Tor's cellular buzzed.
"He's almost at Sohaz U," Rakosi reported.
"I'm fifty meters from the intersection," Tor's voice said in Rakosi's earbud.
Thirty seconds later, Eric Kocian and Max appeared, walking briskly up the steep incline.
One of these days, Tor thought, he's going to do that and have a heart attack.
Tor reported: "He just went past. Follow him and see where he goes."
Thirty seconds after that, the Chrysler came slowly up Vamhaz korut.
Sixty seconds after that, Rakosi reported, "He's turned onto Kiralyi Pal. It looks as if he is going to the Kepiro."
"Don't follow him. Drive around the block and then down Kepiro U."
Tor backed away from the panel truck and then drove onto Vamhaz korut and turned right. When he drove past Kiralyi Pal, he saw Eric Kocian turning onto Kepiro.
A moment later, Rakosi reported: "He went in."
"Okay," Tor ordered, "you find someplace to park where you can catch him when he comes out. I'll park, and see if I can look into the restaurant."
"Got it," Rakosi said. Tor found the darkened doorway-he had used it before-from which he could see into the Kepiro restaurant.
Kocian was sitting at a small table between the bar and the door. A jazz quartet was set up between his table and the bar. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table and a bottle of soda water, and, as Tor watched, a waiter delivered a plate of food.
Sausage for the both of them, Tor knew. Kielbasa for the old man and some kind of hard sausage for Max. Kocian cut a slice of the kielbasa for himself and put it in his mouth. Max laid a paw on the old man's leg. Kocian sawed at the hard sausage until there was a thumb-sized piece on his fork. He extended the fork to Max, who delicately pulled off the treat. Kocian patted the dog's head.
A procession of people-including three hookers, one at a time-entering and leaving the restaurant paused by Kocian's chair and shook his hand or allowed him to kiss theirs. The more courageous of them patted Max's head. Kocian always rose to his feet to accept the greetings of the hookers, but as long as Tor had been guarding him he had never taken one back to the Gellert with him.
In Vienna, he had an "old friend" who was sometimes in his apartment-most often, coming out of it-when Tor went to get him in the mornings. She was a buxom redhead in her late fifties. Kocian never talked about her and Tor never asked.
The band took a break and the bandleader came over to Kocian's table, patted Max, and had a drink of Kocian's Jack Daniel's. When the break was over, the bandleader returned to his piano and Kocian resumed cutting the sausages-a piece for him and a piece for Max-as he listened to the music, often tapping his fingers on the table.
Tor knew that the old man usually stayed just over an hour and had gone into the restaurant a few minutes before one o'clock. So, glancing at his watch and seeing that it was ten minutes to two, he had just decided it was about time for the old man to leave when he saw him gesturing for the check.
Tor took out his cellular, pressed the autodial key, and said, "He's just called for the check."
"Let's hope he goes home," Rakosi replied.
"Amen," Tor said. "You get in a position to watch him on the bridge. I'll stay here and let you know which way he's headed."
"Done," Rakosi said. Eric Kocian and Max came out of the Kepiro five minutes later and headed down the street toward Kiralyi Pal, strongly suggesting he was headed for home.
Tor watched him until he turned onto Kiralyi Pal, called Rakosi to report Kocian's location, and then trotted to where he had parked the silver Mercedes.
He had just gotten into the car when Rakosi reported that the old man was about to get on the bridge.
He had driven no more than four minutes toward Vamhaz korut when his phone vibrated.
"Trouble," Rakosi reported.
"On the way."
Tor accelerated rapidly down the Vamhaz korut and was almost at the bridge when he saw that something was going on just about in the center of the bridge.
Max and the old man had a man down on the sidewalk and the man was beating at the animal's head with a pistol.
Rakosi's Chrysler Grand Caravan was almost on them.
And then a car-a black or dark blue Mercedes that had been coming toward Sandor Tor-stopped and a man jumped out and, holding a pistol with two hands, fired at the old man and the dog.
Rakosi made a screaming U-turn, jumped out, and started firing at the Mercedes as it began to speed away.
"I'll get the old man," Sandor Tor said into his cellular. "You get the bastards in the Mercedes. Ram them if you have to."
Rakosi didn't reply, but Tor saw him jump back into the Chrysler.
Tor pulled his Mercedes to the curb.
The old man was sitting down as if he had been knocked backward. Tor saw blood staining the shoulder of his white suit.
The man on the ground was still fighting Max, whose massive jaws were locked on his arm.
Tor jumped out of the Mercedes, taking his pistol from its holster as he moved.
He took aim at the man Max had down, then changed his mind. He went to the man and swung the pistol hard against the back of his head.
The man went limp.
Tor looked down the bridge and saw that both the attackers' Mercedes and Rakosi's Chrysler had disappeared.
He punched another autodial button on his cellular, a number he wasn't supposed to have.
"Inspector Lazar," he announced. "Supervisor needs assistance. Shots fired on the Szabadsag hid. One citizen down. Require ambulance."
So far as Tor knew, there was no Inspector Lazar on the Budapest police force. But that would get an immediate response, he knew. Before he had gone to work for the Tages Zeitung, he had been Inspector Sandor Tor.
He went to the old man. The dog was whimpering. There was a bloody wound on his skull.
Christ, I only hit that bastard once and he was out. I saw him beating on Max's head and Max never let loose.
That dog's not whimpering because he's in pain. He's whimpering because he knows something is wrong with the old man.
"An ambulance is on the way, Ur Kocian," Tor said.
"Sandor, I need a great favor."
"Anything, Ur Kocian. I should not have let this happen."
"What you should have done is gone home when I told you."
"Do you want to lie down until the ambulance gets here?"
"Of course not. The first thing I want you to do is call Dr. Kincs, Max's veterinarian, and tell him you're bringing Max in for emergency treatment."
"Of course. Just as soon as I get you to the hospital-"
"The Telki Private Hospital. Don't let them take me to the goddamned Szent Janos Korhaz. They'd never let Max stay with me there."
"All gunshot victims are taken to Szent Janos Korhaz," Tor said.
"And you can't fix that?"
"No, I can't."
"Jesus Christ, what are we paying you for?" the old man demanded and then ordered: "Help me to my feet."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Ur Kocian."
"I didn't ask for an opinion, goddamn you, Sandor! Do what you're told! Get me the hell out of here before the police show up."
The old man winced with pain as he tried to get to his feet.
A police car-a Volkswagen Jetta-came onto the bridge. It pulled up beside the silver Mercedes and a sergeant and the driver got out.
"What's happened?" the sergeant demanded.
"That man and two others tried to rob Ur Kocian," Tor said.
"Who are you?"