Saturday, 1st June 1967
2.30pm
“When did this happen?” the policeman asked.
“Come on, how would I know?” the warehouse worker responded, shrugging his shoulders.
“It’d be better if you knew, Wargula,” the shift supervisor Niedzielak barked back. “If you start pulling any tricks, the officer here will lock you up in jail, just like that.”
“Me? What for? It didn’t happen on my shift! Everything was still there on my shift yesterday, and it’s gone today. And I’m supposed to be locked up for that? Ask Gwizdała.”
“Who’s Gwizdała?” the policeman asked with interest. He was plainclothes, yet he was, for all intents and purposes, a real policeman. This was because Sergeant Teofil Olkiewicz happened to be working on a very important case at the H. Cegielski Metal Industry Complex in Poznań (which, until fairly recently, had been called the Joseph Stalin Metal Works). And because the case was important, his supervisors came to the conclusion that Olkiewicz, who was assigned to it, should be dressed to mix in with the crowd. His commander, Lieutenant Wróbel, who did not think very highly of him, explained the gist of the assignment to him, short and sweet:
“You, Olkiewicz, look like a total bonehead and on top of that, you wouldn’t know your own arse from your elbow, so you’re perfect for the job. You’ll blend in with the crows, wander around, talk with people and, of course, you won’t get anything done, but society will know that we are on guard and securing the front line.”
There was an issue though with the blending-in part, because Sergeant Olkiewicz was wearing a white shirt and blue tie with white polka dots, a grey jacket and grey nylon hat. He also took a light coat just in case, which he draped over his shoulder. So actually, he looked more like an American tourist who came to the Poznań International Fair, and not a labourer from the Ceglorz (as the Cegielski factory was nicknamed). So it was no surprise that as soon as he walked into the warehouse, the news that they had sent an undercover agent to sniff around immediately spread among the employees. But even if they had not recognized him, undercover agent Sergeant Olkiewicz knew life all too well and was aware of the fact that nothing would come of ferreting about the factory, because nobody would tell him anything anyway. After all, what should people say about the fact that tools were disappearing? That’s how things go with tools, they disappear; especially since you can’t get anything in the shops, yet you have to make do somehow, and everybody needs a hammer or screwdriver for small repairs at home.
“Well, if the officer here would sit all day on a stool and watch out for these crooks, nothing would be disappearing,” warehouse worker Warguła stated, as he was picking his nose.
“What kind of crazy idea is that?” the supervisor exclaimed, his gaze beaming on Warguła. “You think that the Citizen’s Militia has nothing else to do but hang around the factory doing your job?”
“We’ve got a fireman stationed at the factory who keeps an eye on things all day, so why couldn’t a copper…” the warehouse worker did not give in.
“Keep that up and you’ll be the one ending up behind bars for that, uhm, what was it again…” – Olkiewicz glanced helplessly at Niedzielak, who had been telling him only minutes ago what the commotion was all about, but the officer had forgotten – “…bore machine!”
“An electric drill with changeable bits manufactured in Poland by the Celmar factory,” the supervisor corrected him, using the tone of voice of an expert who had to deal with the technically illiterate.
“Yeah exactly. Electric drill. I understand that small whatnots like
