by Jane Gorman
Other articles Łukasz had pulled included the headlines “Hilltop Hotel Announces Expansion and New Hires” and “Ener-Tech to Open Warsaw Branch.” Each article was an example of a new, successful business venture in Warsaw, an international company making its way through the murk of the government bureaucracy. Each also mentioned Malak as instrumental in their success. The article about the Hilltop expansion listed Jerzy Malak, Malak’s son, as a new manager. Ener-Tech had hired Sonja Malak as a vice president.
Five articles covered the successes of a series of corporations lucky enough to have established their businesses in Poland only days before acquiring lucrative city contracts. Malak was involved with each of these businesses. A real estate company had purchased land, cheap, immediately after Malak led an effort to rezone the land.
There was no evidence of graft, yet each article included subtle hints — gifts given to the city of Warsaw in return for its support, for example. CEOs saying they were pleased with the cost of doing business in Poland. Łukasz knew enough about the “cost” of doing business in Poland to read between the lines.
Łukasz could picture the Bernini statue of the Virgin Mary, the Chippendale chairs, the Wedgwood cut crystal glasses in Malak’s house. These were the “gifts” these companies had offered, he was sure. That was the cost of doing business in Warsaw.
Łukasz rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. It was already after five. He had been lost in these files for hours. He had found suggestions that Malak might be corrupt, might be accepting inappropriate gifts. So what? None of this was truly criminal, nothing that couldn’t be explained. Or justified. It was corruption, yes, but hardly worth killing over.
He closed his eyes to focus on what he had found. Could Basia have been killed because she threatened to expose Malak as a thief? As using his power for personal gain?
He sighed and shook his head. It wasn’t likely. Worse, he wasn’t sure Basia would have even tried to expose this. There was too much corruption in Poland now for her to be worrying about small gifts like these. Exposure might generate some bad publicity for Malak, and it might not. There must be something more. But what?
He turned his attention back to a second pile of papers on the table. These were newer records. They would never be digitized. These were notes collected by journalists who had tried to cover stories about lustration. The Sejm and the courts were strict about keeping the details of these cases out of the public eye, and journalists were not free to cover them or write about them. Every journalist worth his salt did anyway. And the notes slowly started piling up, notes of stories they each hoped they would be able to write one day.
Page by page, he started reading.
As he read about private individuals whose lives had been ruined by neighbors’ lies or friends’ indiscretions, Łukasz was reminded of the power of the previous regime. Its tentacles still reached into Poland, even now.
What had become of the people who collaborated? Some were good people, Łukasz knew. Some were trying to do the right thing, others were just trying to save themselves. But their lives were ruined, jobs lost, friends gone, when the truth about their collaboration came out.
And the agents of the secret police who would listen to these lies, to these secrets, where were they now? Some had gone to jail, convicted for their crimes against the people of Poland. Some had gone to Russia, to join forces with comrades there. And others had simply vanished, hidden themselves deep within Poland, anonymous and dangerous.
Łukasz shook his head and kept reading. Someone had a secret, a secret he had killed Basia to protect, and Łukasz would keep reading, keep digging, until he found it. He focused on the papers on the table, ignoring once again the sounds of the darkness that surrounded him.
38
“Sir, that’s simply not possible. Please step back.” The guard repeated his warning, clearly annoyed at Adam’s persistence.
The American embassy loomed behind the guard standing in a small gatehouse at the main entrance. Its windows were dark, but Adam hadn’t seen much light in them when he had visited during the week either.
“I have to see Sam Newman, sir. An American has been killed and I need Sam’s help.” Adam didn’t care how stubborn the guard was, he wasn’t giving up. And the guard seemed to realize it.
“I can give him a message from you, sir, that’s the best I can do. He doesn’t work on Sundays, I don’t even know where he is.”
Adam thanked the guard and told him he’d wait for the answer, then walked back down to the sidewalk. It was a bright winter afternoon and even in this quiet neighborhood, pedestrians roamed the streets. Some strolled, window shopping, while others moved with determination toward whatever outdoor activity awaited them. The cold wind that had returned to cut across the Sunday afternoon wasn’t going to stop the residents of Warsaw from enjoying sunny November weather.
He was still considering his next step when he heard footsteps jogging down the drive behind him. Turning, Adam saw the guard coming toward him.
“Mr. Newman asked me to give you a message, sir,” the guard called. “I caught him at home, and he said he’d meet with you.”
“Thank you,” Adam responded with feeling, “I really appreciate this. Thank you.” Adam took the note the guard was waving. It listed a place and a time — an hour away. Adam didn’t wait. He headed for the tram that would take him to Łazienki Park, the meeting place Sam had suggested.
The sounds of children playing carried across the lawns. Even bundled against the November chill in their thick, puffy parkas, the children ran and jumped, making the most of this afternoon outdoors, not locked behind warm walls. Tiny marshmallow people bounced up and down on the swings and merry-go-round in the playground.
Parents, also bundled in darker, woolen coats, waited patiently around the borders of the playground or walked along the paths that ran around the lake and through the trees. Łazienki Park was a place for children to play and a place for grown-ups to see and be seen. Women in high-heeled boots sashayed along the paths, their short skirts exposing more leg than Adam expected in November. Men walked beside them, a proud arm resting on their backs, smiles on their faces.
Young couples stopped to throw breadcrumbs at the giant carp that bubbled at the surface of the pond in front of the small palace. Teenage girls skipped and laughed, pointing at the teenage boys who sulked against the stone walls of the gardens.
Adam waited under the gray marble statue, its solid bulk carved into gently waving willow branches hovering lightly over the figure of Poland’s best known composer, Frederick Chopin. A concrete patio stretched out before him, a space filled during the summer with residents enjoying piano recitals and ice cream. Today, the concrete pad sat empty, and Adam watched the people flowing by.
A family passed, a man and a woman wrapped in scarves and coats pushing a pram as a second child walked slowly next to them. The walking child paused periodically to pick at the rocks along the path, and the man spoke gently to her, encouraging her to run ahead to the playground to join the other children.
As she ran, the man looked over at Adam and caught his eye. Adam nodded at Sam, who leaned over to say something to his wife, then walked to where Adam waited.
“Adam, I was so sorry to hear about Jared. This is terrible, simply terrible. How are the others on your team holding up?”
“About as well as you can imagine,” Adam responded. “They’re scared, confused, and they’re being told by the police they can’t leave the country.”
“I know, we’re working on that,” Sam assured him. “We’ve been in constant contact with DC since this happened, and we’ll get you all out of here, safely back home, as soon as possible.”
Adam nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” He looked out at the playground, where Sam’s daughter had joined the other bouncing marshmallow men. “You have a beautiful family.”
“Thank you.” Sam smiled. The smile faded again as he turned back to Adam. “Why did you
need to see me, Adam? Were you just checking that we were involved, looking out for you?”
“Perhaps.” Adam frowned. “And perhaps because I need you to know that I’m looking out for me, too. I need to know who did this.” He looked at Sam. “Because I believe they were aiming for me.”
Sam looked at Adam, surprised. “That’s quite a statement. What makes you say that?”
“I told you, I’ve been helping my cousin on an article he’s writing.”
“About political corruption. Yes, I remember.”
“Corruption, yes… but there’s more to it than that. We’re going to find out who killed his daughter.”
“We?” Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Me. Łukasz. Sylvia.”
“Ah… that was ruled a suicide, Adam. How can you blame someone else for that?” Sam asked quietly.
“It wasn’t suicide. Łukasz knows it, I know it, and at least one other person knows it — the person who killed her. We’re going to find him, Sam, and expose him.”
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Adam.” Sam’s voice held a note of warning. “Jared White is dead now. Is that really because of you?”
Adam let out a long breath of air and it floated visibly in front of him before slowly dissipating. He felt the weight of what he was about to say sink heavily down upon his shoulders. “I believe so, yes.”
Sam frowned again, becoming much more serious. “What have you done? You must leave this. You must.”
“I can’t, Sam. I have to know the truth. The police aren’t looking. You’re not looking. Sylvia is the only Polish official willing to believe us. Willing to help us.”
“We’re looking now, believe me. We are offering the Polish police any assistance we can to find whoever killed Jared. It’s a horrible crime. We cannot let this go unpunished.” Sam looked over at his family. “I’m telling you nicely, Detective Kaminski, leave this alone. Let us do our job. Let the police do their job. Keep your cousin and your new friend safely out of this.”
Adam followed Sam’s eyes to where his wife sat with their infant son on her lap, bouncing him up and down, laughing with him. “I can’t, Sam. Łukasz’s daughter is dead. You have children, you can imagine how that must feel. He can’t let it go, so neither can I.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.” Sam’s voice was as harsh as his words now. “We have relationships, carefully built relationships. You could jeopardize these.”
“Yes, relationships. You told me this before. And I still don’t like it. Do you know the men you have these relationships with, Sam? Really? And don’t you want to know if one of them is a criminal, maybe even a killer?”
“People make difficult choices for difficult reasons, Adam.” Sam’s eyes were hard as he stared at him. “I don’t always support those choices, but if their choices help the United States, I accept them. Without question.” He paused, licking his lips. “Stay away from our connections, Adam, don’t go digging into things you don’t understand. If we have a source in the Sejm willing to help us achieve our goals, that’s important. More important than you.”
Adam raised his eyebrows at the words, but Sam was smiling again, his genial facade once more in place.
“You’ll only make it worse, Adam.” Sam’s voice was kinder now. “I understand how you feel. Stay out of it. Don’t make things harder than they already are.”
39
“Worse?” Adam wondered to himself as he waited outside the newspaper offices for Łukasz. “How could it be worse?”
He had come straight here from Łazienki Park to catch up with Łukasz. If he couldn’t talk Łukasz out of doing this research, the least he could do was keep an eye on him.
Adam watched as Łukasz peered out into the dark courtyard. The door closed with a distinct click behind him. A wide paved path lay before him, lined with narrow flower beds. No plants grew at this time of year, but small statues punctuated the brown rectangles of earth. Łukasz frowned and mumbled softly under his breath as he moved toward the wrought iron gate that separated this enclave from the Aleje.
The entranceway to the newspaper offices was in almost complete blackness, lit only by the few lights marking the street beyond the main gate. Łukasz didn’t stop to check the lampposts that lined the pavement but remained unlit, instead moving swiftly toward the gate.
Watching from the sidewalk beyond, through the bars of the black fence, Adam could tell that Łukasz wasn’t thinking about his environment. His focus was on whatever it was he had found — or not found — in the archives inside. Adam didn’t make the same mistake. As he watched Łukasz moving through the courtyard he also kept an eye on the sidewalk around him, stamping his feet and shivering. He had been waiting out here far too long.
“Łukasz… hey!” Adam called out when Łukasz made it to the sidewalk.
The other man turned. When he saw Adam, he walked over quickly.
“Cousin, it is good to see you. I believe I have more information that is important to us.”
“What did you find?” Adam asked.
“I’m not sure. I have hints… clues… some maybe pointing in one direction, some in another.”
“Tell me, maybe I can help figure it out.”
“There is the corruption, as we suspected. Tomek Malak is taking bribes, ‘gifts’ as he calls them, from companies willing to play the game.” Łukasz grimaced. “And those companies are succeeding where others are still fighting the bureaucracy.”
“Is that it? The motive behind Basia’s murder?”
“No, it can’t be. Think about it, look around. There is corruption everywhere. And who is Malak helping? Non-profit foundations, green energy providers. These are not the acts of an evil man. These are the acts of a man frustrated with how slow the system is and willing to take risks to work around it.”
“And make a tidy profit in the process.”
“Yes, but there is something else,” Łukasz insisted, shivering and folding his arms across his chest, the folder of papers he was carrying pressed tight against his body.
“About Malak?”
“No, not Malak. Novosad. I dug some more into his past, his connections with Russia, the records kept about him by the previous regime.”
“How can you have access to his files from the previous regime? I thought those were all locked away safely in the national archives.”
“They are. Here I have access to notes taken by other journalists. Notes for stories that may never be written. The newspaper is holding onto them, just in case.”
“And what did you find about Novosad?”
“Kuhl was right. He is Russian. And it’s as bad as I suspected. His cousin is definitely part of the Russian mafia. A small player, it seems, but nevertheless a part. That is certain, there is no doubt.”
Adam kicked at a small rock at his feet, moving to keep warm. “Would Novosad kill to keep that secret? And is that something Basia might have found?”
Łukasz nodded. “I think we should ask Novosad that.”
“Oh no, this is something real. Something we can take to the police. Maybe this will be the push they need to dig a little deeper into Basia’s death.”
“You are right, of course.” Łukasz laughed out loud. “Thank God. I have been so focused on being in this alone. I can’t tell you how valuable it has been to be able to share this with you, to work on this with you.”
“You’re not alone anymore. I’m here. And once we take this to the police tomorrow, they’ll take over the investigation.”
Łukasz’s body sagged and Adam could see the tension leaving him. “This is good, cousin. Thank you. The end is in sight.” He flipped through the papers in his hand. “But there are some… Yes, here they are.”
Adam took the few wrinkled papers Łukasz handed him. “What’s this? Why can’t these go to the police?”
“These are not for the police, cousin. Only for your eyes.” Łukasz shook his head as he spoke. “You said you wanted to lea
rn more about your great-grandfather.” He gestured toward the papers Adam still held out as if afraid to take. “These are letters. I had them in my office.”
“Whose letters? I don’t understand.”
“Read them. When you have time. Then you will understand. Hopefully. Something about your family and mine. About the past.”
Adam nodded, glancing at the papers for just a moment before folding them neatly and sliding them into his inside coat pocket.
Łukasz tucked the papers he was still carrying absentmindedly into his pocket. “I’ll be okay now, I’m going to head home. I need to see my apartment again, it’s been too long.”
Adam watched Łukasz walk away, then turned to go himself, back to his hotel. After only one step, he paused, frowned, and turned back to Łukasz. A dark sedan up the street had caught his attention.
The driver had pulled the car up to the curb about a hundred yards ahead. It was in a parking lane, but at this time on a Sunday night there were no other cars parked there. The car was idling, its headlights on. Adam couldn’t get a clear look at the car or the driver.
“Hey,” he called out. Łukasz looked back. Seeing Adam, he raised a hand slightly, lifting his chin and shrugging as if to ask Adam what he was yelling about. His breath hung on the air around him, illuminated by the lights of the car.
Adam never got a chance to answer. As soon as Łukasz’s back was turned to the car, it started moving. Fast.
As it neared the spot where Łukasz waited on the sidewalk, the driver swerved. The car tilted precariously as it weaved onto the sidewalk, its left tires still on the street.