A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series (4 page)

C
hris leaned toward Sylvia
, their heads almost touching as they both bent over the schedule, sharing notes from the meetings they’d had so far in Toruń, planning ahead for their time in Warsaw. Adam’s lips pulled into a tight line and he turned his back on the scene within their train compartment.

Snow fell in large, soft flakes that melted away as they landed, leaving only a thin coating on the fields visible beyond the train windows. When Chris had snagged the seat next to Sylvia, Adam had instead opted for a window seat. Now he leaned his head against the wall on his right as he watched the countryside pass by. It would be over three hours before they reached Warsaw. His copy of
The Mauritius Command
was in his bag, but he wanted to see as much of Poland as he could while they were passing through it.

Farms and small towns gradually replaced the sprawl of the city. Yellow and brown fields, harvested of all crops and carpeted lightly in snow, spread out before him, some still spotted with the giant wheels of hay the farmers had rolled at the end of the summer.

The train rolled past picturesque chalets that looked like they belonged on a Swiss mountain. These were mixed among small brick farmhouses with clothes hung out to dry in the chill air, the men of the household still hard at work in the fields, even at this time of year.

He heard Ray, Chris and Sylvia talking about their schedule in Warsaw, heard Jared announce he was making a trip up to the dining cabin, but he sat still and quiet, watching the countryside pass by, taking it all in.

His family in Philadelphia followed the Polish newspapers closely. There was always a
Gazeta Wyborcza
or
Nowy Dziennik
lying on his parents’ coffee table in their narrow row house in the Port Richmond area of the city. His parents’ neighbors would gather in the evenings to read the news and discuss the latest turn of events. He would listen to their stories, try to follow the language as best he could. Sometimes his father would talk of the family left behind in Poland.

They had all been so proud and excited when Adam told them of his assignment. Adam had kept his concerns to himself. The economic difficulties wracking Europe had also touched Poland. A series of political transitions within only a few years hadn’t helped, either.

It was a lot of change for the country and the people. Wherever there was change, there was turmoil. Adam had been around long enough to know that. Political change meant people who had been leaders no longer were. And men forced out of positions of power rarely left easily.

Without warning, the picture he had conjured of the dead young woman, floating in the Wisła River, came to his mind. The image was so real, he could almost smell the reeds along the river, hear the barking of the dog. He glanced around the compartment, listening, wondering what made him think of her. A young life taken.

Suicide, he whispered to himself, suicide, not murder. He shook his head, forcing his attention to stay on the view outside the window. He was inventing problems because of his uncertainty about his role on this delegation. Even after their first few days of meetings, he still wasn’t sure how he could add any value or accomplish anything for the department.

He was looking for murder because it was something he could tackle. Plus, an investigation would drown out the sounds of his own ghosts. It always did.

The train passed through Kutno, the tracks turning south to take them along the banks of the Wisła River to Warsaw. Adam was still wondering how he could complete his assignment and satisfy the captain when Jared stepped back into the compartment. Staggering through the narrow space, he plopped down on the seat facing Adam, balancing a tiny paper cup of pungent black coffee on his knee.

Seeing Adam glancing at the coffee, Jared said, “There was beer on offer, but I figured I’d be better off with coffee. Gotta get my head ready for our meetings later today.” He paused and took a sip from the cup, then screwed up his face. “Man, this is strong stuff. Maybe I would have been better off with the beer.”

When Adam didn’t respond, Jared grinned. “So people are mixing us up already. We’ll be getting that a lot on this trip, I suspect. Big guys, same hair, same eyes. Angela said she even thought some of our expressions are the same.”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, she said that to me, too. We’re both from Philly, I guess that’s part of it. I used to be a teacher, too. Maybe we both come across as pedantic.”

“Hey! Speak for yourself.” Jared flapped a hand in the air as he spoke, then held his coffee cup more securely as the train took a bend in the tracks at speed.

After a few minutes, Jared spoke again. “So you were a teacher, huh? Did you work in Philly?”

“Yeah, that’s right. History. I worked in Northwest Philly. Williams High.”

Jared whistled. “Tough area, I can see why you left. Not very satisfying, I guess, huh?”

Annoyance flitted across Adam’s face but Jared was blowing into his coffee cup, his expression one of simple innocence. Noticing Angela looking his way, Adam forced a smile.

“It was satisfying. When I was able to teach. I had some great students, and I miss them.” His attention was caught by a glimpse of sunlight on the river, and he continued softly, as if speaking to himself, “Some I miss a lot, and so do their parents.”

He jerked his leg as he felt a light touch and turned to find Angela sitting next to him. “I worked for the School District for a few years before joining the Commerce Department. I know how tough some of those schools are.” She leaned her head forward, looking at Adam carefully, and the sunlight flashed across the lenses of her glasses.

He didn’t hold her glance, instead looking out the window.

Angela frowned, glanced at Jared. “You must have similar stories. You teach in Philly too, right?”

“I do,” Jared agreed. “I’m at the Charleston Art and Technology School. Center city. We’re in the middle of the lesson on Chaucer, one of my favorites.” Jared’s eyes lit up and he laughed as he spoke. “When I explain to the kids what some of these words mean. Ha! They’re all —”

“It’s good you could get away, then,” Angela interrupted him before he could get too deep into his story.

“Right, well.” Jared’s head bobbed up and down. “This was such a unique opportunity, you know? How could the principal say no? He’s covering my classes himself, in fact, while I’m away.”

“You’re lucky.” Adam’s voice was low, his mind still on other things. “Your kids aren’t afraid to come to school. Afraid of who they’ll meet on the way in, afraid of who’s waiting for them once they get there.”

“If you liked teaching, then why’d you become a cop?” Jared asked, his head tipped to one side.

Adam shrugged. “Because keeping our kids safe — keeping them alive — has to be the first step. You can’t teach a dead kid.”

He glanced around and saw that all eyes in the compartment were on him. He shifted in his seat as the train bumped over the tracks. “So, Chris, what happens once we get to Warsaw?”

“Right… well…” Chris pulled a folder out of his shoulder bag and opened it on his lap. Passing out maps of the town, Chris started filling them in on the meetings scheduled for that day and the next. Adam listened with interest, though he couldn’t help glancing out the window one more time when the first glimpse of Warsaw came into view.

T
he sedan
was dark
. Dark splatters of dirt covered dark paint, and it sat in a pool of darkness that grew between spurts of light. Tinted windows hid the dark interior. The narrow Warsaw street seemed to lie in perpetual night, the afternoon sun trying desperately to crawl through gaps between concrete buildings.

The visitor slid into the car, pulling the door toward him without closing it. He glanced at the man in the driver’s seat, then jerked the door closed. The interior light clicked off again.

The passenger handed the driver an envelope. “Seems like our roles are reversed now, eh? How time changes things. Now you work for me.” When the man in the driver’s seat didn’t take it, the passenger placed it on the console between the seats.

The driver sat silently, his hands loose on the steering wheel, his eyes and posture alert, as if he could take off at any moment. The engine of the car still ran, keeping the interior uncomfortably warm. It was close, but better than the chill outside.

“This is for your work,” the passenger explained, nudging the envelope that still sat on the console between them. “There may be more, I may need you again.”

The driver looked forward, as if the car were moving through Warsaw traffic instead of sitting still in the cramped alley.

“You failed, you know,” the passenger continued after a pause.

“Failed?” The driver finally spoke, turning his gaze on the passenger, dark eyes looking out from under gray, cropped hair.

The passenger shrugged and looked away before speaking again, his fingers tapping on the door handle. “The journalist is still alive.”

The driver frowned and nodded, turning his unforgiving gaze back to the street.

“He went to the police already, pushing them to investigate.”

“Hmm…” the driver grunted as his brows lowered, his eyes grew even darker.

“You can’t kill him now, though,” the passenger added. “It would only add credence to his story. Let him flail about. He can’t remember what happened. Nobody believes him.”

The driver nodded, as if considering his options, still frowning.

The passenger leaned toward him. “I’ll let you know if your instructions change. If I need more from you.”

The driver dipped his head once, then smiled. He turned his dark eyes toward the passenger and smiled again. “I’m sure you will, old friend.”

The passenger shivered and slid back out of the car.

S
omewhere nearby
a clock
chimed the hour
,
four o’clock, as Adam and his colleagues left Warsaw Central Station to find the van that was waiting to take them to their hotel. At this hour, the sun sat low in the sky. Buildings were tinged with orange and gold in the weak autumn light. Even in the heart of the city, the scent of burning wood from countless fires carried over the odor of the diesel-fueled buses.

They piled into the waiting van, automatically taking the same seats they had chosen in the similar vehicle in Toruń. From the back of the van, Adam watched Sylvia as she once again gave the group a quick overview of the city they were now in. Her eyes lit up as she described Warsaw, its long history and its recent changes, talking excitedly as they wound through the streets.

After only a few days in Poland, the group was happy to arrive at the Newport Hotel, which catered to British and American tourists and businessmen. They were each welcomed in impeccable English and given their room keys along with a quick overview of the amenities the hotel had to offer.

“We have a little time before we will meet our hosts here in Warsaw for dinner,” Sylvia announced as Chris made the final arrangements with the front desk and had their luggage sent up to their rooms. “You may use this time as you wish, and I will be back here at the hotel at eight o’clock to take you to the restaurant for dinner.”

“If I’m not mistaken, we’re right next to Warsaw University here, aren’t we?” Jared asked no one in particular.

Sylvia smiled and nodded.

“That’s where I’m headed,” Jared continued, “check out the local college, see what campus life looks like in Poland.” With those words, he headed toward the front door.

“Wait up, I’ll walk with you,” Chris called as he signed a final document then turned to follow Jared.

“Not me. I just heard all about a sauna, pool and gym in the basement.” Ray stretched his neck from side to side and the rest of the group heard the cracking sound it made. Adam frowned at the sound and turned away. With a last shrug of his shoulders, Ray asked, “Anyone else for a couple hours poolside?”

“How about you?” Angela asked, looking up at Adam, “Can I tempt you to join me in a sauna and poolside lounge chair for an hour or so?”

“That does sound tempting.” Even as he spoke, he glanced at Sylvia’s retreating back.

“Then why not, what else do you have to do?” Angela’s smile was warm. Comfortable.

“I would like the chance to talk with you…” His eyes shifted almost against his will toward Sylvia. “But not right now, maybe another time.”

He jogged across the hotel lobby to catch up with Sylvia, who turned as Adam called her. “Yes? Can I help you find something?”

“I’m hoping you can point me in the direction of the nearest police station.”

“Is something wrong?” Sylvia’s brow furrowed. “Has something happened?”

“No… no.” Adam shook his head. No point in sharing his thoughts with Sylvia, his curiosity about a suspicious death. “No, nothing like that. I just thought I might have a chance to stop in and introduce myself, say hello. Get to know my Polish counterparts. That sort of thing.”

“Ah.” Sylvia nodded. “Of course, I should have realized. I’m sorry.” She glanced at her watch. “I do have to stop by my office before we all meet for dinner. Between my work and my classes I’ve missed a lot over the past few days… but I think there’s time for me to take you to the police station on the way.”

Adam followed Sylvia as she led him down
Aleje Krakowskie Przedmiescie
, the avenue that ran in front of their hotel, to a nearby tram stop. Pale stone and marble buildings lined the street. Elegant arched windows looked out from below decorative cornices, muted greens and grays showing as highlights against the light facades of the carefully renovated buildings.

Casually dressed students pushed past women in fur coats and men in business suits on the crowded sidewalk. As they stepped to the side to avoid a group of students, Adam put his hand on her back. He felt a tingle run through his fingers as he touched her, but if she felt it, too, she gave no indication.

“So what do you think about our time here?” He smiled.

She looked up at him without a word, so he kept babbling. “I’m just asking for your take on things, what you think about our activities here. That’s all.”

“I see.” She didn’t smile back. “I think your work here is very important, Mr. Kaminski. I believe we must strengthen our ties with the United States if Poland is to grow and thrive.”

“Is that why you agreed to serve as our guide?”

“It is.” Sylvia nodded. “Plus this is one more way for me to learn about America — your language, your culture.”

“Your English is perfect already, I don’t know how much you can improve on that.”

He hoped she’d appreciate the compliment, but her face remained grave. “I take every opportunity I can to strengthen my knowledge and skills, Mr. Kaminski. You know that I work for the Warsaw government, of course. But I am also a student, at the
Szkoła Głowa Handlowa
, the Warsaw School of Economics.”

“Studying Polish economics?”

“No.” The smile she gave him made Adam feel like a student himself, one who’d just asked an obvious question. “I am taking an international MBA program in English. This way, I learn international business and improve my English skills, and have a chance to meet other students from all over the world.”

“That’s ambitious.”

She shrugged. “I take every opportunity I can to develop my career. To be successful.” Her pale blue eyes stared out at the street as she spoke, giving the impression she was speaking to herself rather than to Adam.

He waited, but she added nothing more. He finally broke the silence. “I only just got added to this team at the last minute, you know. Three days ago I had no idea I’d be here.”

“You are glad that you are here, no?”

“No… I mean, yes. I’m sorry, I’m not saying things right.” Adam shrugged and smiled, raising his hand to his cheek. He gestured at the street around them. “I love history. Being in a place like this makes it all so real. It’s almost like seeing history firsthand, if you know what I mean.”

Sylvia smiled at him. “I am glad to hear that you are a fan of history. For that is something we have quite a lot of here in Poland.”

Adam laughed. “Someone who can make history jokes, I like that.” He glanced at Sylvia, then looked back down at his hands. “It is serious, though, isn’t it?”

“History?” Sylvia asked, her brow furrowing.

“Sure,” Adam shrugged. “You know what they say, those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.”

Sylvia’s smile faded and Adam noticed small lines forming around her eyes, as if she were about to squeeze her eyes shut but changed her mind.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Adam put his hand out toward her, then pulled it back, unsure.

“No, no.” Sylvia waved away his concern and his hand. “I’m fine. It’s just here we have what you in America might call a love-hate relationship with history.” She shook her head but her smile didn’t return.

Adam was about to ask her what she meant when the next tram came, already overflowing with people. Sylvia and Adam stepped into the back of the car, gripping overhead leather straps for balance as the tram lurched through the city streets.

“There,
Ulica Miodowa
.” Sylvia pointed out a tree-lined street to Adam as they crossed over it. “That is where I live, just off the Old Town Square, a building called
Wojska Polskiego
, named for the church next door.”

Adam nodded and ducked his head to watch as the yellow stone buildings that lined the cobblestoned street passed out of view. “It’s a beautiful area.”

“It is. The apartment belonged to my grandmother, who left it to my mother, who passed it on to me. My neighbors all knew my mother when she was young, so it feels like I am always surrounded by family.”

She smiled, and Adam’s attention was diverted from the beauty of the neighborhood to the beauty of her smile, the faint scent of lavender that surrounded her.

The tram pushed forward, turning along Warsaw’s crooked streets.