A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series (13 page)

“
W
here have you been
?”
Chris’ voice came out as a hiss and a few people in front of them turned to stare.

“Sorry, I went to meet up with my cousin this morning,” Adam whispered back, trying to keep his voice low enough so as not to interrupt the presentation.

At the front of the narrow room, a rector of Warsaw University droned on about the increased need for a university education in this day and age. To either side of them, the other members of the delegation stood and listened, while university donors and supporters stood along the bookshelf-lined walls.

“You shouldn’t just take off like that, Mr. Kaminski.” Chris wouldn’t let the subject drop. “I am responsible for you while we are here, and I need to know where you are at all times.”

Adam saw Angela glance in their direction and felt his face grow red. As if he were a child that needed to be reprimanded.

“I was with Sylvia this morning, Chris. Isn’t she also responsible for our delegation?” He raised an eyebrow at Chris, then turned back to the presenter, who seemed to be wrapping things up.

Angela grinned and looked away.

“Well… well… I suppose that’s okay.” Chris stumbled over the words. “But you should’ve let me know.”

“I know.” Adam patted Chris on the shoulder as the speaker finished his presentation and the rest of the audience offered a light applause. “I will next time, I promise.”

“Wait, what next time?”

But Adam was already stepping to the side to catch the attention of Minister Kapral, who stood against a tall oak bookshelf near a closed door. Sylvia saw Adam’s movements and approached Kapral from the other side of the room.

Sylvia reached him first, leaning over and saying something into his ear. Kapral nodded as he glanced around the room, his eye landing on Adam. He raised his chin to Adam, as if in invitation, then turned and stepped through the doorway, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Approaching the open door, Adam glanced back to see Angela watching him once again. He grinned and winked at her, then entered the small office, pulling the door shut firmly behind him.

Kapral already sat in one of the chairs around an oval table that took up most of the cozy study room.

“Minister,” he started as soon as he walked into the room, “I am sorry to pull you out of the presentation.”

Kapral smiled his toothpaste commercial smile and stood to shake Adam’s hand. “Not at all, it is a pleasure to see you and
Pani
Stanko again so soon.” He indicated the chairs around the table, and they all sat. “I’m sorry I was not available to see you earlier this morning. I understand you were at the
Sejm
looking for me.”

“Not a problem, sir.” Adam paused before adding, “I spent the time chatting with Laurienty Szopinski. A very interesting young man.”

This time Adam kept his eyes on Kapral as he spoke and once again he saw the flash of annoyance cross Kapral’s face. Not just annoyance, he realized, anger. Deeply held anger.

“You should not talk to my staff without my permission,
Pan
Kaminski.” He turned to Sylvia. “
Pani
Stanko, you should know this.”

“I am very sorry, Minister Kapral,” Sylvia said with surprise. “You are correct, of course, I will not do that again.”

Kapral paused a moment. Adam recognized the all-too-familiar signs of someone trying to get his anger under control. With a nod, he turned back to Adam. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“To be honest, I believe there is something I can do for you. I believe there is someone working here, in your government, who is a criminal. He — or she — has been involved in some sort of corruption and he killed a young woman to cover it up. Now that a journalist has found the truth, this person is trying to kill him to keep the secret.”

Kapral stared at Adam in silence, his fingers tightening their grip on the arms of his chair.

Adam continued, “My cousin, the journalist, found proof, you see. He’s not getting help from the police, so I offered to help him — to protect him and to catch the criminal responsible.”

Kapral finally spoke. “This is quite a tale you have,
Pan
Kaminski. Something more out of fiction than real life, I think.” He looked to Sylvia, but she simply shrugged and said nothing.

Adam responded, “It is true, I assure you.”

“And what is this proof your cousin has?”

“I can’t share that with you right now, minister, I’m sorry. As soon as I can, I will bring it to you.”

Kapral nodded slowly, digesting the information. “There is corruption all around us. This is politics, after all. Whether it is individuals trying to make their own money in the new capitalist system, or those who were collaborators and now trying to work in the government. That is no surprise. We all know this. This is why we have the courts. Someone willing to hurt someone else to keep this secret… that is more than I have seen before,
Pan
Kaminski. If you are certain this is true, how can I help you?”

Adam considered his words carefully. This was not a formal investigation, not on his part, anyway. But he didn’t have the luxury of time. He was scheduled to leave Poland the next day. He knew the only way he was going to find anything was by pushing. Even if that meant making enemies.

“Tell me about your relationship with Laurienty Szopinski.”

Kapral froze, his face a mask. For a full minute, no one spoke. Sylvia shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, but kept her silence. Adam sat as still as Kapral. He had played this game before.

Finally, Kapral spoke. “I repeat, how can I help you,
Pan
Kaminski? Aside from satisfying your prurient and inappropriate curiosity, that is.”

Adam nodded. “Tell me what you know about your colleagues’ past, then.” After a beat, he added, “Minister.”

“That is a very broad question,
Pan
Kaminski. Is there someone in particular you are interested in?”

“Everyone who worked with Basia Kaminski. Novosad. Szopinski. You.” Adam raised his eyebrows as he spoke, but Kapral didn’t bite.

“Basia worked with many, many people here, my friend.” He smiled as if he and Adam really were close friends. “Including
Pani
Stanko, for example.” He turned his engaging smile to Sylvia.

Sylvia smiled and dipped her head.

“She met with a variety of committees, many staff of many ministers. I couldn’t possibly provide you with all of the background on all of these people,” Kapral explained, staring at Adam. “I see what you are asking, though. This corruption you mentioned a moment ago. You believe this was in the past. Something long forgotten, perhaps.”

Adam nodded but said nothing.

Kapral took a breath and glanced around the study room as he continued, “This is a difficult challenge for you,
Pan
Kaminski. You do not know our country and our history. How do you possibly hope to uncover something that has been hidden for… what… many years, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. I am not working on it alone. Łukasz Kaminski, my cousin, is a reporter with
Nowy Początek
.”

“Ah… Yes, I know this paper. I know the editor slightly.”

“Perhaps you can help me in this way. Łukasz needs his editor to write a letter providing him access to the national archives one more time. Including the files on lustration, if that’s what he needs. He was able to do this before, so I’m sure he can do it again.”

“And why does
Pan
Kaminski require this access again, if he already has the evidence?” Kapral asked, raising his eyebrows. “Is this a… what do you say in America, a fishing expedition?” Kapral’s eyes met Adam’s squarely, and he could tell Kapral was holding in a smile. Barely.

“There’s more to this story, I’m sure of it. Just one more day in those records and we can have all the evidence we need.”

“I shall help you,
Pan
Kaminski. There is no need to go through the editor. I can write such a letter of permission myself. I will provide it to your cousin through Sylvia.”

“Thank you, sir.” Adam didn’t hide his surprise. “And thank you again for your time.”

“Will this be the last time I see you,
Pan
Kaminski?” Kapral asked, standing.

“My team is scheduled to leave Poland tomorrow, sir, so this may well be our last meeting.”

“I wish you success,
Pan
Kaminski.” Kapral’s smile was cold. Satisfied.

A
s soon as
Łukasz heard the elevator
bell followed by the tread of unfamiliar footsteps, he swept the notes he had been writing into the top drawer of his desk. Tomek Malak had called earlier that morning to request this meeting. An unusual request, but not one Łukasz was likely to refuse.

The utilitarian clock on the wall clicked over to noon just as Malak stepped into the doorway, tapping politely on the open door. At least the man was prompt, Łukasz thought to himself as he waved Malak in.

“
Pan
Kaminski, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. May I offer my condolences on your loss. Basia was a beautiful young woman. I can only imagine how distressed you are.”

He extended his hand as he spoke, and the two men exchanged a firm handshake.

“Thank you, sir.” Łukasz was almost getting used to accepting these meaningless condolences, words of sorrow that meant nothing, in truth, to the speaker. Almost. “Please, have a seat.”

“Ah…” Malak glanced uncomfortably at the open door. “May I?”

He moved to close the door as he spoke. Łukasz nodded his approval, wondering what could be so secret about this meeting. The sounds of the newsroom diminished to a low murmur that could still be heard within the office.

As both men sat on either side of Łukasz’s scarred wooden desk, Łukasz said, “If you have information on a story you think I might be interested in, I would have been happy to come to your offices, sir. There was no reason for you to make the journey to this part of town.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Malak waved away Łukasz’s suggestion. “It is sometimes good for me to get out of the office, you know?” He smiled as he spoke, a friendly, genuine smile. “But that is not exactly what I wanted to speak with you about.”

Malak paused, glancing around the room. At the crowded bookshelves that lined one wall, at the pile of papers pushed into one corner on the floor, finally at the framed photograph sitting on Łukasz’s desk. He looked back at Łukasz. “I believe I know someone in your family. A cousin, perhaps?”

“Adam Kaminski, you mean? Yes. I only just met him myself. He’s in Poland on some sort of diplomatic mission. Representing the city of Philadelphia.” Łukasz looked at Malak with curiosity. “Is that why you are here? Because of Adam?”

“No, no.” Malak once again waved away the suggestion. “No, I was simply mentioning it.” Malak looked directly at Łukasz, staring almost. “
Pan
Kaminski, I have come to speak with you because I am considering running for the office of President of the Republic of Poland.”

Łukasz’s chair creaked as he leaned back, his fingers laced over his chest. “So, the rumors are true?”

Malak nodded. “Yes, they are true. My party, the Civic Platform, has invited me to run for office on their ticket, and I have accepted their invitation.”

Łukasz sat for a minute, considering this information. “So the mild-mannered civil servant becomes a hot presidential candidate.” He smiled. “Why do you come to me with this news? Surely there are other journalists you would rather have breaking this story?”

“It’s not the story I came to talk with you about,” Malak explained. “I’m here to ask for your help.”

Łukasz leaned forward again, his interest piqued. “Help? How could I possibly help you?”

Malak, too, leaned forward as he spoke. He answered slowly, as if considering each word. “In a political campaign — in any political campaign, really, and particularly in one with such high stakes — information is king. You must realize that?”

“I’ve heard something like that, yes.” Łukasz grinned, acknowledging his understatement.

“I need access to information. Real information. Not data that is corrupt by being biased. I need someone I can turn to who knows the political scene in Poland, but who is not part of that scene. An outsider with insider knowledge.” He paused, examining Łukasz. “You fit that description,
Pan
Kaminski.”

“I see.” Łukasz’s expression didn’t change. He once again leaned back in his chair. The clocked ticked off the seconds as he thought about what Malak had asked.

Malak sat still, leaning in toward Łukasz’s desk, waiting for Łukasz’s response.

Neither man moved when a light tap on the door interrupted the silence. “Kaminski? Latest numbers,” a voice announced from the other room, then a paper slid under the door.

It sat there in the middle of the floor, ignored.

“Everyone has skeletons in their closet, as they say,
Pan
Malak. Is that what you are thinking of?”

“Something like that.” Malak smiled, letting out a breath. “I am hoping I can count on you,
Pan
Kaminski. Will you help me by sharing information? If there is something that would help me in my campaign. Or” — he paused and cocked his head to one side — “if there is some information out there that would hurt me.”

Łukasz raised his eyebrows. “Are you thinking of anything in particular,
Pan
Malak? Is there information out there that, if revealed, could hurt your campaign?”

“Of course not. Why would you ask that?” Malak shook his head, frowning, as he stood up. He stepped toward the door, turning his back on Łukasz.

Łukasz wondered if his question had offended Malak so greatly he was walking out of the meeting, but at the door Malak simply rested his hand against the door jamb, as if testing to make sure it was fully closed. He turned back to Łukasz.

“There may be people — even within my own party — whom I cannot trust,
Pan
Kaminski,” Malak said in a low voice. “I am turning to you for help because of your status as a journalist. As a neutral party, outside the political fray.”

Malak’s eyes moved about Łukasz’s office as he spoke, as if expecting to find the very people he was worried about hidden somewhere behind a bookshelf or under a table.

“Who do you not trust,
Pan
Malak?” Łukasz kept his voice calm, conversational, but his mind was spinning. Was Malak aware of a secret? Perhaps the same secret that took Basia’s life?

“What?” Malak turned back to Łukasz as if he had been slapped back to reality. “Who? No, no. Nothing like that. I just say there may be, because there always is, isn’t there? Moles within each organization, willing to dole out secrets for the right price.” Malak smiled, his mood once again shifting.

“Political secrets, you mean? Like campaign strategies?”

“Exactly.” Malak snapped his fingers. “Like campaign secrets. And it could be anyone, you see. My colleagues, my friends.
Pani
Stanko, for example.”

“Sylvia?” Łukasz couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice and he saw Malak’s eyes widen ever so slightly.

“Sylvia, yes. You know her?”

“Only slightly.” Łukasz shook his head. “I met her when I met my cousin. Just the other day.”

“Ah, I see. Your cousin.” Malak nodded. “Yes, Sylvia, for example.”

“If you don’t trust her, why are you keeping her so close to your campaign?” Łukasz asked, confused.

“Not that I really think she would sell me out, you understand.” Malak held his hands out toward Łukasz as if trying to stop his thoughts from moving down that path. “Not at all. I’m just using her as an example. Someone I work closely with. Someone I trust.”

Malak resumed his seat in front of Łukasz’s desk. “It could be unintentional as well, you know. Perhaps something hidden in her past that could hurt my campaign. She is tied very closely to me. And if I win, I intend to keep her on my staff. But what if she has a secret that could hurt my chances of success? Or anyone else on my staff, not just Sylvia.”

Łukasz knew what Malak was asking, and why. Malak was right. In a political campaign, secrets really could win elections or lose them. He also knew how he had to respond.

“I’m flattered you came to me with this request,
Pan
Malak. I can see it reflects your perception of my work. I regret to say I cannot offer you the help you are asking for. I am sorry.”

“Your reputation is stellar,
Pan
Kaminski. You are an excellent investigative journalist.”

“And I am not yet ready to give that up,
Pan
Malak. You must understand.” Łukasz spoke firmly. “Offering you the help you seek would mean the end of this career.”

“No, not at all.” Malak frowned and shook his head. “I could hire you as a consultant. It would all be above board. Nothing illicit, I assure you. And it would only be temporary. Only until the election’s over.”

“It would be forever, I’m afraid.” Łukasz shook his head. “If I associated myself with you and your party, I would lose all appearance of objectivity. I could never get that back. I could never again publish as an objective investigative journalist.”

Malak looked down at Łukasz’s desk, his eyes tracing the pattern of the scars that ran across it. After a moment, he nodded. “I see. I have my answer.”

He slapped his hands onto his legs as he stood, nodding and looking once more around Łukasz’s office. Turning back to Łukasz, who had also stood, Malak extended his hand again.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,
Pan
Kaminski, and for considering my offer. It’s still there, you know, if you change your mind.” He smiled.

“Thank you,
Pan
Malak. But I will not be changing my mind.”

Malak nodded once more, then turned and left the room.

The door bounced against the wall as Malak left it open, the clattering sounds of the newsroom once again swarming into the office.

Łukasz shook his head as he lowered himself back into his chair. Malak must have known he would turn down the request. He must have. Why would any self-respecting journalist agree to work for a political campaign, openly or otherwise?

There must have been more to that meeting. Something Malak wanted to ask and didn’t, perhaps. Or information Malak was hoping to glean from Łukasz.

Łukasz thought back through their conversation, but he couldn’t figure it out. What was Malak after?