But a week or so later she’d come back with a revised statement.’ identifying every person of significance in her life.
‘She, too, was transformed,’ explained Sebastian. ‘She’d worked out a plan of some kind, but she wouldn’t elaborate. All she’d say was that she intended to wake the dead and shatter the illusions of many And now you’ve turned up.’
Anselm rather liked the ring to that declaration. He took off his glasses to shine the lenses, baulking, suddenly, as Roza’s expectations came into focus.
‘She brought that statement to London,’ said Anselm, blinking uncertainly ‘In effect, she called it a tool to help find the informer. Thing is, she never gave it to John.’
‘Why not?’
‘When they met, she saw he was blind.’
‘And?’
‘She left. Devastated. Not knowing that John would come to me, and that I would come here, in his stead, without that statement.’
The two lawyers appraised each other, both of them — Anselm was sure — reviewing the law of agency for unless Anselm could be described as Roza’s representative, the IPN couldn’t disclose a copy of her statement.
‘The words “authorised”, “express” and “implied” spring to mind,’ purred Anselm. ‘I’ve forgotten the rest but I think we can frame an argument to the effect that I’m Roza’s sub-agent, with John as the absent principal.’
‘Agreed,’ replied Sebastian.’ taking a document from the folder.
‘This is the text. To sharpen the focus, I’ve cut out the material where no names are mentioned. I’ll get it translated now I’ve traced the addresses and telephone numbers of all the people mentioned. You’ll find them listed at the back.’
It was an East meets West triumph: a sort of indigenous Pizza Express, only they sold dumplings. Pierogi. Anselm wouldn’t have thought it possible, but these fast serving mono-thematic eateries were all the rage. They’d sprung up all over the city Could a dumpling seriously vie with a pizza? Anselm was privately awed. Out loud, over a shot of Sliwowica Paschalna (‘… just fermented plums. Nothing
added. Not even water…’) he wondered if Sebastian had given any thought to FELIKS.
‘Oh yes. I looked him up in one of the SB agent registers. And sure enough, he’s there in Roza’s statement all the way from the fifties to the eighties. For the first time I got a glimpse of her predicament fleshed out. FELIKS is a friend. FELIKS is part of a family FELIKS is surrounded by people who’ve no idea he’s a swine who got his swill. People Roza doesn’t want to harm.’
Anselm took a sip.
‘The second type of informer.” he whispered, eyes watering.
‘Yes. She owed him her life:
Assuming FELIKS is our man (continued Sebastian, after draining his glass) the circumstances showed up the moral perversion of Brack’s actions. Sure, he’d used her goodness against herself, but he’d also gambled on a lack of honesty among the very people she sought to protect.
‘Not everyone wants to hear the truth.” he avowed with a knowing wink to the waiter at the bar. ‘They wouldn’t want to know that Daddy was an informer and they wouldn’t thank Roza for telling them. She’d have known the score immediately: if she wanted to keep popping round for dinner and watch the telly then she’d better keep her mouth shut.’
Anselm nodded, thinking — curiously — of John. Given the choice.’ he’d preferred the lie of a happy family to the truth of his mother’s betrayal. He wasn’t grateful for the enlightenment, even now. He hadn’t wanted the pain. Neither had his father or Melanie. They’d all been playing Misery ever since, trying to get back to the good times. All of which demonstrated the complexity of Roza’s position and the risks involved in persuading someone to step centre-stage.
One arm behind his back, the waiter refilled Sebastian’s tiny glass, aping shock when Anselm declined a top-up.
‘But, of course, FELIKS may not be our man.” said Anselm, wetting his bottom lip.
‘No. I spotted that, too.’
Colonel Brack’s letter to the general, copied to the major, referred to ‘agents’. Plural. There were other ears at Roza’s door. But only one of them really mattered.
‘I’ve got to find the informer that led Brack to the Powazki Cemetery in nineteen eighty-two.” said Anselm. ‘The rest are just bit-players.’
How to proceed, then? Anselm could hardly go through an SB agent registry like one of those telephone-based salesmen, asking if the householder would like to change their heating system. He needed to know for sure that he’d found Brack’s main actor, so he could plan his approach, plan that ‘better story’ mentioned by the Prior that would persuade them to meet Roza.
Sebastian.’ it transpired, had already tried to narrow down the pool of candidates. Cross-referring the IO/SB/XVI/1982 reference with SB employment records, he’d identified Irina Orlosky as Brack’s bilingual personal assistant. The revenue people had traced her address but, like Roza, she’d refused to talk. Unlike Roza she’d been hard and brittle; hysterical when pushed. And while neither of them had a choice but to co-operate with an IPN investigation, Sebastian recognised he couldn’t hope to mount a successful prosecution without willing witnesses.
Anselm stared at his glass and then swallowed fire in one swift movement.
‘Odd, really that the Polana file isn’t completely empty.” he said, after a long burning pause. ‘The letters left behind are more like adverts. A hint of what’s on offer. I was reminded of a mail order catalogue.’
‘Catalogue?’
‘Yes. You know, bargain sales. Basement level.’
Sebastian didn’t follow so Anselm explained.
‘We need the papers that are missing from the Polana file. The one name left on view to anyone who opens the cover is Brack’s deputy.’ Lieutenant Frenzel. I find that an intriguing state of affairs. I think it was deliberate. I think he wouldn’t be surprised if we gave him a call. I think the man is open for business:
Sebastian leaned back slowly viewing Anselm with reluctant admiration. Annoyance, too, that he’d missed the true meaning of the surviving correspondence. For months he’d been poring over those two letters, seeing nothing more alluring than a reference number, and then this monk had turned up.’ this herald expected to shatter the illusions of many and he’d seen the implications in five minutes.
‘I think I might join you after all,’ said Anselm, signalling to the waiter.
Warmed by Sebastian’s silent praise, he thought it right, however, to advertise his ignorance. He’d wanted to know something long before he’d dared to question the eminence of dumplings.
‘So, tell me.’ who was FELIKS?’
Chapter Nineteen
IPN/RM/13129/2010
EDITED TRANSCRIPT OF A STATEMENT MADE BY ROZA MOJESKA
Timings refer to the complete recording.
0.15
The guard behind shoved me out… but I didn’t want to leave. I’d forgotten how to live and I didn’t know what to do out there, on an ordinary street. For years I’d been in a cell with a tiny window so high that I had to strain my neck to see the clouds. I turned round and banged on the gate… but they wouldn’t let me back in. Brack just watched me… and, when I finished beating on the gate, his eyes followed me to a junction a few hundred yards up the road. That’s when I thought of Aniela Kolba. We’d shared a cell. She’d told me to come and stay when they set me free.
0.56
Aniela and I were bound by memories of prison while Edward, her husband, became my guide and friend. He knew how to live na lewo, on the left… outside official channels; he’d learned how to zalatwic sprawy… to wangle things. That first night he obtained an old British Army camp bed and set it up in the sitting room.’ between a wardrobe and wall. He called it my apartment. A few days later, he pulled some strings and got me a job sewing ribbons in a hat factory I was part of the family No rent. No payments of any kind. I sat at their table as if I’d always been there. I didn’t leave it until four years later, when — thanks to Edward’s back door wangling — I got a place of my own. But by then there was no leaving. I belonged.