And finally, Rácz imagines the manager willy-nilly coming down to the boiler-room, with a cowardly sidelong look and a nervous twitch of the head. Rácz won’t take any excuses. He’ll tie that nice manager to the pipes and heat the poker red-hot… Oh, Rácz’s revenge will be really horrific.
Violent indignation sends Rácz to asleep, though only briefly. Soon the noise of shoes on the stairs wakes him up. Rácz is startled. The car parts shop manager is coming down the stairs.
“So, how are things?” the manager begins and takes a seat. “Don’t you miss Mr. Donáth?”
Rácz just shrugs. “Can’t be helped,” he says, faltering.
“It was easier when there were two of you, wasn’t it?” says the shop manager. Neither speaks for a while; they watch each other. Then the manager after some humming and hawing comes to the point. “The heating’s broken down, chief,” he says jovially. Rácz is pleased by the title; he gets up and nods. “We’ve had nothing but cold for the last hour in the shop,” the shop manager goes on. “We’re working in our coats. The customers are complaining. What’s happened, chief?”
Rácz jerks into action. He quickly babbles whatever comes to him. “Maybe the vertical pipe is blocked.” He goes red. “You see?” he says emphatically. “The boiler-room is old,” he continues, when the car parts manager nods. The pipes rust from the inside. The water pressure moves the rust as far as the bends and it sticks there. Rácz describes a bend with his hands. “You see? When the flow decreases, the bend clogs up. One day the pipes get blocked, and that’s it.” Rácz is intoxicated by his own ingenuity. After a short silence he goes on. “We’ll have to open the pipe and take all the filthy muck out.”
“OK, I see,” says the manager sadly and gets up.
On the stairs more footsteps can be heard. “Are you there, chief?” a woman’s voice asks. The household goods shop manageress comes down. “Chief, it’s cold,” she says to Rácz. “The girls are shivering, poor souls. Can’t something be done about it?”
“Why come to me about it?” Rácz ask with ill-disguised joy at his new title of chief. “Tell the manager. Why me? I’m just a stoker.”
The car parts manager throws his head back in a gesture of contempt. “The manager! When Mr. Donáth was here, we always came here, if something went wrong.” Rácz is confused. He did not foresee things turning out this way. Now there is no going back. He explains the situation to the woman in a few brief sentences. He’d like to help. Of course, he can’t be blamed for the mess Donáth left. It seems to him that stupid old Donáth timed things so that after his departure they’d all start to break down. Anyway, he assures his visitors, it is not that cold yet. What are they going to do when it really starts to freeze? The visitors are dumbfounded. Rácz gets up. He is stocky, a head smaller than either of his visitors, but now he seems like a father to them. Rácz is wondering. Maybe communal services should be called in. They’re equipped to handle this. But they won’t come earlier than a month or two. The visitors are even more hunched with despair. Communal services work all round the city, Rácz stresses. And here, there is a lot of work to do. Everything has to be closed off, the water has to be drained, and so on.
“What was all that talk that everything would be in working order?” the car parts manager complained.
“Well, I didn’t make any promises,” says Rácz, “and Donáth didn’t give a toss. He could promise anything.”
“Right,” says the household goods manageress. “But couldn’t you help us? Maybe you’d only have to poke the pipes clear.” Rácz shrugs. “It might work. But it’s a terrible job draining the water and then pushing the wire through the muck. There’s no guarantee.”
“That’s all right,” she says quickly. “Just give it a try! We’ll have gone crazy from cold by the time those communal services come.”
Rácz clears his throats. “I’m a bit limited in what I can do,” he declares, scrutinizing his visitors’ faces. “Besides it’s not in my job description. It’s an extra.”
The car parts manager makes the first move. Yesterday he had a delivery of several Škoda windscreens, he admits shyly. If the chief is willing, he could bring him a couple. They’re very sought-after and the chief could easily sell them profitably, even if he himself doesn’t have a Škoda himself. Rácz shrugs again. He’s not bothered. The manager quickly leaves to get them, as long as he gets the heating back. He runs up the stairs and bangs the door. Rácz has nothing against the idea. He sits down at the table and massages his sleepy face. Then he looks at the table and sighs. He fixes his gaze on a piece of cheese. He takes a slice and puts it in his mouth. While he chews, he looks at the household goods manageress and tries to imagine her naked.
“It’s quite hot in here,” she remarks when they are alone. “Could you give me a glass of soda?” Rácz jumps up while chewing, but realises he has an erection and sits down again. His mouth full, he lifts his eyebrows and waves his penknife about. “What, you don’t have a soda bottle?” She is astonished. “But that can be sorted, chief. We happen to have put some aside for good friends, the glass ones, of course. They’re so hard to get nowadays. I’ll bring you one, and some gas cartridges. You’ll be able to make your own soda water in this heat, as much as you want. You’ll see how easy it is to work.” Rácz doesn’t drink soda, he never has. He drinks beer, but he shrugs nevertheless. While he swallows the cheese, she runs off, as if kicked up the backside.
Rácz is alone again. The manager does not show up. Instead, Video Urban comes down. Without further ado he sits at the table. “Anything interesting?” he asks Rácz. Rácz nods with his mouth full, swallowing a huge piece with his eyes wide open and the knife lifted high. When he finished, he wipes the knife on his dungarees, closes it and puts it into his pocket. Then he gets up, goes to his cubbyhole, running his tongue round his mouth for remnants of cheese. He pulls down the suitcase and from behind the lining takes out the seven hundred marks that he had found.
“Seven hundred marks,” says Urban when Rácz puts it on the table, which is covered with newspaper.
“How much might that be worth?” Rácz asks.
“Where did you get it?”
“I found it,” Rácz admits.
“Where?” Urban is amazed.
“It was in front of the hotel; in one of the big flower tubs.”
“When?” Urban inquires.
“The day I arrived.”
“Was it the day they raided the currency dealers?”
“How would I know?” Rácz laughs.
“Obviously,” Urban nods, “the raid. I ran downstairs, too. That money belongs to some currency dealer. He hid it in the flower tub so they wouldn’t find it on him. He meant to come back later for it. That’s clear.”
“So?” says Rácz. “Finders keepers. It’s mine now.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Video Urban warns him. “When the dealers find out the money is here, they’ll skin you alive. Seven hundred marks is no joke, it’s a nice little stash.”
“How much,” Rácz tries to pin him down.
Urban tries to back down. “Well, it’s not that much, you know, but still…”
“How much?” Rácz insists.
Urban stalls. “I don’t know. I’d give you seven thousand. You want it? Right here and now, cash in hand.”
“Seven thousand?” Rácz sits down in amazement. “That’s not bad,” he thinks. “I’d make up the money I’ve lost because of the manager’s fine.” On the other hand, he’s noticed Urban’s nervousness and a flash of greed in his eyes. Peasant wisdom demands that he wait. “I’ll think about it,” he promises Urban.