The gypsy on the ground wasn’t moaning as much anymore. He’d rolled onto his side. One hand was still near his nose but his other hand was close to his abdomen. He cupped something in his palm.
Before she reacted adversely, her mind registered his hand was holding a cell phone.
In the distance Sarah heard a police siren wailing in the night. She guessed it was at least five to ten blocks away.
English whispered something to his friend.
“What was that?” Sarah asked.
He looked back at her. “I told him in Hungarian to help me hold you down if you try to run. The police are coming. You are in a lot of trouble.”
Sarah stared at him. There
was
something she didn’t know. Not that they were withholding information on her. It was more of a feeling, intuition. A change in the air. Like they had the upper hand and they knew it.
She scanned the immediate area. Was anyone coming out of the shadows? Was it the man with the fedora leaning against the light post?
Or maybe they were friends with the police? Could the officers responding to the scene tonight be their pals and they were going to conspire to really fuck her over?
Whatever they thought they had on her she was sure Vivian would’ve sent a warning. Silence for a month didn’t supersede Sarah’s safety.
Vivian would’ve said something. Sarah would stake her life on it.
“I’m not going to run. You needn’t worry.”
“You will be arrested,” English stated in a matter-of-fact voice. “You attacked our friend without provocation.”
Without provocation? Fuck you. I was being followed.
Sarah nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s just wait and see.”
The sirens were at least a block away now.
The rotating lights on the top of the little police cars could be seen bouncing off the walls of the building up ahead as they approached.
Now was the time.
Sarah raised her right hand, fingers splayed out and struck herself across the face hard enough to leave a serious red welt.
“Hey, what the hell was that?”
Sarah smiled his way. “I’ve been doing this too long.”
The police car rounded the corner and began to slow as soon as the driver saw them all in the middle of the road. The car stopped behind Sarah and the driver stepped out.
He addressed everyone in Hungarian. A ramble of monotone gibberish went back and forth for half a minute. Sarah waited until they were finished.
The guy on the ground started moaning louder again, rolling around a little, holding his face with both hands.
The officer turned to her and said in English, “What is your story?”
“I can’t sleep. I was out for a late night walk when I noticed these three guys were following me.” She heard one of the gypsies grunt as if she was lying. “I tried to get to this busier street.” She turned and gestured behind her. “But they got really close. I don’t have anything to defend myself with, officer, so I removed my shoes. They said, dressed the way I am, that I was asking for trouble. This guy,” she pointed at the gypsy on the ground. “He stepped up and slapped me hard across the face—”
“That’s not true!” English shouted.
The officer turned toward him and spewed something in Hungarian lightning quick. English dropped his head a little.
“Continue,” the cop said to her.
“After he slapped me, in my defense, I tossed my elbow in his face. I think I accidentally broke his nose. I’m sorry, officer. I just wanted to go back to my hotel. I was scared.”
English spoke first. “This is all lies. We were following her, but that’s because it’s our job—”
“Hey!” the cop yelled. “Enough out of you.”
Job? What the hell was he talking about? Could he have misused the English word and he meant something else? If not, then who hired them? Who wanted Sarah followed?
That must be what she felt earlier. It was like they knew something and she didn’t. These three had purpose. They’d seen her before. They’d watched her before. These three posed a danger to her now. Something was going on that was deeper than Sarah knew and Vivian wasn’t informing her.
What the fuck could it be?
“Look miss, you’re going to have to come with me. I will take your statement at the police station.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. How do I know you aren’t all in this together?”
The officer stared at her. “In what together?”
“English boy over there just said that it was his job. What the fuck does that mean? Who are you people? No one follows me. You will never get the drop on me.”
English turned away. He was evidently pissed that even a portion of the truth had been revealed.
“In America you may have crooked cops but over here I am a member of the
Rendorshag
, the Hungarian police. I do not consort with the likes of these men.”
“Bullshit,” was all Sarah said under her breath.
The cop looked surprised. “Okay, you’re coming with me.”
“Try it.”
“Try what?” he asked.
She could tell her confidence was keeping him at bay. But how far did she want to push this? She was in a foreign country. She didn’t know anyone. What would Hungarian jails be like? What was she even doing here in the first place?
“I was obviously followed by these three men. I was hit in the face and I defended myself. I am a small girl out walking alone. Three men attacked me and you want to take me to your police station? If that doesn’t reek of corruption then I don’t know what does. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“How could you possibly stop me? There’s three of us still standing.”
“As I said a minute ago, try it.”
The standoff didn’t last long. The officer stared for a moment and then stepped toward her.
He reached back for something on his belt. Possibly handcuffs or wrist ties. All that mattered to Sarah was that he left an opening. His chest and face were unprotected.
Without thinking of the consequences, acting only on her inner call to violence that seemed to never be satiated, she lunged forward and jammed her thumb into the base of the officer’s throat in the center of where the collarbones meet.
He instantly staggered back, mouth open and began the horrible sounds of choking for air.
She knew she’d jabbed hard, but not hard enough to kill him. It would leave him gasping for a minute or two.
The normal reaction for the person choking was for both hands to raise to the area of the neck. The police officer didn’t disappoint her.
Her left hand dropped both shoes to the pavement as she bent at the waist, leaned forward and snapped the clip holding his gun. With deft hands she had the weapon lifted out of its holster and in her palm aimed at the other two men in less time than they had to react to her attack on the cop.
“Stay back,” Sarah said as she aimed her new weapon in their general direction. In the same movement she flipped the safety off and slid her index finger inside the trigger guard.
The officer was breathing better. A wheezing, raspy sound emitted from his mouth as color returned to his face.
“I’m done for the night. I will back away and leave you to do as you please. If anyone tries to follow me I will take it as a personal threat to my person. In my defense I will be forced to shoot my would-be attacker. Are we clear?”
The officer nodded right away. He wasn’t stupid. He knew who held the gun.
English and his gypsy friend who still stood off to the side behind the cop only stared at her.
“I asked, are we clear? Don’t be a fucking idiot. Answer the question or I will be forced to make you hear me. You don’t want to piss me off. I get ugly when I’m pissed off.”
The cop turned to both men. He mumbled something unintelligible.
English looked at Sarah and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“No, you answer me. Are we clear? That is the last time I ask.”
She still held the gun out at arm’s length. She adjusted its aim to focus on English’s face.
He waited another moment and said, “Yes. We are clear. No one will follow you again tonight. But I will be watching you.”
Threats really pissed her off.
“You will not be watching me. No one
watches
me.” She stepped forward into his space, placing the gun at his belt line. “Threaten me again and you will be eating your next meal with no teeth.”
Being this close offered her a chance to remind him of who was in charge at the moment. A quick drop of her head, hard enough to matter but not hard enough to break anything, and English felt her forehead connect with his nose.
He staggered back and grabbed his face. His voice nasal, he asked, “Why’d you do that?”
“No one threatens me. I told you, I get quite pissy when that happens.”
She backed away and only lowered the gun when she was twenty feet from the four men who still stood in the middle of the road, watching her retreat.
What just happened there?
English had said something about him doing his job. The cop wanted to take her to his station. He probably wanted to take her somewhere else, rape her and leave her by the Danube River for the night.
Nothing made sense.
Sarah knew she had gone too far. She had stolen a gun from a police officer. A Hungarian police officer. She couldn’t do that and remain in Hungary.
At this point she would be labeled an International criminal or something. She had to leave Hungary.
“Damn,” she said as she slammed her fist into her hand.
Nothing was going as planned. She had come here as her sister had asked her to. She had done everything she was supposed to do. But now, four weeks into her stay in Hungary, she was no further ahead.
She felt like she was losing her mind.
Could she be losing her edge, falling apart? After all that had happened to her in the last five years, was she fucking up? Did she really attack a cop and steal his weapon? She’d stolen a cop’s car before but never a weapon.
Whether she was going crazy or not, she knew one thing for sure: she had to leave Hungary as soon as possible.
And who was the guy with the fedora hat? Why was he watching her?
Stakes are about to be raised and I’m going to do the raising.
Chapter 2
Sarah finished packing the one small suitcase she traveled with and set it by the door of her hotel room.
She’d stayed at this Best Western since the day she arrived. A Do Not Disturb sign had remained on her door the whole time. Having a maid enter her room wouldn’t work with Sarah. She made her own bed, and once every three days, she grabbed the towels and garbage, entered the hall and changed them with one of the maids working in the other rooms.
When she got back to the room last night she was too tired to imagine leaving right away. The officer would have to report his weapon stolen. Forms filled out, paperwork filed and a description sent out to other officers. By the time the day shift came on, Sarah would be on all their computer screens.
All she had to do was take a cab to the Budapest Liszt Ferenc International Airport, buy a ticket to somewhere in Canada and board that flight. She’d decided on Canada to avoid the American authorities if they were tipped off and told to watch for her. Could she get to the Budapest airport without the authorities warning airport security? If she was destined for trouble, wouldn’t Vivian have made contact?
Of course she would have.
She entered the bathroom, balled her hair into a bun and tucked it up under a pink baseball hat.
No make-up, a baseball cap and a stupid T-shirt that only a tourist would wear. It had a picture of Budapest on it with something about August 20
th
and how last year’s party was a blast. Above the city in the picture a Malév Hungarian Airlines jet soared over the Danube River.
She looked down at her shirt. A rush of sadness enveloped her. She’d failed. Armond Stuart was here and she had nothing to go on. He was getting away. He would get away. In the coming years he could abuse hundreds of more girls unless someone stopped him. Sarah had come close in the past but he got away from her and he was doing it again.
Epic fail
, she thought as she turned from the mirror and walked back out to her luggage.
One final check on the gun and she was ready to go. The weapon sat in the waistband of her jeans, at the small of her back. The slight bulge it made was covered by her carry-on luggage, a backpack she had slipped her arms into.
She checked the peephole in the door: no one on the other side.