by Jane Gorman
34
He had no idea how long they stood there. It seemed like only a moment and a lifetime.
“I know where we can go for help.” She pushed herself away from him. “There is someone who may be able to help us.”
“Sylvia.” Adam watched her as she quickly gathered her coat and purse. “What are you thinking?”
She stopped moving around to look at him. “It’s okay, Adam. We’re okay. I know I can trust you, and I needed to know that.” She kissed him lightly. “And you can trust me. Trust me now, because I have an idea.”
The knock on Sylvia’s door startled them both. They froze where they were, Sylvia on the sofa zipping up her boots, Adam near the door buttoning his winter coat.
Sylvia looked up at Adam, the fear that had been temporarily kept at bay creeping back into her eyes.
Adam put a finger to his lips, nodded at her, then stepped silently toward the door. He leaned against the door jamb, putting his ear close to the wall, but shook his head when he heard nothing. With one more look at Sylvia, he stepped back only slightly.
Pulling the door open with a jerk, he moved forward simultaneously, hoping his forward momentum would be enough to catch their visitor off guard.
It was.
Łukasz fell back against the wall of the hallway as Adam stepped into him. He said something softly in Polish — Adam could only assume it was a swear — as his skull slammed into the wall. Putting his hand up, he touched his fingers to his head.
“I have already suffered enough damage, Cousin Adam. This does not help.”
“Sorry, Łukasz, I couldn’t know it was you. You’re just in time — come.”
The trams were mostly empty, though still running frequently. Adam watched the streets of Warsaw lurch by, the densely built city center gradually giving way to more spacious buildings.
“I was in the church earlier.” Łukasz spoke under his breath, though there was no one nearby to overhear. “You were not there. I was later than I intended, I’m sorry.” He looked at Adam, who sat in the seat behind his. “I went to the hospital first, of course. I thought you were dead.”
Adam nodded. “I think a lot of people thought I died this morning. And some of them were happy about it.” He turned slightly to look out at the evening sky. “I stopped by the hospital, too, to see what had happened. Once I realized the knife had been meant for me, I left. I can’t stay near my colleagues. I can’t risk putting them in more danger.”
“Ah, so you came to me. I see.” Sylvia’s voice was lighthearted, but she frowned as she spoke and clung tighter to Adam’s arm.
“I guessed you would turn to Pani Stanko here, cousin,” Łukasz explained, “so I have been checking her apartment occasionally throughout the day. There and at your hotel. I have been waiting to talk with you.”
“I had nowhere else to turn, Sylvia,” Adam answered Sylvia’s accusation. “I knew I could trust you. And you did help me — you came up with the idea of looking in the cemetery.”
“Powązki?” Łukasz raised his eyebrows. “Why were you there?”
“Sylvia suggested that you might have been sent there by your editor, to cover the concert tonight.”
Łukasz nodded but frowned. “Yes, it was a reasonable guess, I suppose, but Adam, you must realize that at this point, I would not have trusted my editor enough to go where he sends me. I fear that we are all in danger, after what happened to your colleague this morning.”
“You’re absolutely right about that, Łukasz.” Adam watched Sylvia as he spoke. “We were attacked this afternoon, at the cemetery. A man with a knife. And I think I’ve seen him following me before. Yesterday, in the market. I’m sure he’s the one who killed Jared. I just don’t know who he is.” He paused, still watching Sylvia, but she made no response. He glanced back out the window.
They had passed through the still urban neighborhood of Ursinów, nearing the affluent suburb of Wilanów. Houses here were newer, almost all built in the past ten years. Older buildings that still remained had been renovated and updated. Streets were wider. Sidewalks newly paved.
After a minute’s silence, Łukasz spoke. “I have some more information that may be helpful in figuring this out. That’s why I wanted to meet with you today.”
“What is it, what do you know?”
“The books and articles you took from Basia’s apartment,” Łukasz explained. “I have been reading through these.”
“You think they’re connected with her murder?”
“Most, no, they are books about politics — in Poland, in Europe. She was always studying, always learning. She liked to read about men she admired, to learn from their personal stories. Jacek Kuron, for example.”
Sylvia nodded. “He was a hero for Tomek Malak, as well. A man who was a strong leader, who people followed.”
Łukasz continued impatiently, “Then there were other articles, other stories. About Novosad, for one, Basia’s mentor.” Łukasz looked back and forth from Sylvia to Adam. “You have heard the stories, I’m sure, but did you know they are true?”
“What do you mean, true?”
“He has connections to the Russian mafia. I found an article, in Basia’s notebooks, about a cousin of Novosad’s. He was arrested not too long ago for his criminal activities. He is not accused of being a mastermind. Far from it.” Łukasz snorted. “But he is connected. And that means Novosad is connected.”
“That could be a motive. Something he doesn’t want people to know. I understand he already faces a tough reelection, people thinking he’s too closely connected with Russia. This would put the nail in his coffin, I suppose.”
Sylvia shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I think the rumors you heard about Novosad’s reelection were exaggerated. You heard these from Laurienty, perhaps?” she asked Adam.
Adam nodded.
“He is bitter,” Sylvia continued, her voice a whisper. “Because of his own struggles. He assumes that everyone is as mean as he is. He does not see things clearly. Novosad’s switch in parties did not hurt him, it helped him. He now is in a party that more closely aligns with his own personal opinions. People trust him. I do not think he has as much to worry about as you suppose. Or to hide.”
Łukasz shrugged. “Okay, then there’s this: Nelek Kapral.”
“What do you have on Kapral?” Adam perked up.
“Laurienty Szopinski,” Łukasz answered. Adam and Sylvia both nodded.
“There’s something not right there, I know it,” Adam agreed.
“Kapral hired Szopinski two years ago. Fresh out of university. He had advertised the position within the school, looking to hire a young person.”
“He actively supports youth involvement in politics, I know this,” Sylvia said.
“Why Szopinski?” Łukasz asked. “Basia had the files from Kapral’s office. Records showing the applications from the many who applied and the reviews offered by Kapral’s other staff. Szopinski wasn’t even part of the original applicant pool. Kapral had narrowed his selection down to two very qualified candidates — either would have been better than Szopinski — then suddenly, Szopinski’s application appears.”
“He is not unqualified,” Sylvia pointed out. “I complain about him, sure, but maybe it is not unreasonable that Kapral hired him.”
“If Szopinski was the only applicant, no. But he was by far the least competitive of the three. Why him? Why did Kapral even accept the application?”
“And why was Basia looking into it? What did she think she had found?” Adam asked. “And what was she going to do with that information?”
“Novosad… Kapral… Szopinski… these are not killers. They may have secrets, problems of their own. But to kill… to, what, to push Basia over the bridge? I don’t believe it,” Sylvia said.
“Killing isn’t always a hands-on job,” Adam said quietly. “Sometimes it’s as easy as ordering dinner.”
“Hiring a killer to do the job for you, you mean?” Łukasz asked.
Adam nodded. “The man who attacked us in the cemetery. He was an expert, I’m sure of it. He had no hesitation, no interest in talking. He was there for one thing. And I believe he was paid to do it.”
“Tell me about this man,” Łukasz asked, “what did he look like?”
Sylvia shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about him.” She turned away from Adam, as if trying to ignore the two men, then jumped up. “Come.”
They followed Sylvia. Adam didn’t answer Łukasz’s question until they were standing in a tight circle on the next tram, holding onto the overhead leather straps.
“Short, older, closely cropped hair.” Adam spoke under his voice, though again there was only one other passenger. “He was fit, in great shape, and he had an intensity that would be hard to beat.”
“How old?” Łukasz asked.
“In his late fifties, maybe sixties?” Adam guessed. “But fit. Very fit.”
“There are many men who were involved with the Polish secret police or the KGB,” Łukasz said. “When the regime fell, these men had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Some of them moved on to Russia, where their particular skills were still needed. Some stayed here, in Poland. And let themselves out for hire. For whoever was willing to pay.”
Adam nodded, thinking. Łukasz’s explanation made sense, fit with the facts.
Łukasz rubbed his chin, his eyes deep in thought. “I have some ideas for who may still be in Poland from that time. There are records, articles I can review. I just need some time to look into it.”
“If it was a hired killer,” Adam pointed out, “how did he get Basia to the bridge? I’m sure he took her from her home. Knocked her out there. Maybe drugged her, maybe hit her.”
Łukasz shivered.
“I’m sorry, Łukasz, I know it’s hard for you to think of that. But we must. How could a hired killer get such easy access to her? Would she have let him into her apartment?”
“No, of course not.” Łukasz’s eyes flashed. “She was much too smart for that.”
“Then someone she trusted introduced them. Maybe came to her apartment with the killer, invited him in.”
“And left her. Alone with him,” Łukasz’s voice dropped. “Someone left her alone with a killer, to die.”
Sylvia put her hand on Adam’s shoulder and turned to Łukasz. “You have found nothing, really. You have more questions, but no answers. You are no farther along solving this puzzle, and now we are all in danger.”
“We have motives, Sylvia. And we have opportunity,” Adam explained. “One of these men is evil and must be stopped. Someone you work with. Surely you want to stop him?”
“If it is someone involved in the government at all…” Sylvia frowned and pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.
“Will you help us, Pani Stanko? Will you help us find the truth?” Łukasz asked.
Sylvia nodded slowly. “Perhaps. We are going now to someone who would be even more help to you than I.” She looked at Łukasz and Adam. “Tomek Malak. He knows everyone who works for the city and the national legislature. He may be able to help us.”
“You think he knows more than he’s telling?” Adam asked.
“About these murders? No.” Sylvia shook her head and frowned again. “If he knew someone had such a dark secret, he would have already reported him. He would have gone straight to the legal authorities. No. But he may be able to give us more information about these men. Not just these guesses.” She looked meaningfully at Łukasz.
They stayed on the tram until it passed through Ursinów then crossed Zygmunta Vogla to catch the bus that would take them the rest of the way. As the bus moved through Wilanów, the streets were better lit, houses fewer and farther apart. Sylvia grabbed Adam’s sleeve as the bus neared Ulica Uprawna, and he and Łukasz jumped down after her, heading into the well-kept suburban neighborhood.
Sylvia stopped and pointed at a large white house set back from the street. Lights shone from almost all the windows and Adam could see figures moving behind the thin curtains.
“There. Tomek’s house. And it looks like he and his family are still up. Good.”
With that, she moved determinedly up the path and knocked loudly on the ornately carved wooden door.
35
Sylvia’s hand had barely moved away from the door when it swung open and Tomek Malak stood facing them. He was dressed in a suit, as he had been when Adam met him at the Sejm. But it was creased, as if he had been wearing it since the day before. Malak wore no tie. His hair was disheveled, his eyes red.
“Sylvia,” he said with a start, “oh… yes?”
“Sir,” she responded with a smile, “I am sorry to bother you at home like this. We need help, and I am hoping you can offer it.”
Malak looked at the two men standing behind her before nodding and stepping back from the doorway. “Of course, of course, come in, please.”
Sylvia stepped through the door into the well-lit house, Adam and Łukasz following close behind her. Once they were in, Malak peered briefly out into the dark street, then shut the door behind them. “Please, come through to the living room. We were just finishing our dinner.”
A tall blond woman rose from a blue satin couch when the group entered. “Dobry wieczor,” she said, smiling, with a questioning look at her husband. “Tomek?”
A young woman moved through the room, gathering cut crystal wine glasses that rested on various surfaces in the room. Adam counted five glasses and couldn’t help but wonder who else had been here. Or was still here.
“Maria,” Malak answered her in English, “you remember Sylvia, of course.” The two woman smiled and shook hands. “And may I introduce Adam Kaminski.” Adam offered his hand as his name was mentioned. “Pan Kaminski is visiting us from Philadelphia, in the United States, as part of a sister cities program.”
Malak turned to Łukasz. “And Łukasz Kaminski, one of our city’s finest journalists. I admit I am curious as to your role here, sir.”
Adam offered the explanation. “Pan Kaminski is my cousin, Pan Malak.”
“So this is a chance to visit with family.” Malak smiled and shook Łukasz’s hand. “How nice.”
“Yes. Something like that,” Adam left it at that, not knowing how Sylvia thought Malak could help them.
“Please, please, have a seat.” Maria Malak indicated the carved wood, satin-lined chairs that dotted the room. A wooden chest stood against one wall, its inlay created from multihued varieties of wood plus what looked like ebony and ivory. Two Chippendale chairs sat together around a Queen Anne table.
It looked beautiful, but Adam would be afraid to live in a house like this, in constant fear of breaking things. “Our daughter is just clearing up after our post-dinner drinks, she would be happy to bring you something. Sonja!” This last she called out to the young woman, who could be heard moving about in another room.
“Słucham?” Sonja called back, walking into the living room where the group still stood.
“No, no, thank you,” Sylvia answered for all of them. “Tomek, we have something we must discuss with you. Work related,” she added, glancing at Maria.
“Ah, I see.” Malak leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “It appears that I must leave you briefly, my dear. This won’t take too long, I hope?” He looked at Sylvia.
“No, no,” she assured him, “just a few moments of your time.”
Malak guided the group up the grand staircase that dominated the entranceway then down a short corridor. The air was heavy with a musky scent, and Adam couldn’t shake the feeling they were going deep underground, even though they were on the second level.
At the end of the hall a door stood closed. Malak opened it and ushered them in. The room was clearly used as his study. Brown wood paneling lined the walls. The thick carpet was Persian, in deep hues of red and blue. A marble statue of the Virgin Mary held pride of place against one wall, smiling benignly down at the room fro
m its perch on a seventeenth-century Dutch kussenkast display cabinet. Brown leather chairs that looked significantly more comfortable than the ornate furnishings in the room below created a cozy place to have a private conversation.
Malak closed the door firmly and gestured to the chairs. While the others sat, Malak moved over to a wooden cabinet, its doors inset with tortoiseshell, pulling out a bottle of vodka and a few small crystal glasses.
“Drink?” he asked, raising the bottle.
“No —” Adam started to answer, but Łukasz cut him off.
“Thank you, yes,” Łukasz answered for all of them. Adam shot him a look, but didn’t say anything more.
As Malak poured the drinks, Adam looked at him closely. He looked exhausted. Perhaps this was the end of a long day for him. The change was enough to get Adam’s attention. Just a day ago in his office, he was calm, in control. Now his hands shook slightly as he poured the drinks, his smile was weak, unsure.
“Gentlemen.” He put the bottle down on a side table. “What can I do for you? Na zdrowie.” The last words he said as he raised his glass in a toast. The others followed suit and downed the vodka he had provided. They each lowered an empty glass.
“This is not an easy subject to discuss, Pan Malak,” Łukasz started. “I am writing a story for my newspaper. It is a story about corruption in our government. And it is a story about murder.”
As Łukasz paused to pull together his thoughts, Adam watched Malak’s face. He couldn’t be sure, but it almost seemed as if Malak’s expression softened. As if he had been expecting something different. Something worse.
Malak leaned forward and refilled their glasses, then placed the bottle down gently. “An admirable story, Pan Kaminski. It is good to root out evildoers in our government. I am the liaison between the city and the national legislature. If you believe there is corruption in the legislature, I am glad that you have brought these concerns to me.”