The plan had been simple: put on his earphones, play Will Smith, and get stuck into Lex. Yet Kordian still felt unspeakably empty inside. He couldn’t find a single court ruling on which to base a cassation appeal against Langer’s sentence.
After almost two hours of uninterrupted work, he straightened his back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Kormak approaching him.
‘You still here?’ said Kormak by way of greeting. ‘Come with me.’
‘Have you got something?’ asked the trainee, rising from his chair.
‘You’ll see.’
They passed a dozen or so trainees and interns still poring over their assignments, then headed for the McCarthy Cave.
‘When do those guys in the newbie-burrow finish work?’ asked Kormak once they were inside.
‘They’ll be getting ready to leave after ten,’ replied Oryński, collapsing into a chair. ‘Usually when one goes, the rest follow suit.’
‘Herd mentality.’
‘Better tell me what you’ve got,’ Kordian said looking at the book on his desk. This time it was McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. He turned the book around, opened it and started skimming through.
‘It’s all shit,’ said Kormak. ‘Everything about this case is exactly as it should be, down to the last detail.’ He looked at the book. ‘I’ve only just started it, but I can already see parallels to what we’re going through. Turpism.’
‘What?’
‘Ugliness. Dirt, blood, degeneration, corpses, carrion . . .’
‘Sounds about right,’ said Kordian. ‘But you say you haven’t found anything, so why am I here?’
He looked around the room, thinking he should get back to his research. But a short break wouldn’t do him any harm.
‘You’re all right, Zordon,’ said Kormak. ‘And I want to help you.’
‘Thanks,’ muttered Oryński.
Kormak straightened his glasses. Then he unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out a small bag of snow-white powder. He placed it on the desk and looked at Kordian knowingly.
‘What’s that?’
‘Speed. Or Gandalf the White, they call it here.’
‘What?’
‘Amphetamines. Were you born yesterday?’ said Kormak, shaking his head, then, realising Kordian still didn’t understand, ‘a psychomotor stimulant.’
Kormak watched as the penny dropped.
‘And? What am I supposed . . .’
‘I recommend the traditional method. Cut a line and snort. You could rub it into your gums, but I think that’s stupid. You can get all sorts of problems afterwards, but once it’s up your nostrils that’s it. People have inhaled snuff like that since the sixteenth century, so this is just passing on the traditions of our ancestors.’
‘Only the product has changed.’
Kormak nodded thoughtfully, opened the bag and tipped some of the powder onto the desk. He cut a line using a Złote Tarasy Fitness Club card, then rolled up a small piece of paper, inserted it into his nostril and inhaled.
‘Help yourself,’ he said, rubbing his nose.
Kordian looked at the white powder and hesitated. He knew that sooner or later the pace of work would make snorting speed inevitable. It was said that law firms and big corporations were the dealers’ best customers. They always paid up front, no need for credit, and they bought wholesale. Apparently the only problem was that they were very demanding. They always wanted snow-white powder, whereas amphetamines in the capital tended to have a yellowish tinge. But there were ways to deal with that, ways that Kormak couldn’t even imagine.
‘Are you taking it or shall I put it away?’
Oryński considered the pros and cons. ‘OK, I’ll have some,’ he said eventually.
At university it was considered almost normal for students to take stimulants. The branded products widely available in shops were a joke. If you had an exam and needed to cram the night before, there was really only one way out, and it was often taken. Kordian had tried some shit or other once or twice – and it probably really was desiccated rat shit – and the memories weren’t pleasant. But a law firm like Żelazny & McVay probably attracted a better class of dealer, and he needed a powerful boost to do in one night what would normally take him a week.
He rolled up a yellow sticky note and bent over the line Kormak had racked. He sniffed deeply and swiftly, not leaving much on the desk – and what he did leave, Kormak was quick to inhale.
‘OK, now I’m off to work,’ said Kordian, trying to stop his eyes from watering and hold back a colossal sneeze. To no avail. It seemed so powerful he feared it would rip his nostrils apart.
‘Wait fifteen minutes. It’ll soothe your soul,’ advised the bespectacled one.
Oryński sat in Kormak’s room for another ten minutes or so, until he felt that overwhelming feeling . . . of what, he couldn’t tell. An internal, metaphysical energy, from the very core of his being. Pure, unstoppable power. And it was unstoppable, like a megawave, metres and metres high, careening towards him, to carry him to a place where he could achieve anything.
That was his experience, in a nutshell – everything was within easy reach, everything suddenly seemed possible.
Back in his newbie-burrow, Kordian didn’t even notice that virtually everyone had gone. He sat down in his chair, fixed his gaze on the monitor and got to work. Sometime later he saw Kormak, and wondered how much time had passed since he left his office. He couldn’t even begin to guess. Events were happening at lightning speed, and at the same time everything was crystal clear and totally, beautifully logical.
He felt wonderful.
He thought about Ninja Turtles in space.
Kormak was asking him something, but Kordian waved him away. It felt like the solution to his most difficult problems was just around the corner. And he was getting everything done so quickly! He barely had to think of something, and he had it checked and sorted and was onto the next thing. The pace increased with every second.
More. He should take more. Then he’d be able to work until daybreak. But maybe it was already morning? A few hours must have passed. What time had he sat down at his computer after getting back from Kormak’s? About twelve. No, no, no, it can’t have been twelve. When he left, the trainees and interns were still there, so it must have been around eleven. So now it must be . . . ?
He looked around the newbie-burrow.
‘What’s the time?’ he asked. ‘Go on, what time is it?’
Five in the morning? Probably. At least. And still he had nothing. There was nothing. There wouldn’t be any cigarettes, there would be nothing. And everything was within easy reach.
‘Aaaah!’ he groaned, starting to sweat. ‘What’s going on? Why won’t this stop?’
The comedown lasted longer than the initial high. And it was painful. His strength was gone, and for a moment he thought he was going to die.
He hung his head and sat motionless for a few minutes; then he snapped out of it, summoned up the last of his strength and went back to his meandering journey through Polish jurisprudence.
It was slow going, and getting slower all the time, but Kordian finally stumbled across something that made him sit up and take notice.
‘Judgement of the Supreme Court of 28th June 1977 . . . direct intention . . .’
He read on. This was exactly what he had been looking for!
‘Thank you, Gandalf the White,’ he whispered, forgetting that he had not discovered the judgement during his high, but after it had worn off. If he’d still been high, he would probably have overlooked it. On the other hand, without that boost, maybe he wouldn’t even have got that far? It was hard to tell. Either way, he needed to get a grip and—
Something interrupted his train of thought. He suddenly realised he didn’t know what to do. It would probably be best to phone Chyłka and tell her about the judgement.
He dialled her number on his mobile and waited for it to ring. She wasn’t answering. This was strange, she should have been up by now.
Then again, perhaps he’d got the time wrong? He looked at the wall clock.
It was coming up to one in the morning.
He double-checked the clock on his mobile and the laptop – they all showed the same. He sighed, wrote an email to Joanna, and switched off the computer. Now it was time to recharge himself after his encounter with Gandalf the White.
He had done what he needed to do: he had found a Supreme Court ruling giving him grounds for a cassation appeal. He was absolutely sure of it, and would have probably been even more elated if he didn’t still feel as if he was dying. But that didn’t matter. As soon as he’d told everyone about his find, Żelazny would make him a permanent employee, and Chyłka would arrange for him to have his own office.
Still a bit dazed, he staggered out into the corridor.