Jakub Kania’s new investigation will lead him to China. “Do you want to bring justice?” [FRAGMENT]

PROLOGUE

Autumn 1933

A satanic plan, thought a nice Englishwoman in her forties, sitting at a table at Café Orient in Cairo, studying the papers spread out on the counter.

There were three-dimensional sketches of what looked like a drawer and rings covered with numbers. Both the drawings and their explanations had to be made by someone who had studied calligraphy diligently for many years.

The Englishwoman looked at them again and smiled at her thoughts.

The man who had just sent the sketches by mail from Geneva was a great fascination for her. They met a few years ago on a trip to Constantinople, which was now called Istanbul and to the Englishwoman she associated it with a human anthill. What she hated most in her life was crowds, noise, raised voices, orange jam and milk, especially when it was boiling and boiling like that damn city.

Her companion on the trip to Istanbul was able to calm her down. Listening to him was like balm for the soul.

He was in his seventies, had long white hair and a thin beard of the same color that made him look a bit like a goat. He was a Chinese born in Shanghai, living in Switzerland and doing some colossal business in Europe. Because of his unusual green eyes, the Englishwoman called him the Jade Old Man.

He appeared in her travels to the East like a ghost who arrives when he is needed most. He helped me overcome several twists and turns in life, get rid of my enemies and defend myself. He was effective, reliable and ruthless. She liked such expressive characters. A refreshing change from the bored British aristocrats I met while traveling, their pretentious wives and blasé lackeys who fill train compartments and ship cabins.

The last time they saw each other was a few weeks ago in the same cafe near the Coptic Church of St. Sergius in Old Cairo. The Englishwoman, dressed as she was today in an ankle-length skirt and a colonial tennis blouse with patch pockets, was irritated. A few days earlier, she had received a letter from a club in London, which excluded her from membership, accusing her of a tendency to believe in supernatural forces.

“Damn bastards,” she complained to the Jade Elder. – They will remember me.

The Chinese fell silent and closed his eyes. She had to clear her throat after a few minutes to bring him out of his silence and stillness.

– Do you want to bring justice? – he asked, opening his eyes.
– Very.
“I’ll help you,” he replied. – But according to my plan.

At times like these he became cold and hard, like metal left out in the cold.

– What would I do? – she asked, feeling a slight shiver.
– What you do best. Collect everything they accuse you of. Don’t leave anything out. Then hit it with all your might.
– How?

He explained his plan to her in detail. He was very good, so good that she was suddenly afraid that it might fail.

“It’ll work,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. – When you finish your work, I’ll come in.
– And what will you do?
– I’ll turn it into a game.
– In Chinese? – she smiled.
– A game lost by the people who hurt you. They will regret it bitterly when they see the world rooting for you and not them.

He reached for a napkin and drew a ring with numbers on it. And he explained its operation.

She looked at the drawing.

– You forgot something – The Englishwoman was very observant. – There’s a number missing here…

The Chinese put his finger to his lips.

– Don’t say that word. It means death. The rules of the game will be based on this.
– Do you really want to do this and invite the whole world to play?

He closed his eyes in confirmation.

She recalled the conversation from a few weeks ago, glancing at the detailed plans and description he had sent to her hotel yesterday. She cut a piece of kunafa with a fork and let the Egyptian dessert fill her mouth with sweetness. The game will start soon – she was happy and added a personal reflection that if the devil exists, he certainly has slanted eyes.

———

Maciej Siembieda, “Orient”, Agora Publishing House

Premiere on November 8

Maciej Siembieda, ‘Orient’, Agora Publishing House mat. ferry.