The Golden Moth

By Emma Popik

Gdańsk, a major port city on Baltic Sea, becomes a battleground between good and evil. In the Amber Museum, someone murdered a young archaeologist. Due to the visit of important personalities, the facility managers are trying to keep the murder case secret.

Foreign collectors are attracted to the museum by a unique exhibit - the Golden Moth. A ruthless war for power and influence begins against the backdrop of tourist attractions. How far can you go when it comes to position and gigantic money?

Will the cost you have to pay be worth the prize?

Soon the good heroes and the bad heroes will suffer the consequences of their actions..

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royal Hawaiian Press
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201248321

Book preview

The Golden Moth

The Golden Moth

By Emma Popik

All material contained herein is

Copyright © Emma Popik 2022 All rights reserved.

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Originally published in Poland as Zlota Cma

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Translated and published in English with permission.

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Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9853307-9-3

ePub ISBN: 979-8-2012483-2-1

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Written by Emma Popik

Published by Royal Hawaiian Press

Cover art by Tyrone Roshantha

Translated by Szymon Nowak

Publishing Assistance: Dorota Reszke

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For more works by this author, please visit:

www.royalhawaiianpress.com

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Version Number 1.00

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All characters in this book are fictional,

and the resemblance to people and events is coincidental.

Table of Contents

Yggdrasil

Chapter I

Night Falls

Chapter II

Go away

Chapter III

The Woman and the Statues

Chapter IV

Black suitcase

Chapter V

Guesses and accusations

Chapter VI

A futile warning

Chapter VII

Contempt and Diamonds

Chapter VII

Fish market

Chapter IX

Overheard conversation

Chapter X

You knew him!

Chapter XI

Mistake

Chapter XII

Drown in a decanter

Chapter XIII

Upper-crust fraud

Chapter XIV

Arrangements

Chapter XV

Fear

Chapter XVI

Death Twice

Chapter XVII

Butterflies in the hair

Chapter XVIII

The Pistol and the Dog

Chapter XIX

Capable of Anything

Chapter XX

Serious Actions

Chapter XXI

Hits and Bad Luck

Chapter XXII

Lesson

Chapter XXIII

An Extraordinary Discovery

Chapter XXIV

The Trap Got Closed

Epilogue

Chapter I

Yggdrasil

Night Falls

H

e hung on chains attached to an iron rod driven into a wall. He was dead. The extended arms were locked in hoops, pegs blocked them. The stretched toes almost reached the cobblestones. Millimeters were missing. Is that why he died?

His head tilted to the right shoulder, hid his face. No one could identify him or even notice him. The courtyard was empty. The gate on the side of the Coal Market was closed. Made of metal, thick and heavy, it defended the entrance to the Torture Chamber and prevented the rescue of the captured. Prisoners were tortured here. It had happened in previous centuries, in ours, the building was used for beauty and art, as it housed the Gdansk Amber Museum. The museum was not visited at this time. There was no clatter of the guard’s footsteps in the paved courtyard. The chains were left as an attraction for visitors. They attracted with their macabre possibility.

There were times when young men stopped at chains dangling from the iron bar. They suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to experience torture on their own bodies. The inner voice woke up a sleeping demon in them, which prompted: Check.

They raised their arms, turned their backs to the brick wall, and let their colleague or the guard standing next to them insert the iron pins into the holes on the hoops. Standing with their arms outstretched, they turned their heads left up and then right to check that the pins were going into the holes rather than their joints, and after making sure, they were hanging down. They leaned their feet on the cobblestones, standing with their arms raised. After a while they felt pain because the blood wasn’t flowing upwards. So they signaled the friend, but unnecessarily, because the guard was already pushing the pins out of the holes, the hand was slipping out of the rim at once, and the young man was moving his fingers and rubbing his arm on his side so that the blood would flow through the veins. At the same time, his right arm was released. So he turned away from the chains and the wall and, nodding his head in thanks to the guard, he slipped a coin into his hand and joined a group of colleagues who laughing, patted him on the shoulder, and the whole group, enjoying the adventure, disappeared into the darkness of the gate opposite before going out in the sun.

Now, late in the evening, that gate was closed as well. There was no guard standing in front of the brick wall. The excited groups of visitors weren’t running down the stairs. There was no one there. A ghastly silence prevailed there. The walls stood with gritted teeth, remembering the sufferings of the condemned; their scream soaked into the structure of the bricks and was present in them. Someone with sensitive hearing would have heard this terrible scream of pain and run away, pressing their fists into the shells of their ears. Darkness was falling. Drifting down from the sky, it slowly seeped into the courtyard’s well from above and lay down in ever denser layers. When night fell, the yard was filled with darkness, right down to the roofs. It got muggy and stuffy. A storm was brewing. Somewhere far away, a zigzag of silver lightning flashed across the sky. And disappeared.

The night was rolling slowly over Gdansk.

***

Meanwhile, at the Hotel on Fishing Seashore Street, a few gentlemen sat down in the restaurant for an elegant dinner. The waiter handed out a bound menu card and dispersed in the air. He knew perfectly well who the guests were, without the need to ask the receptionist where they had come from and what apartments they had booked.

Only wealthy and significant people in the world used to visit this hotel. The waiter knew about it, he was able to recognize the guest’s position glancing with his skilled eyes. He liked to do it anyway. Then he said to himself: Director in a state position, two hundred thousand monthly salary. Or, looking at a gentleman entering, he thought, Private company, financial trouble, looking for an opportunity to find a partner. He enjoyed this guesswork. He didn’t care how high the tip could be, he enjoyed knowing people. He considered himself an expert in the field and felt proud.

That evening, however, he couldn’t decipher the identity of the four gentlemen who sat at a table that was behind a flowerpot with a silver tree standing on the floor. It was made by Gdansk craftsmen; the hotel prided itself on promoting high art. On the wall, hung a tapestry, woven by a contemporary artist. And although the waiter looked at it every day, he couldn’t find anything interesting in it, so he offered the guests other tables.

The management appreciated high art and the uniqueness of this place. The hotel on Fishing Seashore Street was the first hotel in Pomerania belonging to a global chain. It was designed by Professor Stefan Kurylovich in such a way as to resemble Gdansk tenement houses, standing close to each other, but their gray and light marble facades, soaring into the sky, were an example of modern architecture. The hotel offered luxurious enjoyment to wealthy guests. They could prepare their body and mind at a spa center and swim in a glazed roof-top swimming pool. The windows of their rooms faced the Motlava River, which rolled its steel waters towards the Baltic Sea. Building a hotel of such a well-known chain proved the city’s class and position in the world. Gdansk was becoming a city of luxury and big business.

The waiter, Aradius Pasik, was proud to be hired at such a renowned hotel. He believed that this was due to his knowledge of psychology, which allowed him to properly manage the interview.

So when the four gentlemen stood on the threshold of the room, looking around, he came over to offer them a table away from the rug. He was sent off with a move of a hand. The tallest guest, with black hair and silver temples, aroused the curiosity of the waiter. It didn’t result from the price of a marengo suit or a black shirt with subtle white stripes, either a tie, also black, but with small white dots, which indicated not only a thick roll of banknotes tied with an elastic band, which must have lain in the pants pocket, but also sophisticated taste, which the waiter was familiar with, at least in his opinion. His attention was drawn to black eyes, intensely looking, piercing through.

I wouldn’t like to get in his way, he would destroy me without remorse, the waiter thought, and he was right.

The amazing gentleman moved towards the table next to the silver tree. He was striding with great confidence. Accustomed to giving orders, he paid no attention to whether his companions were following him. The waiter considered him a boss.

One step behind him, there was walking a man, perhaps eighty years old, but burly and lively, although with a prominent belly. The other two were young, slim and fit.

The waiter guessed they were bodyguards. But he was completely wrong. Having put the cards with a gentle movement, he left. He watched the guests at the table, leaning his elbow on the counter, holding a white napkin with the tips of the digits of his hand put on the silver rim of the counter, alert, and waiting for an opportunity to come again and take the order.

The boss ordered refined and non-fattening dishes, which he wanted to deal with fairly quickly. The food seemed to be interfering with his conversation. He agreed to discuss important matters over the meal, making concessions on the custom, disregarding it like the dishes served.

The fat man whined about the starters, not knowing what to eat first. The two slim men ordered small-sized dishes that didn’t burden the stomach, which convinced the waiter that they were bodyguards and couldn’t be lumbering after a meal.

To his surprise, one of the young people started the conversation. The waiter heard a question asked in English to the boss. He tried to guess the accent. The young man spoke fluently and had careful pronunciation. However, he wasn’t an Englishman. Where did he learn the language so well? He must have lived in the English-speaking zone, perhaps since he was a child. The waiter realized that he was facing European citizens who felt at home.

The boss, however, didn’t deign to answer, but pointed with a careless gesture at the fat man. He began a long explanation, digging with a fork in a salad on a plate.

To his surprise, the waiter heard that the answer was in German.

The whining of the fat man about the starters suddenly took on meaning: he divided the olives and pushed them to the edge of the plate towards each of the slim men. Each man got two olives. The boss got as much as four olives. Three, the fat man, brought closer to himself, and one, he pushed aside. As the waiter guessed, it was to be for a partner who hadn’t been invited to the table. In this way, was simulated the distribution of profits. I wonder who the absent partner was. He wouldn’t do well in this business. He got one, and quite a small olive.

Suddenly the boss took the olive with his fingers and squeezed it so hard that drops of greasy juice came out of it. The man touched his lips with his fingers, the oil invisibly vanished. The dinner company, sharing the profits, understood the gesture, their reactions indicated it.

The fat man nodded appreciatively. The young men kept a cold distance, their impenetrable faces made it impossible to guess whether they didn’t like the business or the distribution of profits. The boss limited himself to slightly stretching his lips in a satisfied smile. The absent partner would be completely squeezed out and consumed, and the profits he deserved, would go to the boss, which was terribly greedy and ruthless in the fight for money.

The fat man, having grabbed his tie, wiped his sweaty forehead with it. First, however, he pushed a scarf pin made of amber in silver towards a knot under his neck. Three brilliants gleamed at the end of it. Maybe it’s a gift from the invisible partner which is to be squeezed out and cheated, the waiter thought. Who gives such expensive and elegant gifts?

The conversation took place interchangeably and freely in the two languages. The guests were characterized by high education and rich since they lived in this hotel. The waiter failed to eavesdrop on their business. Suddenly the boss, while waiting for the next dish, began to watch with interest the tapestry hanging on the wall. On his face, appeared an expression of approval, and the others were restrained.

The waiter guessed that the boss was an art connoisseur. The fat acted like the initiator of the whole venture, he had started this business, probably because he had a lot of money, after all, and he could afford diamonds, supposing they weren’t fake.

The two young people remained a mystery.

Chapter II

Yggdrasil

Go away

I

nspector Vilecki stood in the yard of the Torture Chamber, summoned by the director of the museum, who hadn’t yet shown up. He stared at the man hanging on the chains, who was dead. His head fell on his shoulder, so the inspector couldn’t see the face.

Vilecki was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. A strong association flashed through the mind.

You mustn’t create scenes that contain commonly understood allusions, he said to himself. He was categorical in his judgments and ruthless in separating the good from the bad. That’s probably why he became a policeman. You have to respect the untouchable, he added. He measured the distance from the mezzanine to the cobblestones with his eyes. The bar with the chains ran parallel below it. He tried to guess how the man had reached for the chains and slid his hands through the wide iron hoops.

Vilecki suddenly heard a murmur behind his back and turned abruptly. The police photographer behind him took a camera away from his eyes.

What do you think about it? Trying to take a close-up, he pointed to the hands of a man with protrusions caused by manual labor, hanging beyond the hoops.

Vilecki found it difficult to accept the conclusion that the man had waved a shovel. He didn’t look like a worker. So why did he have corns on his hands?

Vilecki stood aside to look at the head. He motioned to the photographer, indicating what to capture in the frame. A dark tan covered the nape of the hanging man, but a strip of white skin stood out beneath his hairline, which meant the hair had been trimmed, perhaps the day before.

For the last few weeks he was doing physical work in the open air, bent over, regardless of the sharp sun beating his neck, thought Vilecki. He must have finished it, drove from the grounds to the city and went to the barber.

I need to take a picture of the face, said the photographer.

Yes, the inspector admitted automatically.

He had put off the moment, though he was curious himself.

Could you raise his head? The photographer asked.

No, he refused, too quickly.

I don’t have rubber gloves.

You weren’t allowed to touch the body with your bare hands, but that wasn’t the reason. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the hanging body, especially the head. He felt a kind of respect and horror towards this figure stretched out on chains.

So we have to wait for the doctor. The photographer leaned in to take photos of the feet.

They didn’t reach the surface of the paved courtyard. The chain was thrown over an iron bar and locked with a pin inserted into a link. This resulted in its shortening. When was this blockade made? If he had been pulled up while still alive and left that way, it would have been torture, but would he have died of pain?

The doctor and his assistant had just arrived and approached the hanging body.

Can we take him off now? asked the inspector.

I need pictures of the face, he replied, and waited for the incredible moment of raising the deceased’s head.

There was a terrible tension. What will they see? The massacred face with dried blood? Frozen in suffering, contorted from pain? These terrifying images flashed through everyone’s imaginations. Inspector rocked on his heels. He put his hands behind his belt, but the gesture seemed inappropriate to him, so he clasped them in front of himself, treating it as an expression of respect for the deceased.

There was silence. They stood still, waiting. Pulling on rubber gloves, the doctor approached the body. He supported his jaw with the thumbs, grabbed the forehead with his four fingers, and raised his lowered head.

That’s what I meant, the photographer said matter-of-factly to hide his emotions.

Vilecki was surprised by the appearance of the man’s face. There was a solid expression of strong will left on it that was unbreakable, and his eyebrows were pulled together as if in anger. Vilecki expected that, as he associated, he would see an expression of gentle resignation, submission to the judgments of heaven, and yet he faced the man who had been resolute in his life and resisted until the last moment.

The doctor was supporting his drooping head, the vitreous eyes were staring directly at the building opposite, from where footsteps came. Vilecki turned instantly, ready to react immediately.

A man in an elegant suit stood in the doorway. At the sight of the deceased’s face, he took a step back. The doctor suddenly lowered his arms, the head dropped to his right shoulder, freezing.

The man in the suit breathed a sigh of relief. However, the grimace didn’t disappear from his face, although the vitreous eyes were no longer looking at him. The elegant gentleman was the director of the museum. His name was Fiyorek. The inspector watched him with his narrowed eyes.

The director frowned as he critically assessed some detail in the body’s appearance. He clenched his jaw in resolution and gasped in anger. He looked around as if he had been looking for the culprit to vent his anger on.

You know this man? Vilecki asked.

No! He denied, screaming. Take him off as soon as possible! He screamed.

We have to carry out investigating actions.

What actions? The director squeaked.

All.

Will they last for a long time?

As long as it takes, answered the inspector.

A scandal will break out!

Vilecki didn’t react.

Do you even know where you are? He made a circle with his hand. He waited for an answer, but Vilecki was silent.

We are in the Gdansk Amber Museum! He announced. The inspector’s face remained indifferent.

Do you know our harvest? Amber, that’s what you will answer. But what kind of! Unique items that world museums bid for. Each of them could be an ornament of a royal crown. We have amber in a wide range of colors: from white, through gold, to black. Originals brought from the farthest ends of the globe. I will not mention the inclusions. He eloquently paused to ask ironically: You, inspector know, of course, what inclusions are?"

Without waiting for a reply, he explained: Millions of years ago, when a drop of resin slowly ran down a tree trunk, it came across an insect sitting on the bark and doused it, trapping it forever. The amber hardened and the insect got preserved and looks like a living one. We have a priceless inclusion. We pride ourselves on having a unique item. Have you heard of it?

Asking the inspector the question, he looked at the body.

Our pride is the Golden Moth! He announced.

What does the deceased have to do with this precious inclusion? Asked the inspector.

Nothing! The director yelled quickly.

Has it not been stolen?

The director shrugged.

Did you check the security system?

No, Fiyorek replied.

Am I to understand that the director of the prestigious museum with world-class unique pieces is not interested in protecting them?

There is no such need, the director said confidently. We have installed the original solution.

So nothing is lost? Asked the inspector.

There was no time to check despite I came earlier than usual.

To hang him?

What are you suggesting? Fiyorek was indignant. He turned to leave. Please leave the premises of the museum immediately. Your presence is destructive.

What will it destroy? Vilecki asked.

A project. The city is preparing to introduce a decisive change in Baltic amber certification. You will stop actions, thwart efforts to carry out the activities that allegedly cannot be postponed.

The director put one hand behind his back and the other bent in front of himself as if he had hold a microphone in it. He walked along the courtyard, peering over the inspector’s head, and spoke:

The successful implementation of the project will make Gdansk a decisive player in the global amber trade. Soon, millionaires from all over the world, sitting at their computers, will make a click and buy unique lumps of amber. Enormous sums will be transferred to the city’s bank account immediately. Our bank safes will swell with money. The future will be decided today.

And this unfortunate frustrated plans?

He has nothing to do with it, said the director.

You know that!

I know who’s to be here soon, the director countered.

I’m expecting a prosecutor, retorted Vilecki. The director’s eyes grew round with terror.

In a moment we will be graced with presence of experts from abroad, invited by the city. We made long-lasting efforts to persuade these people to come.

What for?

They decide and broker in the amber trade, they are certification specialists. And they will talk to me. To add meaning to the words, he pecked the chest with the index finger of his right hand. Seeing that the doctor finished the examination, the inspector nodded.

The doctor and assistant took one arm out of the grip, the body slumped, turning to a side and hung with the other arm, still in the rim of the chain slung over the beam.

It looked terrifying. Vilecki had in mind the image he had seen in his church, he made a strong impression there, and here even more intense, because the scene took place in reality.

At that moment, a woman’s scream came from the building opposite, short, terrified, suddenly broke away and subsided. The doctor and the assistant froze for a moment, the scream didn’t repeat itself, so they resumed removing the other arm from the rim.

Fiyorek suddenly started to act like crazy. He waved his arms, ran a few steps forward, then backward. In the end he gave up this action and rushed to the gate. He looked outside.

They’re coming! He screamed.

He ran to the inspector, extending his arms as if he had wanted to push him out into the street.

Get out of here, you along with him! He screamed, losing his temper.

The doctor’s assistant brought a stretcher from the car parked behind the museum gate and unfolded it. The body was tucked into a green bag with a zipper in the middle, extending from feet to an edge beyond the head. The attendant, leaning forward slightly, squeezed the handle of the zipper with his thumb and forefinger, ready to pull it with a single movement of the hand. The doctor lowered the eyelids of the deceased with two fingers in rubber gloves and turned to the inspector.

He’s been dead for several hours, he said.

And what was the cause of death? Asked the inspector. The doctor shook his head.

The dissection will show.

On the green sack, the zipper moved up, creaking, which sounded as if the deceased had been tearing the fabric of his life away from the whole. The bag with the corpse was put on the stretcher, grabbed by the rods and carried behind the gate.

I’m reporting off, said the photographer.

He closed the equipment in a black bag and, nodding his head, went to the gate facing the Coal Market.

When the director saw that the body had been carried out beyond the gate, his shoulders drooped and his chest rose in a deep sigh of relief.

The inspector stayed. Dressed in a suit, he was indistinguishable from the people who might have been there as employees.

He didn’t think the director would try to push him beyond the gate again. He wanted to gather information but, complying with his plea, he intended to do so discreetly.

Down the dark corridor, of which Fiyorek had recently went out, appeared a white figure. It had no legs and was floating. It was moving forward. When it stopped in the doorway, the inspector saw folded human arms on its stomach, and below, legs of a man in uniform. The museum guard carried the statue of white stone to put it in the courtyard. The sculpture was put in the place where the body had been hanging a moment earlier. The guard straightened and breathed a sigh of relief, looking around. At that moment, from the corridor, which he had left, came a short scream of a woman and died down.

The inspector looked at the statue. It showed a kneeling woman. Her arms were lowered and extended in a gesture of silent plea. Her head lifted and eyes turned upward indicated that she was begging for mercy and forgiveness for the person placed above her. She looked petrified from excruciating suffering.

The director looked at the statue and got seized with fury. He pressed his lips together to keep from cursing and stifle an explosion of anger.

That’s his vision! I’ll never let that happen! He screamed.

The guard turned to the director and opened his mouth to explain why he had brought the statue and set it up, but the director waved his arms violently.

I know, I know! He screamed. Be silent immediately. Pointing his finger, he showed the guard that he had made the mistake, and the tall, bulky man stood, not knowing what to do. Someone had told him to bring the statue to the courtyard. He did it behind the back of the director and in defiance of his regulations. Fiyorek turned and, ignoring the inspector, rushed towards the door. Jumping over the stairs, he disappeared into the corridor, of which he had come out before.

The guard stood silly, not knowing whether to execute the second part of the order or to abandon it, obeying the director. Apparently he was a servant of two masters.

Chapter III

Yggdrasil

The Woman and the Statues

V

ilecki suddenly noticed the head of a woman with golden curls leaning out from behind the door of the room where the guard had entered. She stepped back, but after a while she slipped out again. Her shining black eyes stared at the chains, and they were dimmed by a sadness so deep that the inspector was surprised. The eyes turned their sight to the statue of the kneeling woman, and then the mouth twitched in disgust.

She took a step forward and appeared on the threshold. Her appearance dazzled Vilecki. No man could resist the beauty of this woman. Delighted, he admired her figure. The roundness of the hips was emphasized by the cut of yellow pants, reaching to the knees and revealing shapely calves. In the opening of a short jacket he could see an emerald blouse fitting closely to the bust. A beautiful woman had a refined taste and knew how to dress; she knew what cut and color would emphasize her figure, providing a unique style.

At that moment she looked at the inspector, and then fear appeared in her black eyes. She raised her hands to her face to cover it in an alleged reaction of terror and asked:

Ah, are you sure he’s gone?

The question puzzled the inspector, for it had a double sense. The beautiful blonde began to walk towards him, gracefully stepping on high heels of lacquered shoes. He had the impression that she allowed herself to be admired like a cabaret star, showing her poise and grace. She knew the inspector was stunned by her. She was right: he could feel her charm and couldn’t come to himself.

As a policeman, he didn’t believe in the sincerity of her emotions. She feigned fear, the sight of a corpse wouldn’t have scared her at all, and she played a scene titled: Defend Me Because I’m Afraid.

He waited excitedly for her to stand close to him; suddenly she passed him by and quickly approached the sculpture. She grabbed her head and tried to turn it. It is strange that this activity turned out to be the most important now. The inspector immediately came over and stretched out his hands to help the lady, but she pushed him away with a firm movement.

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