The Bridge of Sighs

  “Did they want you to witness?” asked Emil.

  Leonek shook his head. “No one asked anything.”

  “Me neither.”

  Brano Sev came in from the corridor. He nodded at them as he settled at his desk.

  Leonek had taken some brandy from his drawer, and they were all drinking. Emil took only a little—his stomach had never quite healed.

  The judges returned after ten minutes’ deliberation and sentenced Jerzy Michalec to death by firing squad.

  “Justice,” called Brano Sev from his desk. They all stared as he took off his leather coat. Underneath, he wore a finely tailored dark jacket. Green shirt and brown tie. He picked something off his desk and walked it over. He set the Zorki down on Emil’s desk and stuck a cigarette in his mouth.

  Leonek looked at the camera, at Emil, then back to the security inspector, confused. Emil had an impulse to rip open the Zorki, but the film, he knew, was no longer there.

  Brano Sev nodded at the radio. “Don’t worry about him. In a week he’ll be commuted to hard labor. He’ll be digging in the swamps the rest of his life. This,” he said with disdain, “is modern correction.”

  He lit his cigarette and returned to his desk. Then, with the elegance of those who know they are being watched, he took a file out of his drawer and began to read.

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