A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series (20 page)

“
W
orse
?” 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 learn 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.

“Look out!” Adam called out.

Łukasz turned, but didn’t step aside. He never had the chance. The car picked up speed as it closed the distance with Łukasz. By the time it hit him, the driver was already turning the wheel to swerve back out onto the street.

“No!” As Adam ran toward Łukasz, he saw his body slam into the front of the car, then fly over the hood into the street.

As Adam watched, the driver turned his head for an instant, to see where Łukasz had landed. To make sure, Adam supposed. It was a dumb move.

The driver didn’t swerve back onto the street quickly enough. As the car turned toward the street, the right side of the car caught a streetlamp. The whole car jerked violently and started to spin. The driver had lost control.

Adam ran back toward the sidewalk, away from the spinning car. He watched, helplessly, as the car skidded to a stop across the street, the smell of burnt rubber filling the air. Horns blared as other drivers turned to avoid the black car, then turned again to avoid Łukasz, lying motionless in the middle of the lane.

Finally, Adam moved. He started running toward Łukasz, but a movement from the black car caught his attention and he turned. The driver had pushed the door open and was hanging out of the car with his hands resting on the street, shaking his head.

Figuring the driver wasn’t going anywhere, Adam ran toward Łukasz. Bending over him, he felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak. Blood streamed out of a wound on Łukasz’s head. Adam knew how much head wounds bled, and knew that it didn’t necessarily mean the wound was fatal.

He leaned over Łukasz, afraid to touch him more or move him. “Łukasz… Łukasz… can you hear me?”

Łukasz didn’t move.

The driver of the black car did. Adam turned to look just as the driver struggled to his feet. He glanced toward Adam and Łukasz, then turned away and started walking, uncertainly, in the other direction.

The sounds of sirens carried over the air, moving closer. Help was on the way. There was nothing more he could do for Łukasz now. Except catch the man who’d hurt him.

With a quick nod to himself, Adam took off after the fleeing man.

S
ounds
of the sirens
were weaker now
.
Adam followed the fleeing driver off the main street into a neighborhood lined with narrow cobblestone alleys and old stone houses. His footsteps echoed in the tight space and he intentionally tried to step onto the thin layer of snow that coated the edges of the paths in the hopes that it would muffle his steps. It did muffle the sound, but it also made walking more treacherous and he had to move carefully to avoid slipping.

He kept his eyes on the dark figure ahead of him. He had recognized him immediately as the knife wielder who had attacked him in the cemetery and hadn’t lost sight of the man since he had run from the crime scene. He had clearly been hurt in the accident and as he ran, he kept one arm tucked inside his coat. Adam didn’t know if the injury was to the arm, to the ribs he was holding, or to both. He didn’t care, except that he would use that information against the man once he caught up to him.

Adam was in no hurry to catch the man. A better bet, he thought, to follow him, see who he reported back to. If he just ended up drowning his pain in a local bar, then Adam would take him. Use his injuries as a weapon against him to force him to tell Adam the truth. If Adam got lucky, the driver would lead Adam to the person behind all this. If Adam got lucky.

So he kept his distance, walking carefully on the slippery path, staying out of view as the man stopped periodically to check behind him. Adam walked holding his arms tight against his body, against air that froze his face, his hands, his feet. Each breath felt like inhaling ice, and he did his best to stay calm and keep his breathing slow.

He tried not to think of Łukasz lying bleeding on the city street. The ambulances would have made it to him by now. He was probably already safely on his way to a hospital, where they would bandage his head wound, patch up any broken bones. Łukasz would be fine, he’d live through this. Adam kept repeating this to himself as he walked. To convince himself it was true. That he had made the right decision to chase the attacker instead of staying with Łukasz.

The man’s uneven footfalls echoed from ahead, and Adam could tell he had turned off into another narrow alley to the left. Adam followed not far behind. Light from the lamps on the main streets didn’t reach back here. The only light came from windows of the apartments that lined the alley, filtered yellow light sneaking out between chinks in lace curtains, casting figures of yellow and white over the snow-covered bricks of the path and creating shadows that scuttled up the yellowed stone walls.

It seemed like they had been walking for hours, though in reality Adam knew it hadn’t been more than ten minutes, when he heard a door open ahead. The low murmur of voices spilled out into the night air along with a shaft of bright light. Adam turned the corner just in time to see the door closing again behind Łukasz’s attacker.

So he was going to drown his pain. Not report back to his boss. That was all right, Adam had considered this possibility. He just needed to get the man back outside where he could question him thoroughly.

Adam pulled open the old wooden door and stepped into the bar. It might have been his imagination, but the room grew stiller when he entered. The conversation didn’t stop — a loud bark of laughter followed his entrance — but something about the tenor of the conversation changed.

Adam glanced around. The man he had been following was not in sight. Spotting a door just to the right of the stained bar, Adam moved toward it. A short bald man stepped in front of him as he rounded the bar.

“
Słucham
? Can I help you?” the man asked in a surprisingly high voice. “Are you here for a drink?”

The man planted the bottle of vodka he was holding firmly on the bar, his arm barring Adam’s path to the door. A sliver of light bounced off the chain around his neck. A medal of Saint Casimir.

Adam shuddered, but stayed calm. “I need to go that way.” He waited, not pushing.

The man looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and stepped aside.

Adam walked by him and grabbed the handle on the door. It didn’t move. He pulled again, but the door was clearly locked. He turned back to the short man with the Casimir medal.

“Did you see that man who just came in here? Where did he go?”

“Sorry? My English not so good, not understand.” The man’s accent seemed to be getting stronger.

Adam leaned against the bar and looked around the room. There was no other door, except the one Adam had come through. Everywhere he looked, dark, sullen faces looked back at him. One customer smiled, baring his teeth.

Adam turned from the bar and walked back out into the dark alley. There was no side door to the bar, no path leading to the back of the building. Up and down the street, houses and stores stood side by side, like sentries guarding hidden realms with no chinks in their armor. Adam walked past six buildings before he found a break between them he could pass through. As he walked along it, though, he saw there was no way he could work his way back to the rear of the bar.

He spun around in despair, hoping to see some access point he had missed. Some way to get to the back of the building. But even as he waited, he knew his quarry was getting farther and farther away.

The driver was gone. Adam had lost his best lead.

T
he warmth
and light of the hotel lobby greeted him like a comforting embrace. One he really needed right now. He also needed help from home. Stretching his neck and relaxing his shoulders, he glanced around the lobby, then walked over to the lobby phone.

His conversation with Pete was short but effective. For every question Adam asked about the suspects in the case, Pete had the answer. Background information, family information, birth dates, incomes.

“And there’s one more thing, Kaminski,” Pete added when Adam had finished pumping him for information. “A message from the captain.”

“And what’s that?” Adam asked, his voice dropping.

“Make sure this case is solved. Fast. It doesn’t look good, a member of a US delegation killed right under the nose of one of Philly’s finest.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Adam’s voice dropped even lower, his eyes closing as he spoke. “Don’t you think I feel responsible for Jared’s death?” He felt the tension in his shoulder creep back. The guilt burning at the back of his neck.

“Calm down, partner. I know, I’m just passing on a message.”

“Sure. Right.” Adam took a deep breath. This call wasn’t as comforting as he had hoped. “So where do I go from here?”

“Motive?” Pete asked. “Always a good place to start.”

“I like Łukasz’s take on this.” Adam nodded as he spoke. “Someone with something to hide. A secret Basia uncovered.”

“Until you know that secret, you don’t know the motive.” Adam could tell Pete was thinking out loud. “So opportunity, then.”

“Not that easy.” Adam shook his head. “I think this could be a hired killer. He seemed like it when I met him.”

“Interesting…”

“What are you thinking, Pete?”

“A wise man once said, three men can keep a secret — if two of them are dead.”

“Let me guess, Raymond Chandler?” Adam asked.

“Close,” Pete answered. “Benjamin Franklin.”

Adam smiled despite himself. “So it’s the ‘no honor between thieves’ approach. If the goal of all this is to keep a past secret hidden, they may be each other’s weakness.”

Pete’s voice carried calmly and quickly over the line. “And maybe you can use that against them.”

Adam hung up the phone and looked around the lobby. An open doorway across the room led to a dimly lit bar and Adam headed that way seeking liquid solace.

The sharp, heady scent of whiskey mixed with a hint of cinnamon floated from the room. What little light the electric candles hanging from the chandelier produced bounced off the gleaming cherry bar. Pale green wallpaper reflected in the gilt mirrors that lined one wall. A rack of spotless glasses and mugs hung over the bar. Thick curtains over the windows kept the cold air outside. The room was dim yet cozy, comfortable.

The first people Adam saw when he entered were Angela and Ray. They sat on high stools up against the bar, both nursing mugs that had stopped steaming long before. As he walked toward them, Adam saw the dry tears on Angela’s cheeks and a twinge of guilt brought his shoulders back up into a tense hunch.

Adam pulled up a third stool next to Angela. “Can I join you?”

“I thought it wasn’t safe. I thought you were going to abandon us.” Angela’s words were sharp, but her voice didn’t carry the anger it had held earlier.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. Angela, Ray, I’m doing the best I can to protect you. To protect my cousin. Hell, to protect myself. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. At this point, I have nowhere else to go.”

Ray reached around behind Angela and patted Adam on the shoulder. “Have a drink with us, then. It’s a hot toddy — at least, some Polish version of hot toddy. It’s vodka, that’s all I know.”

“Looks like you could both use fresh drinks, too. I’m buying.” Adam finally managed to catch the attention of the bartender, who was seated on a low chair at the far end of the bar absorbed in a newspaper.

“Good to see you again, Kaminski. It’s been a while.” Ray winked as he spoke. “Chris is shitting bricks worrying about you.”

“I’m sure he is. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I’m too tired right now.”

“And how is your investigation going?” Angela asked. “Has your cousin found anything new?”

“I don’t think so.” Adam spoke quietly. “I don’t really know, to be honest. He was in another accident. He’s in the hospital.” He paused to take a quick drink from his steaming mug. “I don’t even know how he’s doing, they won’t tell me anything.”

“Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry.” Angela put her hand on Adam’s leg. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears started to well up once again in her eyes, and she moved her hand and turned her head away.

“It’s okay, Angela. It’s okay to cry. Sometimes I wish I could just let it out. These are sad times. To Jared.” Ray lifted his mug in a toast. “To our lost team member, may he rest in peace.”

The three drank in silence for a few minutes.

Adam knew that Angela was right. He shouldn’t have come back here. These guys were after him and he was putting her and Ray in danger just by sitting with them. Where else could he have gone, damn it? The hospital had refused to give him information about Łukasz. Sylvia hadn’t been at her apartment, and that worried him even more. Was she just working late? Was she in danger? Or worse, had she gone somewhere she didn’t want Adam to know about?

Angela’s hand touched his leg again and Adam looked over. Ray was standing up, patting his pockets to find his room key. “Time’s up for me. I’m heading upstairs.” He glanced over at Angela and Adam. “Take care, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“We have tickets to leave Warsaw tomorrow, Adam. I don’t know if you knew that?” Angela asked him. “The police have determined it’s okay for us to leave.”

“I didn’t know. I’m not scheduled to fly out until Wednesday.” He laughed under his breath. “I thought that would give me plenty of time to figure out what was going on, to help Łukasz. And instead I’ve just made things worse.”

His hands tightened around his glass mug, soaking up its warmth. He fought to ignore the sounds of grief in his head, the crying mothers. He blinked and shook his head.

“Don’t” — Angela leaned toward him — “don’t beat yourself up like that. You’re doing all you can. I know you are. You can’t be responsible for everything. For everyone.” She stared at his face, but he looked away. “Where are you? Sometimes your eyes, they’re so far away… where do you go?”

He didn’t answer, and she turned back to her drink. After a moment, she tried again. “Tell me about your students. The reason you left teaching.”

Adam stayed silent.

“They died, didn’t they?” Angela asked, looking at Adam closely. “Were they killed?”

Adam nodded, his eyes on his hands. “Drive-by. They weren’t even involved. Just hanging out in front of their home. Three dead, one injured too badly to come back to school. They were good kids, they didn’t deserve that. Their parents didn’t deserve that.”

Angela closed her eyes, nodding, her thick mahogany hair sliding forward over her glasses, hiding her face. Her expression was strained when she turned back to him, her normally wide eyes narrowed, her lips taut.

“It happens, I know.” She paused, then added, “I’m sure there was nothing you could do about it.”

“No?” He looked up at her. “I was their teacher. I was supposed to protect them. I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Now I’m a cop. It’s a little more clear-cut.” His lips turned up into a mockery of a smile.

She shivered and looked down at the mug in front of her. “I’m sorry I lost it this morning. I was just angry and scared about what was happening. I wasn’t really mad at you.”

Adam considered the woman next to him, her face pale and drawn, her fingers tapping on her mug. He took a breath and put his arm over her shoulder. “Thank you. I really appreciate hearing that. So, what have the police told you?”

Angela let her breath out in an angry hiss. “Nothing, that’s what. Nothing. I don’t know if they don’t know anything or if they just won’t tell us.” She shrugged. “The police still don’t know who killed Jared and I suspect they never will.”

The two paused as they absorbed this fact and what it meant for them.

“I’m just furious,” Angela finally burst out. “The police have given up. Don’t they care?”

“They care. I’m sure they care. A murder was committed and they will keep working at it until they figure out who did it and bring those people to justice. I’m sure of it.”

Adam spoke confidently, but his own thoughts were closer to Angela’s. It was possible that the police really wouldn’t solve this case, either because they couldn’t or because they wouldn’t. Was it just because Jared was a foreigner, or was it because they were afraid of what they’d find if they really investigated this murder?

Adam put his arm around Angela again and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Adam raised his other hand. “Bartender, another round,” he called out.

The young bartender slowly rose from his seat and moved back toward them.