She paused and leant forward in the chair, her hands clasped together tightly. ‘I am frightened, John,’ she said simply.
‘You need to tell me what’s happening.’
‘We need to go and see someone who can help.’
We waited for the evening to draw in. I had a shower, she made coffee, and then I smoked without counting. She spoke about her life in Warsaw before she moved to Cardiff and the regulations and restrictions in Poland that made life in Wales easier. She explained about her schooling and how she’d gone to university to learn English. Her family lived in the city and when I suggested I meet them she gave me a kindly smile. We drank more coffee and ate stale sandwiches she’d kept in the refrigerator. Eventually we left from a rear entrance and drew our coats up against the rain that sheeted down. We hurried through the street towards the middle of town, until Dagmara decided we should catch a tram. We stood at the rear and she kept looking at every passenger that came on board. She dragged me off the first tram just as the doors closed and then boarded a second. After two more changes we found ourselves at the end of the line and the tram stopped in a turning circle.
I followed her as she marched off down a side street. The houses were smaller now and the roads narrower. The rain had abated and we could walk without the rain splashing on our shoes.
Dagmara suddenly stopped and pushed her shoulder against a doorway that led into a small alleyway, which was dark and damp. Water dripped down the wall on one side and she led me through to the rear. Another door led to a flight of stairs; we climbed to the top floor and I stood, catching my breath for a second.
‘Down here,’ Dagmara said, pointing down the landing.
Our footsteps echoed over the uncarpeted floorboards. She knocked gently on one of the doors and we heard movement from inside. The door opened against a chain, Dagmara whispered something in Polish and then the door closed as we heard the chain fall away.
Inside the floorboards were dark and creaked with every step we took. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke and we followed a man, no more than thirty, maybe less, into the main room of the flat. He had golden-coloured stubble, not thick – just wispy and unkempt – and deep sunken eyes that stared really hard.
‘This is Tomas,’ Dagmara said.
Tomas nodded. I nodded back; he seemed familiar.
Dagmara said something in Polish. Tomas replied, followed by a knock on the door. He turned his head and made a movement with his hand towards his jacket pocket.
‘It’s them,’ Dagmara said. She opened the door and Michal’s parents came into the flat. They sat down on the old sofa with flattened cushions and Mrs Dąbek let out a long exhausted sigh.
‘My wife sick,’ Antoniusz Dąbek said.
‘I am dying,’ his wife said slowly. Then she coughed and I watched her body heaving in pain. ‘The cancer is all in my body.’
‘Where is Markus?’ Antoniusz said.
‘He should be here by now,’ Dagmara replied.
‘I not stay long. My wife…’
Dagmara found her mobile and typed out a text. Tomas moved to the window and drew back the heavy curtain.
‘He’s good at replying to texts,’ she said, looking at me for reassurance.
It was time I knew who we were waiting for. ‘And who exactly is Markus?’
‘Markus has been helping Antoniusz,’ Dagmara said, looking over at Michal’s father.
‘I have nothing left. You must understand this Mr Marco,’ Antoniusz said. ‘Michal is gone and my wife, she…’ He tightened his jaw. ‘Lech Balinski must…’ He drew a finger slowly across his neck, the hatred burning in his eyes.
Dagmara said something to him in Polish and he relaxed and sat back in the chair.
‘Antoniusz has lost Michal and now his wife will be dead from cancer very soon. He has nothing to live for. When he talked to Markus about Michal he learnt about Lech Balinski. Markus is journalist who has been making research about this man. How the Mafia works in Poland and about the girls that they take to England. Antoniusz asks Markus for help. Michal had much money in his bank account and was moving money to Lech here in Warsaw.’
‘Lech bad man,’ Antoniusz said, his voice thick and rough. His skin was a dark-grey colour and the bags underneath his narrow eyes were tinged black. He had the look of a man out for revenge.
‘Antoniusz has given Markus everything he knows about Lech. And when Michal was home one time he gave Markus some paper with a code on it with numbers and letters. Markus knows what the code is about.’
‘A code?’
I wanted to believe that this was the piece of the jigsaw I needed to complete the case. It had brought me halfway across Europe, into a flat in the suburbs of Warsaw with frightened Poles, so it had to mean something.
‘Markus can tell you when he arrives,’ Dagmara said.
Tomas hadn’t moved since Antoniusz had arrived. He leant against a wall near the window, his eyes scanning the room. He’d pulled back the curtains a couple of times and peered out. Dagmara would look over and he’d shake his head slowly.
Antoniusz sat up and tried more faltering English until he gave up and Dagmara translated.
‘He is proud man who was proud of his son for being in the army and for going to university. They had sacrificed a lot for Michal. They didn’t want him to go to England and work for Lech.’
‘Work for Lech?’ I said. The shock was evident in my voice.
Antoniusz nodded.
‘What was he doing? I mean how did he know? When did this start?’
Dagmara glanced at her watch and then at Tomas who shook his head again, more slowly this time.
‘He was working for Lech in Cardiff… how you say? Watching over Frankie Prince.’
‘What, he was Lech’s grass?’ I said, with incredulity in my voice.
‘Grass?’ Dagmara asked.
‘Informer. Working for someone else.’
Antoniusz nodded his head.
‘Why was he doing that?’ I said.
‘It was good money.’ Dagmara paused. ‘Lech had much friends in Russian Mafia and they gave him money for him to give to Frankie Prince in Cardiff. Money from Frankie’s clubs and girls and drugs go back to Poland. If Frankie did not pay Lech, then Lech did not pay Russians, and bad things happen to Lech.’
I imagined Lech’s hands holding a pair of garden secateurs or pliers or scissors or whatever else he used to cut tongues out. I reckoned he could look after himself.
‘I know it was stupid John, but Michal wanted to start business back in Poland in computers. It takes so much money to start and he had nothing, so…’
‘So he gets himself killed. What happened?’
‘He became friends with Leon and then Maria and soon he wanted not to be involved with Lech and Frankie. He wanted to be free of them and what they were doing. He saw what they were doing to Maria and the other girls and their families. He knew all about Frankie’s business and all the money.’
Michal would never have been free of Lech or Frankie Prince. Once he was in with them there was no way out. But it was too late for Michal and for his mother. His father hadn’t moved in the chair and kept staring at me through dark lifeless eyes.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?’ I said, realising that Dagmara knew everything.
‘We wanted to be certain…’
‘Certain? About how many people have been killed? You must be mad. Does Anna know all of this? Has she got something to do with it?’ I could feel the anger building.
She bowed her head and stared at the floor for a moment. ‘Michal was clever with computers and he knew about everything Frankie Prince was doing and about the club. He made a record of everything about the money. But Frankie found out and…’
‘It got him killed?’
Dagmara nodded.
‘And where is the computer?’ I asked, remembering the trashed flats, the hotel lockers and the left luggage storage at Cardiff railway station.
/>
She shrugged and looked at Tomas. But he was looking out of the window.
‘It’s the computer that got him killed and Leon killed and Maria. Must be,’ I said. It was a statement, not a question.
‘He late.’ It was the first thing Tomas had said.
Immediately Dagmara got up and paced around the room.
‘This is bad. He promised to be here. It was a time suggested by him we meet.’
Antoniusz sat impassively with his wife, who coughed again, bending her whole body forward.
‘We go now,’ Dagmara said. ‘I speak to Markus and we see him tomorrow.’
We left Antoniusz and his wife and Tomas in the flat and retraced our steps to the tram stop. The rain had stopped but it was colder, and water was still lying in puddles on the pavement. A couple of cars passed, their radios blaring. On the journey through the city Dagmara stabbed out various texts on her mobile and then stared at the screen waiting for replies.
We stepped out of the final tram and as we walked to her flat she spoke for the first time since we left Antoniusz.
‘I’m not happy, John. Markus should have replied and I text many other people about him – and nothing.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘Other side of town,’ she said, without conviction.
The hallway of her apartment building was still dark and dismal when we pushed open the door and she hurried to the stairs. Inside the flat she made coffee and pulled some pastries from the fridge. She sat down heavily next to me on the sofa, cupping a mug of coffee. I wanted to pull her close and feel her next to me, but her mind was far away.
‘Who is Tomas?’ I said.
‘A friend.’
‘Why was he there?’
‘He was in Special Forces of Poland with Michal and Leon.’
‘Of course. That’s why he was familiar. He was in the photograph, the one in Michal’s possessions. ‘So what does he know?’
‘I am frightened, John.’
She put the mug down on the table and put her hand on my leg. I could feel the warmth of her body and I put my hand on hers and pulled her close to me. She kissed me on the cheek, but she lingered. I could feel her breath on my skin and I could see the colour of her eyes. I ran my hand over her shoulder and down over her breast. She moved her lips close to mine and then I kissed her gently and I could feel her body relax as she kissed me back. I fumbled with her blouse as she pressed her hand against my trousers and then undid my belt.
We left the coffee unfinished and the pastries untouched.
Chapter 35
I woke with a start in a large bed under a heavy duvet. I reached out over the white sheet but the bed was empty. Then I heard the banging and realised that someone was at the door. It was still dark and I reached for my mobile – it was almost seven and I noticed the three unread messages. I dragged on my shirt and by the time I was at the front door the banging had turned to loud voices, saying something in Polish.
I opened the door and the colonel pushed past me. ‘What you do in Warsaw?’ he began, as another man in uniform walked in behind him. ‘And where is Dagmara Sobczak?’
‘She’s not here,’ I said.
‘This is Under-Inspector Jorge PuŁawska. I told you to speak to him but instead you come here. This is very stupid.’
The under-inspector crossed his arms and gave me a defiant look.
‘I had an urgent call from Dagmara,’ I said.
The colonel walked around the room.
‘What was urgent?’
The coffee mugs from the night before were still on the table and the pastries had dried even more overnight. I picked up the plates and took them through to the kitchen, buying time so that I could think clearly.
‘I need to have some coffee,’ I said.
I rubbed my face with both hands, chasing away the sleep and then I filled the coffee pot.
‘Dagmara wanted to see me,’ I said. ‘Did you know that Michal Dąbek was working for Lech?’
I watched for the reaction, but neither man blinked. Not a quiver. So they knew and now I had the upper hand. I continued. ‘What else should I know?’
‘These are dangerous people and we have much work to do,’ the colonel said.
‘And I’ve got four murders back in Cardiff. Withholding evidence is a serious matter.’
‘We have an ongoing investigation into Lech Balinski and his connections to the Russian Mafia,’ PuŁawska said, an American twang to his accent. ‘There are lot of different agencies involved. We liaise with your Serious Fraud Office in London. And we have our own sources of information.’
‘Sources of information. That sounds grand,’ I said. ‘You mean informants.’
He nodded slowly.
‘You need to go home this afternoon and not interfere any more.’
A strong smell of coffee filled the kitchen.
The colonel added, ‘We send car for you later to take you to airport.’
Once both men had left I knew I had messages to pick up, but I needed a shower first. The bathroom was cold, and goose pimples raced over my body as I waited for the water to heat up. Afterwards I sat, drinking more coffee, before calling Dagmara, but the messaging service clicked in on the first ring.
I checked my voicemail and listened to a message from Boyd telling me to call Cornock and two messages from the Superintendent himself. I glanced at the time and, realising that Boyd would still be at home, I dialled his number.
After a couple of seconds I heard the muffled voice on the end of the line.
‘Boyd,’ I said.
‘What’s the time?’ He sounded half-asleep and I could hear another voice in the background.
‘Early. What did you want?’
‘Cornock’s after you. Superintendent Cornock I mean, and he’s not pleased. I heard that Banks had been to see him again. When are you coming back?’
‘Looks like later today. I’ve just had a visit from the colonel.’
‘You need to call Superintendent Cornock,’ he reminded me, before I finished the call.
Cracks of daylight appeared around the edges of the thick curtains hanging at the windows and I wondered where Dagmara might be. I thought about the warmth of her body and curve of her hips and the smoothness of her back. And then my mobile rang and I saw her number.
‘Where are you?’ I said. ‘I’ve had a visit from a security services colonel who saw me in Cardiff and an under-inspector of police.’
‘Who was the policeman?’
‘Jorge something or other.’
She described Jorge to me. ‘That’s him,’ I said. ‘They’re going to send a car for me this afternoon. Told me not to interfere.’
‘I speak to my friend Markus. He was sorry about last night. He see us later this morning. I will collect you later and we go there.’
Before I could say anything else the line went dead. I paced around the flat, thinking about Frankie and Lech and Jorge’s comments about the Russian Mafia. Frankie had acquired the house in the Vale, the health club, the tenanted properties and the art gallery very quickly. Dangerous people PuŁawska had said and I knew that Michal had lost his life meddling with them. Standing in the cold flat in the back streets of Warsaw I realised Markus was my best hope of securing the evidence to prosecute Lech and Frankie.
Cornock’s answer machine clicked on when I called his number. I left a message telling him I was making progress and that I’d be back on the afternoon flight. I sent Trish a text and as I sent it I heard a key in the door. Dagmara walked in.
She kissed me on the lips.
‘You left early this morning,’ I said.
‘I had to speak to Markus. He can see us later.’
She kicked off her shoes and slumped onto the sofa. She looked older, somehow, than when we first met.
‘The colonel knew about Michal working for Lech.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘You knew as well.’
‘Don’t sound surp
rised, John. Michal told me a lot of things. He didn’t want to work for Lech in the end. He found out what Lech and Frankie were doing.’
‘He must have known what they did before he started.’
‘Michal was young and he wanted to make money to start computer business. Once he became friends with Leon and Maria things changed.’
‘I need to know where this is going, Dagmara,’ I said. ‘What is Markus going to be able to tell me? I need evidence.’
‘He says he knows what the code from Michal means.’
I realised that I hadn’t started my daily fix, so I found my cigarettes and lit up.
‘Has he got Michal’s computer?’
She looked away.
‘Dagmara?’
‘He says he know where it could be. And…’
‘What?’
‘There is much Markus believes will help you with the case.’
‘What has he told you?’
Her mobile buzzed and her face turned an icy colour as she stood up.
‘There is something wrong. I go to see Markus on my own – you come when I call you.’ She scribbled the address on a piece of paper.
‘It’s not safe, Dagmara. I’ll come with you.’
‘It is better I go alone.’
I wanted to grab her, hold on to her but she was out of the door before I could protest. The flat was empty without her and I felt a small part of my world leave with her. After half an hour of glancing at my watch I decided that I couldn’t wait.
I scurried around the corner outside the block of flats and found a taxi. I told the driver I was late and he raced the car through the streets to the address I’d given him. We pulled up outside another dismal, grey building with rusting windows.
In the main hall were banks of letterboxes with names and numbers printed on them, all a dirty yellow colour, battered from years of use. I could hear the sounds of families arguing, children running in confined areas and the smell of more cabbage and onions and sausages.
The flat was at the far end of the landing. A single bare light was suspended from the ceiling and it cast a weak shadow along the corridor. I reached the door of Markus’s flat and hesitated. It was ajar. I pushed it tentatively before going in.
Speechless Page 25
