Gdańsk, Jack noticed, the more traditional the buildings became, even the brand-new ones. More brick, for sure, and brick-and-timber construction—the kinds of homes you might see on a German postcard.
Liliana checked her rearview again and swore in Polish. “I lost him.”
“Perfect.”
“Why ‘perfect’?”
Jack scanned the road up ahead. He pointed. “Take the next exit.”
She did, and Jack steered her toward a giant shopping mall, the Galeria Metropolia, and specifically toward the parking lot of a huge movie cineplex.
“Slow down, please, but keep moving,” Jack said, scanning the rows of cars.
“What are we doing?”
“I always wanted to see Deadpool Two dubbed in Polish.”
“What?”
Jack pointed at an open spot. “Pull in there.”
Liliana swung into it. “Now what?”
“Keep your eyes open for Goralski.”
Jack got out of the car, scanned the lot. Nobody was around. Liliana got out as well and searched for the black Mercedes. It was nowhere to be seen.
Jack bent over and ran his hand beneath the perimeter of the Audi. Just behind the left rear bumper he muttered, “Got it.”
He showed Liliana the small magnetic object.
“A GPS tracker,” Liliana said. “That’s why he fell back. He doesn’t need to maintain visual contact.”
“Exactly. Now watch this.”
Jack crouched low and dashed across the lot toward a silver Audi with German license plates. Checking around one more time to make sure he wasn’t being spotted by any mall cops, he slapped the tracker underneath the German Audi’s right front fender, then dashed back to Liliana and climbed into her car.
“Let’s hope the German is watching a double feature and then gets homesick.”
“Nice trick. They taught you that in business school?”
“No, the Boy Scouts. Let’s go—and head out the opposite exit on the far end over there, just in case our friend is close.”
* * *
—
Jack and Liliana drove to the first property on her tax list, both of them keeping a careful watch on the mirrors to make sure Goralski hadn’t figured out Jack’s sleight of hand. As an extra precaution, Liliana called in Goralski’s plate numbers to the ABW automated surveillance supervisor and asked for a trace of the vehicle’s whereabouts. When she mentioned it could be linked to the Jerzy Krychowiak hit-and-run, it was flagged as high priority. If the Mercedes drove past any of the CCTV traffic cams the ABW had access to, an automated text would be forwarded to her phone.
The first property they visited was just south of the city center off highway 91. It checked out as described in the tax records: a gas- and diesel-fueling station for both cars and big rigs. They did a quick drive around the property and saw nothing unusual. They parked and popped inside the clean and well-stocked minimart/restaurant. Nothing and nobody stood out.
Back in the Audi, they headed toward the center of Gdańsk, not far from the European Solidarity Centre, where the last property was located.
“Yeah, I know. Next time,” Jack promised before Liliana said a word, as they rolled past the famous museum.
The museum was located on the property of the famous Gdańsk shipyards where Lech Wałęsa and the Solidarity union led the strikes culminating ultimately in the downfall of the Communist government. Though much smaller than in its heyday under the Communists, the shipyard was still in operation. Giant cranes that lifted the multi-ton sheets of steel used in ship construction dominated the skyline. Machine shops, engine repair facilities, and every other construction and maintenance facility required to build or service ships were also present, along with docking facilities and equipment for loading and unloading ships’ cargoes. The entire facility was built along the Martwa Wisła River, a tributary of the Vistula that gave easy access to the nearby Baltic Sea.
The shipyard area was surprisingly open, Jack thought, with no security he could determine. Not even surveillance cameras. Forklifts and other utility vehicles rumbled along the well-worn asphalt roads between semi-dilapidated buildings, mostly brick and iron.
“The ones in the best shape were built by the Prussians, before the First World War,” as most of the city had been, Liliana explained. “The ones falling apart were built by the Communists.”
They turned onto one of the service roads, alternately passing around or crawling behind slow-moving forklifts and other service vehicles. Many of the shop and warehouse doors were open. Pallets were loaded and unloaded, cutting torches threw sparks, welding rods flashed. Clanging, banging, and shouting punctuated the air.
Liliana had to dodge one forklift racing out of a workshop with a load of pipe, and was nearly hit by a delivery truck