Entanglement. Part 5

"They drew, but it was as good as being beaten. Wodarczyk missed three golden opportunities - even I'd have scored. They played the last twenty minutes with only ten men because that cretin Nowacki got two yellow cards. First for a foul, then for stupidly faking an injury. What an idiot. But even so we were in the lead the whole game..."

"Who scored?"

"Karwan headed it off a pa.s.s from Wodarczyk. Groclin equalized a few minutes before the end. What a disgrace! It's not worth talking about."

"When's the rematch in Groclin?"

"The fifteenth."

"Are you going?"

"I don't know. I don't want to hear an entire stadium full of village idiots bellowing: 'Legless Warsaw!' "

Szacki nodded sympathetically and went into the kitchen to make supper. Weronika came in for a smoke. As he made the sandwiches, he told her about the Telak case and today's interviews.

"Interesting. Babinicz once told me about a therapy like that. I remember thinking it sounded like a sect."

"Well, I never, Mr Babinicz has turned up in our house again," cut in Szacki, without looking up from the board on which he was slicing tomatoes for a salad with feta and sunflower seeds.

"Teo, please don't be a pain. Do I keep asking you which of the trainees makes you coffee?"

"I make it for myself."

"Right, like we only met yesterday, eh?"

He just shrugged. He didn't feel like bickering. Once it had just been a joke. Later on jealousy had crept into the jokes. Now all such conversations quickly turned into aggressive provocation on both sides.

He finished the salad, served himself some, chivvied his daughter into the bathroom and sat down at the computer. He needed to switch off from the rest of the world for a while; he needed to play a game. He was proud of the fact that he had gone through every evolutionary stage in this particular field, from ZX Spectrum and Atari with games recorded on ca.s.sette tapes, via C64 and Amiga with floppy discs, to the first PCs with greenish monochrome monitors, and finally today's machines, which created alternative worlds in millions of colours and real time right before your very eyes. He was sure the ever-more-perfect games with better and better storylines would soon be cultural events on a par with the novels of Dan Brown and the films of Steven Spielberg. Admittedly, the world of computer games hadn't achieved the equivalent of The Name of the Rose or Amadeus yet, but it was only a matter of time. He usually played adventure and strategy games, but today he felt like being the one just man on a tropical island, where a very evil doctor was conducting very evil genetic experiments, and benefiting from the protection of some very evil mercenaries. If only those people at the trials knew what the haughty, impeccably dressed prosecutor, whose hair was white at just thirty-six, did in the evenings... He felt like laughing every time he fired up the computer.

"You're not going to play games, are you?" asked Weronika.

"Just half an hour," he replied, angry at himself for explaining.

"I thought we were having a talk."

Of course he felt guilty.

"In half an hour. You're not going to bed yet, are you?"

"I don't know, I'm tired. I might go to bed early."

"I'll be done in a moment, honest. I'll just get to a save point," he replied automatically, already focused on a sniper lurking on the bridge of a smashed-up j.a.panese aircraft carrier.

"I've got a bullet here with your name on it," thundered out of the speakers, and seconds later one of the mercenaries ripped the air apart with a burst of machine-gun fire. He dodged behind the aircraft carrier's metal span, but even so the mercenary got him. Dammit.

"Sorry, but could you put on headphones?" asked Weronika coldly.

He reached for them.

"I'll make a new hole in you!" rasped the speakers hatefully, before he'd had time to plug in the jack.

3.

Tuesday, 7th June 2005.

Seventy per cent of Poles claim that the life and teachings of Pope John Paul II have changed their lives. The Pope is viewed negatively by zero per cent. Polish President Aleksander Kwaniewski appeals to Marshal of the Sejm - chairman of the Polish parliament - Wodzimierz Cimoszewicz to change his mind and run in the forthcoming presidential election. A physicist at Adam Mickiewicz University in Pozna publishes a theory that ever so often a super-predator will inevitably appear on Earth, a real killing machine that tidies up the planet. Punk rock band Green Day give a concert at the Spodek stadium in Katowice. In Warsaw three trams crash outside the National Museum and thirteen people are taken to hospital. The Museum of Technology within the Palace of Culture and Science is given a defibrillator by journalist and charity promoter Jerzy Owsiak to help save the lives of visitors who suffer heart attacks. More and more people are protesting against the ban on the Equality Parade. The organizers are announcing rallies for which they do not have to have permission. Maximum temperature in the capital - fifteen degrees, despite which it is quite sunny with no rainfall.

I.

Being a therapist is undoubtedly a lucrative profession, thought Teodor Szacki as he parked outside a brand-new apartment block on Pawiski Street. He sat in the car for a while longer to listen to the end of 'Original of the Species' from U2's latest alb.u.m. A brilliant track, a brilliant alb.u.m - the boys from Dublin had finally returned to their rock-music roots. As he reported to the doorman at a porter's lodge clad in marble and granite, and then walked across a beautifully maintained courtyard with a fountain and a children's play area, he thought being a therapist must be a b.l.o.o.d.y lucrative profession. And as he entered Rudzki's apartment on the eleventh floor he reckoned he'd give anything to be back at the start of his career again, as he'd be sure to choose psychology.

Rudzki really did seem unwell, and his age added to the impression. A sixty-year-old man can look great, but only when he takes the trouble. At azienkowska Street on Sunday, Rudzki had looked excellent, like a cross between Ernest Hemingway and Sean Connery. Today, with straggly greasy hair and dark rings around his eyes, and tightly wrapped in a dressing gown, he was a sickly old man.

The apartment must have been quite large, about three hundred square feet, but Szacki could only make a guess about that, and about the layout of the rooms in the private part. Rudzki showed him into the lounge, and this time Szacki simply couldn't hold back his emotions. The rectangular room, with an adjoining kitchen, was about one hundred and twenty square feet in size (his whole flat was only 170), and the walls facing north and west were entirely made of gla.s.s, consisting of nothing but windows. The view knocked him for six. To the west there wasn't all that much to see - the roofs of Ochota, the hideous dome of the Blue City shopping centre and Szczliwicka Hill. But to the north lay Warsaw's version of Manhattan flaunting itself. From this spot all the skysc.r.a.pers in the City Centre appeared to be standing next to each other, both the old ones - the Forum Hotel, the Marriott and Intraco II, and the new ones - the Intercontinental, Golden Terraces, Rondo 1, the Daewoo building and of course the Palace of Culture, which even provided an interesting contrast to the sea of gla.s.s surrounding it. The view was so totally of Warsaw that it even surpa.s.sed the panorama of the left bank from Gdaski Bridge. Szacki decided he'd have to find an excuse to come and see Rudzki after dark. A search, perhaps?

"Impressive, isn't it?" croaked Rudzki as he handed Szacki a mug of coffee. "You must come round after dark one day. Some nights I spend a whole hour at the window without getting at all tired of it."

Szacki called himself to order.

"Yes indeed, it could be nice," he commented indifferently.

WITNESS INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT. Cezary Rudzki, born 2nd August 1944, resident at Pawiski Street, has higher education, runs a private psychology consultancy. Relationship to parties: none, no criminal record for bearing false witness.

Cautioned re criminal responsibility under Article 233 of the Penal Code, his statement is as follows: "I met Henryk Telak by chance in November last year. I was organizing a psychotherapy conference and was looking for a company to print invitations and posters for it. That was how I came across a firm called Polgrafex, the manager or deputy manager of which was Henryk Telak. I had no contact with him at that point, just with one of the salesmen. A week later I wanted to collect my order, but it wasn't ready. I insisted on speaking to the manager, and so I met Henryk Telak. He was very nice, he a.s.sured me they would deliver my order that very day by courier at their own cost; he apologized and offered me a cup of coffee. Over coffee he started asking about my job, because he was interested in the theme of the invitations and posters. I told him what a therapist does, that I try to help people, and that I often come across people for whom life has lost its meaning. Then he told me about his daughter's suicide and his son's illness, and admitted that he couldn't live with it all. I asked if he'd like to come and see me. He said he wasn't sure, but a week later he called and made an appointment. We met once a week on Thursdays, here at my apartment.

"I did not tape-record the sessions, I just made notes. Mr Telak was silent a lot of the time, and often wept. He had had a difficult life. He had run away from home at the age of sixteen, and not long after his parents had been killed in a car crash. He had never had the chance to say goodbye to them and hadn't even known about the funeral. As a result, he felt very guilty, and this sense of guilt had placed a heavy burden on his later life. His marriage to Jadwiga Telak - whom in my view he loved very much, and his children too - was not a success, something he talked about with sadness and shame. During his therapy we focused on his family background, to help him to come out of the shadow of his deceased parents. I judged that to be the basis for healing the relationships within his current family. I believed it was producing results, and the Family Constellation Therapy this weekend was supposed to dot the i's and cross the t's. In this constellation Henryk Telak was actually my main concern. The other people, whom I selected from among my patients, are in a much better psychological state. They are suffering from relatively mild neuroses."

To the interrogator's question whether in the course of his therapy Henryk Telak ever mentioned any enemies or people who were ill-disposed towards him, the witness replies: "Henryk Telak appeared to be such a depressed, introverted person, that he was probably quite unnoticed by those around him. I know nothing about his enemies. I do not think he had any."

As he wrote it all down, Szacki watched Rudzki closely. The therapist spoke quietly, calmly and confidently. His voice inspired trust, and he must surely have known how to use it to put a patient into a hypnotic trance without much trouble. Szacki wondered if he could possibly have confided in Rudzki: told him how his stomach ached every time he got home; how he had to drink two beers before bed to get to sleep easily; how the chilly atmosphere between himself and Weronika was doing him in; how the air hung heavy with rancour and disappointment over the Ikea furniture in their flat in a block on Burdziski Street; how sometimes he wondered what they had in common, apart from their child and their bank account; and how sometimes he would stand outside a flower shop - he'd have liked to buy her flowers, and he knew she'd be pleased, but he never did, he always found an excuse instead. Either it was already late, and the flowers weren't very pretty by now, or he thought it a shame to give his wife flowers from the Praga district florists' - they always looked like leftovers that hadn't sold in the City Centre two days earlier. Or else he didn't want to part with his change, because he still had to go and buy food. But only fifty yards further on there was an ATM. And a rose only cost five zlotys. Sometimes he also thought: Why should I buy flowers? When was the last time I got anything from her? A CD or a book, or even a text message other than "sliced loaf and cigarettes"? So he'd walk away from the flower shop, angry at himself and ashamed, and stop at the shop for the f.u.c.king sliced loaf, which he'd bought every other day for the past eight years in the same shop from the same saleswoman. Funny how he could see that she was getting older, while feeling as if he were exactly the same person as when he'd done the shopping there for the very first time. That had been in July. Szacki had been wearing a tracksuit, covered in dust from moving house. He was happy with the flat, happy to know that soon he'd be eating rolls and drinking kefir with the most beautiful woman in the world. He was happy the saleswoman was so nice. In those days he had long dark hair tied in a short plait, not the milk-white crew cut that made him look like the infantry sergeant out of an American war film.

Cezary Rudzki politely but very firmly refused to answer any questions about Kwiatkowska's, Jarczyk's and Kaim's therapy. Szacki did not insist. He would have to charge one of them before he could get a court order forcing Rudzki to hand over the paperwork. As Rudzki described the day when the body had been found, Szacki noted with regret that none of the people interviewed so far appeared to be the murderer. Their statements were logical and seemed to be sincere; there was a clearly audible note of sadness at the death of Henryk Telak and a large dose of empathy for him. Besides, he couldn't imagine what motive any of them could have had for killing Telak.

So thought Prosecutor Teodor Szacki on Tuesday 7th of June at 10.30 a.m. Two hours later he was already convinced that one of Rudzki's three patients had to be the murderer.

"I'm quite surprised it's you that's talking to me and not the police," said the therapist suddenly.

"You mustn't believe what you see on TV. In this country it's the prosecutor who conducts the serious inquiries. The police help as much as they're told to, but all they do on their own is chase car thieves and burglars."

"Surely you're exaggerating."

"A little," smiled Szacki.

"You must feel under-appreciated."

"I'd prefer to talk about facts, not feelings."

"Yes, it's always easier. What else would you like to know?"

"I'd like to know what happened on Sat.u.r.day evening. And what Family Constellation Therapy is. And why your patients' voices quiver whenever they talk about it."

"In that case we will have to talk about feelings."

"I'll manage to put up with it."

The therapist stood up, went over to the bookshelf and started rummaging in a black briefcase.

"I'm unable to explain it to you," he said. "Unfortunately it's not possible. Totally unfeasible."

Szacki gnashed his teeth. What an old fool. Now they'd got to the point, things should be moving forwards, not coming to a standstill.

"Please try. Maybe it'll work."

"No way. I won't try telling you," he said, turning round and smiling apologetically at Szacki, who was shaking with fury inside. "But I can show you," he said, holding up a small video camera.

The scene is the hall in the building on azienkowska Street. Telak, Kaim, Kwiatkowska and Jarczyk are sitting next to each other. Then Rudzki appears in the frame.

Rudzki: Mr Telak, please go ahead.

Telak stands up, smiling nervously. Szacki felt a shiver down his spine. Telak is wearing the same clothes as when he was found dead. Szacki couldn't help thinking that any minute now he'd lie down on the floor and one of the others would get up and stick a skewer in his eye. Then a mark the shape of a racing car would appear on his cheek.

Telak: Maybe someone else should have their turn now?

Rudzki: We drew lots. But please say if you're not ready.

A long silence.

Telak: All right, I'll give it a go.

Rudzki: OK. First we'll arrange the family background. Mrs Jarczyk will be your mother, and Mr Kaim your father. Please arrange them.

Telak takes Mrs Jarczyk by the hand and leads her to the far end of the room. He shows her to a spot right next to the wall, where she stands facing it. Then he positions Kaim next to her, also with his face to the wall. Telak himself stands in the middle of the room, looking at their backs.

Rudzki: All set?

Telak: Yes.

Rudzki: Mrs Jarczyk, please tell us how you're feeling.

Jarczyk: I'm sad, I wish I could see my son. I miss him.

Rudzki: And what about you?

Kaim: Not good. I can feel him staring at my back. I want to turn round. Or get away. I can feel pressure on my neck, just as if someone were holding me on a leash.

Jarczyk: Yes, I feel the same way. Or like I've been put in the corner as a punishment. I feel bad. I feel guilty.

Telak: I'd like to go up to them.

Kaim: May I turn round?

Rudzki: Not yet. (To Telak) Please go up to your parents and stand behind them.

Telak stands just behind Kaim and Jarczyk.

Rudzki (to Telak): How do you feel now?

Telak: Better, much better. This is how I wanted it.

Kaim (with an effort): But I find this unbearable. I've got the wall in front of me and my son behind me. I don't know why he came here, but I don't want him here. Christ, I can hardly keep upright. I'm suffocating. Please let me move away, or get him out of here.

Rudzki: Just a little longer.

The therapist stopped the tape. The image of Telak standing behind his "parents" froze on the screen. Szacki looked at him in amazement.

"Is it a sort of theatre?" he asked. "Have they been given a script in advance telling them how to behave?"

Rudzki shook his head.

"No, and what's more they hardly know a thing about Mr Telak. They don't know that he ran away from home, they don't know that his parents died in a tragic accident and that he never got the chance to say goodbye to them. Nothing. You see, essentially this form of therapy is extremely simple, if we compare it for example with psychoa.n.a.lysis, which to my mind is usually totally ineffective in any case."

Szacki gestured to interrupt him.

"Please, one thing at a time," he said.

"All right. You apply for Family Constellation Therapy because you're having a tough time, things are really bad and difficult, but you don't know why. You tell a few facts about yourself - your parents, siblings, wife, children, first wife, father's first wife, etc. All the people in your family are important, alive or dead. And then you arrange them spatially. You take each of them by the hand, lead them to the right spot and show them which way to face. You'll be surprised to hear it, but people often see what's wrong right at that very moment, and why they feel so bad. For example, because their wife is standing where their mother ought to be. Or because their child is keeping them apart from their wife. In short, because the right order has been disturbed. You only have to arrange them correctly and the patient comes out of the therapy a different person. In just five minutes."

"Why does Kaim say he's suffocating and about to faint?"

"Because the representatives can feel the emotions of the people they're replacing."

"But Telak's parents died years ago."

"Including the dead."

"I see. And I suppose at the end you have to dance naked round a bonfire wearing a wooden mask?"

Rudzki fell silent, plainly offended by the prosecutor's comment. Szacki noticed and apologized.