Entanglement Read Online Free PDF Page B

phone numbers of the people from Łazienkowska Street. He had his hand on the receiver when Maryla, his boss’s secretary, put her head round the door.
    “Your presence is requested in the parlour,” she said.
    “Be there in fifteen.”
    “She said, and I quote: ‘When he says he’ll be there in fifteen, tell him I mean right now!’”
    “I’ll be there in a moment.”
    “She said, and I quote—”
    “I’ll be there in a moment,” he said firmly, pointing meaningfully at the receiver he was holding. Maryla rolled her eyes and left.
    He quickly made appointments for the afternoon with Barbara Jarczyk and Hanna Kwiatkowska - there were just minor problems with Euzebiusz Kaim.
    “I’ve got a meeting today outside town.”
    “Please postpone it.”
    “It’s a very important meeting.”

    “I see. Should I write you a sick note or have you arrested at once?”
    There was a long silence.
    “Actually it’s not that important.”
    “Excellent. In that case, see you at three o’clock.”
    The therapist wasn’t answering. Szacki left him a message and felt a nasty cramp in his stomach. He hoped the guy had just unplugged the phone for a while. He preferred not to think about other eventualities. He called the mortuary on Oczko Street too, found out the autopsy was due to take place on Wednesday morning at ten and left the room.
     
    “Our offices appear to be in different dimensions of time and space,” the boss greeted him, “because my ‘right now’ is equivalent to exactly ten minutes later in your world, Prosecutor.”
    “I didn’t know I’d been allocated an office,” replied Szacki, sitting down.
    The District Prosecutor for Warsaw City Centre, Janina Chorko, gave an acid smile. She was several years older than Szacki; her grey suit blended with her grey hair and her nicotine-grey face. Always a bit sulky, with a wrinkled brow, she gave the lie to the theory that there aren’t any ugly women. Janina Chorko was ugly, was perfectly aware of the fact and did not try to cover up her defects with clothes or make-up. Quite the opposite - she consciously made herself sour, malicious and painfully businesslike, which was in perfect harmony with her appearance, turning her into the archetypal boss from hell. The new prosecutors were afraid of her, and the trainees hid in the toilet whenever she came down the corridor.
    As a prosecutor she was brilliant. Szacki thought highly of her, because she was not just a mediocre official promoted for loyalty and following correct procedure, but someone from the very front line. She had served her time at the district office
in the Warsaw district of Wola, then in the organized crime department at the Regional Prosecutor’s office on the street called Krakowskie Przedmieście, and finally ended up here, at Krucza Street in the City Centre, where with an iron hand she ran the most complicated district in Poland. Within her office she was capable of reducing the biggest star to a heap of misery, but when dealing with outsiders she never went against her people, often taking big risks on their behalf. Szacki had heard that they’d been afraid of her at the regional office too, especially in the Preparatory Proceedings Department, where they had rarely dared to reject a decision initialled by her. However, Szacki had had more than one experience during Chorko’s reign of not getting permission to call an expert witness for financial reasons (any expense above 2,500 zlotys had to be approved by the Regional Prosecutor), and in every other prosecutor’s office that was daily bread.
    They had worked together for seven years and had great respect for each other, though they weren’t friends. They had never got onto first-name terms, which suited them both. They shared the view that cold official relationships are conducive to good professional work, especially when the plaque at the entrance features the national emblem - the crowned eagle - rather than a colourful