All language subtitles for Szyfry.1966.Wojciech_Has.1080p.WEB-DL.x264.AAC-KG

THE CODES

Excuse me, sir.
Who are you looking for?

Mrs Kunicka.

First floor.

To the left.

Could you wait a moment?

Is she very busy?

You may enter now, sir.

Where did you find this wonder?

I went through a lot of trouble
to obtain it.

But since it was for you…

I know you are a real
art connoisseur.

It’s not that expensive.

I know, you say the same thing
every time.

And then he brings me worse things
each time.

Could you leave that in the hallway?

Right through here.

Thank you. Goodbye.

Goodbye.

You look well.

How was the trip?
- Wonderful, thank you.

I left my luggage at the station.

Sit down, take your shoes off.

I’ll bring you your slippers.

What are you doing over there?

I’m toasting some bread for you.

Do you like it?
- I guess so.

What are you laughing at?
- For the first time in 25 years

someone simply said
to me “sit down, take of your shoes”.

Right.

What were you doing recently, anyway?

Recently, how?
- Well… overall?

I quit the business.
- I know, you told me in the letter.

But all these years?

I had to stop working
as the YMCA instructor.

I reached the age limit.

I have some money put aside.

There’s an open position for an
administrator

in a private college near London.

With a possibility of a silent
partnership.

It would become available this Autumn.

So, I realised I might be looking at
over a year of freedom.

And you remembered
your relative lives in Paris.

Did you have any news...

from there?

Yes.

Zofia wrote to me twice, and Maciek
once.

You didn’t reply, I presume?

I can’t write letters well.

I wanted to wait until I was in a
mood.

Did you end up waiting long?

Zofia wrote, that someone
saw Jędrek in Italy.

She asked for me to find him
and to be lenient with him when I do.

And to make sure it really
was Jędrek,

for it could be someone
pretending to be him.

Zofia was always a strange one.

It’s her strangeness that caused…

my thoughts to dwell on
separation from her.

And that would surely be the case,
if it wasn’t for the war.

She never writes to me…

although she lives in my apartment
in Cracow,

and sells my furniture.

Speaking of which, I don’t have any
issue with that.

She was asking for some pills
to help her sleep in the next letter.

It touched me, and I was going to…

I almost did, but I was
in Beirut at the time.

I couldn’t get those pills there.

And then you forgot.

Yes.

Then I forgot.

Only just now can we be sure
that Jędrek is dead.

We could have lied to ourselves until
the war was over,

but now there’s no doubt.

His mother is still hopeful,
but I know he’s dead.

That’s what Maciek wrote to me.

He wrote that he hopes
to explain it all to me someday.

He sent me a letter, too.

There’s an annotation there: "For
you".

"Please let him know
that my mother is very ill."

She lives in the past,
as if death wasn’t real

or she, herself, has already passed
on.

I’m alone with her

and there is no feasible way
for me to part from her.

I pity my own life.

My father needs to know this,

"although I doubt he can
help me in any way."

You should go there.

Dad!

Dad!

"The sun will rise..."

and bring forth a day
more frightful than darkness.

And a silence…

more horrifying than storms at sea,

for you will fear your own selves.

And snow will become the sea,

and its wave will be green,

and your home...

"will become a sinking ship."

Hurry, hurry!

Hurry up!

I wanted to pay, sir.

Władzio, this lady here…

One moment.

You asked for the bill?

Yes. Dinner, coffee, and
a glass of cognac.

Thank you.

Do you get off in Cracow?
- I do.

We’ll be there in 14 minutes.

Thank you.

Uwaga!

Express train travelling
from Paris through Frankfurt,

Erfurt, Rome, Dresden, Zgorzelec,
Wrocław, Katowice,

is arriving on track 2 on platform 1.

Please, step away from the tracks.

Cracow station.

Cracow station.

Welcome travellers. We wish you
a good time in our city.

You’re still waiting?

You can take them to the exit.

I had to get you a room in a hotel.

Maciek.

We still live in that big single room.

How are you? How’s your mother?

She’s ill.

Let’s go.

And what happened then?

When exactly?

Well… When you knew I wouldn’t
be back before the war ended.

Nothing. I went to high school
like usual.

They opened high schools again?
- Yes, but no one went.

They took the teachers in October,

and they closed middle schools
shortly after.

Forbid anyone from wearing
a school uniform.

We cut off silver buttons,
ripped off stripes of sleeves.

How did you make a living?

We sold things, at first our own,
and then the aunt’s.

The winter was hard.

I stood in lines to get coal, or…

train cars parked on the station.

Froze my hands off.

And your mother?
- Mother?

She baked cookies.

All the abandoned ladies
baked cookies…

for the coffee shops.

It was weird. Quite funny, you know.

You thought it was going
to end soon.

Yes.

That’s not the reason
why it was funny, though.

It was because everyone lived
below their worth.

What?

It was ambitious not to be ambitious.

No, I don’t understand that.

It soon turned out that
you can make big money

on idleness and merchandise.

In the second year of occupation
money commanded respect.

But only if they were made
in a despicable way.

The perfect commodity was one
that simply didn’t exist.

I read all about it.

It doesn’t matter if you read
about it…

You still don’t understand
what it means,

to accept the untrue life
as the only true life.

I still live below my true worth
to this day.

You had enough time to forget it.

Ah… That’s what you think.

You can’t argue when I confront you
with facts.

Confront me only with things
that carry any meaning to me.

Alright.

Miendel was taken by the end
of November

1944 by the SS ziher heitz polizei.

I wasn’t in Cracow then,
I came back…

only in March.

We looked for him.

We posted a notice on the radio,
we sent letters to...

the Red Cross.

So long as mother had hope,
she kept on believing…

that Jędrek might come back.

But since then she broke down
and has been living in her own...

world since then, where no one can...

reach her.

She takes too many drugs, and then
needs to be driven to the hospital,

but they don’t want to keep her there,
they tell us to take her home.

And then I’m left alone with her.

To calm her down I tell her…

…that I have some news of Jędrek.

She calms down, and she waits.

What can be done to cure her?

Nothing.

When the sick person accepts
their sickness as a kind of sanctuary,

you can’t do anything.

She’s very nice.

You’d be surprised
at how little she’s aged.

Tell me, did Zofia, did your mother
really love Marian?

Marian was with her.

Since when?

After the regiment’s termination,
Marian was taken prisoner, then escaped,

and made his was to Cracow.

It was almost curfew when he
rang our doorbell,

mother opened up…

Do you really want me to tell you
everything about Marian?

Not now.

Tell me...

tell me, what Jędrek did
in the organisation?

Nothing. We kept out distance
from everything.

Why was he taken, then?

Tell me, what did he have
to do with anything?

He was scared.

Mother said he barely slept.

Waiting, listening if the Germans
were coming.

The two of them barely slept.

Jędrek and mother both.

He wasn’t a child by then.

He was scared in September,
when he was still young, but later?

We all lived in one room,
Jędrek, mother and me.

Even the maid’s room was taken.

Marian lived there until he left.

We had German officials stay
in two of the rooms…

Don’t think they moved in by force.

Their business plaque on the door
served as good protection from the police.

Our apartment became
a place of contact.

We held briefings in here.

We had runners sleep on the
roll-away bed,

they came in here to get weapons
and info.

We all slept on something.

Jędrek did, too.

Did he know about all this?

He did.

So he was part of the movement!
- No.

That’s impossible.

Weren’t you scared that he’d be
the one to get caught?

We could all get caught
at any time.

You mean to ask me if we were
aware of that risk?

Yes, and no.

A soldier coming back from the
front will tell you the same thing.

A war is only possible
because no one knows exactly

what danger it poses to them.

Don’t tell me what war means,
for I’ve seen it.

You haven’t seen it when you
invite it into your home.

Sleeping in your guest room,
using your kitchen,

getting women and children involved.

You haven’t seen it crossed with love.

You fought battles with the Great
Army,

but you haven’t seen war
amidst daily life.

I don’t understand everything
from what you say.

Just listen, then.

Jędrek wasn’t in the organisation,
because he didn’t want to be part of it!

He was scared.
And then he asked to be involved.

And you didn’t want him then,
you thought him to be a coward.

No!

What, then?

He demanded for it to stop.

How could a child command a military
organisation to cease to function?

He threatened.
- With what?

He was probably having a nervous
breakdown.

You should have sent him away,
maybe to the country or something.

What about your mother?

When he got hysterical, she said
we can’t risk it.

You stopped aiding the resistance?

Yes. With the arrival of spring in
1944.

How do you know they killed Jędrek?

I know, because...

we didn’t hear anything from him,

we never saw him again.

He was seen in Italy, wasn’t he?

Mother saw him there…
from the window in her room.

And then they told him to get dressed,

and I wanted to help him, but
the man guarding him wouldn’t let me.

And that’s when he came close to me
and whispered: “Nothing, nothing”,

or maybe he said: “Nichts”,
or maybe something else entirely.

Jędrek wasn’t guilty.

They took him calmly, didn’t push him,
there was no shouting, it was calm.

And then no one ever came back,
not from the police, nor the organisation.

Jędrek was innocent.
Someone needed to help him.

But I’m always tired.

I was alone. I didn’t go to anyone.

I was scared, I was even scared to
write letters,

worried I might only worsen things.

I was waiting for a sign. For a…

message of some kind.

I kept thinking about what that man
that was guarding me said.

To not be afraid.

To not be afraid.

You said he said “nothing”.

Oh, right...

”nothing”.

What was he like?

Small.

What was he interested in?

War.

You told him stories of that war

as if it were the most beautiful
time of your life.

And then they started preparing him
for that second war,

that was supposed to mark
the beginning of “real life”…

He was scared.

Ever since you left, he was scared.
For you, for Maciek, for me.

He wanted us to be together.

He wanted us all to...

be together, always.

He kept asking throughout the war
when would we go back...

home?

Where were you then?

In Miechów county.

Forest at first, then the estate.

In Goszcza next to Słomniki.

Wasn’t Marian here?

No.

What, did he die?

He died a couple of days earlier.

He was shot in the street,
running from the patrol.

Did your mother tell you that?

No.

I’m telling you what I know.

He was scared...

when he saw people running,

when there would be a gathering in
front of the board

with execution announcements.
He was scared of the sirens.

When the night alerts started,
he called me over to the window to watch.

He locked himself in a dark room
and imitated the sound of the sirens.

He always made sure
to make his voice deep at the end,

just like when the siren slows down.

All boys like to play war.

When the air raids started
he didn’t eat, didn’t sleep.

Constant arrests...

He was scared of the doorbell,
steps approaching in the hallway.

He often disappeared for hours at a
time.

He came back distracted, and went
back...

to his drawings.

Sometimes he told us what he was.

He marvelled at…

how a person can keep still...

in a weird ritualistic position,
fighting through fatigue.

How...

one deforms their body with a
uniform, a chasuble, a dalmatic.

He spent entire days in
a crowd of devotees.

Staring at the altar, with that
strange smile of his,

the one that never left his face.

When he looked, when “stared”,
he did it in his own way…

Everything he did, he did
differently from other boys.

Not for fun or out of curiosity.

It was like he wanted to exhaust
himself with it, or even destroy himself.

He went to the church because he
preferred to watch

what was happening near the altar.

He became an altar boy, he was always
ready with a candle or a censer.

But he couldn’t last.

Staring.

Awful, uncontrolled, maniacal,
but still just staring,

but it couldn’t be stopped.

Look.

See?

What is this?

Fabric samples.

He went to the School of Commerce.

What for?

Why didn’t he partake
in underground education?

He didn’t want to.

He couldn’t... learn...

literature, history.

See how he used his notebooks?

Gross?
- Yes.

Don’t you remember?

He went to middle school with Maciek.

They went on holiday right
before the war, like us.

But they never came back home.

Zygmunt Gross, that’s his notebook.

He became friends with Jędrek during
the war, and...

and he...

he graduated from medical school.

He has a practice here, in Cracow.

He’s my doctor.

Doctor Gross?

Come in.

Are you here to see me?

Doctor Gross?

It’s me.

I’m an old friend of your father’s.

Of course, I remember now.
What a pleasure to see you.

Come in.

I just arrived from abroad,
I wanted to talk to you.

You knew my son.

Could I…?
- Of course, let me.

Thank you.

You speak excellent polish.
Your accent is unrecognizable.

Thank you, doctor.

Some people spend less time there
than you,

and they still manage
to get an accent.

Would you like a drink?
- Gladly.

Unfortunately, it’s Russian.

Yes, I knew Jędrek.

We had quite a difference of age
between us.

Here you go.

Jędrek was strange.

How so?

He was… How do I put it…
Absent in some way.

I think the English call such a thing
"absent minded".

Yes, such a thing often happens to
boys.

But it was more persistent
in Jędrek’s case,

and seemed to have certain roots,
religious perhaps.

When hit, he didn’t strike back.

He offended the school bully once,
and got massacred as a result.

He trusted me,

or maybe chose me to be the sole
viewer of a theatre only he played in.

Boys tend to speak only
of their advantages and successes.

He did the opposite – flaunted
his humiliations,

bragged about not hitting back,
like I mentioned,

or letting those stronger than him
beat him near to death.

You’re my wife’s doctor, are you not?

Yes, I’m treating Mrs Zofia.

I need an explanation.

Well, how do I put it.

It’s a mental illness.

Some form of residual guilt,

which is both the symptom,
and the cause of her illness.

A sense of guilt after the death of a
child?

That wouldn’t make it a special case.
There’s more to it than that.

This case is a peculiar one,

for what usually is a result of an
illness,

here it became reality, in a sense.

I’m not sure I understand.

All the events followed
the illness’ order of association,

in other words, the reality
was itself insane.

I need not hide anything from you.

At your age, those things are no
longer a matter of ambition.

You want to talk about the man

with whom my wife was in close
relations during the occupation.

I know you’re well informed.

I’m not sure you know enough

about his relationship to Jędrek,

between his case and all that came
after…

Well, tell me, then.

Marian...
- You knew him?

Yes, we worked together in the
organisation.

If those times bear any significance
to me,

then it’s only thanks to Marian.

Did you know him, too?

I think I knew him for longer than
you.

But that was a different time,
so I knew a different person.

He was Zofia’s cousin,
in love with her since childhood.

He was a pleasant dummy, a cadet.

He made Zofia laugh with his antics,
and he never bothered me.

It was the war that made him
into the man you knew,

and allowed him to win Zofia’s
affections.

She hid Marian after he escaped
from the prisoners’ camp.

I know, and I don’t blame either of
them.

Like you said, at my age, these
things… and so on.

I’m only interested in one thing.

And that is?

How did my son die?

And why?

He was arrested.

And no one saw him since.

Listen well.

Zofia told me about the circumstances
of Jędrek’s arrest,

as well as she remembered it.

I’m sure she told you that the man who
was guarding her came close to her

and said something that sounded
like “nothing” or “nichts”.

Then she said no one was guarding
the house, and so on.

I told you about Marian.

That man knew everything about us.

Everything. He knew where we lived...

our aliases, our names.

He was in contact with the leadership.

He knew all the plans,
but not just that.

It’s thanks to him everything we did

became more meaningful,
more significant.

Maybe we needed heroes,
and ended up creating him,

stretching him out to fit our ideals,
I don’t know.

It only proves one thing…

he was invaluable to us.

Why are you telling me
about Marian?

To convince you that he couldn’t die.

Does that mean Jędrek was taken
hostage in place of Marian?

Yes.

Does that mean Zofia
could have saved Jędrek

if she revealed Marian’s hiding place?

Yes.

It all seems like something
happening in another reality.

Excuse my coming here.

But it seems to me like you might
currently know my wife better than I do,

for the way she’s changed is something
beyond my comprehension.

Mrs Zofia is ill
and in need of help.

Thank you, sir.

You lied to me, doctor.

Excuse me?

The hostage wasn’t necessary.

Marian died two days earlier,
before Jędrek was arrested.

Someone told me that.

Mr Czesław?

Thank you.

Are you the owner?

I’m the manager.
The owner is the working class.

Ask Mr Antoni,
he can write you a receipt.

What do you need, sir?

I’d like to speak with you.

If it’s something pressing…
Come with me.

How did you find me?

My son works here.

Sometimes. Come in.

You worked together during the
occupation.

Sometimes.

Sir.

You know the matter I came here to
solve.

Please, spare me the questions.

I was an officer...

for the underground army, trained
officers and warrant officers.

I took leadership of the Carde Company
after Marian’s death.

After 3 months the Company ceased to
exist.

The occupation was over…

the war took the best years of my
life, so I run an antique shop now,

instead of writing a thesis.

That’s all.

My fight is over, but you want to keep
fighting,

because of some kind of insecurity
over your absence

or lack of participation.
- I did participate in the war.

I didn’t mean to insult you.

I’m trying to untie the knot

binding my wife and two sons.

The one that’s gone…

and the one wandering around,
unable to find his own place.

I want to do anything
there is left to do.

Do you also believe
the boy didn’t die?

There’s no reason to believe that.

But I couldn’t have ignored
my wife’s request to come,

asking me to look for him.

Her whole hope is based upon
words she didn’t really hear,

the sense of which only dawned on her
after those many months

when she was alone, away from people.

A whisper which could be a fabrication
of her exhausted mind, maybe an anguish,

leading to her nervous upset.

You have to accept the reality.

That’s why I’m here.

But that’s also why I need to know
everything.

What do you not know?

I don’t know...

why was Jędrek taken?

Well, do you know why they murdered
6 million innocent people here?

I’m old.

You know how much I’ve distanced
myself from my wife, and she from me.

I can’t communicate with Maciek.
The war has separated us forever.

I’m looking…

I’m looking for that child,
killed 20 years ago, because...

…because he is the closest to my
heart.

How can I help?

Please, tell me the whole truth.

I told you everything I know about it.

I’m sorry I bothered you.

Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Who was the antique store’s manager?

If you found him and talked to him,
you should know everything.

He was your commander?
- The second-in-command.

And the doctor?

Are you trying to see
if everything checks out?

He was the platoon commander.

How many platoons were there?

You want to know all the leaders?

Were you one of them?

For a time.

Until you left for the forest people,
right?

Yes.

Did you go there of your own volition?

Yes.

Why?
- I wanted to go.

Tell me, why did Marian leave Zofia?

He left, they left…

Who?

Marian and Jadwiga.

The one teaching sanitary classes?

Not just that.

Tell me...

What else do you need to know? You
know everything!

Do you remember anyone
from the Secret Polish Army?

Anyone Marian could have been in touch
with?

Only one.

His alias was "Crow",
but that’s all I know.

Did you try looking for him?

How?

You said you remembered him.

Do you see these two men?

That’s what our contact
with the leader looked like,

briefings during walks.

If someone asked you
after a few years passed,

“do you know that man?”

You think you’d remember him?

The one walking towards us?

No, that was Marian.
“Crow” would be the other guy.

I saw him in the city
only one time…

and from a distance like this.

I met him once in Goszcza,
but it was during the night.

And let me give you a piece of advice
– don’t look for the guilty.

If they are guilty, then it’s
according to a law

that didn’t have any power then.
- What law?

A law telling you to save everyone,
no matter what it takes.

That was our war!

And that’s what I can’t understand.

Listen...

I wrote to you once,
saying I’d explain everything.

Explain, then.

I saw him.

Jędrek?
- Yes.

I was in Goszcza.

When?

Right after they took him from home.

I didn’t know they took him then,

so I didn’t know about Marian’s death.

They took a carriage from the station.

I waited for them,
because I was informed

the day before that
they’d be arriving.

Who?

They never said who.

I was to show them the way to the
woods and give them the password.

Outside of the driver there was two of
them.

And Jędrek, fast asleep.

I saw his head.
He was covered by a sheet.

So they saved him.

You’re listening to what I’m telling
you.

You just don’t understand…

It doesn’t mean they saved him.

It means...

that it was our people who took
him.

Do you understand, you poor man?

Ours.

Ours.

"Darkness will be my ally
and my homeland."

And my eyes like handmaidens,
who stop working

for lack of oil in the evening lamp.

My sight like doves flying in the
night, pounding into walls.

Fiery circles will arise from my brain
and form before my eyes,

like faithful servants carrying
lanterns in front of their master.

And I’ll reach out into the darkness,

hoping to catch one of the burning
stains.”

"Three crosses were built,

from the tallest tree you could
find in this country,

and three martyrs stepped forward,
one from each group.

Not chosen by fate,
but of their own volition.

They weren’t the leaders of their
groups, but one of the smallest of them.

And they put them up on crosses,
those mindless people,

and they pierced their palms with
nails.

The one on the right shouted:
Equality!

The one on the left shouted: Blood!

"The one in the middle shouted: Faith!"

You waited for them here?

Yes.

I lived with that railwayman
when I couldn’t stay at the estate.

Why won’t you say hello to him?

He doesn’t remember me,
or doesn’t want to.

What time was it when they arrived?

I think it was quite late,
around 5, maybe.

It was raining...

so I didn’t hear them in time.

That’s the road to Goszcza?
- Yes.

Whose estate was it?

I didn’t know them well.

It was a historical estate, apparently
Langiewicz stayed here once.

Near the end of the January Uprising
they were stationed not far from here.

Goszcza used to be part of
the Austrian Partition.

Where did the carriage come from?
- The estate.

Can you remember
what the driver looked like?

He won’t tell you anything.

Does he still work here?

We can ask at the State Agricultural
Farm, his name is Madeja.

He walked as if he were ill, like so.

Did they say anything amongst
themselves?

They did, but nothing special;
that “it was cold”, “the ride was bumpy.”

And the boy?
- No.

He laid down on the sacks
when they arrived, I think he was asleep.

Did they say anything to him?

What could they say? “Get up”, and
that’s it.

Do you still own that carriage?

It’s right over there.

Do you know anything else?

What could I know?

If it was dark, how could you tell
that it was Jędrek?

It was him.

He was covered.

He was facing the direction
I approached from.

He was asleep?

He didn’t open his eyes, even
when I shone a light on him.

Why didn’t you say anything to him?

It all happened too fast.

I needed a moment to register
that it was him, but even then…

Even then, I wasn’t sure.

Later when I found out about
everything, I realised…

that it was Jędrek.

You lived here, on this estate?

Yes. At first in the service building,
then the main house.

They were two brothers.

Yes, they split the house in half.

One took over the agriculture,
and the other worked at the station.

Where did you take him?

You mean that boy?

Yes, where did you drive?

The upper road leads
to the ranger’s cabin,

and the ravine leads to the other
village, right outside of the forest.

When we got to the crossing,
we stopped.

Where did they go from there?

I don’t know. They told me to go back.

Do you know that ranger’s cabin?

I knew the old ranger, but…

I can’t recall his name.

Tell me, does that old ranger
still work there?

Mieciara? No way,
he’s retired.

He lives with his daughter in
Słomniki.

Yes.

Alright, goodbye then.

Goodbye.

Many people came to see me.

Now I remember.

That gentleman came here too.

And that boy…

They brought him here sick,
after typhus,

asked me to keep him here for a while.

We put him upstairs in the attic.

In the attic? In November?

It wasn’t November, it was summer.

No, no.

November, for sure.

Wacka!

When did they bring
that Cossack here?

Autumn.

See? It was autumn.

Autumn, autumn.

I’m telling you, it was summer.

Cossack?

Are you sure?

I don’t know.

She doesn’t know.

As if she didn’t tend to him.

No, my sir, this story has
nothing to do with my son.

He was your son?

My son was either executed,
or hidden away.

My son was killed, too.

Under the overpass in Słomniki.

He wouldn’t let them cover his eyes.

Listen to me.

My son was killed by our people.

Or hidden. Maybe he’s still alive.

I came from abroad, from England.

Hide this.

Hide the money, so that
your daughter doesn’t see,

or my older son.

My son was just a child.

Maybe he couldn’t keep a secret,
said something stupid.

Or maybe he went crazy with fear.

Or the people who killed him did.

They drove with him
to the forest you worked in.

You knew them.

Lieutenant "Crow".
Do you remember lieutenant “Crow”?

"Crow"?

Please, answer me, do you remember
"Crow"?

Listen to me.

There was one, we had to hide him,

because he threatened to tell the
Germans everything.

They put him in the Cisterian
monastery.

Do you know where the Cisterian
monastery is?

Thank you very much.

Please, understand, they all
scattered across the world.

You won’t find anyone anymore.

Who could have given the order?

Someone from the top.

Where?
- At the headquarters.

Where are they now, these judges?

I’d like to see them today, when
they’re old and grey like me.

When they have grandchildren, or try
to figure out where they lost their kids.

Maybe you ride on the train with them,

maybe they give up their seat
for you in trams,

maybe we pass each other on the
street.

No one requires an elderly gentleman
to walk up to you

and say: "I’m the one
who convicted your son."

And don’t believe that another
gentleman would come up

and say: "Yes, I’m the one who killed
him."

I want to find the man that saved him.

Tell me, is it possible that he hated
you, your mother, me, this much?

All those he knew before these people
came to take him away,

that if he’s alive – he’s silent?

Here you go, 15 zlotys for 1 kg.

Thank you very much.

Tell me.

I’ve been thinking for a while now
that you demand too much from us.

The train for Cracow is in 10 minutes.
Let’s go.

I’ll take the next one.

See it as you will,
but I’m not coming with you.

What are you still looking for?

You have no more questions.

You can’t possibly understand us.

Please, leave here, I’m begging you.

Go back to where you came from.

You can come back in a few years,
when you calm down.

Dear God…

why did I tell you all this?

You didn’t have to know anything.

I don’t know this case very well.

I’ve only been in the monastery
for a couple of years.

There is a monk here,

but I don’t think
he could be your son.

How old would the boy be, was he
alive?

37.

They took him in during the war,

I don’t remember it,
I wasn’t born back then yet.

Maybe you’d like to see
our Romanian cloisters?

It’s in this monastery that the first
chronicle of our country was written.

I should get back now, sorry.

You should visit us again sometime.

I don’t think so.

"Have hope,

for your hope will pass on to
the next generations and revive them,

but if it dies in you,

the next generations will be
made up of dead people.

I would convey this secret to you,

that some souls travel sun-wise,

and others walk away from the sun,
towards the dark stars,

but you would not understand me!

I tell you, do not hope for tomorrow,

but the day that will be
the tomorrow of your death.”

Hello?

I’d like to speak with you.

Excuse me, who’s speaking?

My name won’t tell you anything.

I know about the case
you came here to solve.

I’m listening.

I’d like to meet with you in the café
in the Cracow Cloth Hall,

in about half an hour.

I found out about your arrival
by complete chance,

your wife’s relative, doesn’t matter
who, saw me in the street.

You’re a relative of my wife?

No, I knew Marian.

I want to tell you all I know
about Jędrek’s death.

I lived with Marian in the last year
before war ended,

right when that happened.

Tell me, did Jędrek
turn Marian in?

What will you be having?

Small coffee for me.
- Two coffees.

Marian left Zofia
in spring 1944.

He did it for me,

and I have nothing to be ashamed of,
because…

I loved him.

Did Zofia know you?
- Of course.

I came over there almost daily,
brought the newspapers,

spent my evenings there...

I even spent the night, sometimes.

Zofia thought I was Maciek’s fiancée.

But you and Maciek…

Maciek loved me.

When Marian left Zofia’s home,
Maciek left for Goszcza.

Yes.

Did Zofia know why Marian left?

I don’t know.

I guess Maciek understood what went on
between you and Marian...

I told him myself.

So, Maciek or Jędrek told Zofia
and that’s when Marian left.

And then Jędrek, hoping to avenge
his mother, sold him out.

How did he do it? Did he just go to
the police?

If he did that, both him, his mother,
you

and your whole organisation, whatever,
would all be taken away as well.

No. If you only mean to tell me
of the sequence of retaliations,

escapes and betrayals,
please, spare me.

I only want to know one thing.

Was Jędrek really murdered?

I don’t even want to know who did it.

It’ll turn out to be some “Crow” or
“Vulture”, or “Jurand” or “Kmicic”,

so someone without a name,

who decided to wear a heroic name
for the duration of the war,

and today is again
called Stefan or Zygmunt

and is an official, a doctor,
or a woman.

A minute ago you asked what would
happen if he went to the police.

I said that he didn’t do that,
because you’re all still alive.

Marian is dead.

Jędrek followed his every step.

Waited outside his house for hours.

Once time Marian finally caught him,
wanted to simply beat him up,

pulled him to the gate,
Jędrek started kicking, screaming,

people started gathering
and Marian had to run.

There happened to be a patrol nearby,
shots were fired.

They got him.

He died in the street.

How do you know all this?

I was there.

That’s all. I’ve nothing more to say.

One more thing.
- Please.

Nevermind that. Nevermind.

Your coffee.

What?

They left this morning,

but they left the keys with me,
I can give them to you if you want.

They left?
- You didn’t know?

They took an ambulance.

An ambulance?
- It was an emergency.

What happened?

Well, she eats enough of those drugs,
sleeps for days,

and then the usual, depression,
anxiety attacks.

Mr Maciek called the ambulance at
night, and they went to the hospital.

But don’t worry.

Some time to heal, to calm down,
it’ll be alright.

Could you give me those keys, then?
- Of course.

This one.
- Thank you.

Why didn’t he even call?

The last time something happened
was a year and a half ago.

He should have called.

Do you have any idea
when Maciek will be back?

Probably later, after he’s taken
Mrs Zofia to the hospital

he usually likes to go drinking,
even though he’s okay otherwise.

What?

If you’re going leave later,
then please close the door.

Connecting.

Here.
- Thank you.

When does the plane for Warsaw leave?

The bus leaves at 2.30 P.M.

Then I’m running short on time.

Yes, 2 hours.

You have a connection
with London later today.

Your tickets, sir.

And your passport.
- Thank you.

There was a phonecall for you.
Oh, excuse me.

Hello? “Polski” Hotel.

Who is this? Hello?
Stay on the line!

The line broke, unfortunately.

Where was the call from?

I don’t know, seemingly outside of
Cracow.

Someone for you, but I couldn’t make
it out clearly.

Yes, well.

Thank you, I’ll be in my room.

Hello? Please, speak clearly,
the quality is very bad.

Who is it? Who’s speaking?
- I have a request.

Can you help me? I need help.

I have a request.
- Alright, I’ll come.

I need help.
- I’ll be right there.

I want to go home.

We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.

I’m here to help.

Thank you. I want to go back.

You’re not staying in that hospital,
I’ll make sure of that.

Goodbye.

Thank you for calling me.