chest.

I could only think that Fazelo was gone. He had fought and won in the light of that waning moon, then dragged his shadow across pearlwort lights, returning dejectedly while filled with emotion so strong he could hardly speak. Then Destupago, the collar of his linen summer coat turned up, and three or four underlings must have been lying in wait for him. He would have stopped when he spotted them, and they approached quietly, smiling. Suddenly one grabbed Fazelo, and they all beat him and securely tied his flailing arms. When Fazelo was unable to move, Destupago taunted him without mercy. Finally Destupago said 'he's no good to us now-- take him away,' and they stuffed him in an oven at the carbonization plant. My eyes widened in horror at these thoughts.

(Oh, at such a time, how could I just go home to bed as usual? How could I show so little understanding at a time when I should have found inaction unbearable? On top of that, the gentle, beautivul Rozalo was being intimidated and tricked into incriminating statements in the next room.)

Unable to bear the tension, I paced back and forth in the center of the room. As I looked out the window I saw people walking under the rows of cherry trees. Each of them seemed to look like Destupago or Fazelo. If a youth came by with a hunting pulled well down over his face, I believed Fazelo had escaped and was passing by. If I saw someone stout, I believed Destupago had disguised himself and was checking out the situation. Suddenly these thoughts disappeared from my head. There was a faint sobbing sound in the next room, and then a raised voice and the threatening stamp of a foot. Despite the risk, I was about to open the door and rush in. The the room was quiet for a moment, after which the door creaked open and Rozalo came out with eyes wide and walking unsteadily.

I stammered, with no idea of what to say. Rozalo bowed slightly, without speaking; she walked past me and left. Then I realized that the officer or patrolman I had seen before had poked his head out the door as Rozalo left. When I saw him he pulled his head back in and the door closed. Dr. Wildcat's coachman seemed to be making some kind of plea inside; from time to time I could hear raised voices, and then the flustered voice of the coachman. I tried to focus my thoughts, but everything was confused, and I couldn't do it. I decided it would be best to tell the police all I knew; then I sat still and settled down. Before long the door opened, and the pale coachman staggered out.

The policeman stuck his head out again. "You're grade 18 official Leono Kust?"

"That's correct."

"Then come this way."

I went in. A man who seemed to be a policeman with an impressive beard was seated at a table covered with documents. He had turned away, apparently in a yawn, but looked at me and said, "Please sit here." I bowed and sat down in front of him.

"You're Leono Kust?"

"That's correct."

"You're employed as a public official, your grade is 18, and this is your age, domicile and present residence?" He showed me a document with my name and the other information.

"That's correct."

"In that case, what I want to ask you is where you have hidden Mr. Temo's agricultural worker Fazelo."

"Agricultural worker Fazelo?" I was puzzled at the term.

"Agricultural worker. Children of 16 years or more can be agricultural workers," the police officer said wearily. "You have hidden Fazelo somewhere, I take it."

"No. I haven't seen him since we parted west of the race track the night before last."

"Your lies will result in criminal charges."

"I'm not lying. There was a waning moon, and the plain was full of pearlwort lights."

"Is that your idea of evidence? We can't write down that sort of thing."

"If you think I'm lying, you can search anywhere you like and see."

"Whether we search or not is our decision. Where have you hidden him?"

"I don't know where he is."

"You will be indicted..."

"That won't change anything."

The two police looked at each other.

"In that case, what I want to ask you is how you became acquainted with Fazelo."

"Fazelo caught my goat for me when she escaped."

"I see. When and where?"

"The last Sunday of May. I think it was the 27th."

"I see. The 27th. Where?"

"It was on some road. Off to the side of the church-- I'd gone about a kilometer along the road to the village."

"I see. And on the 27th of June you interfered in a village celebration, taking Fazelo along."

"It wasn't a matter of interference. We saw lights and heard noises, and went to see."

"And what happened then?"

"Then Temo became angry when we wouldn't drink wine."

"When did you become acquainted with Temo?"

"The same time I met Fazelo. That time Temo cracked his whip in my face and said I was interfering with Fazelo when he was going to work."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"What happened at the celebration?"

I related all the events at Polano Square. One of them wrote everything down.

Finally the officer spoke again. "You hold that you didn't know Fazelo was missing until you came here?"

"Yes."

"Can you offer any evidence?"

"Yes. Well, you can confirm that I worked at the office yesterday and today. If I had known I wouldn't have been able to sit there the whole time working calmly."

"That isn't evidence either. Listen, you! I've had enough of your innocent looks! Mr. Temo filed a missing persons report. If you tell us his whereabouts now, we can wrap things up quietly. If not, you'll pay the consequences."

"I really don't have any idea. You two know your business-- pay good attention to my voice and appearance. You ought to be able to tell." I said this all in one breath, somewhat upset.

The two exchanged looks again. I decided I might as well say some more. "Why didn't you call in Destupago before me? Anyone can see that Fazelo's disappearance is Destupago's doing. He may even have killed him!"

"Mr. Destupago is not around."

That stopped me short. Fazelo really may have been killed, deliberately or accidentally. The officer spoke again.

"Your statement differs on several points from that of Mr. Temo. That is to be expected, though. We will read our record now; Listen carefully and note any discrepancies from what you said." One of them started to read.

"No discrepancies," I answered vacantly, thinking of Fazelo.

"Sign here."

I wrote my name at the bottom of the document. I was so worried I couldn't bear it.

"You can leave now. We'll call you again tomorrow," the oficer said.

I couldn't hold myself back any longer. "What's happened to Fazelo? Why haven't you picked up Destupago?"

"You shouldn't talk like that."

"But what happened to Fazelo?"

"If you're that worried you can look for him yourself. Please leave."

They seemed to be tired, and eager to finish. I left the police station, which had lighted its lamps already, in a daze. I saw Rosalo in the evening haze leaning against the cherry tree at the station entrance and staring at the distant sky.

"Aren't you Rosalo? Where should I search for Fazelo."

Rosalo looked down as she spoke. "He's far away. If he's still alive."

"I'm really sorry. But I'll definitely search for him."

"Yes."

"Destupago is gone?"

"Yes."

"His coachman?"

"I haven't seen him."

"Doesn't your employer know?"

"No."

"Did you make a missing persons report."

"No. The police came to investigate."

"Will you be going back to your employer?"

"Yes."

"I'll go with you, that far."

We started walking. I tried several times to start a conversation, but Rozalo always answered sadly in one or two words. However I tried, it was not possible to bring up her life with Fazelo. When we reached the point where my goat had been returned, Rozalo said "This is close...," then bowed and went on by herself.

My heart was filled with loneliness and worry. I spent that night and the following nights out on the plain searching for Fazelo. On Sunday I was out all day, as well. In particular, I searched the area between Temo's and the place where Fazelo and I had parted, to see if something might have fallen or if Destupago or Fazelo had left footprints. On several nights I walked around Destupago's house to see if I could hear anything inside.

I also walked the area between the two birches and Polano Square a number of times. All I saw was the stems of the pearlwort around there gradually turning brown and a few tattered, faded trunks of alder at Polano Square; I didn't even meet Milo. I wasn't summoned again by the police, so I went to them and asked what had happened; they only said they had had no contact with either Fazelo or Destupago, and seemed not to be concerned. And so for some reason-- because I had become used to the situation or because I was worn out-- I too came to feel that Fazelo was Fazelo, and knew where he was.