Kordian waited for the two senior lawyers, as agreed. He was supposed to be at the entrance to McVay’s Warsaw residence, but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d got the right address. The building was different from the other houses in the suburban district of Elsnerów, its shape reminiscent of the bygone communist era and the façade looking as if it had last been painted when the country was overburdened with foreign debt.
But when a Lexus pulled up followed by a black X5, Kordian knew he was in the right place. First to emerge was Harry with his salt-and-pepper hair.
‘Could you open the gate please?’ he said.
Oryński looked at the gate with trepidation, but headed towards it. He jumped swiftly over the fence, landing in unmown grass, and unbolted and opened the creaky gate.
As the cars drove into the forecourt, Kordian tried to catch Chyłka’s eye. She, however, parked the car in front of the house, ignoring him.
A moment later, McVay approached him with a broad smile.
‘Pleased to meet you, Kordian.’
‘Pleased to meet you too, sir.’
That was a massive understatement. Many lawyers at the firm had never had the opportunity to exchange a word with either of the partners.
‘How do you like my estate?’
‘It’s pretty good.’ Kordian glanced again at the house. ‘On the roof . . . is that asbestos?’
‘I suppose so. I haven’t been here for a long time, so some things might have changed.’
‘Isn’t having asbestos punishable by law?’
‘Certainly not!’ snapped Harry. ‘What kind of country would tell its people what they can and can’t make their roofs from? I could build a mud hut here, and it’d be nobody else’s business. This is my land. I bought it, developed it and then . . .’
‘And then handed it over for perpetual usufruct to fungi, dust mites and wild animals,’ added Joanna as she approached them.
She raised her eyebrows, looking at the carcass of a mole that had given up the ghost under the fence.
‘Pay no attention to the asbestos or the carcass,’ said McVay, patting Oryński on the back. ‘You’ll see that inside it’s quite charming.’
But the Englishman was in no hurry to enter the house, so Chyłka took the initiative. She had barely opened the door when the smell of mustiness hit them.
‘Forgive me,’ apologised Harry as he passed the other two lawyers on the porch. ‘I have a kind neighbour who comes to air the house once a month, but clearly that’s not enough. Or maybe she doesn’t bother, I don’t know, I have no way of checking.’
Oryński thought that a bulldozer would do more good than a friendly neighbour.
They set about opening all the windows, and once the air was a bit fresher, the Englishman invited them into the kitchen. The table was spread with a red and white oilcloth, there were transparent coffee cups in the cupboard and an old Jowita radio on the kitchen worktop. Next to it stood a clunky sugar bowl, no doubt remembering the days of the inflationary gap and food ration cards.
A time capsule.
‘Where do you keep your Donald Duck comics and bubble gum?’ asked Joanna warily sitting down on the chair. ‘Do you still do your washing with IXI powder?’
‘Very funny,’ muttered McVay.
Oryński couldn’t help but smile. Chyłka was sitting opposite him, but still ignoring him. Instead, she was looking around the kitchen as if she were looking for fungus on the walls.
‘But I do have some collector’s items here,’ admitted Harry. ‘Somewhere in the cellar, there’s a game my children used to play constantly. Something about hens? Perches?’
‘Well, Just You Wait! ’ suggested Kordian.
The Englishman snapped his fingers and nodded approvingly. He opened one cupboard after another, rummaging through their contents and muttering, but eventually he gave up and sat down at the table.
‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you anything,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Thank God,’ replied Chyłka.
McVay pulled out his phone and raised it above his head, looking for a signal.
‘Mobile office,’ he explained, shaking the latest Samsung Galaxy Note. He browsed online and ordered food from Telepizza to be delivered to Radzymińska Street.
‘OK, now I feel like a proper host,’ he said. ‘We can get down to business while there’s time. By the time the pizza arrives, we’ll be preoccupied with more important things than the life and times of some convict stuck in prison.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ said Joanna. ‘Unless you want to listen to that traitor giving us a monologue,’ she added, pointing her head towards her trainee.
‘I don’t think that would be a bad idea,’ said Harry.
When the Englishman looked at him, Oryński felt the urge to thank them both for their delightful company and hospitality, make his excuses and leave. For a few moments the kitchen was totally silent. Then finally, Kordian realised he’d have to tell them everything anyway, sooner or later.
‘What I’m about to say has to . . .’
‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Joanna. ‘Everything will be in confidence, between you, us and this communist era house of horrors Harry calls home.’
‘Naturally,’ agreed McVay.
‘Speak, Zordon. This is your one and only chance to redeem yourself as a human being in my eyes.’
Kordian cleared his throat and began to tell them everything he knew. From his first encounter with the Bald Man outside the gym to meeting him again outside the Skylight building and their tête-à-tête on the bench in Parade Square. He remembered to tell them about the doctor at Bielański Hospital, who also turned out to be working for the mob.
When he finished, Joanna and McVay exchanged knowing looks. Oryński assumed they had already worked it all out.
‘I’m tired of having to refer to them as “those people”,’ began Harry. ‘It makes me feel like they’re elusive, even transcendental, impossible for our minds to fathom, shimmering somewhere between metaphysics and reality.’
No one answered him at first.
‘Maybe we could call them the Band of Pricks,’ muttered Chyłka.
‘I’d rather call them the Collective,’ suggested McVay, looking around his kitchen. Its communist era feel must have inspired this reference to communist nomenclature.
‘Do we have to?’ asked Chyłka.
‘You need to imagine the enemy as real people,’ explained the Englishman. ‘Then they become less terrifying and more real.’
‘OK, you might be right,’ she agreed. ‘And now can we get down to business?’
Suddenly there was an alarming sound, as if nuclear war had broken out. The crude, mechanical doorbell was hammering away in a way that made Kordian think his visits to the Hard Rock Cafe were pleasantly relaxing in comparison.
Soon three pizzas appeared on the table along with liquid refreshments – non-alcoholic, to the disappointment of the guests.
‘Time to talk about specifics,’ said the host. ‘Once we get an extension to the deadline, we’ll be able to implement . . .’
‘If we get it,’ mumbled Kordian.
‘If we don’t get it, we’ll appeal.’
‘If your appeal for an extended deadline is rejected, you can’t appeal against it,’ said Oryński, chewing on a piece of excessively dry pizza. Too much flour on the base. It was good for stopping your pizzas sticking to the paper, but only within reason.
‘That’s true,’ agreed the Englishman. ‘But a court rejecting an extension effectively rejects the cassation appeal. And that decision can be challenged on the grounds of what was written in the official complaint. It’s a rather roundabout way of doing things, but remember it, my boy, it might come in useful one day.’
‘One day? I think we’re going to need it now.’
‘No,’ said McVay, sipping his lemon iced tea. ‘We’ll get the new deadline. I’ve read your letter, and think it has a good chance of making an interesting court case.’
‘Interesting it certainly will be,’ said Joanna. ‘I just don’t know whether it will be more interesting in the courtroom or outside it. That Band of Pricks of yours . . .’
‘Collective,’ the Englishman corrected her.
‘That Collective,’ she hissed, ‘won’t stand idle. And first in the firing line will be Zordon.’
‘And then there’s the problem with Żelazny,’ added Oryński, looking at McVay. ‘Your partner has promised to do everything he can to wreck our careers.’
‘He doesn’t have to try hard. You’re doing a good job of ruining them yourselves.’
‘Careful what you say,’ said Chyłka. ‘I intend to use this case to boost my career so fast, all you two will be able to do is watch my meteoric rise from below.’
‘One way or the other,’ sighed McVay, ‘we’re a triangle now. No, that doesn’t sound quite right,’ he added, and cut himself another slice of pizza.
The guests ate with their hands, perhaps out of habit, or perhaps because the cutlery resembled an archaeologist’s find. Seeing this, Harry also put his knife and fork to one side and ate in the traditional fashion.
‘Have you spoken with any of the witnesses?’ he asked.
‘Zordon and Kormak exchanged a few words with a neighbour and the shopkeeper. But they’re pretty poor witnesses. They didn’t see anything. No one knows anything.’
‘And after talking with us, they could both be lying in a shallow grave in Kampinos National Park,’ added Oryński.
‘Get hold of them. Make it a priority . . .’ said McVay, ignoring the comments, and paused. ‘Forgive me for being so officious and giving you orders, but you have to remember that this isn’t just about Langer’s fate, it’s also the fate of my firm. It’s either Żelazny or me, there’s no third way. Everything hangs on this one case.’
He put his slice of pizza back in the box and looked at Kordian and Joanna. They looked none too pleased.
‘I don’t want to put you under pressure,’ he said.
‘Perish the thought,’ said Kordian.
‘Just concentrate on this one task,’ continued the Englishman. ‘I’ll deal with Artur and prepare the ground for our little revolution . . . our coup d’état if you will. And you must find those witnesses, keep them safe, and we’ll prepare them for the hearing.’
‘Prepare?’ asked the trainee.
‘There is absolutely nothing wrong or amoral in a witness being prepared for the benefit of one of the parties. The trick is not to influence them to give false testimony.’
Oryński looked at his boss doubtfully, thinking how much he wanted to light a cigarette. He got up and started searching for an ashtray. In one of the cupboards, he found two bowls of thick glass that seemed more suitable as urns for holding human ashes than cigarette ash. He placed the two heavy ashtrays on the table, and pulled out a packet of Davidoffs.
‘I’m sorry, but please don’t smoke in here,’ said McVay.
Kordian raised his eyebrows, and out of the corner of his eye noticed Chyłka lighting up.
‘Give it a rest,’ she said. ‘You could invite every union rep from across the entire country to burn tyres in this dump, and it wouldn’t make any difference.’
Harry murmured something under his breath and pushed the ashtray away. He looked at his employees, then took a deep breath to indicate there was something else he wanted to tell them.
‘Witnesses are still the most important source of evidence. I know that we live in a world where everything is recorded electronically in a thousand different ways, but most cases are still resolved on the basis of the evidence given by witnesses. Make sure you prepare them properly.’
‘But is it legal?’
‘I’ve never heard of it being penalised in any statute,’ replied McVay, raising his open hands. ‘Eat your pizza, and then to work. And then get yourselves to bed. Together. You’re young, you shouldn’t be arguing, you should be having sex.’
Harry couldn’t help but notice the expression of consternation on the faces of his guests.
‘While you two indulge, I’ll take care of the rest,’ he added.
‘And the Collective?’ asked Kordian, ignoring the thinly veiled allusions. ‘Gorzym’s going to appear sooner rather than later to renew his job offer.’
‘Don’t worry about him, I’ll assign someone to protect you.’
Kordian’s eyebrows shot up.
‘It’s not the first time I’ve hired a bodyguard, you know,’ added McVay, seeing Kordian’s surprise. ‘You won’t even notice him, he’ll be like your shadow on a late summer’s afternoon.’
‘How romantic,’ commented Joanna.
‘It’ll be romantic when you two get down to work.’
‘Yes, sir!’ she replied, carelessly saluting with a cigarette in between her fingers.
‘So what are you still doing here?’
‘I thought we were . . .’
‘Take the pizza with you,’ replied the Englishman with a smile. ‘Now go, Langer can’t defend himself without your help.’