her things down at the table, then headed for the counter, while Jack hit the door with a circle and a triangle.
Inside the unisex bathroom was a single toilet, brand-new, along with the sink, tiles, and everything else. Very clean and tidy. But Jack wasn’t here for a remodeling tour.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a short cable with a lightning connector on one end and a 3.5-millimeter audio jack on the other. He fetched out his smartphone and his ballpoint pen and connected them via the cable, then tapped on the audio software app on his phone. Written by Gavin Biery, Hendley Associates’ IT director and The Campus’s electronics hacker wizard, the audio program instantly detected the file stored on the digital recorder pen he’d used in Zbyszko’s office and began downloading it.
The progress bar reported five minutes remaining. After the audio file downloaded, the program would automatically run through a voice-to-text program and then, if a language other than English was detected, the document would be automatically translated.
The whole setup was Gavin’s idea, and he told Jack in the office just before he left for the airport, “Sometimes old-school is best.” But the tech guru smiled, handing him some other equipment. “On the other hand, the new stuff is pretty cool, too.”
A sharp knock on the door told him his alone time was up.
Jack pocketed everything and let Gavin’s magic do its stuff automatically. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands with the minty soap just to keep the ruse up.
“Przepraszam”—sorry—Jack offered over the rushing sink water, hoping that Google hadn’t let him down. He added, “One second.”
A moment later he unlocked the door and pulled it open. A short young woman with bright maroon hair and John Lennon glasses stood at the door. Her frown bled into a wry smile at the sight of the handsome young American.
“Dzień dobry,” Jack said as he slipped past her.
“Dzień dobry.”
Jack saw a small plate standing on the counter right next to the bathroom door littered with one- and two-zloty coins. He suddenly remembered it was common throughout Europe to pay for bathroom services, usually collected by the attendant who kept the facilities sparkling clean. He flashed a memory of an elderly lady with an apron and broom wandering past him doing his business in a line of occupied public urinals at the Berlin Zoo train station years ago.
He tipped her pretty well, as he recalled.
The bathroom door locked behind him as Jack reached into his pocket, but he didn’t have any Polish coins—he chastised himself for not exchanging money while they were at the bank earlier. Two zlotys—about fifty cents—was a good bathroom tip, from what he’d read earlier. Unfortunately, all he had was an American dollar in his wallet, so he dropped that onto the plate. He probably looked like an idiot doing it, but not tipping was even worse.
Jack searched the boisterous room for Liliana. He spotted her in the far corner. She saw him and waved him over with a smile.
* * *
—
How did you like your pączki?” Liliana said, taking a sip of hot tea.
Jack swallowed the last bite and washed it down with strong black coffee. “Best jelly doughnut I ever had. Especially the jelly. It’s not too sweet and a little tangy.”
“In English it’s called rose hip. It’s the most traditional flavor, but you can get pączki stuffed with just about anything.”
“I couldn’t believe all of the stuff I saw at the counter.”
“Polish pastries are the best in the world—as good as anything you’d ever find in a French patisserie. Are you still hungry?”
Jack’s sweet tooth was screaming, and a sugar rush wouldn’t hurt his jet lag. But he knew how many miles per pączki he’d have to run to work them back off.
“I’m fine, thanks. You come here a lot?”
“Yes, but there’s no shortage of great places to eat in Warsaw. Trust me, we Poles know how to eat. Our cuisine is a unique blend of Austrian, German, Russian, and even Turkish traditions, but all with a unique polski twist.”
“I can’t wait to try it.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. The translated text stood on the screen.
Gavin Biery, you magnificent bastard, Jack thought as he glanced at the document. The program was smart enough to differentiate between the manager and the vice president, designated A and B, respectively, by the pauses between each speech. The good news was that the manager had inquired about Baltic General