by Saul, Jonas
“My name is Imre Mátyás. I’m with the Budapest police. This man here,” he pointed to the man behind him also wearing a suit, “is with our immigration office and you can tell who the other two police officers are as they are in uniform. Finally, the man in the back there is János Csaba.”
The man from immigration was smiling like he knew something. The kind of smile that said he was winning and he knew it. He had something planned for her. She could feel it.
Maybe one day I’ll find out what your problem is and wipe that fucking smile off your face.
“How can I help you?” She asked.
No one offered hands to shake. No one moved to exchange air kisses on their cheeks.
“Are you Sarah Roberts?”
She nodded and said, “Yes.”
“You will need to come with us to police headquarters.”
“I’m not going anywhere with anyone until I see some identification.”
Her stomach was rolling. It wasn’t the tension from the confrontation. She’d been here too often to be bothered by that. It was them. She hated cops. Always did. There were five of them. She was in a foreign country. There was nothing she could do. Even if she could get away, where would she go? Every border crossing would be watched. Every plane, train and automobile would be inspected.
It was over. They’d caught her. At least she had respect for them. American police would not have been able to pull this off as fast as they had.
Both suits had flipped out their wallets. Their IDs looked genuine enough.
Two more tests.
“What district is your police department in?”
“District thirteen. Now please stand up. We can continue our conversation in privacy.”
“One last question. What is the common name of your police department?”
The suit turned to his men, a look of exasperation on his face. János shrugged his shoulders in an I told you gesture.
“It is nicknamed the Police Palace. Now, are you going to come with us willingly or not?”
“Am I being arrested?”
“Not right now, but that can be arranged. Will you come with us or will you force me to detain you?”
Sarah dropped her hands to the armrests of the chair she sat on and nodded again.
“I will come willingly.”
She stood slowly so as not to alarm them. Each man stepped back. Good, English must’ve wooed them with stories of our skirmish last night.
“Turn and face the wall.”
Sarah looked him in the eye. “I said I would come willingly. That means no restraints. I either leave here unrestrained or I leave here on a stretcher.”
The suit stood back and sized her up. “I like your fire, young lady, but no, I will not be using cuffs of any kind. I simply need to pat you down. An officer has reported his weapon as missing. I would hate to have that weapon show up in your hand. Neither one of us would want that. So turn around and allow me to frisk you.”
Sarah watched them all for another moment and turned, spreading both hands on the wall.
By now a small group of five or six people had gathered in the lobby to watch.
I guess the police arresting someone is more exciting than checking out of your hotel. Assholes.
The suit was quick about it. He found no weapon. He grunted an okay and Sarah turned around.
One of the uniformed police picked up her backpack and the group walked through the lobby toward the front doors.
The lone man in the expensive looking suit had set his newspaper down to be nosy.
As they reached the front door the other uniformed police officer grabbed her luggage and rolled it out behind them.
Sarah got in the backseat of one of the cruisers and waited to be driven to the police station.
The gun was safe.
She had only defended herself last night. That would be her story. Whatever English had told them she could refute.
However all this came out, what would be the worst that could happen?
The American Embassy would help. She was an American citizen. They had just released her picture a month ago detailing all the help she gave them in breaking up the Mormon Compound.
Sarah Roberts was something of a celebrity back home.
Wouldn’t that count for something in a Hungarian jail?
Probably not.
Chapter 3
The Hungarian police assholes were no better than the criminals they strove to protect the public from. It had been over four hours since she had last seen one. Were they attempting to sweat her? At twenty-three years of age, Sarah had been interrogated many times. The benefit of being questioned by the police was they had rules to follow. They couldn’t shoot her if the answers sucked.
Her last interview was with a guy brandishing a whip. She had a gun to her head and he was firing randomly with one bullet in the weapon somewhere.
Nothing would be as brutal as that today, she thought to herself.
She leaned back in her chair. Her bladder was about to burst but she knew they’d let her out when they were ready. There were more important things at work here than urinating.
There was so much to think about, so much to deduce. She would probably be taken to the American Embassy and then on the next plane home, which was fine with her. She was on her way to the airport when they stopped her anyway.
The only real problem would be if they decided to arrest her for the theft of the police officer’s weapon. Sarah had a great chance to beat that charge as she could describe the scene as four men against her. Then the cop wanted to take her somewhere, which caused her to feel suspicious of him. She did what she had done out of not just self-defense, but self-preservation.
She heard noises outside the door.
Someone was coming.
When she was placed in the interrogation room, she had turned the lone chair in the room around and sat facing away from the two-way glass. No way was she going to let them watch her face.
A pad of paper and a pen had sat on the metal desk in front of her.
Maybe they thought she would write some kind of confession before they were to begin with the questions? Or maybe Vivian would attempt contact and she’d have something to write on?
Not fucking likely. Vivian is gone.
The door opened. Sarah turned and saw the man in the suit who had talked to her at the hotel. She’d already forgotten his name. Imre something or other. Hungarian names were hard to remember.
He held two steaming glasses in his hand.
“Coffee?”
“Sure. But before I add more liquid into this little body, I need to use a bathroom or give me about ten more minutes and we could just mop my urine up.”
The cop set the two glasses down and looked at her. “Are all you Americans so dramatic?”
“It’s my way of saying, thanks for not offering a bathroom for me to use for however fucking long I’ve been stuck in this metal hole. Because of how disrespectful that was, I was seriously tempted to piss in the corner. I can fuck around right back at you.”
“That kind of attitude won’t get you far in Hungary. It may have worked in the United States, but it won’t here. We’re tougher than they are.”
“Two things. One, no you’re not. And two, I would be dead many times over if I didn’t have this kind of attitude. Now, last chance: bathroom or floor?”
He turned and gestured for the door. “Let’s go.”
He walked her down the hall and punched in a code at a lit panel on the wall. A door opened and he ushered Sarah through it. A bathroom door was on the right.
In minutes they were walking back to the interrogation room without either one of them saying a word to the other.
She sat in her chair after spinning it back around and began to sip the coffee that he’d offered her moments before.
“Where’s my luggage?”
“No questions from you. I ask the questions here. But first we wait.”
Sarah set her cup d
own. “Wait for what?”
“My colleague.”
Sarah smiled. “I know this is juvenile, but I just got you to answer a question not three seconds after you said no questions. Pretty good huh?”
He stared a hole through her. This guy was too serious, she thought. I wonder if he’s married.
“You married?”
He didn’t respond. To be doing something, he lifted his cup and sipped his coffee.
“I only ask because you look really uptight. A wife can help with that. Loosen things up a little.”
“So now you give relationship advice? A girl who has reportedly never had a boyfriend. Why’s that? Was it because just a few years ago you were a victim of trichotillomania? Come on Sarah. Don’t assume we’re stupid. I know everything about you.”
Sarah was stunned. For the first time in a long time, she was surprised. How could he know that kind of information? Pulling her hair out had been a long time ago. She’d stopped doing it when she was nineteen. Since then it had grown in lovely. By looking at her now, you could not tell that most of her hair had been missing years ago. When she was kidnapped at eighteen years of age, her kidnapper asked what was wrong with her. He described her as a cancer patient after the chemo treatments. That’s how bad she looked. But not now.
The Hungarian cop knew a lot. He’d done his research. But could he have found all that out since she’d been here? Or were they following her since she’d arrived in Budapest?
Then it hit her.
English had said something about doing his job last night. He was with the officers this morning at the hotel. She had originally thought he was there to aid in the identification of the suspect, but he was there in an official capacity.
English was a cop and he and his cop buddies had been following her. The Hungarian police had been onto her for weeks now, watching, researching and keeping tabs on her. She was sure of it.
But why? What had she done? Nothing on their soil yet. She hadn’t even helped an unsuspecting accident victim or saved anyone’s life because Vivian hadn’t been in touch.
Her head shot up. She snapped her fingers and smiled.
That had to be it. Vivian was quiet because she was being watched. Vivian didn’t want the watchers to learn anything more than they already had. I’m sure of it.
The cop had been watching her as she ruminated. He jumped a little when she snapped her fingers, but remained quiet.
“You seem to know a lot about me,” Sarah said.
“Not really. We ran your passport and got the usual basics. Hometown, parents, schools, you know. Although we did find something out that was quite unusual.”
Sarah sipped her coffee again. She didn’t know when she’d get another one that tasted this good. “What was that?”
“You’ve been a busy girl. You’re something of a hero back in the States. You want to tell me about that?”
“Nope.”
“Why not? It may help you here.”
There it is. They want information on her Automatic Writing. They want to know how it works and why she was in their country. Was she here because she knew something?
Her abilities scared people because they weren’t something that most people had encountered. The unknown always did serve a dish of nerves to the ignorant.
That was why she tried to remain an unknown. She had tried to keep under the radar for so many years. It was people like Parkman who had hunted her down and kept tabs on her activities for years. Once he’d compiled an accurate picture of her and what she had been up to, all it did was pique the interest of everyone from psychics to scientists.
“I did nothing wrong in your country. We have nothing to discuss. When you’re done here, you will either drive me to the airport so I can continue my journey or you will deliver me to my embassy where I will continue my journey. Either way you play it, I’m leaving this fucking place and heading home. So go ahead. Give me your worst.”
She sat back and took a couple deep gulps of her coffee, draining half of it. The warmth soothed her.
She felt better. Much better. If they had been watching her, that meant they probably bugged her room. They may even have cameras in her room the fucking perverts. That was why they would know she was in the eighth district for three nights in a row. English and his crew could have been watching her for days and she wouldn’t have known if they were really good.
Sarah knew she wasn’t as talented as an international spy. She was quite aware of her abilities. If professionals were following her, there was a high chance she wouldn’t know they were there.
Unless Vivian told her about it. But she hadn’t. Other than her parents, only Parkman knew how she worked and that Sarah and Vivian’s only goals were to stop criminals or to save people from dying who weren’t supposed to go yet. If it wasn’t their time, Sarah was dispatched. It was that simple.
But she would never be a lab experiment. And if that’s what was happening here then Vivian had saved her by staying uncharacteristically silent.
Sarah had to remember that there may be times when things were at work that would be greater than her. Things that even she had to figure out. She had to learn to trust.
That sucks. Trust is fucked. I trust no one.
Trust had always been an anonymous rotting corpse. You know it once lived somewhere, but you can now see it’s only good for worm food. Worthless shit.
Imre stood up and left the room without another word. She could only assume he was watching her from the other side of the two-way glass.
She lifted her paper cup and drained the rest of the warm coffee. It tasted great as it was probably after three or four in the afternoon and she hadn’t eaten anything since the continental breakfast at the hotel.
The door burst open after about a five minute wait. The noise and speed at which the door opened made her jump back.
Reflexes were great but sometimes they sucked too.
“Lucky for you I wasn’t still drinking my coffee.”
“Threats? Is that how we’re going to start our conversation?”
The man speaking was the immigration officer she’d first met at the hotel. The one who had smiled like he was up to something. Like he knew something.
Behind him stood Imre.
“Is this the bad cop, good cop routine? Come on, do something else. I’ve seen this a thousand times. You’re going to yell and curse and then threaten me with a bunch of unfounded charges and try to scare the shit out of me. Then he,” she pointed at Imre, “will offer me a deal for a confession and everything will go away and be all right again.”
She paused and looked directly at the immigration prick.
“Let me save you the time. I know what you’re up to. I also know that I haven’t broken any of your laws. So arrest me or let me leave because you’re not just wasting your time, you’re wasting mine too.”
The immigration officer only moved to look back at Imre. For a second she actually thought she was getting to them.
The asshole smiled and looked back at her. He leaned down and placed both hands on the table.
“Have it your way.” He stood back up, adjusted his suit jacket and said, “Arrest her.”
Sarah’s eyes widened a little. “On what charge?”
“Conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. You can’t prove any of that.”
“Oh yes I can. We have everything we need on you to prove that you are hunting a man by the name of Armond Stuart. You went to great lengths to nab him in the United States before you came here and now you have crossed International borders in your pursuit of hunting a known fugitive of the law. You are not a Federal agent or a police officer in any capacity. Therefore, your search for Armond has only one goal. And your attempt to steal a weapon last night was only to further your aims. I know all about you, Sarah Roberts.”
He stood back up to his full height.
“You will be in a Hungarian prison
doing hard labor for dozens of years when I’m done with you.”
Chapter 4
The prison cell was cold and damp. Sarah knew this was all part of their goal to unsettle her by putting her in the farthest jail cell at the back of the building. It was the lowest spot in the building. The stone floor collected moisture like it was perpetually thirsty.
The single mattress was stained and smelled of urine but it was softer than the damp stone floor. She laid back on it and focused on not inhaling too much of the acidic odor.
