by D K Bohlman
Beata recognises…
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Beata had felt the impact of the explosion in her library office. She’d been working very late again, on a new book collection project. Her eyes rose up from her computer screen and she listened. After a moment, she carried on with her work until the sound of sirens started to fill the neighbourhood. A member of building security ran in a few minutes later to tell her it was at a hotel a few blocks away. He had heard it may have been the Hotel Cristal. Marton’s hotel.
Somehow she felt obliged to go and see what was happening. Marton had been good to her. Helped her in the house when he was younger, after her husband had left her. Lent her money when he could, when he was still building his own hotel business. She’d taken from him over the years, even though he had never really understood why. She rolled back her desk chair and picked up an overcoat from the rack peg behind her.
She passed the security guard on the way out.
‘Won’t be long. Just going to see what the commotion is all about.’ He nodded.
She pulled up the faux fur collar around her neck and set off at a brisk pace. It wasn’t far to walk. The streets near the library were quiet now, but as she approached the environs of the hotel, the density of people increased, in tandem with the noise from the emergency services. As if that wasn't enough of a signal, the amber wash in the sky above where the hotel stood could be seen from the start of her brief walk. Then a second explosive blast sent a shock wave through the air that she actually felt.
She quickened her step until she turned a corner and saw the Cristal. She gasped at the sight.
The hotel ablaze. Building rubble scattered all across the street in front of a large hole in the hotel facade. Bodies thrown amongst the fallen stonework and medical teams stretchering casualties away from the immediate shadow of the hotel to safety … to ambulances, all lined up neatly, like boxes on a shelf of the last shop standing in a war-torn street.
She knew people at the hotel. Aliz. She’d met Peter before, knew some of the staff a little. She walked towards the area of carnage but soon hit the police barrier tapes that had been hastily stretched between temporary posts.
She looked around for another way. There was a man with a mobile stand selling coffee. She wondered whether it had already been there or he’d been quick to spot an opportunity.
She bought a double espresso then wandered back towards the row of ambulances. She raised the small paper cup to her lips and started to sip.
Then a young woman’s face caught her eyes and something slowly registered. It was slow because … she wasn’t sure who it was. Not just who it was, but whether she actually knew that face. It was a fair distance away and hard to make out in the dark.
It was familiar, yet not. Someone she knew … but had somehow forgotten.
There was a man with her. A tall man, stooped over her, as she sat on the steps at the back of the ambulance, being examined by a medic in a green jacket. She frowned, wondering who he was. He was older. Maybe just a concerned co-victim.
She took a few steps closer, straining her sight to focus on the girl.
Then she remembered. Remembered it all, in one sudden heart-lurching rush that made her press her hand to her mouth and force a gasp of disbelief through her fingers. All of the years of joy, chased by an eternal nightmare. She dropped her coffee cup and ran towards the ambulance.
A police officer at the tape grabbed her shoulder, asked her to stop. She whispered something in his ear and pointed to the ambulance. He shook his head, released his grip on her shoulder and let her run on.
As she approached the three of them, huddled together, all focusing on the girl’s arm, she stopped.
They must have noticed her halting. They looked up together, stared blankly at her. Only the girl’s face changed as a result. It changed a great deal, creasing her eye sockets and pursing her lips, before she leapt upwards and towards Beata, pushing the two men aside.
She stopped short of her mother. Then she ran at her, arms grasping for the comfort of her embrace. Beata caught her, grabbing her tightly, pushed Katalin back a little, taking a look at her through eyes curtained with tears.
‘It’s really you! But, but … why are you here? Were you walking past the hotel? So, so … why have you not talked to me for eight years? Eight years Katalin! Where have you been?’
Katalin couldn’t speak. She was crying and words couldn’t come right now.
Beata gently motioned for her daughter to sit back down, keeping her arms around her.
‘Are you alright? Are you hurt?’
Katalin sucked in some air and cleared her throat twice.
‘Just some scratches … some little burns.’
Beata looked at the paramedic and the tall man for an explanation.
It was the man who spoke first, just as the paramedic was opening his mouth.
‘Katalin got the injuries in one of the rooms that were caught by the explosion. We, well I was with her and we were pulled out of the room by the fire platform. I’m Calum, by the way.’
‘You were with her? What were you doing here?’
‘I was looking for another girl, and I ended up being held prisoner in the same room as that girl and Katalin. Your daughter I’m assuming?’
‘Prisoner? What do you mean prisoner?’ Beata looked at Katalin for an explanation but she seemed to be in shock, the paramedic trying to calm her down.
Calum spoke again.
‘Your daughter … I’m assuming that … she’s been held in this hotel for eight years … by the owner, Marton Kovacs. And since he died, by his son Peter. Peter also tricked me into the same room where Katalin has been held all this time.’
Beata’s face froze as he spoke, then she gasped in a lungful of air and wailed, a piercing, singing howl.
Calum waited a moment before he continued.
‘The other girl was there too … she's badly injured.’
Beata stopped her keening abruptly. ‘But why, why? Why has he kept you all here?’
‘Because of Arrow Cross, I think. Because of something Marton did in the war.’
Beata shook her head repeatedly and started to howl again.
‘Dear God, this has gone on too long … it’s not fair … it’s so unfair …’
Calum narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What do you mean? So long?’
Beata looked at her daughter. ‘Katalin knows. I told her it was a long time ago, that they were young, it was the war and things just happened that didn’t exactly get planned. But now it has led to this. It's just so stupid, just damn … stupid. I’m so sorry for it, but I don’t know why … I … just want the past to be gone, it's too long ago now. And now I’m told he kept you there for eight years? It's just so damn, damn pointless.’
She shrieked again, a short, frenzied burst that ended with her grasping her daughter to her again.
She pulled Katalin’s head towards her own and touched their foreheads together.
‘I’m so sorry, Katalin, sorry this all happened. I’ve missed you so much. And to think you were held by that man. It’s … too much to bear.’
‘But didn’t you come looking for me at Marton’s?’
‘Of course, of course, I did. I asked him if you had been there. He said yes, but that you had left after talking to him about the book. How could I know he had you here, at this place? I had trusted him. The police went to see him too after I’d reported you as missing. I really had no suspicion about him. Never.’
For a moment, Katalin had nothing to say. The paramedic gently took her arm. ‘Let’s finish off this bandage. Then we’ll need to get those burns dressed at the hospital.’ He glanced at Beata for approval. She nodded.
Katalin sat up, peeling herself away from her mother and allowed herself to be attended to. As she sat there, another medic approached from the direction of the ambulance line, with a member of the fire platform crew trailing just behind her.
‘Sir, y
ou were with the girl we took down from the platform weren’t you?’
Calum nodded.
‘Are you her father, sir?’
‘No, I’m someone who was looking for her … she had been held prisoner here, well, me too. Her parents are in Scotland. Why? What have you to tell me?’
‘I need their details, sir. I need to speak to them, well the police will. It sounds like we need to get a police officer to talk to you about what happened here too, given what you just said.’
‘Yeah, we need to speak to them. Detective Nagy is aware of me, so if we can talk to him? Anyway … how is Sarah?’
The medic lowered her eyes, then looked up again. ‘Well, sir, since you were with her, I should tell you … she has died from her injuries, just now. We were treating her in the ambulance but we just couldn’t stop the blood loss fast enough. I’m so sorry, sir.’
Susan McTeer gets a visit
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Susan McTeer was eating a toasted bacon sandwich for lunch. She had her feet up on the worn leather stool, watching daytime TV. Another game show, another set of rules for her to learn. She’d been watching TV a lot recently. Ever since she’d taken the money, she needed something, anything, to try and distract her thoughts from wandering around the question again and again. What were they going to do to Calum Neuman? It was spoiling everything, seeping into all she did, dulling her pleasures. Even this bacon sandwich.
The doorbell rang, making her start and choke softly on a morsel of toasted crust. She looked out the window, twisting her head around so she could see her driveway. There was police livery on the BMW parked across the end of it. Her heart was pounding to bursting point by the time she'd got to the door and opened it. She looked at the two male officers in front of her, furiously trying to work out which one of two topics they were going to talk to her about. Either one was going to be bad news, but one of them would be heart-breaking.
‘Can we come in please?’ asked one of the two, politely, once they’d established her identity.
She nodded curtly and led them through the short hallway into the lounge. She motioned for them to sit down.
Once they were all perched on the edges of their seats, the one who appeared to be taking the lead spoke. Susan sensed from the way their eyes didn’t lock steadily with her own gaze, that this was bad news. She knew why they were here now.
‘I’m afraid your daughter has been killed in an accident in Budapest. We were informed by the Hungarian police an hour ago. It seems there was an explosion in a hotel where she was staying. There seems to be some suspicion she may have been held there against her will, Mrs McTeer. We’re very sorry. We don’t have any more details at this stage, I’m afraid. My colleague here will be able to support you through this.’ He turned to the other officer. ‘PC James.’
Susan gasped, the shock, though not entirely unexpected, howled its way down into her guts and reverberated around her entire nervous system. She caught her breath, then started to sob.
As she held her head in her hands, despite her grief, the instinct of self-preservation surfaced and she wondered if they were going to say anything more. About a different thing. Now she felt ashamed at even worrying about that … but it had seemed money for nothing really. It might have helped Sarah get found, it might not have. Either way, she got some much-needed cash. Her former husband had a lot to answer for, for the financial mess he'd left her in.
She sat very still, waiting for the second storm to come.
It never did.
PC James talked her through what details might emerge and how they might get Sarah home. It wasn't sinking in, though. Not heard at all.
‘Sure you don't need us to ring a friend? Or we can stay a while longer?’
Susan shook her head. ‘Nope. I’m OK, thank you very much. I want to be alone now please.’
She showed them out, took a card from PC James and gently closed the front door. She sat back down on the sofa.
She burst into tears again and cried hard and long. As the grief welled out of her, the darkness inside intensified as she wondered what had happened to Calum Neuman. Now she hoped he was safe. She had the money so that was that, wasn’t it?
A horrible, stomach-churning thought occurred to her. What if they came to get it back? Especially if Neuman had survived whatever they were planning in luring him to Budapest.
So for a very long time, every morning when Susan McTeer woke up, and often it was early, her first two, depressing, thoughts were Sarah … and the money. Breakfast didn’t taste the same for almost a year.
*
Alan Burton was feeling very stormy. He’d had another note dropped via the unofficial drone prison delivery service. Another failed attempt and some pathetic excuse about a gas explosion was enough to send him into such a bad temper that later that day he punched an inmate after a squabble over a pack of cigarettes and ended up in solitary for twenty-four hours as a result.
As he sat in the cell alone, he could only think of Batman and Robin, the bastardly duo. He could see them laughing through their fucking masks. One day, he pledged to himself, the Joker would be on them.
He’d paid the money upfront as well. Now it seemed they were reluctant to pay it back. Natural disasters and all that. And they’d handed over the cash to the mother too. Anyone would think it was a legitimate business they were in, to see their mutterings.
He’d need to see about putting them right. It didn’t do to be weak. Too many people got to hear about it. Then you were nothing again. They’d failed him, for the second time, and that was the only point.
He stood up, punched his arms out long and hard, before closing his eyes and beginning to plot. Again.
Homeward bound
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Calum tried to stretch his legs out under the seat in front. His knees were jammed against the seat back and left him in a slightly uncomfortable position. He angled his thighs outward to allow them to relax a bit.
‘Should have let Peter Kovacs cut you down to size.’
‘Ha bloody ha. These damn budget airlines don’t cater for normal-sized human beings. Well, not this airline or this human being anyway.’
‘Oh, you are one of our race, then? Anyway, you’re a bit taller than most, Calum.’
He grimaced at Jenna. He’d missed their banter in her time away from his office and enjoyed it in Budapest. He was wondering how to keep her semi-employed after he got back to base … and her to Inverness. If he could afford it.
‘So I guess I’ll call Susan McTeer when we’re back, now we know the police have informed her. Mission not accomplished this time. Bit of a blot on the CV, eh? Damn awful though, just a random gas leak, could have been any, or all, of us.’
‘I know you're not worried about your CV, but you don't seem too upset by her dying. Just saying.’
‘Yeah. Maybe that’s right. Maybe because someone more important to me died.’ He looked away from her.
Jenna flushed and grabbed his arm. She was suddenly glad that she hadn’t mentioned Izabella had died too.
‘Calum, I’m so sorry. I … I didn't forget about Ellie … it's just, being away here, it makes you further away from home thoughts?’
He turned to her and smiled.
‘You’re right, Jen, don't worry. I’ve been a bit detached myself. Like you say, out of sight … well, not out of mind at all really, but maybe a bit fuzzier somehow. I don't know, I can’t explain it.’
‘Yeah, I get that. How’s Cass bearing up? Sorry, I know you don’t chat all the time, just thought maybe …’
‘Maybe what? Maybe we’d be closer because Ellie died?’
Jenna looked at him sharply. ‘No, no of course not, just thought maybe you’d been, well, supporting each other a bit.’
‘Yeah. Sorry. You’re right. We should do. Well, we have. A bit anyway. It’s not easy, though. Not easy to not get the wrong end of the stick. Anyway, I’ll try and get over and see
her this week I guess. See how she’s doing.’ No, I won’t. Really bad idea.
Jenna turned to him again and squeezed his arm. ‘I’ll pop some flowers down by her stone in the next few days.’
‘Put some there for me too?’
‘Sure.’
‘Thanks, Jen. Anyway, what about you and Greg? He texted me the other day. Before I was captured. Asked how this job was going. I guess he was asking how you were too but didn’t. He doesn’t normally text me and I didn’t get a chance to answer before Kovacs took my phone. Which reminds me, I need to get a new one pronto.’
‘Well, he texted me too. Said he had no response from you. I said all was good. To be honest, I’m not sure, Cal. Not sure. Something happened in Budapest, made me feel like I needed to have a bit more life before, well, definitely before I think seriously about getting back with Greg. It's not fair on him, if I’m not sure, you know?’
‘Yeah. I know.’ He did know. That statement was too close to home and made him feel uncomfortable.
He squeezed her hand. The warmth of her skin briefly led him to wish he was twenty years younger. Then he pressed the call button, hoping beyond reality that they might just have some Talisker miniatures on board. It made him think of Plockton. The little harbour shoreline, with an odd sailboat out on the water and the fishing skiffs farther along, parked up after bringing in the early morning catch. The faint smell of salt in the air. It would be good to be home.
Beata & Katalin start again
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Beata drove the last mile to her house slowly, consciously delaying the moment.
The moment when she would bring her daughter back from the hospital and into their home again.