Judgment on Deltchev (11 page)

‘You were impressed, eh?’

‘Yes. She said she thought you were being over-clever.’

‘It is possible. I hope so. But remember that the only parts of his indictment which make statements that can be proved or disproved are those referring to the Brotherhood. You may create a haze of misrepresentation to prove that a man had evil intentions and cast doubts on his denials; but if you claim that on a certain date he went to a certain place and saw a certain person and he can prove that he did not, you are lost. Because the court invites your contempt, do not suppose that Prochaska and Brankovitch are fools.’

‘What does Katerina Deltchev do?’

‘She was an art student.’

‘Was?’

‘Is, for all I know. But of course she cannot attend classes at present.’ He looked at my wrist watch. ‘It is time for you to go. You must not miss Brankovitch.’

I went to the press conference in a gloomy frame of mind.

The Ministry of Propaganda occupied one of the wings of what had once been the royal palace. It had been built, during a period of national prosperity toward the end of
the eighteenth century, to the design of an Italian architect who had seen Versailles. Only a quarter of the building planned had been completed, but the resultant structure was imposing and quite large enough to contain three ministries and the national bank. The Propaganda Minister’s press conference took place in a large stateroom with a painted ceiling and two vast chandeliers. Chairs had been ranged in a semicircle round the marquetry desk at which the Minister was to stand. To one side there was a long table arranged as a buffet, with napkins covering the food on it.

Among the American and British correspondents Brankovitch was known as Creeping Jesus; he had a peculiar way of walking with his head and shoulders slightly in front of the rest of his body while his arms remained at a position of attention at his sides. By the French correspondents it was said that the posture was imposed upon him, as, in his imagination, Brankovitch carried two portfolios under his arms: that of his own ministry on one side and that of the head of the government on the other. He was a pale, dark man with a massive head and supercilious eyes. A graduate of Warsaw University, he had once been a mining engineer and his connection with politics had begun with pamphleteering. He had made a name for himself before the war as the arch-opponent of the foreign oil companies. He was a clever, ambitious man who never missed a chance of referring most emphatically to his loyalty to and admiration of Vukashin. They were many jokes made about these fulsome references to his leader; but it was said that, while he did not laugh at the jokes when they were reported to him, neither did he frown. It was believed that Vukashin disliked him personally but respected his judgment.

There were about sixty persons in the room; about half of us were foreigners. Brankovitch came in briskly, followed by two male secretaries bearing files and notebooks, and those who had been standing about talking took their seats. Brankovitch waited, looking round, until the movements had ceased. Then he began.

‘Gentlemen of the press,’ he said in German, ‘I have invited you to meet me here with three objects in mind. First, I wish to help you as far as possible in your work by giving you certain information necessary to your understanding of the evidence soon to be given in the criminal trial you are reporting. Next, I wish to give you an opportunity of asking me questions on matters of fact, and also’ – he smiled slightly – ‘on matters of opinion to which you may feel you already know the answers. Thirdly, I wished for the pleasure of renewing acquaintance with those of you I already know and of meeting those I don’t know. But business before pleasure, as the English say. I will speak briefly and then there will be time for questions.’

He glanced at his watch. He had a sort of brusque amiability that was not displeasing; he did not much care what we thought of him or mind if his amiability were not reciprocated. He was the busy man prepared to waste a little time on fools and so, logically, indifferent to foolishness.

‘Let me tell you,’ he said, ‘about the Officer Corps Brotherhood; not about its origins – I feel sure you know about those – but about its later activities and its methods. Terrorist societies are not recent institutions. Most countries have suffered from them. Many countries, including the United States of America, still do suffer from them occasionally. It is the duty of all civilized governments,
when these occasions arise, to seek out and destroy the criminals. It is the duty, I say; yet, of course, the duty is not always performed. Sometimes the government is itself terrorized. In other cases the government may sympathize with the terrorists’ aims and secretly wish them well. I need hardly tell you that the Government of the People’s Party is neither intimidated by nor in any degree sympathetic to the Officer Corps Brotherhood. We will not tolerate crime of any sort. The workman who kills his mate in a moment of rage and the fanatic who kills his ideological enemy in cold blood shall have the same justice.’

‘From a People’s Court?’ somebody in the row behind me murmured; but if Brankovitch heard, he took no notice. He went on, ‘Under the reactionary governments of the pre-war years the Brotherhood became a great and terrible burden to our people. It is not known for certain how many murders it was responsible for. Without doubt the number must be reckoned in hundreds. I can tell you with more precision that the number of violent attacks on the person committed by the Brotherhood in the ten years between 1930 and 1940 was about one thousand four hundred. This figure includes only those cases serious enough to need hospital treatment. The reason for the greater precision is, of course, that those persons lived to explain what had happened. The injuries included bullet wounds – approximately six hundred cases; stabbings – approximately two hundred cases; acid-throwing – approximately thirty cases; flogging – approximately two hundred cases; and severe bruising and beating with truncheons, rods, and other weapons made up the remainder.’

He had been referring to notes in front of him. Now he pushed them aside.

‘But statistics can give little idea of the emotional consequences of this state of affairs, of the hatreds and fears aroused and of the effect on the social life of the community. I will tell you, therefore, of one typical case among the known cases and leave the rest to your imaginations. It is the case of Kyril Shatev, who was prefect to this city in 1940. A man named Brodno, a criminal pervert and a member of the Brotherhood, had been arrested on suspicion of murder. There was plenty of evidence on this occasion and Shatev determined to bring this man to trial. Immediately he began to receive the usual threats from the Brotherhood. He ignored them. I will be quite honest with you; past experience told him that when the case came for trial the attentions of the Brotherhood would turn from him to the judge trying the case. The judge might yield, but that was not Shatev’s business. However, he miscalculated. The probability is that the evidence against Brodno incriminated senior members of the Brotherhood and was for them too dangerous to be heard. The Sunday before the date of the trial was to be set, Shatev, with his wife, his two young children, and two female servants, was at his house about ten kilometres out of the city. They were about to sit down to the midday meal when a car drove up and three men got out. They said they wanted water for the car. A servant unthinkingly opened the outer door and the men pushed past her, knocking her senseless with a pistol butt. Then they went into the house. Shatev tried to defend his family and was immediately shot. Unfortunately for him, he did not die at once. The men had a bayonet, and the two children were killed with it. Shatev’s wife was then forced to witness her husband’s sexual mutilation, also with the bayonet. She was then killed herself.
The other servant was not harmed. She was to serve as a witness, they said, that the sentence of the Brotherhood had been carried out. She was threatened, however, that if she attempted to identify the murderers she too would be killed. The murderers were never identified and Brodno was never tried.’

He paused for a moment and looked round. ‘One typical case,’ he said, and sighed. ‘No doubt,’ he went on, ‘much could be said about a government that allowed itself to be intimidated by such means, but it is easy to miss the point. There were, in fact, many members of the Brotherhood in government circles. This we have found out later, for, of course, membership was always secret. Who were these men? We know of two who were ministers and twenty-seven in posts of high authority in the civil service, the police, and the army. There were certainly others in these high places. The plain truth is that membership in the Brotherhood ran through every class of our society except that of the ordinary workman. This Brotherhood is a bourgeois disease. It is difficult to conceive, I grant you, that a man, presumably of more than average intelligence and ability, who has made his way to a position of authority and responsibility, could have any direct relationship with, for example, the murderous perverts who entered the Shatevs’ house that Sunday or with others equally vile. But we found it so. When, during the life of the Provisional Government, we began the attack upon this evil, we had many terrible surprises. Yes, I say,
terrible
. To despise a man politically is one thing. To discover that he is a criminal lunatic is another. It is difficult to believe the most incontrovertible evidence in such cases. Yet we must.’

He paused again and there was dead silence. We knew
that now he was talking about Deltchev. He clasped his hands in front of him.

‘Let me give you an example from history, gentlemen,’ he said; ‘not the history of our own country, but that of Italy and France. In 1830 there was in Italy a young exile named Louis Bonaparte, a nephew of the first Napoleon and once his adopted grandson. In Italy also at that time there was a secret terrorist society called the Carbonari – the Charcoal Burners. Among the members were nobles, officers, landlords, government officials, peasants, and priests. The members called each other “cousin” and the only form of resignation ever accepted from a member was his death. This young Bonaparte became a member of the Carbonari and a year after was imprisoned by the Austrian police for his part in a murderous affair. He was not then a very important or responsible person. But twenty-eight years later, when that same man was Napoleon III, Emperor of France, the Carbonari had need of him and sent a reminder by an assassin named Orsini. The reminder was a gift of three bombs, and they exploded one evening in the January of 1858 as the emperor was arriving at the Opéra in Paris. Eight innocent bystanders were killed and a hundred and fifty wounded, but Cousin Bonaparte was quite safe. What the Carbonari wanted from him was help to make a bourgeois revolution in Italy. He did not hesitate. The responsibilities of Napoleon III, Emperor of France, toward the people he ruled were as nothing beside those of Cousin Bonaparte toward the Carbonari terrorists. And so the Italian Risorgimento was paid for with the blood of the French soldiers that soaked the fields of Montebello and Turbigo and Solferino. It is not a pretty story – no prettier than that of Shatev and his family.’

There was silence for a moment.

He added quietly, ‘Gentlemen, our people will fertilize no more fields for the “cousins” or “brethren” of this century. We intend to seek out all the murderers whether they sit on café chairs or on the thrones they have made for themselves above the heads of the people. The People’s Party and its great leader Vukashin are pledged to that.’ He looked round at us again and then sat down. ‘I will answer questions,’ he said.

It was quite well done and for a space nobody moved; then an American in front of me got up.

‘In December of last year, Minister,’ he said, ‘the People’s Party Government announced that the Officer Corps Brotherhood had been completely –
eliminated
. I think that was the word used. Are we to understand now that that announcement was incorrect?’

Brankovitch nodded. ‘Unfortunately, yes. At the time, of course, we believed it to be true. Later developments have shown that we were mistaken.’

‘What later developments, Minister?’

‘I would prefer not to anticipate the court proceedings.’

A small dark man got up.

‘Minister, was not Deltchev himself responsible for the very vigorous proceedings taken to eliminate the Brotherhood?’

‘He was certainly responsible for the action against the Brotherhood that we now know to have been ineffective, but the decision that there
should
be action was taken by the Provisional Government as a whole. In other words, the People’s Party participated in the decision but not in the carrying out of it.’

Others began to rise and now the questions came quickly.

‘Minister, can your allusion to Napoleon III be taken to mean that the government links the allegations about Deltchev’s peace negotiations with the allegations about his membership in the Brotherhood?’

‘You may draw that conclusion if you wish.’

‘The charge is that Deltchev was to be paid for his efforts. Aren’t the two suggestions inconsistent?’

‘Possibly. But remember that Napoleon III also had his reward – Nice, the Riviera, Savoy.’

‘Minister, do you consider that the evidence heard so far in court has gone any way toward proving any of the charges against Monsieur Deltchev?’

‘The evidence must be considered as a whole.’

‘By whom was defending counsel appointed, Minister?’

‘By the government. In all cases when a prisoner fails to appoint counsel to defend him that is done.’

‘Did this prisoner fail to appoint counsel? Did he not, as an advocate, wish to defend himself?’

‘On a criminal charge a prisoner is not by law permitted to conduct his own defence. The law was made for the benefit of poor persons certain of conviction who feared to burden their families with legal costs.’

‘Minister, could not the law, clearly not intended for persons in Monsieur Deltchev’s position, be waived in this case?’