“Like what?” Tupý asks.
“There are a lot of possibilities,” says Mozoň. They could go into the streets and find out the popular mood, listen to what people talk about, what they like and what they don’t like. Or get back to that hotel and try to squeeze some other hustler. Does Mozoň have to come up with all the ideas? Couldn’t they think of something, too? Does he have to lead them by the hand all the time? They’re on enemy territory and they must never forget it! They should act accordingly. They’re at war. It’s a war without trenches or shooting. It’s a battle of wits. Mozoň touches his forehead meaningfully. Šolik and Tupý are both puffed with pride. They’ve never looked at their pathetic existence from that angle. “Victory is assured,” said Mozoň, “but everyone has to contribute.” Above all, they have to think for themselves, so that he doesn’t have to do all the thinking and plotting by himself! Where would Šolik and Tupý be without him? Yes, up shit creek!
* * *
Another early morning, and Rácz has put in a lot of useful work. First, the cops dealing with the Ambassador Hotel area showed up. A big raid on currency dealers was planned in two days’ time. Rácz should take care and warn his people about the threat. When it happens, the local cops won’t be able to help: special police from Prague will be carrying out the raid. The fat cop throws up his hands helplessly. Rácz is quiet and reflects. Certainly, he has to warn his own people. He doesn’t know if he should alert that bastard, Video Urban. He’s still furious with him for not revealing where he’d got currency for a whole week. But that’s not the point: over the last few days things have gone back to normal. Buses come to the hotel with currency not yet changed and the Albanians are busy again. Urban has disappeared somewhere. Rácz will think about letting Urban know of the risk, or fall into the hands of the Prague cops.
The fat cop seemed a bit ruffled, as if he had more to say.
“Well, what is it,” asks Rácz.
“You know, boss,” says the policeman, “how can I put it? Time is passing. It’s the twentieth of the month already.”
“So?” asks Rácz.
The policeman clears his throat. “You promised to keep us in mind. Christmas is coming… the bonus… the Christmas bonus.”
“Rácz doesn’t forget,” says Rácz. “If he makes a promise, he keeps it. He doesn’t need some pavement plodder to remind him of his promises!”
The policeman flushes red and lifts both arms in apology. Rácz reaches into his pocket and takes out an envelope. “Here you are,” he says, “a little bit extra. Share it out.”
Then Rácz goes and takes his seat at the bar. He orders vodka and waits for Khunt, the money dealer. Rácz gives Khunt the key to the hotel’s Renault minibus: in it are boxes of poor quality imitation Omega, Breitling and other watches. Fools and people who don’t know any better will fall for them. They have to be sold.
“I want X crowns,” says Rácz. Anything over that sum is Khunt’s. He can sell for as much as he wants. But that’s not all. Rácz takes out a list. He’s also got Denon and Sony cassettes. Obvious fakes. Cheap fakes from Hong Kong. Rácz doesn’t know much about them. He only knows the price. He knows how much he wants for them. If Khunt is interested, they have a deal.
Khunt agrees. He won’t say no. But he has to think a bit about it. For the time being, he wants to see the watches. If he likes them, he’ll buy the lot. He grabs the minibus key and gets up. He goes off to have a look.
Rácz finishes his vodka and orders another. Khunt is back in no time. He’ll take them. He takes his wallet out and counts the money. Soon, both men are sitting contentedly. If Khunt is interested, Rácz can get an unlimited quantity of those cassettes. Here are the brands and prices. As usual, Rácz will consider a discount.
Khunt nods in agreement. They always come to terms. Khunt likes to deal only with reliable people. And you can certainly rely on Rácz.
Rácz doesn’t twitch an eyebrow, of course. He lacks any capacity for genuine emotion and has no idea how to react. He won’t be humble and refuse to accept praise, since he is certain that Khunt is right. He doesn’t even nod; he just coughs and orders another vodka in an unusually muted voice.
After Khunt’s departure, the small-time currency dealers show up with their daily take of marks and schillings. They sit down in turn and hand Rácz their modest loot. Rácz pays them off on the spot. The Albanians come, too. They want to do a deal, too. Rácz is friendly, but does not suck up to them. When he can, he’ll meet them halfway, but he warns them he doesn’t want their dirty snouts hanging about the hotel. On the pavement is OK, but they mustn’t dare come in! He’s the boss inside. The Albanians put on an air of cool defiance, but they obey. They know that Rácz is powerful. The cops are in his pocket, and the hotel staff do as he says. The Albanians wouldn’t stand a chance.
“How’s it going?” Video Urban calls to him. Wearing a new leather jacket, he stands at Rácz’s table, deciding whether to join him or not. Rácz silently points to a free chair. Urban sits down.
“I haven’t seen you for ages,” says Rácz. “I suppose that friend of yours, the Swede, showed up, did he?”
“What do you mean?” says Urban, taken aback and beginning to regret joining the stoker.
“Nothing,” says Rácz, “just asking what’s kept you, as I haven’t seen you for a long time. You haven’t brought me any marks or schillings lately.”
“I’m not doing it any more,” says Urban. “I’ve finished with that.”
“Really?” The stoker is incredulous. “Found something better? Are you working with that camera of yours, like you meant to?”
Urban nods.
Rácz shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Who’d want to piss about, going to weddings and baptisms? Not me, I tell you.”
Video Urban shakes his head. Urban doesn’t piss about anywhere. He works at home, mostly. People come to him.
Rácz finds that strange. “How come?” Does the whole wedding come to Urban’s place?
“No,” says Urban. He doesn’t do weddings. Hasn’t Rácz read his ad in the free-ad paper?
Rácz shakes his head: Rácz does not read the papers. He doesn’t read anything.
If he did, Urban thinks, he’d have realised.
Rácz is fed up exchanging banter with this brat of a currency dealer. Everyone does as they think best, he believes. If Urban thinks this will make him more money, fine! Rácz couldn’t care less. But now that it doesn’t matter, would Urban tell him how he managed to clean those buses out of currency?
Urban smiles, even though the memory is unpleasant one. It’s very painful, in fact. “Well, I did it all at customs.”
“Customs!” Rácz repeats.
“Yes, customs,” says Video Urban. “But I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not?” Rácz is curious.
“Too risky. It’s full of strange cops.”
“That wouldn’t interest me,” says the stoker indifferently. Rácz only works here in the hotel. Anything outside is of no interest to him. But he does know one thing. A big raid on the currency dealers is set for the day after tomorrow, and the cops are coming all the way from Prague. Urban should watch out. Rácz tells him just in case, even though he knows Urban has left the racket and so is in no danger.