And they wanted to Karel to do that?
Among other things, Kehr said. An example: there was a certain protest organization, of families that had had family members disappear. It had been particularly hard to penetrate. Kehr had proposed months ago that one of their female operatives be accompanied to the meetings by a young boy posing as her son to give her greater credibility. It could even be arranged to have the son save the day during a faked police intervention and thereby cement his position within the group.
There’d also be paperwork around the centers, more routine activities — release orders, transfer orders, final disposal orders — all such things that needed to be done and that there was always so little time for.
Karel sat upright. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “I couldn’t do that.”
Kehr nodded. He seemed undisturbed. “That I think is a common reaction,” he said. “But it’s a little more complicated in your case. Take for example the prisoner who was sitting here yesterday recording the session. What he intuited some time ago was that there was nothing a man wouldn’t do to save himself, and having saved himself, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for increasingly trivial reasons, and that eventually he finds himself doing these things out of duty, out of habit, out of pleasure, or for no reason at all.”
Karel shuddered.
“Strange but true,” Kehr said.
“Are you going to torture me to make me do it?” Karel asked.
“I suppose I should be more frank with you,” Kehr said. “There is in my business what we call Involuntary Recruitment. This is carried out through private consultations between the operative and the subject, during which the subject is introduced to compromising actions and situations. At some point the recruit is asked to join the struggle. Should the recruit refuse, which is likely considering the reasons for which the recruit was chosen in the first place, it is then pointed out to the recruit that he or she is already inside the movement, and that he or she will be exposed to his or her friends — as well as the partisans, who unfailingly act very badly in such situations — if he or she does not co-operate.”
Karel was thunderstruck.
“But of course you have time to think about it,” Kehr said. “We should be going. I think someone will soon be using the room.”
Karel followed him on his rounds, in shock and feeling he had nowhere else to go. They dropped in on a woman who was being released as soon as she recovered fully, and Kehr asked if she’d write down for him her full name and address. “I like to keep in touch with my girls,” he said. He told Karel after they left the cell that he’d drop her a card every so often to see how she was doing. In the courtyard they passed a file of prisoners with sticks tied to their legs who were being taught to march. The partisans would not go away and this contrary political activity would not go away, Kehr remarked as they left the center. But we’re not here to adjust to this world, he said. We’re here to adjust it.
THE REPTILE HOUSE
The next night, while kehr and stasik were out, he heard a noise downstairs. He was in bed. The noise was weight somewhere on the floorboards; it was too large and too heavy for the ringtail. He went down the stairs expecting nearly anything. He passed the bathroom and could smell the ringtail’s droppings on the tile. The house was still dark. Something moved over the bathroom sink, and he looked closer. There was a cough and a face bloomed in the dark mirror as he fumbled and scrabbled for the light switch. He got it and flipped it on and his father was behind him, reflected in the mirror, wearing the uniform of the Civil Guard.
“Surprise,” his father said.
“You,” Karel said. “You.”
“They have an animal living in the house?” his father said. He gave Karel a dubious look and sniffed around.
“How’d you get here?” Karel asked. “How long have you been here?” His father was exploring the living room, turning on lights. Karel was trembling. He asked if his father wanted something to eat or something.
His father told him not to bother, that he had eaten at the center before coming over. He sat on the sofa, still sniffing.
“How long can you stay?” Karel asked.
His father straightened the service cap on his belt. He had fewer stripes than Kehr and no antipartisan badge. Until tomorrow night, he said. They’d put a lot of work into the house, hadn’t they? It looked good.
Yes, they had, Karel said. He sat in a chair across the room.
Had he helped? his father asked.
Karel nodded. Something skittered along the wallboard behind the couch.
“Is that the animal?” his father said.
They were both sitting in the chairs the same way, feet together, knees apart. Karel didn’t say anything.
“They told me about it,” his father said.
Karel had his hands between his thighs. He was not going to cry in front of him.
“What a guy like him wants with a filthy little pack rat I don’t know,” his father said. “Don’t ask me.” He was uncomfortable around Karel but even so seemed more relaxed than usual, and happier with himself.
“What happened?” Karel said, his voice a little hoarse. “What happened to you?”
“Fell in with the wrong crowd?” his father tried, and then looked apologetic. He explained that that had been a joke. He concentrated. He’d been picked up by the Security Service. Remember he’d told Karel that morning that he might’ve gotten in trouble? He’d been shooting his mouth off. He’d been frustrated, he didn’t have a pot to piss in, it was natural. Someone nearby, it’d turned out, worked for the Service. They’d had some talks with him, nothing rough, and then referred him to Kehr, who it turned out had been very interested in his abilities.
“Kehr was?” Karel asked. He didn’t know who to believe anymore. “Why didn’t you call or write?”
“I did,” his father said.
“You know what I mean!” Karel wailed.
“Okay, okay,” his father said. “I wanted to. I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Karel said. He was crying.
“They just thought it was better that way,” he said.
“I looked everywhere,” Karel said, sick. “You told me you’d never just leave like that.”
“I didn’t,” his father said. “They took me away.”
Karel shook his head. He wiped his face with his hands. “And you joined the Civil Guard,” he said.
“I was told you knew all that,” his father said.
“I didn’t hear it from you,” Karel said. The ringtail nibbled at the back of the couch. It sounded like someone scratching burlap.
“You think it’s such a terrible thing?” his father said, peeved. “You remember what it was like before?”
Karel put his forefinger and thumb to his mouth and looked at the floor and said nothing.
“What should I be doing?” his father said. “You tell me. What should I be doing? Nothing? Should I be doing what you’re doing?”
Karel put his hands over his eyes. “Kehr took me to the center,” he said. It was half lament, half accusation.
“I know that,” his father said, and Karel looked up. “I know what you’ve been doing. And let me fill you in on a little something, since you’re so ashamed of your father: I never took part in any prisoner assessment sessions. The first time they asked me I refused.”