The Infant of Prague

The embassy’s law firm had sent a top man to Chicago to represent the rights of Anna’s family and the court had been told that Elena Jelinak would soon be in America. Elena was taken to the airport outside Prague by two men from the Ministry and they described her as nearly hysterical and quite drunk. Another reason for Cernan not to sleep.

The only consolation for Cernan in the last three days was that the Ministry was in an uproar because of the disappearance of Emil Mikita. Anna Jelinak might be a problem and certainly she was a public-relations disaster. But Miki had disappeared and that was much, much worse. Thank God I had no part of that, Cernan had thought more than once in the last three days.

Not that he wasn’t involved now.

Anna was in films and Miki was the great impresario. Was Anna’s defection tied to Miki’s disappearance? The question had been posed by Henkin and they had all thought about it for a long time and certain probes had been made in Brussels and even in Los Angeles and the result was that no one had any idea.

Henkin was Minister for Tourism and Films, an unlikely combination of interests but perfectly logical if one considered what the end product was: Preserve Prague and the illusion of a quaint, charming European city of another age. Certainly Prague was dominated at night by a great illuminated red star that rotated slowly above the spires in the old quarter. But that was to be expected; Prague was not ashamed of the Soviet Republic that had replaced the corrupt and brief rightist government after the war. Prague was in the business of making money and Henkin made a lot of money for the country, partially through the good offices of his agent and friend, Miki. Where the hell was Miki? What were the Americans up to now?

Henkin had rarely talked to Cernan in the past and now he seemed to need to talk to him twenty-four hours a day. He was part of Cernan’s frustration. He was driving Cernan crazy with his endless questions and speculations. What was the point of guessing about connections until they could get some concrete idea of where Miki was and what the Americans wanted him for? Hearing that argument, Henkin became very cold and reminded Cernan that he was a Minister and Cernan was nothing but an upper-level civil servant. “Miki is a vital man with vital contacts and he has secrets, Mr. Cernan, that would be disastrous to fall into American hands.”

What nonsense! Cernan glared and frightened a small boy playing in the park in front of him. When he saw what he had done, Cernan tried to smile and made it worse. The boy ran away, clattering down the broken sidewalk. Cernan shook his head. His thoughts were so gloomy and he had no wish to frighten anyone. But Anna Jelinak—

He stopped, blinked, remembered the summer afternoon again when they were making a film outside Hradcany Castle and little Anna was dressed as a child of another century.

He had driven up to the site to see Anna. He watched her under the artificial lights that were turned on despite the fact that it was a bright summer afternoon. It had been very warm and he sat in the car with all the windows rolled down and watched her from a distance. He could see her clearly that day.

He stood now in November, in the chill, in the same place. He saw the castle, which was real and eternal like all of Prague, and he saw the illusion of the past. He could almost speak to Anna, it was so real to him.

Come back, child.

She stared at him.

Come back. You’re only a little lost now. Don’t go on any further. Come back.