XXXVI. Meeting at Dave's Place
Dave “the Dude” Devoran, free-market ambassador, came to Budapest to find his fortune, but things have not been going very smoothly. What follows is Episode XXXVI.
By Berger Bronte
(© Tom Popper)
I am silent. I am the hunter and I know my prey is close. I sit in my Skoda, parked across the street from his home — the place where he and my girlfriend, Mira Z., probably have illicit rendezvous. I watch his door and wait for the criminal to be drawn back to the scene of the crime.
Life will be wonderful again when I kill David Devoran.
Mira Z. — who denies she is doing anything with David, but I know better — will see how deep my love is. “Derk, your love is deep,” she will say. Then we will flee this stupid country together in the Skoda I have repaired, and I will no longer have to hide. I will not hide from the crime I accidentally committed before, in David’s home, and I will not hide from justifiably killing David Devoran.
A large fancy car with five people inside pulls up. This may be the moment.
* * *
I am silent. I am the hunter and I know my prey is close. I sit in my Lada, parked across the street from David Devoran’s building. This is where someone tried to kill a member of Hungary’s Parliament. We believe the assailant’s name is Derk, and we have a tip that he has come out of hiding to look for his friends here. I sit with Bela, the crazy drunk who can identify the suspect, and wait for the criminal to be drawn back to the scene of the crime.
Everything will be wonderful when I catch this Derk. It will mean national notoriety and probably a promotion for me, Inspector János Homok. And it will mean that David Devoran’s mother, Kinga Katona the femme fatale, will be incredibly grateful to me. I would love to have just one more chance with her. Catching Derk will also mean I can end my association with Béla, who is now humming, like some kind of idiot. As near as I can tell, he is performing a quiet montage of songs by Little Richard. “Tutti Frutti” was never meant to be hummed.
A black Mercedes pulls up with David, his gorgeous mother, and three others. They look suspicious and afraid. This may be the moment.
* * *
As I step out of my Skoda, I slip a folding knife in my back pocket. It will be so easy. No one will know who I am. I can just walk up to him, slit his jugular vein and leave before he even hits the ground. I approach the big black car and call out “David, is that you?” One of the young men in the group turns his head nervously. I can tell at a glance that he is American. I smile pleasantly, knowing that I must keep my prey from suspecting anything until the last second.
* * *
“That’s the one.” Béla says calmly. “The big guy coming toward them.” I see that this young man looks just like the sketch of the suspect that Béla has already drawn for me and I realize with regret that there was really no need to bring the drunk along. I step out of my Lada and walk slowly toward the group. I must keep my prey from suspecting anything.
* * *
The man who was driving spins around and points two guns at me. I throw my hands up in the air and I hear a shot. Then I hear two more. The noise is coming from behind me. I dive to the ground and look backward. When I again turn my head toward David and his group they are running into the building and the man with the two guns is firing in my direction. They were obviously wating for me, and have me surrounded on both sides by police, or maybe David’s armed guards. I wonder what I did to make them suspect me. I also wonder how they could shoot at me from so close without hitting me.
I’ve been lucky so far, but I decide it’s time to go. I start to crawl backwards, towards my car. The shooting has stopped for now, and I’m thinking that I will be allowed to escape, when I feel someone’s hand on my ankle.
* * *
I have him. Now I need to try to get out of here without getting shot. I never knew this was such a high-crime neighborhood. David, Kinga and their friends have gone inside, and the four people who were apparently shooting at them are walking toward the door, paying no attention to us. Suddenly a bright red, full-sized Cadillac with American license plates pulls up. The man inside calls one of the gunmen by name and four of them walk to his car for a conversation.
As a police inspector, I should find out what’s going on -- but these people look dangerous.