Reka made another call. It was answered almost immediately. ‘Antal, I need you to bring someone else here,’ she said. ‘Now, please.’

THIRTY-SEVEN

Tito Grill, 10.30 p.m.

The Council of War was composed of a veteran officer of the state security service descended from Transylvanian aristocrats, a highly skilled computer hacker who was its newest employee, the city’s most powerful pimp, his consigliere, and a Serbian restaurant owner with a shadowy past.

Several of them had met before, even worked together. Last autumn Anastasia had also been held captive in the basement torture chamber of the former police villa in the Buda hills, in a neighbouring room to Balthazar. It was Gaspar and Fat Vik who had led the charge into the building, rescuing both of them, with the help of Attila Ungar after he changed sides.

Now they were gathered at a corner table inside the restaurant while Biljana and Marika ferried over a continual supply of drinks – but no alcohol, that was universally agreed, at least until they got Balthazar back – and food.

All of them had also watched the footage of Balthazar’s abduction on newsline.hu, but Vivi was now hacking in and out of the city’s municipal CCTV network, sitting at the corner table, with the others standing around her, trying to follow the car’s progress through the city.

The footage showed the fake police car cutting through downtown and roaring down the tramlines on the Margaret Bridge onto the Buda side, then turning right. The cameras showed the vehicle’s course as it sped along the embankment, then coverage ended.

Vivi looked up at the group. ‘That’s it. They were headed towards Obuda.’

Gaspar, Fat Vik, Goran and Anastasia sat back down at the table. Gaspar reached for one of the toothpicks in a small plastic box.

Gaspar said, ‘Can you stop the video and catch the car number plate?’

Vivi nodded. ‘I already did. We also have some numbers and letters from Marika’s phone footage. It’s the same vehicle.’

‘Check it,’ said Anastasia. ‘You’ve got direct access to the database now.’

Vivi’s fingers flew over her keyboard as she entered the letters and numbers into the national database. The screen showed: No such registration. Vivi said, ‘Fake plates.’

Gaspar looked at Anastasia. ‘OK, so we know for sure what car he was in. Now what?’ he asked, playing with the toothpick as he spoke. ‘Is he in Obuda?’

Anastasia shrugged. ‘Maybe. But he could be anywhere. There are hardly any cameras up there. There are cameras on the motorways, but he could be en route out of the city on a back route.’

Gaspar asked, ‘So now what?’

Before Anastasia could answer Marika walked over with a tray of coffees, a jug of water, a plate of biscuits and a bowl full of ropis, salty sticks, and stood by the table for a moment. Anastasia watched as Marika looked at Gaspar several times, and the space in front of him, but then placed the plate in the centre of the table.

Marika smiled at everyone and brushed her hair back from her eyes. ‘Let us know if you want anything more. The cook’s gone home. But I can help, I can make chips or sandwiches. Biljana says to tell that she can cook those thingies, cevap… whatevers.’

‘Cevapcicis, dragam,’ said Goran, giving her a rare smile.

Marika turned a faint shade of pink. ‘Thanks.’ She looked at Vivi’s screen, showing the Obuda embankment. ‘Is that where he is? Will you find him?’

Fat Vik rested his arm on hers. ‘Of course we will. Don’t worry. How’s Memed?’

‘Asleep.’ Marika looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to wake him up now to check on him.’ She turned and went back to the bar.

‘Sweet girl, very helpful,’ said Anastasia to Gaspar, looking him in the eye.

Gaspar said nothing, started fiddling with more toothpicks.

‘Brave, resourceful, thinks on her feet,’ Anastasia continued.

Gaspar still did not reply. A toothpick snapped in half.

Anastasia said nothing more, letting the silence grow and the tension rise.

Gaspar blinked first. ‘She keeps almost everything she earns!’ he declared, his voice almost indignant.

Vivi said, ‘Very generous of you.’

Gaspar looked down for a moment, then around the room as though seeking help. Fat Vik looked bashful, but said nothing. Gaspar glanced at Goran, who shrugged, amused now.

‘She’d make a good nurse. Or a waitress,’ said Anastasia, arching her eyebrows. ‘She’d need some financial support through college. But it would be a lovely gesture. Humanitarian.’

Gaspar sat back, and sighed. ‘Ertem, ertem, I get it. My first college scholarship. But first, let’s find my brother and get him home. How are we going to do that?’

At that moment Vivi jumped in her chair. ‘Azta, that’s it,’ she exclaimed loudly.

Anastasia, Gaspar, Goran and Fat Vik all turned to look at her.

‘What’s what?’ asked Gaspar.

Vivi turned the laptop around with a flourish and pressed play on a video file. It showed a police car driving up a track through woodland to a security cabin where the road narrowed, and further passage was blocked by a barrier, which then lifted.

The police car then continued down a short, narrow tarmacked road to the house, which was surrounded by a high wall. A panel slid sideways across the wall to let the car in. The car drove inside, and the panel moved back into place. It was clear there were four people inside the car, a driver and three in the back seat, although their faces were not properly visible. ‘Number 302 Mariahegyi Way. Police car with the same number plate. That has to be them,’ said Vivi.

Fat Vik frowned for a moment, looked at Gaspar. ‘That address sounds familiar, boss.’ He peered at the computer screen. ‘Looks familiar, too. Don’t we know that place?’

Gaspar snapped the toothpick. ‘We do. A VIP punter. Spends a lot. Diamond-rated on our customer rankings.’

‘Karoly Bardossy? The boss of Nationwide,’ said Anastasia. ‘I checked his address earlier.’

‘That’s the one. We know who he is,’ said Gaspar. ‘We know all about him, don’t we, Vik?’

Fat Vik smiled. ‘Not all about him, but quite a lot. More than most people. A real old goat. Quite impressive for his age, although the Viagra helps. Likes his nose candy as well.’

Gaspar said, ‘That must be it. That’s where they’ve taken Tazi. Play it again, please.’

Vivi did as he asked. Goran took a napkin from the small container on the table, unfolded it and started drawing.

Gaspar glanced at him for a moment, then turned back to the video. He looked at Anastasia. ‘Yup, it’s definitely Karoly Bardossy’s place.’ Gaspar turned to Fat Vik. ‘Remember, we went there together. Very fancy gaff, like a palace inside.’

Anastasia asked, ‘What were you doing there?’

Gaspar said, ‘Negotiating. He had some special requests. They were expensive. He likes lots of girls. Three, four, all at once. Imagine. One is enough work.’

Fat Vik said, ‘Like I said, a real old goat. He used to come to us until his wife died. Then he stayed at home. We sent them over in a limousine. So now we know where he is, what are we going to do about it?’

Anastasia smiled, took a cup of coffee and drank half in one go. ‘OK. The obvious way forward is to tell the police and raid the place. We’d need helicopters and an armed SWAT team. I’ve already spoken to Sandor Takacs. We could get that in place tonight. But there are several potential problems with that plan.’