“Thanks again for the arm,” Jake said to Anna.
“No problem. That liquid bandage works great.”
“I’ve been using super glue for years,” Jake said, his arm raised. “Now they boost the price and call it a band aid. Amazing marketing job.” He noticed she had settled down somewhat from the time they left the Baths in the cab, while they picked up his car, and through the bandaging.
“You think he’ll go right to bed?” Anna asked.
Moments ago they had watched the concierge, Viktor Kopari, walk from the bus stop on Attila Ut to his apartment complex, his stride more confident than his speech had been at the Hilton hours ago. Of course that had been before the shooting, Jake knew.
“Maybe not bed,” Jake said. “But he’ll be in the shower. Let’s go find out.”
He turned off the car and the two of them headed toward the apartment. Jake had checked out the place on the second floor before Kopari had arrived. The door was thin and the lock was flimsy. When they got to the door, Jake could hear soft music, drowned out by the shower.
“Told ya,” Jake whispered. He swiveled around, took a step back, and blasted the door with his right foot. The wood splintered and the door burst inward.
Anna was able to close the door, but it wouldn’t lock.
Guns drawn, the two of them slipped through the apartment, Anna to the kitchen and Jake toward the sound of the shower in the back.
Seconds later, Jake led Viktor Kopari to the living room at gunpoint, completely naked, and the man’s non-existent penis trying to fight it out with his balls back up into his bowels.
Anna, her gun on the man, tried to concentrate on the man’s face.
Jake shoved Kopari to the sofa. “Might want to get him something to cover what little he has,” he said, shifting his head at Anna toward the bedroom. She left the two men there.
Kopari had not said a word. It was as if he expected them there.
“So, you send us to see your friend Emil on Vaci Street,” Jake said, his gun swishing from side to side. “Then you call Emil and have him and a couple of his goons try to kill us. What’s up with that?”
“You’re dead,” Kopari said, his voice decidedly masculine.
“Is that any way to treat your guests?” Anna said, coming from the back bedroom and throwing a pair of Adidas warm-ups at the man.
Kopari hurried to put them on. Now only his hairy chest, rings in each nipple, was exposed to them.
There was a light knock on the door and Jake and Anna both aimed their guns at the door. Kopari started to get up, but Jake thrust his left foot into the man’s chest sending him back to the sofa, his breath taken away. Kopari, in great agony, rolled to his side and grasped his chest with both arms.
Jake slid his gun into his holster and zipped up his leather jacket on his way to the door. His foot six inches from the door, Jake opened it and peered at an old woman, her hair in a net, and her tiny, hunched frail frame covered by a robe. He knew exactly three phrases in Hungarian. ‘Fuck you!’ ‘I don’t want to buy that.’ And, ‘get lost.’ He used the third one and kept the first in spare. She took the hint and left. Jake closed the door and went back to Kopari, who had recovered somewhat.
“Now, where were we?” Jake said. He decided to keep his gun inside his jacket.
“Fuck you!” Kopari said in Hungarian.
See, Jake knew that. “No, you’d like that too much. Let’s talk about your friend Emil and why they wanted to kill us.”
Switching to English, Kopari said, “I said you’re a dead man.”
“I know that. I just want to know why I’m a dead man. You gotta give me that.”
Kopari didn’t say a word.
Jake wandered around the back of the sofa. “Nice place you have here, Mr. Concierge. I know you’re in it up to your ass with Miko and Jiri and now Emil, but I’m wondering why.” Reaching around the man, Jake grasped Kopari’s chin with his left hand, pulling his head back, and then planted his right hand on the man’s right nipple ring and twisted. Kopari tried to scream, but with his head thrust back all that came out was a gurgling sound.
Reaching up with his arms, Kopari grabbed onto Jake’s arms. Jake twisted the nipple ring and it came out in his hand, along with a chunk of skin. Kopari let go, the pain on his face evident as the nipple trickled blood onto his chest.
Jake threw the nipple ring across the room, switched hands, his right hand now pulling back the man’s neck, and his left hand twisted Kopari’s hand back by his pinkie and ring finger to the point of breaking.
Anna, her gun now at her side, winced in pain right along with the man.
Kopari’s neck looked like it would burst, his face as red as the blood flowing on his chest hair.
“You can make this a lot easier,” Jake said. “I need to find your friends Jiri and Miko. Just tell me what I want to know and you can keep your other nipple ring.” Jake lowered his head next to the man’s right ear. “Along with your life. Is it worth that?”
“They’ll kill me,” he said.
Simultaneously, Jake pressed down with his thumb and forefinger on Kopari’s neck, while he twisted his finger back until his pinkie snapped. The man tried to scream again, but all that came out of his mouth was foaming spittle.
Anna had actually flinched when the finger broke.
“Now, Viktor,” Jake said. “You still have one nipple and nine fingers. I’ve got all night. No place to go.”
The man nodded his head, his eyes wild with pain.
Jake released the man’s neck, reached down and pulled Kopari’s right arm back like the left one, and waited. He spilled his guts, Anna having to put her gun in its holster so she could write down everything he said. Thirty minutes later, Kopari assured them that was all he knew. Considering the pain he had to be in, Jake believed him.
They left him in his apartment around midnight and got back to the car. Jake drove away. Anna was silent. He could feel the pain in his arm throbbing, but didn’t want to take anything right now. He would need the pain to keep him awake.
Finally, Anna said, “Remind me not to piss you off.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry about that…I didn’t have time to fuck around with him. Besides, the moment he called Emil he had to know… ”
“What?”
“He tried to have us killed, Anna.”
She let out a deep sigh. “I’m not mad, Jake. I’ve just never seen anybody do that to anyone else. I’m sorry, too. I should be more professional. We just can’t do things like that in Interpol.”
“That’s why they hired me,” he said, knowing that was probably one of the best reasons, along with his intelligence and security experience. “Also why they sent you on a covert Christmas vacation. Desperate times.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t know if I could do it, though.”
“Listen,” he said. “You pulled the trigger tonight. Many people freeze in a shoot out.”
She seemed to smile with that thought. “I had never shot at anyone before tonight. A lot of firsts for me.”
“You did great,” he said, taking her hand in his and holding it tight.
“Thank you.”
Jake pulled his hand back to downshift at a light.
She said, “Do you think we should call the local Interpol office and have our friend The Concierge picked up? I mean, he could call Miko and Jiri and warn them.”
Jake laughed. “I’m counting on it. I want those bastards looking over their shoulders twenty-four seven. Still, they won’t see me coming.”
Now she reached over and took his hand.
The Concierge stood before his kitchen sink rinsing his nipple, and then placing a band aid over the small torn skin. Then he went to the freezer and pulled out a tray of ice, wrapped some in a towel and wound that around his left hand. He shook his head. Damn it. He had broken the same finger playing hockey when he was eighteen. That game against Canada. Canadians, Americans, they’re all the same — a bunch of brutal goons. No finesse.