Anna was already out the door and Jake about to slip outside when Kamila said, “Do you have Jiri’s cell number?”
Why hadn’t Jake asked for that? Kamila gave him the number and then Jake met Anna on the sidewalk.
They walked a block to Jake’s Golf. He didn’t want the waitress to see his license number, so he did a U-turn and headed out of the city.
When they were on the autobahn heading toward Hungary, Anna said, “You have a way with people. They seem to want to please you — give you any information you ask for.” She shook her head. “How do you do it?”
“It’s part of my charm,” Jake said, a serious smirk on his face. “Besides, it’s not always that easy. Sometimes I have to break a few legs.”
She raised her brows with that.
Budapest was about 250 kilometers east of Bratislava. With the stop at the border and a brief late lunch break, it took the two of them three hours to reach Budapest. Just in time for rush hour.
Jake had been to Budapest many times, but it had been at least two years since his last visit. Still, other than the traffic, he had no problem finding the Castle District. It was off season, and not many people were braving the cold to check out the view. The Castle District was on the Buda side of the Danube, which split Buda from the city of Pest on the east side, and, along with the Old Town, was mostly a pedestrian zone. It was not a large area of the city, but it included the Royal Palace, Matyas Church and enough galleries and museums to keep most people busy for a week. It also featured the most stunning view of Budapest, the Danube River, and the Parliament building in Pest.
They parked the car and this time Anna wanted to ask the questions. On the drive to Budapest, she had accessed the Interpol database, found the man’s address three blocks off of Attila Ut, a street on the bus route just below the Castle District, and decided to call ahead to see if he was at home or at work. No answer at home, so they had driven straight to the Hilton.
The Hilton was the only major hotel in the Castle District, a posh expansive hotel with, Jake guessed, a grand view of the city below.
They found Viktor Kopari in his office around the corner from the main desk. He was forty-five and not married, his hair dark black with no hint of gray. He had a small scar below his right eye. He had also played hockey on the Hungarian junior national team against Jiri. Anna introduced herself as a friend of Jiri Sikora.
Kopari spoke perfect German. “How is Jiri?” he asked, his head tilting to one side and his eyes not on Anna but locked onto Jake — his voice more than a little effeminate.
“We’re trying to find him,” Anna said. “We’re hoping you could help us.”
The concierge put his hands on his hips and said, “I have not seen him in a couple of weeks. I drove to Bratislava for the weekend, but that other man was there. That Czech brut. I don’t know what Jiri sees in him.”
Jake stepped forward and shook hands with Kopari. “I agree,” Jake said. “You must be talking about Miko.”
Kopari tried to hold Jake’s hand longer than normal. “Right. I played against him just once. Back in nineteen seventy-eight. He was all elbows to the head. Knees to the groin. Shoving us to the boards. Just brutal.” He flapped his elbows like a chicken.
“Were you part of the Teutonic Brotherhood?” Jake asked him.
Without thinking, Kopari said, “Yes. Jiri got me into it some five years ago. But that was another time. I didn’t understand the vows. Chastity? What in the hell is that? That’s no fun.” Kopari giggled like a little girl.
“He’s not still with the Order?”
“No. Not since he met Hermann over a year ago.”
“Hermann?” Jake asked.
Kopari put his finger on Jake’s chest and said, “Hermann Conrad. He’s a German. Well, he calls himself a Prussian. But he’s a German.”
Jake played it up now, his stare deep into the Hungarian’s brown eyes. “Could Jiri be with Conrad?”
“He wishes. Conrad is loaded. He owns places in Berlin and a biotech company in Magdeburg. He has a castle in Austria. I hear it’s gorgeous.”
“Is that outside Salzburg?” Jake asked him, uncertain.
“No, no. It’s further south than that. By St. Johann.”
The Bratislava priest had mentioned this in his diary, Jake remembered. Something about long training sessions. But the priest didn’t know exactly what they were up to, nor did he care to know.
Anna said, “Miko spent some time here in Budapest. Would his friends here know where he is?”
“That man is crazy,” Kopari said, wagging his finger in Anna’s face. He thought for a moment and then added, “Another friend of both men maybe. Emil.”
“Emil?” Jake said.
“That’s what I said.”
“He have a last name?”
The concierge swished his head no. “Just know Emil.”
“You know how to find him?”
Kopari explained that the man ran a kiosk with furs and knives down on Vaci Street across the river in Pest. Jake had been there before. Vaci was a pedestrian zone that ran for more about a kilometer, with high end stores making it one of the best places to be seen in Budapest. This time of the year would include Christmas markets with food vendors.
“How do we find that kind of kiosk this time of year?” Anna asked him.
“Easy. These people are very territorial. Same place every year. Emil’s kiosk is in the square just above the last stop on the Metro Line One — the start of Vaci Street.”
Anna thanked him and headed for the door.
Taking his time to depart, Jake kept thinking he should ask him something else.
Kopari stopped them. “Do you have Jiri’s cell number?”
Maybe that was it, Jake thought. He didn’t want to tell him he already had the number. Kopari gave them the number, and then Jake thanked him and left, guessing the guy was checking out his ass and not Anna’s as they departed.
When the man and woman had left out through the front door, Kopari making sure himself, he closed and locked his office door and sat behind his desk. Twisting his head from side to side, his neck cracked and he found his private cell phone inside his suit jacket.
He punched in a number and waited. As the phone clicked on the other end, Kopari said in Hungarian, “They’re on the way.” His voice had suddenly changed to deep and resonant.
He listened carefully, nodding his head to himself.
“Right,” he said. “I have them on digital video. I’ll make still copies and forward them to you and the others. Be careful. The man, Jake Adams, looks dangerous.”
Hanging up the phone, he thought about the other calls he would have to make in the next hour. But first the video cameras. He glanced to the corner of the room at the small camera. Nobody looks up. He smiled and laughed and then headed to the security control room.
12
The room was dark and sleet pelted the window. The naked woman on the bed shifted her thin hips up to meet the man’s thrusts, his intensity growing like the pistons in his auto building up speed as it enters the autobahn.
“My God,” the woman screamed. “You’re so big.”
He smiled, knowing she was lying, and punished her as much as he could for her guile.
When Hermann Conrad was done, he rolled over to his side on the bed and gazed at Alexandra’s perfectly round breasts. He had not had to pay for those — they had been perfect when he met her a few months back — but everything else in the apartment, including the rent, was bought and paid for by him. It was better that way. A simple business arrangement. None of the pretense of marriage. She said she loved him, but he knew that was a love of expedience and comfort. He had no illusions of anything else.