After what had – or rather hadn’t – happened, Kordian found it much easier to make a decision. Chyłka’s safety and wellbeing trumped Piotr Langer’s every time, that’s all there was to it. There would be no cassation, but Chyłka would be safe.
The next day, Oryński reported to collect the documents from her office with no qualms or doubts in his mind. He had lost no sleep over his decision.
‘Got anything for me?’ he asked entering the office.
‘I’m sure I can find something.’
She handed him the documents. He looked at the file and wondered whether he would face legal consequences. Probably, because the Code of Ethics stipulated severe penalties for transgressions that were far less serious.
But would anyone ever see that the situation had been manipulated? He didn’t really care. He was more concerned about what would happen if his mentor discovered the truth. She would hurl all sorts of verbal abuse at him, then announce their relationship was over.
‘Have you fallen asleep or something? Get this down to the court registry.’
‘Can’t I take it to the post office? A sealed stamp, just the same.’
‘No, better take it to court,’ decided Chyłka. ‘I’ll feel safer with a court seal.’
‘OK,’ he replied automatically and took the file. He knew what she would say next.
‘Look after it as if it were your own child, Zordon.’
‘Of course.’
He smiled and went out into the corridor.
Although it was a slim file, it felt heavy. Kordian knew it only contained a procedural document, but it carried his whole future. He had no trouble making his way to the lifts – he was still limping, so the crowd in the corridor made space for him.
Having left the Skylight building, he stood outside Coffeeheaven and watched people crossing Parade Square. Some walked quickly and confidently – these were, without doubt, Warsaw residents. Others spent time looking at the Palace of Culture and Science, the skyscrapers or other people – those were tourists, visitors or workers commuting from the villages. This image comforted Kordian, perhaps because it was a breath of normality.
‘Kordian?’ said a man’s voice.
Oryński was startled. A wave of heat swept over him, but when he looked to see where the voice had come from, he saw a familiar, friendly face. He knew the man was called Jacek – but was he from Medical Law or Taxes? Żelazny & McVay probably had a Jacek for everything, including supplying Gandalf the White.
‘Hi,’ replied Oryński casually. He didn’t recall ever exchanging more than three sentences with this particular Jacek, but then he’d recently become a bit of a celebrity on the twenty-first floor of the Skylight.
‘Something wrong?’
‘No, why?’
‘You look like you’re at death’s door.’
‘That more or less says everything.’
‘Drop you off somewhere? I’m driving to a client in Marymont.’
‘No, thanks, I’m going in the opposite direction.’
They said their goodbyes, and Kordian thought that unless things changed, his plan would unravel. He had to convince the world that he genuinely intended to submit the documents, so everyone he met on the way was important, especially colleagues. They’d be the first to be questioned about his behaviour on the day he’d missed the deadline.
Too bad, but this slip-up right at the start served as a reminder to take more care. And, he decided, that meant coffee. He went into Coffeeheaven and ordered a white chocolate mocha to go.
Thus equipped, he headed out towards the Palace of Culture and Science, turned left and sat down on a vacant bench, placing the file beside him. It crossed his mind that with a bit of luck, someone might steal it. But then he’d have to let the firm know, and they’d have a second copy printed out in no time.
He had even considered filing the appeal to the wrong court, but that would still mean the deadline was kept. But eventually he’d decided that the simplest solution would be the best, there was no point in doing anything elaborate.
He took a sip of his mocha and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
‘Fuck me, you’ve healed nicely,’ said a familiar voice.
Oryński swallowed. Gorzym was standing right behind him. He knew he’d be under constant surveillance, and had realised he might be encountering Gorzym again.
The Bald Man sat down next to him, on the cassation appeal file.
‘Oops,’ he said. ‘Have I crushed something?’
Oryński said nothing, nervously smoking his cigarette.
‘Do you know how you’ll do it?’ asked Gorzym. ‘Or are you still wondering whether it’s worth it?’
‘No.’
‘No, what?’ hissed the Bald Man, leaning towards him. ‘Did I damage your jaw last time we met? Have you got problems talking?’
There was something not quite right with his jaw, it clicked when he yawned, ate soup or chewed gum, but Kordian was not about to go into that. It was something he’d have to learn to live with.
‘Well?’
‘No, I don’t have any doubts,’ he replied with difficulty, although he knew it would all get easier from now on. ‘And I know how to do it.’
‘Fucking awesome,’ replied Gorzym. ‘I might even get some supplements delivered to you, as a thank you. Which address is better, Mickiewicz or Hoserów Street? No, wait, my mistake, you don’t ever go to your father’s place in Hoserów Street.’
Kordian was perfectly aware that he was dealing with people whose tentacles spread everywhere, so the showing off was unnecessary.
‘Who are you?’ asked Oryński, looking straight at Gorzym for the first time.
‘As of today, your friend,’ replied Gorzym. ‘If you do this for us, my boss will be pleased. And a happy boss means an opportunity for you. Do you get it?’
‘No.’
‘You’ll be kicked out of Żelazny & McVay,’ explained the Bald Man. ‘And if all goes well, my boss will make you an offer.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He’ll take you on as a lawyer in his, er . . . firm,’ replied Gorzym, spitting to one side. ‘How much do you get now?’
‘One thousand net.’
‘A thousand?’ asked the Bald Man and looked around furtively. ‘With us you’ll get twenty times as much. Untaxed. Why should you pay a penny to the state if all they do is use it to feed those pigs at the trough?’
Oryński had not expected this turn of events. He doubted the offer was genuine, but it made him realise just how important Langer’s case was to these people. Not only had they threatened and violently assaulted him, they were now adding bribery to the list.
‘A cool twenty thousand,’ repeated the Bald Man. Suddenly the offer seemed more real.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Plus a bonus. If my boss is pleased, you might even get one every month. How much would depend on how useful you turn out to be.’
‘What would my work involve?’ asked Kordian.
Asking a question felt strange. All the more so because the Bald Man was looking at him as if they were going to be best buddies.
‘I won’t finish my training, that’s almost a given,’ he said with faux naivety.
‘We don’t need a barrister. We have people to represent us in court,’ said Gorzym, resting his arms on the back of the bench.
‘So?’
‘You’d settle our affairs in a different way,’ replied the Bald Man. ‘There is a lot of work, and we’re not so much short of brawn as of brains, if you get what I mean.’
Kordian could only assume what mafia lawyers did, but made sure he looked as if he understood.
‘When are you going to get it done?’ said Gorzym, returning to the matter in hand.
‘In a moment. What I’ll do is . . .’
‘I’m not interested in the details, Zordon.’
Hearing the name, Kordian realised that somehow, he was being bugged. Not the office, that would have been impossible, but perhaps his home? Or his newly purchased mobile?
‘If it’s a good plan, we trust you,’ Gorzym added after a while. ‘Is it good?’
‘Maybe.’
‘If not, I can help you.’
‘How?’
The Bald Man pointed to the entrance of the Youth Palace young people’s centre, and Oryński spotted the familiar Mercedes, parked next to a fountain. He shuddered. He would sooner jump into the fires of hell than into that car.
‘We could simply drive away.’
Oryński could hardly believe he was having this conversation.
‘No, there’s no need.’
‘All right. But remember that sooner or later you’ll have to leave town. As I see it, that’s not a major problem, because apart from Chyłka you haven’t got anyone here.’
Oryński said nothing.
‘OK, I won’t hold you up,’ said Gorzym, getting up.
Kordian also stood up. He was still silent, although the Bald Man was looking at him expectantly. Oryński bent down, snatched up the file and handed it to Gorzym.
‘What the fuck . . . ?’
Kordian patted him on the arm and walked away. At a brisk pace and without a word.