A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series (24 page)

W
anting
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 nodded. “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.

A
dam 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.

The nervous young woman working behind the desk hadn’t known what to do. She glanced at the armed guard standing near the main entrance, but his attention was on the street, not her desk. Seeing her discomfort, Łukasz had soldiered on, demanding to be allowed to review the documents from the secret police that were still housed there, claiming the right of the journalist to free access to information.

When at first the young woman hesitated, and almost seemed like she was about to grant Łukasz the access he wanted, he switched tacks, raising his voice and spitting out insults about the archives, their management, and the people who used them.

Finally realizing this was not something she could handle herself, the young woman picked up the phone and called her supervisor, the director of the archives himself. He appeared from a back room, a portly gentleman with a sour face. Too many hours peering at faint documents, Adam supposed.

He took one look at Łukasz and promptly called over the guard. Which was the moment Adam had been waiting for.

While the director and the guard were engaged in quieting Łukasz and trying to drag him off to a side room, Adam approached the young woman.

Smiling apologetically, he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Polish. But I have a letter granting me access to these files. Is that okay?” Looking over at Łukasz, he added, “Should I come back another time?” He smiled again.

The woman smiled gratefully back at him from behind the brightly polished, lemon-scented desk. “I am sorry, sir, this does not usually happen. I appreciate your understanding.” She glanced at the letter Adam held in his hands. “Let me see that, perhaps I can help you.”

She read through the letter carefully, then looked back up at Adam. “This is from Minister Kapral. He says you are here on his authority and require free access to all of the records. This is very unusual.”

Adam shrugged. “I understand if this isn’t something you can help me with. Perhaps we need to ask the director?” He gestured toward the portly man, now turning bright red in the face as Łukasz turned his venom onto the man’s innocent family.

“No, no,” the young woman answered quickly. “I think it would be best not to bother him. This is clearly an important request. Of course we will honor it.”

She smiled as she returned the letter to Adam, pressing a button underneath the desk. Adam heard a click as the oak door to his right unlocked. He thanked her as he headed through it, but she had turned her attention immediately back to the director and to the police, who had just arrived.

Following signs for the public reading rooms, Adam took one flight of stairs up, stepping out into a narrow carpeted hallway that followed the circular curve of the building. On the left, windows looked down into the paved central courtyard, where a few benches waited for spring and warmer weather. Walking along the hall, Adam carefully pushed doors open, checking the rooms on his right.

One was a large conference room, lined with artifacts and displays of Polish history — paintings, historic documents, mannequins in earlier versions of army uniforms. The air was stuffier in here and Adam suspected this was a ceremonial space, not often used.

Other doors opened onto reading rooms, as Adam had supposed they would. Readers occupied small wooden desks tucked away under looming shelves. Each reader had an assigned desk, and as the materials he or she had requested became available, archivists would stack the materials, clearly labeled and numbered, on the shelves above the desks.

Fewer than half the available desks were occupied and the rooms were painfully quiet; only the occasional turning of a page or stifled cough could be heard above the hum of the dehumidifiers. Tall, rectangular windows that looked out over the city allowed in only limited light, and dust motes danced across the rooms in the narrow beams that reached into the musty space. Adam was surprised to catch the scent of roses in one room, lingering traces of a woman’s perfume. The quiet young woman at the front desk, perhaps.

He continued his way around the hall, heading toward the main storage building, when he spotted something he wasn’t expecting. A stroke of luck.

A lone pay phone hung in a booth at the end of a short corridor jutting off of the main hallway. He stepped in and slid the doors closed behind him.

“Pete, don’t say anything, just listen to me.” He spoke quickly before his partner could say anything to let the others in the squad room hear who was calling. It was risky bringing Pete into his problems like this, but he had no choice. He was only glad his credit card still worked and hadn’t been cut off already.

“What the hell have you gotten into, partner?” Pete’s words were muffled, preventing others in the squad room from overhearing. “The captain’s getting calls about you left and right. You killed someone? What the hell?”

“Cut it out, Pete, you know I didn’t kill anyone.” Adam smiled despite himself, glad to know that Pete still trusted him. “And you know what’s going on here. Whoever’s behind Basia’s death wants me out of the way. I still need to figure out who it is. Did you find anything else that will help?”

“Not much,” Pete answered softly. “I’m still looking into the names you gave me, but they each seem to check out. I gave you all the background I had last time you called. Without going through the captain, there’s not much more I can find.”

“Better not alert the captain you’re working on this. Not yet, anyway. He’ll have your skin.”

“I think you should be more worried about your own skin, Kaminski. He said he wanted you to solve the murder — not get convicted for it.”

“I know, partner, I’m working on it, believe me. I’m pretty sure I know who killed them. A man named Stefan Wilenek, former Polish secret police. Killer for hire. Nasty character.”

Pete whistled. “Good work, Kaminski. Do you have enough proof to go to the Warsaw PD?”

“Almost. Łukasz is writing up what he does know.”

“Writing up? Like for the police, or for the paper?” Pete asked quickly.

“For the paper. I know…” Adam cut off Pete’s objections. “But we still don’t have enough to stand up in a court of law, just our own testimony — and you know what my testimony is worth right now. His editor wouldn’t even publish what he wrote the first time. He’s working on revising it now, making sure it’s defensible against a libel suit. Meanwhile, I need to find out who hired Wilenek.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Pete thought about what Adam was saying. “What can I do to help?”

“I need you to reach out to the rest of the team from the Philadelphia International Council. Did they all make it back safe?”

“Yeah, they came back yesterday. The captain has already called each of them to let them know we’re still on the case to find out who killed Jared.”

Adam felt himself relax. “I’m glad he did that. He’s a good man. I still need you to visit them, Pete. They’ll be hearing things about me now, and I need you to let them know I’m fine. That I’m on the case, too, and I won’t leave here until I solve it.”

“Kaminski…” Pete started to say something, then cut himself off. After a pause, he continued, “You need to know this is hurting our case against Luis.”

“Luis? What does he have to do with this?”

“Nothing, partner, absolutely nothing. But it’s not just him. All your recent arrests are going to come under scrutiny.”

Adam said nothing, thinking about the truth behind Pete’s words.

“Luis is only locked up on our request that the judge wait until you’re back in Philly. And if you can’t testify…”

“Or if my testimony isn’t worth crap…” Adam took a breath. “I get it. I know. I’ll figure this out.”

“I know, partner. And I’ll talk to the people who were on your delegation. What about Jared White’s family? What can I say to them?”

Adam shut his eyes, picturing Jared sitting on the train drinking coffee that was far too strong for him, talking about teaching, dreaming of a future he would never see. “Tell them I will catch whoever did this. And tell them I will explain everything I know to them in person when I return.”

“Uh-huh. And Julia? Anything I can tell her?”

Adam realized with a start how all of this must look to his little sister. Her brother accused of murder, running from the police. He couldn’t even call her himself without implicating her in his alleged crime. He shook his head in the dark phone booth. “Take care of her, Pete. Just take care of her for me.”

“Will do, partner,” Pete answered. “And you take care of yourself.”