Entanglement Read Online Free PDF

registered address to disappear for ever.”
    Kuzniecow laughed out loud.
    “You’re not just a petty bureaucrat, you’re a cynic too,” he said, getting himself ready to go. “Give my best to your lovely sexy wife.”
    Szacki raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure if Kuzniecow was talking about the same woman who trailed around the house complaining of new pains every day.

II
    On the way to his room Szacki got a documents file from the office. Catalogue number ID 803/05. Unbelievable. In other words soon they’d have a thousand registered inquiries and break last year’s record by miles. It looked as if a small area of central Warsaw was the blackest spot on the crime map of Poland. Admittedly, most of the inquiries conducted here were to do with economic, financial and accounting scams that were handled by a separate unit - the result of the fact that perhaps eighty per cent of all the businesses in Poland had their head offices between Unia Lubelska Square and Bankowy Square - but there was no lack of ordinary criminals either. Almost
twenty prosecutors in the “First ID”, or the First Investigative Department, worked on thefts, muggings, rapes and assaults - and also on plenty of cases that the guys from organized crime at the regional prosecutor’s office were supposed to deal with. In practice the stars from organized crime - or “OC” as it was known - chose the more interesting incidents for themselves, and left the “everyday shootings” to the district office. As a result, the OC Prosecutor from the regional office had a few cases on his books, while the District Prosecutor had a few dozen. Or in fact a few hundred, if you included ongoing inquiries, ones that had been shelved, ones that depended on finding a particular witness and ones that were waiting to be heard in court but had been postponed for the umpteenth time. Szacki, who even so was in a fairly comfortable position for a district prosecutor because he really only dealt with murders, had tried last week to count up all his cases. It came to 111, 112 with Telak’s murder - 111 if the sentence were passed today in the Pieszczoch case, and 113 if the judge decided to send the case back to the prosecutor’s office. He shouldn’t - it had all been prepared perfectly, and in Szacki’s view Chajnert was the best judge in the Warsaw district.
    Unfortunately, relations between the Prosecution Service and the courts had been getting worse from year to year. Even though the prosecutor’s work was closer to a judge’s job than a policeman’s, and the Prosecution Service was the “armed forces” of the judiciary, the distance was increasing between officials with purple trimming on their gowns - the judges - and officials with red trimming - the prosecutors. A month ago Szacki’s boss, Janina Chorko, had gone to the regional court on Leszno Street to ask for a date to be set as soon as possible for a well-publicized case concerning multiple rapes at a sports centre on Nowowiejska Street. She had been given a dressing down and told that the courts are independent and
no prosecutor was going to tell them how they should do their job. It was laughable - not so bad when insults were the only result of such hostility, but worse when it was the verdicts that suffered. Sometimes Szacki got the impression that only a case where the accused confessed all on the first day of the inquiry and then repeated his confession three times in the courtroom was one you could count on winning. All the rest were a lottery.
    He tossed his umbrella into a corner of the room, which for the next two weeks he didn’t have to share with the usual colleague, because she had gone to a sanatorium with her sickly child, for the third time this year. In fact he had been given two of her cases, but at least he didn’t have to look at the mess she made around herself. He sat at his desk, which he always tried to keep in impeccable order, and took out a sheet of paper listing the