‘How can this have anything to do with your job? This all happened fifty years ago.’
‘I can’t tell you now, but please.’
‘Well...’ said her father, with obvious reluctance. ‘I never saw it... I only heard about it. The Uprising started on August 1, but by the middle of the month the Germans had pushed us right back into the Old Town. We tried to join up with the other insurgents in the town centre. Our “Zoska” battalion actually managed to do it. But the rest had to escape through the sewers – nearly four and a half thousand of them, and that’s when we started to hear stories.’
‘Go on,’ Sarah urged him. ‘What kind of stories?’
‘Maybe the older men made them up to frighten us messenger-boys. As if we weren’t frightened enough! Maybe they invented this thing to make sure that we ran our errands as quickly as we could. As if anybody would dawdle down those sewers! The way they told it, this thing had first appeared after the Germans took the last building in which the Home Army were holding out, in Ochota – 60 Wawelska Street, that was a famous address! Most of the insurgents managed to get through the sewers safely, back to the town centre. But a few of the stragglers didn’t make it.
‘The last man to come out of the sewers said that he and his friends had been chased through the sewers by something dark. He didn’t know what it was, but he said that his friends had all been killed. The next day a party of volunteers went back to look for them, and found them with their heads cut off. After that, it was supposed to have happened again and again. Usually, there were no witnesses – or none that survived. But occasionally we’d hear these reports that men had been found beheaded, and that something dark had hunted them down. Once or twice, people said that they had seen its face, this thing, but I expect they were pulling our legs. They said that it looked like a child, almost like an angel, or a saint, so we took to calling it the Tunnel Child. Of course, we surrendered on October 2, and that was the end of that. I never heard about the Tunnel Child, ever again.’
‘Do you think it could have been real?’
‘I don’t know. But it scared me, all the same. I had nightmares about it for years and years. I kept seeing this tiny white face and this huge black body, and it was chasing me through the sewers, night after night.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ said Sarah. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘I only get upset because I think of all the good people who died. Eighteen thousand insurgents, all dead; and six thousand badly wounded. What was far worse, 180,000 civilians were killed. Can you imagine that many people, if they stood in the street outside your apartment?’
‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
‘Oh, come on... I don’t want to start getting morbid. But you’re a Pole, too. Once in a while, you should remember the people who fought for you.’
He passed Sarah over to her mother, who clucked at him for talking about such depressing things. Sarah chatted for a while about her new apartment, and told her that everything was well; but it was difficult for her to concentrate. She kept thinking of the pale, childlike face that had pursued her father through so many nightmares, and which was now pursuing her.
When she was finished, she called Irena and asked her to go to the Marriott Hotel, pack Clayton’s belongings, and settle his account. She hung up, and gave Clayton a silent apology for treating him as if he had simply ceased to exist; but she promised him a proper funeral later.
*
At eleven o’clock that night, the Senate Hotel site on Marszalkowska was brightly lit. Three police cars were parked outside, but the police had only been called to keep sightseers away, and they were standing around laughing and smoking. Rej parked half way up the sidewalk, and a policeman sidled over to move him on. Rej showed his badge, and snapped, ‘Take that dog-end out of your mouth. You’re supposed to be a law officer.’
‘Yes, komisarz. Sorry, komisarz.’
‘Slobs,’ Rej growled, helping Sarah out of the car.
They entered the site through the door in the hoarding. Nothing had been done since the three German workers had been killed, and the rough, brick-strewn soil was already overgrown with nettles and dock-leaves. Ben was already there, in a dramatic black Armani suit with flappy trousers. So was Jacek Studnicki, his hair shining in the lights; and two other executives from Vistula Kredytowy. Over to one side, to Sarah’s consternation, stood Roman Zboinski, surrounded by four of his shell-suited bodyguards. He grinned at Sarah when he saw her, his mouth opening up like a fissure in a limestone cliff, and said something to one of his bodyguards. She couldn’t lip-read, but from his expression she could have sworn that she saw him mouth something filthy.
Over to one side stood Jozef Brzezicki and his workmen, most of them dressed in their church-going clothes, although a few wore jeans. Brzezicki gave Sarah a solemn nod, and one or two of his workmen took off their hats. It was good to know that she was still respected somewhere.
Ben came over to Sarah and Rej with his hands in his pockets. He still had a sticking-plaster across the bridge of his nose. ‘Glad you could make it, sweetheart,’ he said.
‘What’s he doing here?’ asked Sarah, nodding towards Zboinski.
‘He’s a businessman. What sort of people do you think are going to be staying in this place, once we get it built?’
‘Murderers? Racketeers?’
‘What is it about women?’ said Ben, ignoring Sarah and turning to Rej. ‘They have no sense of humour whatsoever. I mean, when was the last time a woman made you laugh, apart from taking her clothes off?’
‘It sounded like a pretty good joke to me,’ said Rej. ‘Anyhow, thanks for inviting me. I never went to an exorcism before: it should be very enlightening.’
Ben slapped him on the shoulder. ‘I don’t know about enlightening, komisarz, but it might get these superstitious suckers back to work. Ah – here’s my priest now.’
Senate’s public relations director appeared, ushering in front of him with some embarrassment an elderly, painfully thin priest. The priest had a cockatoo’s-crest of fine white hair, and a sharp beak of a nose. ‘Father Xawery, over here!’ called Ben, and the old man came limping slowly up to them. He wore a long traditional cassock, buttoned all the way down, and shiny with wear.
‘Father Xawery has kindly agreed to conduct the exorcism for us,’ said Ben, as if an exorcism were nothing more exceptional than opening a new shop. He took a folded memo out of his pocket, and said, ‘He studied in Rome, didn’t you, Father Xawery; and then under Father Souquat, S.J., Superior of the Jesuit house at Strasbourg. So he might be old – you’re getting on a bit, aren’t you, Father Xawery? – but he exorcized a young woman in Cracow who left bloody footprints wherever she walked, and a farmgirl in Biala Rawska who kept having fits and talking in voices, in languages that nobody could understand. Are you listening to this, Mr Brzezicki? Our man here has a pretty damned impressive c.v. There won’t be any more devils on this site, not after tonight.’
Father Xawery approached Sarah and clasped her hand with fingers that felt like dry bones loosely wrapped in tissue paper. His right eye was glass, and stared all the time at a fixed point just over Sarah’s shoulder, so she kept thinking that somebody must be standing close behind her.
‘Something is troubling you,’ he said. ‘I don’t trouble you, do I?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I’m worried about what’s going to happen here tonight.’
‘Perhaps you don’t believe in devils, is that it? Or are you doubtful about my experience and my reverence?’
‘I don’t question your reverence, Father. I just don’t think that you know what you’re up against. This isn’t a question of young girls with epileptic fits; or children with Tourrette’s syndrome, swearing and scratching and jumping around.’
‘I realize that,’ said Father Xawery, still staring over Sarah’s shoulder. ‘I realize that men were killed here, by something unknown. I intend to confront that unknown being, and dismiss it.’
‘There you are, you see,’ said Ben, taking hold of Father Xawery’s arm. ‘A couple of prayers, a sprinkle of holy water, and we can start construction again. This way, Father. We’ve rigged up an altar for you, and everything you wanted. One Bible, one silver bowl, one medal of Saint Benedict, one picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour.’
‘Thank you, excellent,’ said Father Xawery. ‘And I’ve brought with me a special relic of my own. It was given to me by Monsieur Ignace Spies, the mayor of Selestat, and a man of great piety.’ He took a small brown bag out from under his habit and held it up. ‘The ring finger of Saint Gerard Majella, the great Redemptionist thaumaturge.’
‘Well, whatever,’ said Ben, and led Father Xawery up to the makeshift altar – one of the tables from the workmen’s huts, draped in a white tablecloth with a purple-and-gold border. Ben had found a large silver cross which he had set in the centre of it, along with all the other sacramental objects that Father Xawery had asked for. Father Xawery took out his stole, kissed it, and draped it around his neck. Then he kissed the Bible, and closed his eyes in prayer, to show that he hated sin in his heart. Brzezicki and some of his men closed their eyes, too.
Sarah glanced across at Roman Zboinski. He caught her eye and gave her a slow, suggestive wink. Rej saw it, too, but said nothing, and Sarah was amazed at his self-control, in the presence of the men who had shot his partner. She didn’t know that he was grinding his teeth.
At last, Father Xawery approached the edge of the excavations, right above the broken sewer pipe, and began to criss-cross the ground with holy water. ‘Remember not, Lord, our offences, or the offences of our forefathers, neither take Thou vengeance of our sins. Lord, hear our prayer.’
‘And let our cry come unto Thee,’ muttered the workmen, in response.
Now Father Xawery stood with his arms wide apart and his head thrown back. ‘I exorcise thee, most foul spirit, every coming in of the enemy, every apparition, every legion; in the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ be rooted out, and be put to flight from this place. He commands thee, Who has bid thee to be cast down from the highest heaven into the lower parts of the earth. He commands thee, Who has commanded the sea, the wind and the storms. Hear therefore, and fear, thou injurer of the faith, thou procurer of death, thou destroyer of life, kindler of vices, seducer of men, inciter of envy, origin of avarice, cause of discord, stirrer-up of troubles.
‘Depart; be humbled and be overthrown; the wilderness is thy abode. There is no time now for delay. For behold the Lord thy Ruler approaches closely upon thee, and His fire shall glow before Him and shall go before Him; and shall burn up His enemies on either side.’
Again, he sprinkled holy water on the ground. Then he began the ‘Our Father,’ starting it aloud, but continuing it secretly.
He had reached the words ‘...and deliver from us evil’, which were spoken aloud, when one of the arc lamps burst, sending out showers of orange sparks. Then another burst, and another, until the entire excavation site was plunged into darkness.
‘Brzezicki!’ roared Ben. ‘Get those emergency lights working!’
Brzezicki said, ‘We don’t have fuel for the generator.’
‘Well, replace those damned lamps then!’
‘I don’t know how many we’ve got. I’ll have to go to the stores and look for them.’
‘I want some light in this place, God damn it! Somebody’s going to get hurt!’
Everybody was jostling and pushing, so Sarah stayed close to Rej. Gradually, her eyes became accustomed to the dim glow from the streetlamps outside the site, and she could make out the white tablecloth and the shapes of the workmen’s huts. For a moment, however, she thought she saw a large shadowy shape moving across the ground, just beside the mounds of rubble where Brzezicki’s men were standing.
‘Rej,’ she said. ‘Do you see that?’
‘What? What am I supposed to be looking at?’
The shadow ran fluently across the makeshift altar, and then disappeared, swallowed into all the other shadows.
‘I’m sure I saw something. It was like a shadow, only it wasn’t.’
‘I think your imagination must be working overtime. Come on – why don’t we get out of here? This is a farce.’
‘Lights, for God’s sake!’ Ben was bellowing. ‘We’re trying to hold an exorcism here – a religious sacrament – not a goddamned slumber party!’
A single arc lamp was replaced, and snapped on. A ribald cheer went up from Brzezicki’s workmen. Another lamp snapped on, and then another. The excavation site was lit up again, and Jozef Brzezicki walked back to his position, dusting his hands in satisfaction.
It was then that everybody realized that Father Xawery had disappeared. ‘Did you see him?’ Ben demanded. ‘He was standing right here when the lights went out. He couldn’t have been more than two metres away from me!’
Zboinski and his men approached the altar but Rej got there first and warned them off with a look. ‘You didn’t see him moving, in the darkness?’
‘How could I, komisarz? A priest in a power cut? That’s like a crow in a coal mine.’
Rej gestured everybody to stand away, and he slowly walked around the altar, looking for footprints. Just by the hem of the tablecloth he found the small brown bag containing Saint Gerard Majella’s ring finger. He picked it up, and laid it on the altar next to the Bible. ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ he said, ‘he didn’t leave on purpose. This relic is priceless.’
He raised the side of the tablecloth, and Father Xawery’s magical disappearance was solved. He was crouched in the dirt, his bony hands covering his head. At first Sarah thought that he was dead, but then Rej laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Father. You can come out now. Here – let me give you a hand.’
Father Xawery crept out from under the altar on his knees and elbows. He hadn’t looked very well when he first arrived, but now his face had the colour and texture of a wasps’ nest, papery and pale. He was trembling so violently that he could hardly stand, and Brzezicki had to come over and support him.
‘So what happened to you?’ Ben wanted to know. ‘The lights went out, it was dark, that’s all. Don’t tell me you spend your life exorcizing demons, and you’re afraid of the dark!’
Father Xawery stared at him in horror. ‘I saw it!’ he wheezed. ‘It was coming straight for me! It was going to kill me, cut off my head!’
‘Oh, here we go,’ said Ben, throwing up his hands. ‘Of all the exorcists in the whole damn world, I have to pick one who actually sees demons! Great!’
‘Then you didn’t believe in any of this?’ Brzezicki challenged him. ‘You just set this up to make us feel that the devil had gone?’
‘What’s eating you?’ Ben retorted. He squared up to Brzezicki and tapped the foreman’s forehead with his finger. ‘Devils exist in here, Brzezicki. No place else. But I reckoned that if took an exorcism to persuade you bozos to get back to work, then I was more than happy to arrange it. Father Xawery’s a genuine exorcist... what the hell more did you want?’
‘I saw it!’ gasped Father Xawery, swivelling his head from side to side, his single eye staring. ‘It came rushing right up to me! All I could do was hold up my hands and pray to God to spare me.’
‘Hiding under the tablecloth wasn’t a bad move, either,’ said Ben.
Sarah took hold of Father Xawery’s arm. ‘I saw it,’ he repeated. ‘In all my years... I saw it!’
‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked him. ‘Maybe you’d like some tea.’
Brzezicki said, ‘Why don’t you let me take him home? He’s had a serious shock. Listen, Ms Leonard, why don’t you come, too? I asked you before if you wanted to talk to my mother. She knows all about this thing... she can tell you, so long as you’re prepared to listen.’
‘I’ve booked Father Xawery into the Solec-Orbis,’ Ben interrupted. ‘One of our people can drive him back.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Sarah. ‘I think he’d be better off at Mr Brzezicki�
��s house. Besides, the Solec-Orbis isn’t exactly grande-luxe, is it?’
‘For God’s sake, he’s a priest. He’s used to deprivation.’
Brzezicki helped Father Xawery to gather up his things, and then he and Rej took his arms and half carried him off the excavation site.
‘What happened?’ asked a young girl newspaper reporter, as they stepped out onto the street.
‘A short circuit, that’s all,’ Rej told her. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘And the exorcism?’
‘Father Xawery decided there was nothing to exorcize.’
‘So the site isn’t possessed?’
‘Only by Senate Hotels,’ said Sarah. ‘And we’ll be restarting construction as soon as possible.’
Ben and Roman Zboinski came out onto the street, too, and watched Rej and Brzezicki helping Father Xawery into Rej’s car. Ben looked distinctly angry; but as they drove away from the kerb, Sarah turned around and saw Zboinski lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
*
It was well after midnight by the time they reached Jozef Brzezicki’s apartment, on the fifth floor of one of six identical blocks overlooking the Ursus tractor factory in Ochota. It was a bleak, windswept development, with floodlights glaring everywhere. Even though it was so late, Brzezicki’s mother was still up, and she was more than happy to make Father Xawery a cup of tea, while Brzezicki poured vodka for everybody else.
Brzezicki’s mother was a fat, cheerful woman with frizzy hair that looked as if it had been permed within an inch of its life; and a laugh like an organ bellows. ‘This poor priest,’ she said. ‘Look how thin he is!’
Her flat was crowded with massive Socialist-realist furniture, an immense sofa and bulbous chairs. Pieces of offcut carpet had been laid on top of the carpets to protect them from wear; and every table had a mat or a tablecloth or a plastic coaster to prevent it from being marked. Inside a large glass cabinet, her best tea service was arranged, as well as all the dried-up crosses she had been given on Palm Sundays for the past twenty years.
The Chosen Child Page 34
