01x08 - Tysiphon

[bunniefuu]

What kind of a madman
cut this child 30 times with a knife,

drew his blood and then washed him?

And the boy was still alive.

Mugface said basement at
No. 5 Bernstein Street. A strange man.

He covered his face with the hat and
scarf, and had the thing taken home.

There was a teenage boy in the house.
Mente captus.

ERINYES
Goddesses of Vengeance

Chapter 5
Tisiphone

TALL TOWER OF STEEL IT HAS;
AND SEATED THERE TISIPHONE,

IN BLOOD-FLECKED PALL ARRAYED,
SLEEPLESS FOREVER,

GUARDS THE ENTERING WAY.

HENCE GROANS ARE HEARD, FIERCE CRACKS
OF LASH AND SCOURGE,

LOUD-CLANKING IRON LINKS
AND TRAILING CHAINS.

Virgil, Aeneid 6;554-8

LIST OF TENANTS
Basement - Bernard Garyga

Staszek, give me the plate.
Okay, give me the thing.

Do you think you'll be able
to hide your brat?

You've soiled my towel.

Criminal Police, introduce yourself.

- Bernard Garyga, commercial traveler.
- What are you selling?

Men's clothing.

Stasio, show what we have there.

What sickness does your son have?

- He's been like this since childhood.
- Like what?

Like this.

He only says: daddy.

Besides, he screams and cries,
but I understand him.

- And his mother?
- I don't know where she is.

She left when she realized
that something was wrong with Staszek.

Maybe she's dead.

We're just the two of us.

Me and Stasiek.

Get up off the floor, Mr. Garyga.

I might even let you sit down.

When you win my trust.

Stay there!

What am I accused of?

You are accused of buying
a stolen item, i.e. receiving.

I have never bought any stolen items.

Six months ago

you ordered a theft of an ID and gave
the address to have it delivered to.

The thief came to you with bodyguards
because he was afraid it's a trap.

There were four other
pickpockets here, is that true?

No.

- Then who?
- Nobody.

I've never made any order,
I'm not a receiver. I'm a salesman.

Do you know anyone
who likes bowler hats?

One more time.

Step by step.

First Marcel Wilk's ID was stolen,
then the thief brought it to you.

Then you carried this ID to someone,
let's call him Herod!

And then Herod borrowed a pickaxe

and broke
Kazio Markowski's legs with it!

And this is a puzzle to me.

The handover of the ID.

Solve it for me.

Who is Herod?

I don't know.

Maybe the one from the Holy Gospel.

Let's go.

Good evening, dear ringmaster.

May I ask you a favor?

Of course, dear Commissioner.
I am at your service.

I came with someone, and I would like
you to take care of him.

It will be fine, son.

Get off.

I said, get off.

Do not shout. He understands you
without shouting. Hey!

Give my son back!
What are you doing, you b*stard?

Give him back.

Give him back to me.

- Give me my child.
- Who is Herod?

Who are you covering for?

A pervert who cut a child with
a blunt knife and drew his blood?

Give me back my son.

Take him, ringmaster.

Say the two words and spare yourselves
the worst moment of your lives.

Herod's name.

I don't know.

I think Herod Agrippa.

It's the last time you handcuffed me.
Next time I'll bite off your artery.

It's a she-male.

You can watch her and mock her at will,

and for 5 zlotys paid to the circus
ringmaster, you can have her.

And this one shows everything
for an additional fee.

Apparently, some men
are crazy about her.

They secretly set up dates
with the gnome.

Ringmaster Wojciechowski

has divided the performances
into daytime and nighttime ones.

The night ones are low-profile
and not for everyone.

He spares no expense
so that the police doesn't have

grounds to accuse him of indecency.

And so no one cares about the fate
of the artists employed here.

And now the best part.

There is not only a section for men.

Ladies also enjoy
different forms of entertainment. Look.

The crowd will go wild. Fight!

And the crowd will yell.

Daddy's here. Daddy is by your side.

Ladies and gentlemen.

I give you another freak
who is about to dance for you.

You will go to jail for receiving.
Your kid will be left alone.

And then I'll call the ringmaster,

and soon after my call
your son will be here again.

Do you understand,
you Bolshevik rascal?

Do you understand that your
little sonny, your sick little sonny,

will become a mocked
and humiliated creature?

Sonny.

Staszek.

Where is sonny? I want to go to sonny.

I play with sonny.

Herod's name.

Tadeusz Szałachowski.

His son is Andrzej Szałachowski.

No. 15 Sobieskiego Street.

What is it? What is it?

Is it a bakery?

A site visit.

Take me to Szałachowski's apartment.

He moved out on Thursday.
I just whitewashed the room.

Good evening, Mr. Garyga.

Why so late?

- What is this all about?
- Don't talk unasked.

Well, boy.

Show me where sonny lives.

Staszek, wait.

Open up and leave us.

Do you recognize it?
Where are you going, Stasio?

Where, Stasio?

Did you come here with Stasio?

- Yeah.
- What for?

Szałachowski took care of him
when I had to go door-to-door.

The boys have known each other
since childhood.

And you were friends with his father.

Not at all.

A taciturn, unpleasant guy,
raised his son by himself.

Widower?

Or like me?

He loved Andrzej very much
and cared for him,

but he was an insane lunatic.

Then why did you get
the fake ID for him?

Andrzej asked me to do it.

He was invaluable to me.
I could work normally

and didn't have to worry about Stasio.

I would do anything for you.

This Andrzej told you
that they were moving out?

No.

You are free, Mr. Garyga.

Take the carriage.
The ride is already paid for.

Stasio should sleep
and be with his father.

He has been through too much today
because of your stubbornness.

And my blindness.

Come home, Stasio.

Come, Jerzyk. Daddy's awake.

See, daddy is awake.

I don't know anything.

Go to the owner of the tenement.

Mr. Ludwig Machl, attorney.
Second floor.

It's 2.30 AM.

So happy that the cop didn't
get the information he wanted?

I'm glad you're in a good mood.
But I will ruin your day.

Commissioner, I did not mean to.

Nice to see you.

It was the attorney's brother
with his wife and sister-in-law.

They came back from the dance.

Once the attorney wakes up,
he won't fall asleep again.

You can go and ask him.

Commissioner Edward Popielski.

I need to talk to Mr. Machl.
It's a matter of great urgency.

Could I have your business card,
Commissioner?

Here you go.

Go to the waiting room, please.

Mr. Machl will see you right away.

Of course.

Forgive the intrusion,
but the matter is very urgent.

It involves your former tenant
Tadeusz Szałachowski.

At last. I thought no one would come
to see me about this knave.

Have a sit.

What is so strange about the death
of a man whose whole life is nothing

but a road to death.

- Who is it?
- Seneca.

Death is nothing strange to you, right?

It's my everyday life.

When I saw the identikit pictures
of the man

suspected of torturing
little Markowski,

I immediately called the police.

The duty officer took the call,
thanked me politely, and hung up.

Gentlemen.

We are not checking people
from citizens' reports yet.

We write down names,
but we don't check.

We will check them--

After the w*r.

Please, tell me about
Szałachowski and his son Andrzej.

My God.

I know very little about them.

On the other hand,

I know a lot about the ninety-year-old
Klemens Szałachowski,

Tadeusz's alleged father.

Are you interested in this?

I am interested in everything
connected to this family,

and most of all in the phrase
"alleged father".

I need a cup of coffee.

Miron.

Bring some coffee.

And please tell the lady

that I encourage her to take
a well-deserved rest.

Yes, Counselor.

Pardon.

Baldy--

I apologize, Commissioner,
for the noises.

Yesterday, my youngest brother Michał
came with his wife from abroad.

Ad rem, Counselor.

Sixty years ago,

the owner of estates, breweries
and brickyards near Sambor,

Klemens Szałachowski,
moved here with his wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Szałachowski
occupied the apartment upstairs.

After a few years, a son was born.

Tadeusz.

And that was the beginning
of the family tragedy.

After the birth of the child, Klemens
Szałachowski declared him a b*stard

and kicked him out on the street,
along with his wife.

A terrible punishment
for alleged infidelity.

Don't you think?

At the age of about 70,
Mr. Klemens wrote a peculiar will.

And he deposited it with me.

After that he just drank,

got weird, and finally voluntarily
moved to a retirement home.

Around the same time,

a strange, poor clerk came to me.

Along with his epileptic son.

He introduced himself
as Tadeusz Szałachowski

and asked me for permission
to occupy the empty apartment

claiming that it was due
to him as his father's legacy.

I told him the apartment
did not belong to him at all.

Come on, the Commissioner
has no sense of humor.

Please, forgive them,
but back to our case.

In his will, Mr. Klemens

bequeathed the apartment as well as
all his money to Studite monks.

I read the entire will to Tadeusz.

I did not leave out
that most peculiar paragraph

about the martyr's death
of his own son.

About what?

About the martyr's death.

It's just a manifestation
of his terrible aberration.

Reverend fathers will not get a penny--
and now listen carefully--

if the b*stard Tadeusz is k*lled
and dies a martyr's death.

And who will inherit the fortune
if Tadeusz dies a martyr's death?

To his son, Andrzej.

Where's the coffee?

k*ll me. Go on.

Where did he move to?

I don't know.

He lost his job, stopped paying
the rent, so I kicked him out.

Just like that?

You kicked out a poor man
with an epileptic son?

Everyone feels remorse about something,
Commissioner.

Every one of us -
as we, Christians, say it,

carries his own cross.

Finally, there's coffee.

I had no idea that you have a visitor.

Breakfast is ready,
the champagne is cooling.

Heniutka, this is
Commissioner Popielski.

Commissioner, my wife Henryka.

Nice to meet you.

So this is the famous Commissioner.

The catcher of murderers.

With blue eyes.

So rough.

Unshaven, a bit brute.

And this penetrating gaze.
Do you know where I feel it?

Here.

In my heart.

You are right.

I have no sense of humor
about two things.

Love and death.

I identified the m*rder*r.

Capturing him is only a matter of time.

So why do I have the impression
that in a logical sequence

of causes and effects,

one link in this chain
does not fit the rest.

It is rusty, weak.

Is it possible that Herod--

planned and ex*cuted these crimes
without anyone's help?

In my opinion, Edziu, he must have
had complices. Except for the son.

Jerzyk. Don't go too far away.
I want to see you.

Attention. Attention.
Mobilization Announcement.

The President of the Republic
has ordered general mobilization.

In implementation of the above,

in consultation
with relevant ministers,

I order the following:

The first day of mobilization
is Thursday, August 31, 1939.

It's all kind of strange. Too many
coincidences. It's not a normal case.

Besides, the motive.

Szałachowski's will
is not normal either.

And if you don't know what the deal is,

then the deal is money.

Wilek!

You're right.

He hired someone whom he promised
a share of the money.

I'll take care of Herod,

and you try to sniff out
who the complices are.

Got it.

And stop by Kocowski

to see if there's anything
on that Machl guy.

Okay.

Say hello to Lodzia,
give Jerzyk a hug,

and when this ends, I invite you
to the Louvre.

You old so-and-so.

Again I have a strong feeling
that something isn't right.

Something is coming.

Something neither of us
will have power over.

Maybe it's the w*r, or maybe
the Erinyes are calling us?

Goodbye, friend.

Commissioner, I want to apologize.
I failed to protect him.

Herod has your son; he wants to meet
at the old swimming pool in an hour.

No!

Baldy, come.

Come up, quickly.

You will know everything about
your sweet son and his broken arms.

I have a capsule in my mouth.

With a scrap of paper,
like a prison secret message.

On this paper,

there's the address where you will find
a cute little boy with broken arms.

Well, k*ll me. Go on. k*ll me.

Push me down on those slabs.

That's the only way you'll find out
where your son is.

You will get the address
from my mouth.

What's this for, Szałachowski?

What's this show at the swimming pool?

I can k*ll you anywhere.

Let's go down. Put your head on a post,

and I'll just chop it off.

But I don't have to do that,
and you can save your life.

Take your father's legacy
and pass it on to your son.

Yes.

Klemens Szałachowski,
your dear father, changed his will.

You are stalling.
Do you think I'd fall for it?

Yesterday your father
canceled everything. He is ashamed.

He wants to meet with you,
ask for forgiveness.

He is dying.

But before, he wants
to reconcile with you.

He wants you to forgive him,
do you understand?

He wants his wealth to help you
secure Andrzej's future.

You are lying.

I must die in agony anyway,

for all that I did to those kids,

but I had no choice.

Either someone's b*stard would die
or my--

or my son would be a beggar.
It was my choice.

What about you?

Wouldn't you do everything
for your own child?

Would you k*ll?

Yes.

Show me that vial.

Show it to me
and then I will k*ll you, you b*stard.

Do it.

Too many coincidences.
This is not a normal case.

Besides, the motive.

Mr. Klemens wrote a peculiar will.

He must have had complices.

And he deposited it with me.

Who will inherit the fortune
when Tadeusz dies a martyr's death?

His son Andrzej.

Everyone feels remorse about something,
Commissioner.

And if you don't know
what the deal is,

then the deal is money.

Edziu, guess who else
is represented by Counselor Machl.

It's all over now.
Today everything is gone.

Szałachowski is dead.
That's according to the plan.

But not that his son is dead too.

And it was supposed to be so easy.

The kid would get a pension and care,

and we would snatch the rest.

And now old Klemens will die
in six months at the latest,

and monks will get everything.

Don't worry, Counselor.

In business, once you're at the top,
and once you're at the bottom.

We got to know each other well.

We are now partners.

We can continue to do good business.

We will see what the future brings.

What a pity.

Such a risk, if Szałachowski had told
Baldy about our agreement.

Counselor, nothing happened.
Szałachowski is dead.

His b*stard is dead.
Who else knows about us?

The watchman from the rental company.

Hovory do hory, a hora yak pen.

He only knows that in court
he has to say what you tell him to say.

And you haven't told him anything yet.

Anyway, you won't have to.

Because there will be no court.

Yes, you are right.

He doesn't know what he should say
during a potential trial.

He would if the trial was happening,
but it's not.

What would we prosecute
Popielski for, when--

the entire fortune goes to the monks?

Too bad Baldy escaped the police
at the pool.

He can still hurt us a bit.

I'll k*ll you. I'll k*ll you.
I will k*ll you.

Baldy!

You son of a b*tch.

Drop the g*n.

Get out of here with your mitts up,

or I'll crush the head
of that brat of yours.

Did you hear--

Shall I break his neck?

Where is my son?

Up your a*s.

Where is my son?

We are at w*r.

As of today, all issues and matters
are of secondary importance.

Our public and private lives need to be
pointed in a different direction.

We have to think of only one thing.

Fight for victory.

for Gosia

THE SERIES IS AN ADAPTATION
OF MAREK KRAJEWSKI'S BOOKS:

Erinyes, Charon's Numbers, The Rivers
of Hades, In the Depths of Darkness