The Warning

by Saul, Jonas

  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.

  Sarah opened the door and stepped from her room.

  She let the door close and started for the elevator.

  In under a minute she was walking through the lobby toward the counter to hand in her key and have a cab called.

  The Best Western had an impressive lobby with many couches and lounge areas. Sarah scanned the large room. No one seemed out of place. Maybe they weren’t onto her yet.

  She waited behind an older couple checking out at the desk.

  A part of her was happy to be leaving. This had been her first trip to Europe and it had come as a shock. The differences to North America were mind-blowing. She missed home. She missed the familiarity.

  The couple ahead of her moved to the side. When they did, she turned to look out the front doors of the hotel.

  Two police cruisers sat parked behind the four large columns that denoted the entrance to the hotel.

  Shit.

  Could they be here for her?

  Of course they are. Who else would the police be calling upon at ten in the morning with that many cars?

  “Just a sec,” she motioned to the clerk who had been waiting patiently for Sarah to respond to her.

  Sarah nudged her luggage up against the counter, grabbed a hotel brochure and headed for the back couches. One man wearing an expensive suit sat reading a newspaper along one wall.

  Halfway to the back Sarah glanced over her shoulder. No one had entered the front doors yet. The old couple who were ahead of her had exited already. Even the clerk had stepped away somewhere.

  She reached behind her and removed the police gun she had stolen last night. A burgundy couch sat facing the rear of the lobby. As she passed it, she pretended to trip. Her hand shoved the weapon in behind the cushion as far as she could. Still on her knees, she made sure it couldn’t be seen or felt when she readjusted the cushion into place.

  She stood up, looked around and then turned and continued to walk to the back of the lobby.

  After taking off her backpack, she unzipped it and withdrew the book she was reading.

  If the police were here for her, then she would never be able to leave Hungary, let alone the hotel.

  If they had another purpose, she would sit idly by until they had left and then she would continue on her journey to Canada.

  She only got to the second page before five men entered the lobby. Two were wearing suits, two were in police uniforms and one of them wore civilian clothes.

  The one in civilian clothes was English from last night.

  So they were here for her. They had already found out the hotel she was staying in. It wasn’t hard to track someone down when European law required all hotel guests to register using a valid passport.

  What now?

  Why, in my moment of need, have you abandoned me, Vivian? What have I done to deserve this?

  English turned toward her. He tapped the shoulder of one of the men wearing a suit and pointed at her. The group of five started her way.

  She leaned forward and slowly placed the book in her backpack.

  “Sarah Roberts?” one of the suits asked.

  “And you are?”

  “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 down. “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 watchi
ng 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.