by David Barry
The manager looked amused. ‘The mother of his child, yes?’
‘That’s the one,’ I said.
‘OK, you come back tomorrow. He will be here.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘He is here every day. I don’t know why not today. You come here tomorrow.’
I smiled, guessing he wanted more easy money. ‘Let’s hope he’s here for both our sakes.’
***
I came out of the mobile phone shop with a brand new Nokia in my pocket. As a potential customer it gave me leverage to ask them to set it up ready to make calls, dispense with the packaging, and put a two-hundred zloty credit on it, which was roughly equivalent to forty pounds’ worth of calls. At least I could go back to the hotel now and phone home, then speak to Nicky to see if there was any news from Alice. But it was only eighteen hours since the shooting, so the police questioning was likely to be at full throttle, and I pitied poor Alice after all she had been through, being thrown into a police cell, then questioned as a criminal rather than a victim.
I decided to walk back along the Planty, a ring of parkland surrounding the Old Town. As I reached the tree-lined walk I heard a screech behind me and looked round as a young skate boarder almost collided with an elderly woman. Had I not turned around at that moment I wouldn’t have spotted him. He was a long way back and it couldn’t have been a coincidence. I wondered what the American from the internet café was doing following a hundred yards behind me. He froze for a moment then dodged sideways behind an embracing couple. It was a stupid thing to do because if he’d ignored me and carried on walking, I might have believed his presence in the park was nothing more than a coincidence. Now I was certain he was tailing me.
I turned away quickly and carried on walking, hoping he didn’t realise I’d spotted him. As I walked briskly along the path, weaving in and out of Sunday dawdlers, I was at a loss to know what I should do. I was desperately vulnerable, a stranger in this Polish city, powerless to expect any help and, although I was surrounded by hordes of visitors, I had never felt so alone before.
I strolled slowly towards the main square and the Cloth Hall, deciding my best bet was to sit outside a café in a public place, and calm myself with an ice cold beer. That way I could keep my eye on the man following me.
As I sipped my beer, I spotted him in a souvenir shop, turning a carousel of postcards with pretended interest, just a few buildings along from the café in which I sat. It seemed obvious he wasn’t going to let me out of his sight, and would try to find out which hotel I was staying at. Was he one of Eclipse’s men? If so, how was it he knew where to find me? Someone must have told them I’d left England and was here in Krakow, and guessed I’d head for the internet café. Then he must have overheard me making enquiries from the proprietor and followed me. But none of it made much sense. No one, other than Alice and Nicky, knew I was in Krakow. What the hell was going on? I was stuck in a maze where no exit seemed possible and the walls seemed to be closing in on me.
I stared across at the Cloth Hall and saw crowds flocking in and out of both entrances of the ground floor of the huge rectangular building. I looked it up in my pocket guide book and saw a photograph of the inside, an enormous market place with stalls selling linen, folk art and local sculptures. I decided my best bet would be to enter one end of the Cloth Hall, try and lose him in the crowd, exit the other end, then try to shake him off by dashing along some of the narrow streets leading from the square.
I paid for the beer, hurriedly left the café and quickly crossed the square without looking back to see if I was being followed. I turned into the Cloth Hall, breathing in a heady aroma of incense and wood, and weaved in and out of the shoppers, heading for the opposite end of the building. I stopped halfway across, pretending to examine a carving of a Madonna and child. From the corner of my eye I saw him enter the hall, clearly scanning the area until his eyes met mine. I knew then he wasn’t worried about being spotted and was unlikely to let me out of his sight. I started to panic, worried about Eclipse and his men finding my hotel, visualizing the late night visit and the sudden attack. I began to sprint, dodging between the shoppers. I barged into an overweight man, and felt his heavy gasp as he was winded, but kept moving as fast as I could for the other exit. I got to the wide open doorway, glanced hastily over my shoulder, and saw the American elbowing his way through the crowds after me, and only a five or six yards behind. I dashed out into the square, but the concourse was wide. There was only one thing for it. I ran full pelt for the nearest street which was probably a good 150 yards away. I had covered half the ground, glanced over my shoulder, and saw the American was also running flat out. As soon as I got to the street, I saw it was short and narrow and there was an alley leading off it to another street. I turned quickly and ran into the alley, then turned right into the next street. I ran past restaurants, bars and shops. Up ahead it looked like a main street and I could see a taxi rank. As I put on an extra spurt, I saw people staring at me in amazement. Nobody in Krakow dashed anywhere on a Sunday which was a day for a leisurely pace.
Panting heavily I reached the taxi rank and climbed into the back of the cab at the front of the queue. He said something to me in Polish and I replied breathlessly in English.
‘Can you take me to the castle by the Vistula? I’m in a hurry. I have to meet someone there and I’m late.’
I remembered seeing in my tourist guide a castle near the river bank but I couldn’t remember it’s name. As he pulled out into the road, the cabby said, ‘Wawel castle.’
‘That’s the one. I forgot the name.’
I glanced out of the rear window and saw the American climbing into the next cab. I took a hundred zloty note out of my pocket and held it up so the driver saw it in his mirror. ‘The man in the taxi behind is following me. Here’s an extra hundred on top of the fare if you can lose him.’
He changed into a lower gear and revved the engine. The taxi shot forward and crossed dangerously close in front of a tram, which let off a warning clang. The taxi driver grinned. ‘Hey! Am I in a movie?’
‘Nothing so exciting,’ I said, glancing at the road behind. There were no taxis following. ‘Just the woman’s husband, and he has every reason to want me in hospital.’
The cabbie sniggered. ‘I hope the lady was good. Dirty.’
In spite of my fear, I laughed, which was partly out of relief; because when I looked out of the rear window, I saw we had lost him.
‘You still want the castle?’ the driver asked.
I thought about it for a moment. Although I was not in the mood for sightseeing, there was very little I could do until the following morning and needed to kill some time. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Take me to the castle. It’s a nice day for it.’
Chapter 30
Monday 14 October 2013
As I walked along the park that bordered the Old Town at nine that morning, I felt nervousness rising in my throat like a dry stone. I was a fish on dry land. This was not my territory, it belonged to this Russian and his henchmen. Even if I found him, it was doubtful I stood much of a chance of defeating him. Who was I trying to kid? I asked myself. This was not some stupid computer game, a fantasy I could just shut down when the game ended. I knew there was little chance of getting to Eclipse, especially now I knew his American sidekick was there to protect him. I decided it was time re-evaluate the situation.
I sat on a park bench to think things through. Alice had warned me not to take any risks and had even suggested a visit to the British Consulate if necessary. Fortunately I still had the flash drive and I thought I could convince someone at the consulate that this Russian needed immediate investigation then arrest by the Polish police. But in spite of all the evidence on my flash drive, as far as officials were concerned, it could have been fiction. It wasn’t evidence, merely a written statement of events by Alice and me. And Eclipse
was smart at concealing his identity, as he had been for many years. My only glimmer of hope was in my conviction that there is always someone smarter, and if Brad Shapiro could disclose his true identity...
While I sat staring into space, wondering what action to take, my mobile vibrated in my pocket, which I answered immediately. It was Michelle calling. I had rung her last night, given her my number and wasn’t expecting a call back so soon. It was at least an hour earlier in England, so I wondered what was so important for her to ring at this hour, as she was about to run Olivia to school.
Her voice was loud and clear, as if she was calling from nearby.
‘Freddie! That bastard’s started harassing Olivia again.’
I felt a jolt in my head where the laptop had hit me. ‘What? Tell me exactly what happened.’
‘As she got ready for school, Olivia checked her email. The bastard said he’s going to... to... ‘
‘Calm down, sweetheart. Tell me what he said.’
I heard Michelle sobbing, then she cleared her throat to control herself.
‘He said he’s going to snatch her and take her to his dungeon where lots of older men will... will have sex with her. She’ll be a sex slave and he’ll soon be coming to get her. Freddie! What the fuck is going on? You said this American bloke had sorted the problem.’
‘I thought he had. But now I’m going to sort it myself.’
‘What d’you mean? How can you?’
‘I know where this bastard operates from, Michelle. From an internet café here in Krakow. I’ve been there, and I know how to find him.’
Catching her breath, Michelle shouted,’ He’s dangerous, Freddie. This man is dangerous.’
‘No, he’s not,’ I lied. ‘He’s a sick-minded geek, and I’m going to follow him home and beat the shit out of him.’
‘Oh, God! I can’t believe this is happening. Isn’t there anything else you can do? Can’t you call the police over there?’
‘If I can’t sort it myself, I will. I promise you. I’ll get in touch with the British Consulate and get them to call the Polish police. But first I’d like to find out where he lives, and see if he’s got all kinds of child porn at his place.’
‘Why not let the police do that, Freddie?’
‘Because they’ll need search warrants, and before they can get warrants they’ll need some proof. And there isn’t any proof, Michelle. That’s the problem.’
I heard her crying again. ‘Oh, Freddie. This is a nightmare. I can’t believe it’s happening.’
‘I’ll sort it, sweetheart. I promise you, whatever happens it’ll be sorted. And I’m going to get straight on to it, right away.’
‘Oh, Freddie! Be careful!’
‘I will, Michelle. Please try not to worry. I’ll do everything in my power to stop this bastard. I love you, sweetheart.’
‘I love you too, Freddie. Please be careful.’
‘I will.’
I hung up and pocketed the phone. My anger was white-hot and I wanted to leap up, run all the way to the internet café, identify the Russian, and punch his lights out. But I knew I needed to calm down and think it through. I decided my original plan to pay the manager of the café to identify the Russian, then follow him home, might be wrecked if the American was present. If that was the case, then I could jump in a taxi and go to the British Consulate and try to involve the police.
But first of all I wanted to take a good look at this evil bastard.
***
The café was not as busy as the day before, with less than half the internet booths occupied. As I entered, the girl came forward to serve me, but stopped as the manager, at the far end of the counter by the door, said something to her in Polish. She gave me a smile and I carried on to the end of the counter, ready to part with the one hundred zloty note if the Russian was here.
The manager grinned and shook hands with me, acting the part of an old acquaintance. ‘Ah! How are you, my friend?’
‘Not so bad,’ I replied. ‘Good to see you again.’
His grin widened, enjoying the deception, and I became anxious in case he gave the game away by not taking it so seriously. But then I had given him a different story about why I was looking for the Russian, one which he found amusing about the pregnant girl. Then his smile vanished, his eyes became hard and businesslike and he leaned towards me, his elbows on the counter.
‘He’s here,’ he said conspiratorially. ‘Be careful not to turn round. He is in booth number ten, over by the window. But first let us discuss money.’
‘I thought we had agreed on one hundred.’
He tapped the side of his nose and the grin returned. ‘What I find out is worth double. I make enquiries and I have more information to give you.’ Seeing the worried expression on my face, he added reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry. My enquiries were...’ He made a circular movement with his hand as he struggled to find the right word. ‘How do you say it?’
‘Discreet?’ I suggested.
He nodded. ‘Yes, I make discreet enquiries. And what I find out will take you to his home. Worth two hundred zlotys, yes? And I will throw in a large espresso so it looks like you are here for a friendly chat.’
‘OK,’ I agreed. ‘It’s a deal.’
‘Maria!’ he called to the girl. ’Large espresso for my friend here.’
It was said loudly, and I got the impression he enjoyed the duplicity, putting on an act for his own satisfaction, as if indulging in a private joke.
I got another hundred zloty note out of my wallet and discreetly slid both notes across the counter towards him as if I was paying for coffee. They vanished under the counter this time into his trouser pocket. He leant forward again, and lowered his voice almost to a whisper.
‘I found out this Alexei lives in Nowa Huta.’
I shook my head and stared questioningly at him. ‘Means nothing to me.
‘It is a town on the outside of Krakow, built by the Soviets, and this Alexei travels by tram every day. A half hour ride on trams number 4 or 15.’
‘Right, so if I followed him out to this...’
‘Nowa Huta.’
‘I’ve never been to Krakow before. If I go by tram, like other European cities, do I need to buy a tram ticket in advance?’
He jerked a thumb to the back of the café. ‘Behind this building there is a kiosk. You can buy tickets there. When you get on the tram you punch ticket in machine. Go and get the tickets now, then come back and have your coffee. This Alexei usually spends all day here. But today he must have other business, because he only books one hour of internet.’
As I crossed towards the door, I glanced at the Russian in booth number ten. Because he was staring intently and closely at the computer screen, I couldn’t get a good look at his face, but his head I could see was as hairless and smooth as an egg, and he wore an American-style windcheater in bright red with a yellow baseball style motif and number on one side. Good. It would make tailing him easier without fear of losing him.
Once I had purchased my tram ticket, I hurried back to the café, where my coffee sat on the counter in front of Ludwik.
‘Enjoy your coffee,’ he said, and smiled as he watched me taking a sip. ‘It’s good coffee, yes?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But not worth ten pounds.’
He laughed, and I got the impression we had run out of things to say to one another now that our business was concluded. There was nothing to do but wait another half hour until the Russian’s internet booking expired. My biggest worry now was that if the American should turn up. Although the American hadn’t seemed like a typical tough-guy, and had looked more like a college-educated businessman, it didn’t mean he wasn’t the Russian’s bodyguard and someone to be reckoned with. He had looked like an American secret service agent, one of those suite
d-and-booted clones straight out of a Hollywood movie.
I felt nervous and glanced at the door every time a new customer entered. Sensing my anxiety, the manager seemed amused by it, and broke the silence with a deluge of London reminiscences about Soho and Covent Garden pubs. I felt so disconnected from this shared small talk on London watering holes, I was relieved to see the Russian closing down his computer ten minutes ahead of time. Without so much as a glance in our direction, he got up, nodded at the girl, said something to her in Polish, then exited.
I was slightly reassured by the Russian’s height. He was short, no more than five-six, maybe shorter than that. I’m six foot, with quite a big build, but I wasn’t going to kid myself the little Russian guy might not be as hard as they come. I was briefly reminded of Bill. There were very few blokes tougher than him.
‘Good luck,’ the manager whispered. ‘Take care.’
I thanked him, waited until the Russian had walked fifty yards away from the café and followed. He walked back towards the Old Town but branched left along one of the main thoroughfares. He had no idea who I was, so there was no need to act furtively and pretend I wasn’t walking purposefully in the same direction as him. He halted at a tram stop and I was pleased to see a queue of at least half a dozen other people. I got on the end of the queue, and we waited less than five minutes when a clang of a bell signalled the arrival of a number 15 tram. There were two boarding and exit doors, and when I saw the Russian climb aboard at the one nearest the front, I boarded towards the rear and punched my ticket into the machine’s slot. Although I knew nothing about our destination and where to get off, because the café manager had told me it was a thirty minute ride, I thought I could relax and study the pocket guidebook for a while, which described the town as vast working-class district which had become something of a tourist attraction. Originally an enormous steelworks development, paid for by the Soviet Union, the area housed hundreds of thousands of people, and is the only complete socialist-realist town in the EU in an architectural style typical of the Communist era.
