by Jane Gorman
So he had spent the night in the church shelter. And while a hot shower and change of clothes would have been heaven just then, Adam was only grateful that he hadn’t had to spend the night outdoors, exposed to the freezing temperatures. He might not have survived that.
He put his hand out again to block the glare, but kept his eyes on the drive that led out of the Sejm. Sylvia would have to come out eventually, and hopefully she could help him find out how Łukasz was doing. If he was even alive.
He was just stepping away, moving to stare into a different shop window, when a familiar figure caught his eye leaving the drive, walking toward the stretch of restaurants and cafes that ran along the street.
Changing his mind, Adam strolled in the same direction, stepping into the small cafe a few minutes after his quarry.
Kapral almost jumped out of his chair as Adam’s hand fell on his shoulder.
“Sit. Stay,” Adam commanded, sliding into the seat next to him at the small table.
Kapral replaced his espresso cup into its saucer with a shaking hand. “You are wanted for murder, Pan Kaminski. You cannot keep me here, I will simply call for the police.”
“I know about Laurienty.” Adam didn’t have many options, and he was willing to take a gamble.
Kapral eyed him carefully, but didn’t crumble. “Really? You think you know?”
Adam considered the man before him. “Here’s what I know. I know I didn’t kill that man. I know whoever did also killed Basia Kaminski and Jared White and tried to kill Łukasz Kaminski. And I know whoever did that has a secret. A secret he’s willing to kill to protect.”
“Ah, secrets. Yes.” Kapral nodded, finishing his coffee with a final sip. He raised a finger to catch the attention of the barista, and Adam heard the familiar sounds of the grinder, the water passing through the freshly ground beans. The heady aroma followed the tiny cup to the table, and Adam waited until Kapral brought the cup first to his nose, then to his lips, before he spoke.
“You have secrets, minister. Secrets you want kept hidden. Secrets Basia Kaminski found.”
“She had no right.” Kapral’s words were sharp, bitten off by his effort to control his rage. He closed his eyes briefly, took a breath, and continued. “She didn’t know what she was doing, what she was looking for. It was not her concern. She should not have become involved.”
“But she did. And she found the truth.” Adam spoke quietly, hoping to encourage Kapral to continue.
“She was helping me, she told me, you know.” He smiled mirthlessly at the table. “She apologized. She came to me and said she thought she was helping.”
“You didn’t want her help.”
“I wanted my privacy. I wanted her not to get involved.” Kapral shrugged. “But she did. There was nothing more I could do.”
He looked at Adam. “I did not kill her. I was angry at her for prying, but I did not kill her.” His voice held a note of disbelief that rang true.
Adam watched him, waiting, saying nothing.
Finally Kapral continued. “She thought Laurienty was blackmailing me. Hah! She couldn’t understand why I had hired him when there were others so obviously more qualified. So she decided it was blackmail. As if Laurienty would have the brains to do something like that.”
“She came to you when she found the truth.”
“Of course she did.” Kapral’s pride reemerged, his chest puffed out. “I am a leader in the Sejm, she came to me to seek answers from me and to tell me my secret was safe with her.” His eyes wavered and the look he gave Adam was drowning in doubt. “And then she died. And I thought… I thought, what did I say to her? Was I too harsh? Did I drive her to kill herself?”
“She didn’t kill herself, sir. She was murdered. Was it because of what she found about you?”
“That is not possible.” Kapral smiled again. “I would not kill, not for this or any other reason, and Laurienty… well” — Kapral raised his eyebrows — “Laurienty, I am ashamed to say, wouldn’t have the brains to kill anyone, either.”
“Ashamed?” Adam asked.
“Ashamed, Pan Kaminski, because Laurienty is my son.”
Adam thought back to the information Pete had found on Kapral. He was married, had been for twenty-eight years. His wife served on the board of the school their daughters had attended. His daughters were both in university now, doing well and making their father proud. His two daughters. There had been no mention of a son.
“I see you are surprised, Pan Kaminski. So no, you did not know about Laurienty. Perhaps you thought the same thing Basia believed. That I had committed some horrible act in the past, and Laurienty was using it against me, blackmailing me to hire him?” Kapral laughed under his breath.
“In a way, that is true,” he continued. “Not a horrible act, perhaps, but an indiscretion. An affair, Pan Kaminski, nothing worse. Simply an affair.”
Adam nodded. Affairs had brought down politicians before Kapral, Adam knew. Some men could carry them off, their loving wives standing by their side, telling the world she forgave him. For other men, the scandal meant the end of their career, the end of the people’s trust.
“My wife would not have forgiven me, had she found out,” Kapral said, as if reading Adam’s mind. “It was over almost as soon as it had started. A secretary, of all things. How cliché of me. After only a few nights, I knew I had made a mistake. I recommended her for another position — a promotion — and she went. And that was it. Or so I thought.”
He pushed his espresso cup away on the table, resting his hands on the polished wood surface, playing with his napkin.
“I had no idea there was a child. She never told me, and I didn’t keep track of her or her career. Then Laurienty showed up.” He looked over at Adam. “And what was I to do? Send him away? Deny that he was mine?”
“So you simply accepted his word that he was your son?” Adam asked with disbelief.
“Bah, no, of course not. Don’t be absurd. I required that we have tests done. I could not believe it at first. I was sure he was lying. Then his mother contacted me as well, and I thought perhaps it was true. So we did the tests, and I was his father.” Kapral nodded, remembering.
“And you hired him because you wanted to help him. Because you felt you owed him, after all these years?”
“That is true.” Kapral frowned, nodding. “I did owe him.” He looked out over the coffee shop, filled with the midmorning coffee crowd from the neighboring offices and stores. The hum of conversation filled Adam’s ears as he thought about what Kapral had told him.
“You were also afraid. You were afraid that if you didn’t help him, he — or his mother — would tell your wife. And the scandal could ruin you.”
“Of course it would ruin me,” Kapral hissed, glaring at Adam. “How do you think that would look? Not only had I cheated and lied, I had fathered a child out of wedlock. Then abandoned him.” Kapral grunted. “No one would care about the truth. That I didn’t know about Laurienty. Politics is not about truth, Pan Kaminski, it is about appearances. Reputations. And I had to protect mine.”
“Better to look like you’re willing to give a chance to a struggling young man than to look like an adulterer,” Adam agreed.
“It was nobody’s business but my own. When Basia Kaminski came to me, I was furious. What had she done? She had stolen the records showing the other applicants for Laurienty’s position. She had lied to the clinic where we had the test done and succeeded in getting a copy of the results. Kurwa,” Kapral cursed softly, “she had no right. No right.”
“What did you do, minister?”
“What could I do? I lost my temper. I yelled at her. I swore that if she ever told anyone, I would see to it that her career was ruined. Finished. No matter how long it took, I would make sure she never worked in politics again.” He looked at Adam. “I told her to leave my office, and I never spoke to her again. That was it. I swear.”
Adam nodded, looking down at the table. This was a mo
tive, a strong one. Would Kapral have admitted it if he really had Basia killed?
“You must believe me, Pan Kaminski,” Kapral said again, “I did not kill her.” He frowned, thinking for a moment. “When we last met, you asked me for access to the national archives. Do you still want that access? Do you still believe you can find the answer to who killed Basia in those records?”
Adam looked up at Kapral, surprised. “Perhaps. I know Łukasz was looking there just before he was attacked the first time. I know somebody was worried about what he found there. And now someone has tried to kill him again, and I don’t even know if he survived.”
Adam rubbed his hands over his face, the exhaustion and worry finally catching up to him as the adrenaline of confronting Kapral faded.
“Let me help you.” Kapral reached into his briefcase. “Your cousin is alive, Pan Kaminski. I happen to know he was back at work this morning, at his newspaper. I spoke to his editor only this morning on another matter, and he mentioned it. Do not worry about him. Do the investigation you need to do at the national archives. If you can find the truth there, you will know I am telling you the truth when I say I did not kill her. Here.”
Pulling out a sheet of his letterhead, Kapral wrote out a quick letter. Signing and dating it, he handed it to Adam. “This will get you into the archives, and it will give you free access to review whatever materials you want. You will not need to request documents or make an appointment.”
Adam took the letter, still wondering about Kapral’s motives. “Thank you, this will help.” His eyes as he looked at Kapral grew dark. “I will find the truth, sir. I have no choice now. I need to find the truth to prove my own innocence.”
“Then you know how I feel, Pan Kaminski. We both need the truth to come out.”
46
Wanting nothing more than a hot shower and to burn the clothes he was still wearing, Adam wrapped his hands around his bowl of barszcz and huddled low over the table in the milk bar. As bad as he felt, he knew he blended in with the other customers, a dark, bundled mass leaning over a warm bowl of soup. He blew on the soup and waited.
This was Łukasz’s favorite haunt for a quick, cheap lunch. And he could wait here without attracting attention. Every few minutes, the scent of wool and mothballs would carry in on a cold draft, signaling the entrance of a new customer. Each time, Adam looked over his shoulder expectantly, then back down at his soup. When he finished his first bowl, he purchased another.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand the thought of yet another bowl of beet soup, he recognized the lavender scent on the cold air and turned with a smile to see Sylvia entering with his cousin.
“Cousin” — Łukasz grimaced as he turned a little bit too fast toward Adam’s table — “I cannot tell you how good it is to see you.”
“You too, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He smiled at Sylvia. “Both of you. I was so worried.”
“You were worried?” Sylvia’s voice seemed to carry more anger than concern, but Adam hoped he was imagining that. “How do you think it felt for me… or for Pan Burns, who is responsible for you while you are in Warsaw… for you to… to…” Her hand waved in the air as her voice trailed off, as if feeling around for the right words.
“I didn’t do anything, Sylvia. It wasn’t me.”
“You ran, cousin.” Łukasz spoke as he eased into a chair at Adam’s table.
Sylvia stood for a moment looking down at both men, hands on her hips, but eventually took the other empty chair. “When Pan Kaminski suggested we meet, I had no idea we would be seeing you, Adam. You should have told me.” Sylvia directed this last complaint toward Łukasz. “I should inform the authorities right now that I am with you.”
“I had no idea, Pani Stanko, I assure you. This was not part of my plan.”
Adam backed up Łukasz’s denial. “This was my plan. I figured of anywhere in the city, this is where he was most likely to turn up. Sylvia, you must realize I’ve been trying to reach you. Where have you been?”
“What?” Sylvia frowned, her furrowed brow puckering her beautiful face. “I have been home, I have been at work, I have been at school. And all the time I have been worrying about you.” She looked confused, unsure of herself for just a moment, then her expression firmed. “You are wanted by the police, Adam. They were at my home, looking for you.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “They’re still watching your apartment. That’s why I couldn’t come over. I’ve been trying to reach you. There, and at the Sejm.”
Sylvia shivered. “I was at my office at first.” She nodded. “I felt safer there. On Monday, when the police arrived, looking for you… well, I’ve been there ever since. Waiting for you.” Her blue eyes softened and her voice quieted. “I haven’t been able to work or to study, I was so worried about you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just glad you’re all right. Both of you.”
Łukasz grinned. “You should know by now, cousin, I do not kill that easily. Nor do I stop digging. I have news.”
“So do I,” Adam said. “Now get some lunch and we can compare notes.”
“Just like that?” Sylvia’s tone was now one of incredulity. “You are wanted for murder. You run from the police. But we should chat over a warm meal as if nothing had happened?”
“Sylvia,” both men said at once.
Łukasz nodded his head toward Adam, who continued, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes… yes.” Sylvia’s response was tentative at first, then firmer.
“And do you think I killed anyone?”
Now Sylvia smiled. “No, of course not.”
“Then we must work together to prove Adam’s innocence,” Łukasz finished for Adam. “Come, food will be good for us, I think.”
“It must be Novosad,” Łukasz stated a few minutes later over bites of grilled kielbasa and pierogies fried in onions and mushrooms. “He has the connection to Russia, and Wilenek was part of the former secret police. You know he must have connections to the KGB. To Russia. It would be easy enough for Novosad to put the call out to his contacts and for Wilenek to respond.”
“That’s just a guess, Pan Kaminski,” Sylvia cautioned him. “I can see why your editor told you to rewrite the article.”
“Bah…” Łukasz waved his hand dismissively, “I cannot understand any of his actions. This is urgent, vital, and he wants to rewrite, to revise, to have others review it before he publishes.”
“He’s right, Łukasz. Don’t put in writing anything you can’t prove.” Adam shook his head. “And I’m not sure I agree with you. I still don’t trust Kapral. He may have given me access to the archives just to throw me off track, to stop me from finding out the truth about him and his relationship with Laurienty.”
Łukasz moved his head slowly from side to side. “I don’t know, Adam. His story has the ring of truth. There was a rumor at the time, you know, speculation about how his secretary was promoted so quickly. She succeeded in her new position and no one thought about it any more. He could be telling the truth — about Laurienty and about his ignorance of his own son.”
“We need more information. If we can’t even agree between us, given what we know, we need to know more.”
Adam patted his pocket where the letter from Kapral was safely tucked away. “For me, that means the archives.” He looked at Sylvia. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know you’re probably taking some heat because of me. As our official liaison, I mean.”
Sylvia shrugged and smiled at Adam, who couldn’t help but smile back. “Do not worry about me, Adam. I will not tell anyone I saw you here.”
“Even if that puts your career at risk?”
“Even so. You do what you need to do. Find the truth. And then my career will not be at risk, you see?”
Adam nodded, paused. “Łukasz.”
“Yes, cousin?”
“I read the letters you gave me.”
“What letters?” Sylvia asked.
“Ah yes.” Łukasz nodd
ed. “I provided Adam with some old family letters. About his great-grandfather. Who left Poland in 1940.”
Sylvia frowned. “That was a difficult time. I’m surprised there are any records preserved of people escaping.”
Adam shook his head. “They’re not official records, just family letters. Written not long after the fact. They suggest…” Adam shrugged and looked down at the table.
Sylvia and Łukasz watched him, but he didn’t continue. Finally Łukasz added, “They imply, Pani Stanko, that Adam’s great-grandfather was a coward who left his family in need. An able-bodied man who could have fought, but instead packed up his wife and children and escaped, leaving his brothers and sisters and their families behind.”
“Well… But…” Sylvia struggled for words. “That is just one perspective. It was a difficult and dangerous time. Every man had to make decisions to keep his children safe.”
She turned to Adam and her voice softened. “Adam, this is terrible that you should read such letters. But you understand, do you not, that everyone has his own perspective? These letters cannot be the whole story, just one side of it.”
Adam smiled across the table at her, her eyes blue and earnest. “Thank you, Sylvia, of course you are right. And I can’t let ancient history bother me now, anyway, can I?”
He pushed his hands against the table as he stood. “I’m off to the archives. If I can get there without getting arrested. Police are everywhere.”
“Perhaps I can help with that, cousin.” Łukasz smiled up at him.
47
Adam couldn’t help but smile as he pushed open the oak door and walked into the main hall. He could hear the voices behind him, Łukasz’s voice rising above the others, until the heavy door clicked shut with finality, blocking out all outside sounds.
Łukasz’s diversion had worked perfectly. The picturesque, round building of pale golden stones waited quietly on a tree-lined street in Ochota, an area in the south of the city, not expecting any trouble. Storming through the doors of the Archiwum Akt Nowych, the Central Archives of Modern Records, Łukasz had demanded immediate access.