They sat in the kitchen at Chyłka’s to continue the conversation, moving swiftly on from the what-ifs to the much more pressing matter of the cassation appeal and the strategy they should adopt.
When they were finished, Kordian was dead on his feet, dreaming about lying down on a comfortable bed. Instead, he got the couch, a piece of furniture whose only purpose in life was to look good. It was as hard as rock, but Joanna swept away his objections by explaining how much better it was for him to sleep on a firm surface.
She offered him a beer, which Kordian readily accepted, but by the time she’d brought the bottles from the fridge he was already fast asleep.
The following morning as they drove to work, Oryński used Chyłka’s tablet to find out how you could legally open the door to your flat if you’d lost the key. The solution was alarmingly simple. You just had to make a phone call. The internet was full of authorised companies, available 24/7, who could open your car, apartment or anything else that you’d locked.
‘So I could have slept at my flat yesterday, after all,’ he said, turning the tablet around to show Joanna the emergency locksmith advertisements.
‘Uh-huh,’ was her only reply.
‘Oh, believe me, I’m really disappointed.’
‘Why, were you hoping for something in the night, Zordon?’
‘No, I’m disappointed with the couch.’
‘It cost a shed-load of money.’
‘It was probably more comfortable in Auschwitz.’
Chyłka gave him a scathing look. She loathed people referring to World War II victims in a light-hearted way, out of context; they deserved to be remembered with respect. She decided, however, that this was not the time to explain it to her protégé.
They parked under Złote Tarasy, and set off on foot down Emilia Plater Street towards the Skylight building.
As they entered the office, the usual tumult suddenly turned to silence. Everyone was looking at them. A few people started to applaud quietly, but soon everyone was clapping and cheering, and shouting words of support to Kordian. They patted him on the back, congratulated him on his fortitude – even Żelazny appeared and personally shook the trainee by the hand.
‘Injured, brought back from the brink of death, barely able to walk on crutches and yet he has turned up for work,’ said Artur, looking around at all his employees.
‘Ready for work and eager to fight,’ replied Kordian.
It was as if there was a hidden camera somewhere and they were shooting a Żelazny & McVay commercial.
Old Rusty invited him into his office, and the employees immediately moved away to make a path for him. Oryński limped slowly to the end of the corridor, feeling rather foolish.
Żelazny closed the door behind him, making Kordian feel uneasy. It would have been good to have Chyłka next to him, but she had gone off to her own office. Oh well, he’d just have to manage.
‘I’m glad you’re so keen to get back to work,’ began Żelazny, helping Kordian into a chair. Żelazny perched himself on the edge of the desk with his arms folded. ‘You really should be resting, but your presence here is testament to your fortitude.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s important to me that you realise how much I appreciate your work ethic. And it is I who should be thanking you.’
The calm before the storm, Oryński thought.
‘May I call you by your first name?’ asked Żelazny.
‘Of course.’
‘Well, how can I put it, Kordian? I’m in an awkward . . . very uncomfortable situation.’
Kordian had to admit that his boss was a good actor. If he hadn’t known what to expect, he would have been quite taken in by Żelazny’s performance.
‘You’d be a hero were it not for that one thing,’ he said, letting out his breath in one long whistle.
‘I understand.’
‘You’d be my hero too, son. I’d put you on a par with Leon Peiper. Have you heard of him?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Yet every law student has heard of Makarewicz,’ said Żelazny dramatically, the pain evident in his voice.
He pronounced the word student with disdain, disgust almost, as did every veteran lawyer of his ilk. It was as if they were talking about creatures not of this world, hobgoblins living somewhere underground, fearing the light and leaving a trail of slime behind them. Warhorses such as Żelazny seemed to forget that they wouldn’t have the positions they had now if they hadn’t at some stage left behind their own five-year trail of slime.
‘Makarewicz is remembered because his code included the penalty of death by hanging,’ said Kordian.
‘Indeed, it did. But apart from that, it included legislation of the highest level. World Class. In my opinion, however, he doesn’t hold a candle to Peiper,’ said Artur, standing up.
He walked around the office as if he couldn’t find the right place, until he eventually sat down on the leather chair behind the desk. He unfolded his arms and put them on the armrests, looking inscrutably at Oryński.
The trainee wondered when Żelazny would stop his play-acting and get to the point.
‘Do you realise that if we had the same internal Criminal Code they had in those times, I’d have to administer a similar punishment?’ he asked with a ghost of a smile.
‘Yes.’
It was hypocrisy of the worst kind, and Kordian’s reaction was to be as monosyllabic as possible. He assumed he was in for the high jump anyway, so there was no point in getting involved in clever wordplay.
‘Were it not for the amphetamines, I’d shower you with gold, really.’
Kordian wondered why on earth he should be showered with gold – he might have been beaten up, but he hadn’t rescued anyone, jumped into a blazing building or helped a damsel in distress.
‘I don’t know, I really don’t know . . .’ continued Artur, folding his arms again. ‘What am I to do with you, Kordian? You know that the firm’s reputation will suffer?’
‘Yes.’
Żelazny sighed ostentatiously. ‘I am waiting for you to suggest something, because I really have no idea what to do with all this.’
‘Sir,’ began Oryński, trying to control his nerves. ‘At the moment I am just glad that I survived.’
Short, clear and to the point. He wanted to make Żelazny realise that there was more to life than just the firm, but he wasn’t expecting miracles.
‘What do you want me to say?’ said Rusty. ‘I’d like you to be honest.’
Żelazny looked far into the distance and nodded his head.
‘Keeping you on is going to be a problem for me,’ he said. ‘At the same time, I don’t want to be seen as the brute who fires employees because they’re weak and need drugs to stay afloat.’
‘It was only once . . .’
‘Don’t interrupt me.’
He sounded like a virtuoso distracted in the middle of a performance by a ringing mobile.
‘What I feel like doing is handing you your notice now, then organising an anti-narcotics campaign within the legal community. I’d make you a scapegoat, but it’s no more than you deserve.’
Kordian appreciated his boss’s frankness, but said nothing. ‘Nevertheless, I’m willing to keep you on until this case is closed. Then Żelazny & McVay will pay for you to stay at a rehab centre, and we’ll say goodbye.’
‘Rehab?’ said Oryński, genuinely bemused. ‘I’m not a drug addict.’
‘In the eyes of the media you are.’
The trainee didn’t respond. There was no point. ‘Do you understand everything I’ve said?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, getting up onto his crutches.
‘You don’t leave until I say the case is closed.’
Kordian ignored him and headed for the door. He had a little difficulty with opening it, but Artur didn’t help. He didn’t shut the door behind him. Hobbling slowly towards Chyłka’s office, he wondered whether Żelazny had anything to do with Gorzym and his mob. After all, he was allowing him to stay on until the case was closed, which would make it possible for him to miss the cassation appeal deadline. Under normal circumstances taking drugs meant immediate dismissal.
He went straight to Joanna’s office, thinking he’d soon have to decide what to do about the cassation appeal.
‘Finished already?’ she asked, looking at her watch.
Normally she’d be off limits to the world at this time of day, but this was an extraordinary situation. She helped him in and sat him down on the other side of her desk.
‘Not a nice man,’ he said.
‘Difficult to get on with, but at the end of the day one of the best bosses I’ve ever had. Perhaps not as great as McVay, but that’s probably because McVay has better things to do than worry about PR blunders.’
‘Such as practising law?’
‘Among other things,’ Joanna replied with a smile. ‘Here, look at the justification,’ she added, turning her laptop around.
The thirty-page document was an elegantly phrased tirade against the courts responsible for Langer’s sentence. Kordian read through the text with interest, proud to note that his discovery formed the basis of Joanna’s very well-argued appeal. None of the points she made were laboured or far-fetched, which was important when writing for the Supreme Court. He was sure the judges would give this a chance.
Provided it was submitted on time.
‘Very good,’ he said. ‘You can see I had a hand in it.’
‘Watch yourself, or you’ll see my hand slapping your face.’
‘You watch yourself,’ he objected, ‘or you’ll make me relive my trauma.’
‘I’ll send the file to your office address,’ said Joanna, changing the subject and turning the laptop back to face her. ‘Do you need help to limp over to the newbie-burrow?’
‘Can’t I work here?’
‘Can you see any computers here other than mine?’
‘I can bring one in.’
‘Out of the question, peg leg,’ she replied. ‘You can go to the newbie-burrow, get a few words of praise from the cyborgs, if any of them can tear themselves away from their work, then proofread what I’ve written and add a few of your own suggestions. The clock is ticking, and we’re on the home stretch. To battle!’
‘I don’t want to sit in the battery cage.’
‘Go away, Zordon, while you still have the use of your legs.’
He mumbled something under his breath and rose slowly from his chair. Chyłka got up to help him.
‘So how does all this work?’ he asked on the way out. ‘How do they decide whether a cassation appeal can go ahead? Is there some sort of trial?’
Chyłka stopped at the door. She shook her head, then ushered Oryński back into the room. He protested quietly as she sat him back down on his chair.
‘Did you read the Criminal Procedure Code?’
‘A bit.’
‘A bit would be enough if you were working for the Tractor and Combine Harvester Law Firm in some fly-blown village in the middle of nowhere.’
‘It’s not exactly riveting literature,’ replied Kordian. ‘What can I say?’
Joanna raised her eyebrows and sighed.
‘The cassation appeal is brought to which body?’
‘Are you going to test me? Seriously?’ asked Oryński, with a smile that gradually began to wane as he realised she was waiting for him to answer. ‘The Court of Appeal, in our case.’
‘Well done,’ she gushed. ‘And who rules on the admissibility of the cassation?’
‘The Court of Appeal.’
‘Wow, Zordon, you’re the perfect man for this job,’ she said, applauding slowly. ‘When you were at university, did you ever think about studying?’
‘Go on, have your fun,’ he grumbled. ‘But I seem to remember the Supreme Court has the right not to consider the cassation appeal if it doesn’t fulfil all the criteria.’
‘And then what happens? Assuming we manage to pull something amazing out of the bag?’
‘Is there a trial?’
‘Yes. Except where a sitting takes place without either party present.’
‘Well, yes.’
‘And would that apply to us?’
‘No, it wouldn’t.’
‘Excellent! You’re a star. If there was a medal for outstanding achievement in the field of shirking, I’d award it to you right now!’
‘You can laugh, but I also remember that if the Court of Appeal rejects our case, we can formally complain in writing directly to the Supreme Court.’
‘Well, Zordon!’ exclaimed Joanna, covering her eyes. ‘The light of your wisdom is blinding me.’
He gave a wry smile and shook his head. He would enjoy needling a trainee like this too, especially if they deserved it. And he did deserve it. He should have had all this off pat, it was basic knowledge. But he did know something about the later procedures – he knew, for example, that for the Supreme Court, the scope of the case was strictly limited to the way it had been presented in the cassation appeal. There were a few exceptions, though Kordian couldn’t remember offhand what they were.
‘May I go now?’ he asked. ‘I feel older and wiser.’
‘Go in peace and sin no more,’ said Joanna.
She helped him to the newbie-burrow, and left him in the tender care of the resident humanoids. Kordian dived straight into Chyłka’s justification document. It was really not bad at all. And it occurred to him what a huge leap this could be for his career.
You usually had to wait years before having a case heard by the Supreme Court, because as a rule, cases were assigned to more experienced lawyers. As a trainee, Kordian’s role would be little more than decorative, but it would still be something to tell his grandchildren. Only if they studied law, of course, otherwise they wouldn’t be impressed at all.
Oryński looked at the address of the Supreme Court at the top of the letter. He still hadn’t made up his mind.