Rácz nods. That’s how he thought it would go. Rácz takes a wooden cigar box from the table and offers it to Ščepán. Ščepán takes a cigar and holds it reverently with two fingers, waiting for Rácz to light his own, and then Ščepán’s, cigar. A light blush covers his face: he would have given his life for Rácz at that moment.
Rácz takes a few puffs and becomes chatty. He is quite sure that the time is ripe. Soon the prisoners will have to be released. There are several reasons. Firstly, they can’t be held forever. Most of them have families and after a few months’ absence, the families might panic and go to the police. At the moment, Rácz doesn’t need that. Secondly, prolonged imprisonment has changed them, reformed them. Now they know there’s no point standing up to Rácz!
Ščepán agrees wholeheartedly. Yes, indeed, that’s how it is! To stand up to the big man Rácz is the same, one could say, as pissing into the wind! Or even better, as barking at the moon! And to put it really expressively, it would be like quarrelling with God Almighty!
Rácz looks at him without moving a muscle: in Rácz’s opinion, Ščepán couldn’t have put it better. He knows that Ščepán is speaking from personal experience. Ščepán was once on the wrong side of the barricade. Now he’s on the right side. The same goes for the lawyer. None of them now regret serving Rácz. He’s sure that prolonged isolation in a small space, cold, thirst and hunger have changed the minds of the Albanians, as well as the gypsies. They will be released. From now on, they will serve Rácz. And those who don’t want to, will have to leave town one way or another. His organization will not tolerate competition. That means there are only two possibilities: they either work for him, or they get out. It is important for Rácz that here, in the centre, everything has to be under his control. And he means everything: currency dealers, whores, gambling, sales of smuggled cigarettes and alcohol, protection racket, and in general, business as such. There is no other way. As far as Rácz is concerned, there is no longer any reason to keep prisoners. Here, in the centre, everyone is needed! Anyone willing to work for the common good has an assured position in Sekuritatia.
Rácz, lost in thought, nibbles the end of his cigar.
As for the villa, Rácz has a plan. As soon as the last prisoner is released, they will send a good architect there; they’ll hire a good team of the best tradesmen who will turn the neglected building into an impressive mansion. Rácz’s impressive mansion with an indoor pool, and so on!
Ščepán comes to life. “Is the boss suggesting that he’ll personally reside in the villa?”
“Yes, exactly that!” says Rácz. The villa is spacious and comfortable. Does Ščepán know what style of architecture it is? No? It’s cubical style. Ščepán should remember that. Cubical. Rácz unwittingly taps his forehead. You have to read a book or two sometimes! But to continue: there’s a beautiful view of the city from the villa. Rácz will get married and move into the villa. He’s had enough of living in a hotel and eating in restaurants. Rácz wants a home of his own!
Despite Ščepán’s enthusiastic agreement, Rácz pauses and puffs on his cigar. Why on earth is he sharing personal information with this sidekick? Sidekicks surround Rácz. They watch his face to catch the smallest hint of Rácz’s mood of the moment. He puffs on his cigar and sits down at his desk. Actually, he finds it both pleasant and unpleasant.
* * *
The stump of the severed little finger heals quickly. Above the office desk hangs a battered mess pot. It’s hanging there on Rácz’s orders, to remind him of his imprisonment.
The lawyer has sincerely repented his actions. Without any falsity or treachery he has admitted he wronged Rácz. He doesn’t know what got into him. He can only regret that he did not think of joining the mighty stoker earlier. The lawyer should have realised that this was not just anybody, but somebody aiming for the heights! Had he sensed it earlier, he could have had a much better position. At present, he has to be content with being Rácz’s second deputy. The first deputy is that show-off bisexual Urban. And Urban got there despite having nothing, no education, except a shitty College of Applied Arts. But still, the lawyer has to give him his due: Urban is smart and proactive. As Rácz’s deputy, Urban has visited all the important people in the city, leaving behind generous gifts from the stoker, memories of his radiant smile and a slowly dissipating aroma of manly Fahrenheit perfume. Rácz has never had to poke his nose out of the Hotel Ambassador and yet, thanks to Urban, he’s become a popular person and a man everyone has to reckon with if they want to amount to anything in the city.
The lawyer advises the following. As soon as Rácz becomes the owner of the Hotel Ambassador on paper as well as in reality, he has to contact representatives of the most influential political parties. He has to invite them one by one to the Hotel, best to a working breakfast — it’s fashionable and doesn’t take up so much time.
Rácz agrees, but is a bit embarrassed. He doesn’t see what he’s going to talk about with the bearded leaders of social democrats, national democrats, people’s democrats and who knows what other democrats. Rácz says he doesn’t give a shit about politics. He thinks everybody should take care of his own shit.
The lawyer explains that Rácz won’t have to say anything: he’s a rich hotelier and businessman. Let the political leaders blether on: it’s they who will want Rácz’s help with their election campaigns. Rácz only wants to have breakfast. He has the advantage.
Rácz has mixed feelings. He’s suspicious and dubious. Of course, he can sit straight and keep a poker face, his metallic grey eyes looking straight ahead, but the lawyer has learned how to read him. Clenched fists and a slightly jutting lower jaw are sure signs of a struggle inside Rácz.
“We’ll promise to help all of them,” advises the lawyer. “And we’ll help them all,” he adds.
Rácz fixes his eyes on him. “All of them?” he murmurs unhappily.
“All those with chances of good seats in the elections,” the lawyer corrects himself. “We’ll give something to the Left and something to the Right; something to the Catholics, and something to the Atheists. Let’s not forget the Ecologists either, or the Nationalists.”
“What about the Hungarians?” Rácz asks menacingly.
“We’ll give them something, too,” the lawyer answers hastily. “We’ll get it back after the elections. Whoever wins does so with our help. That help will be repaid a hundredfold. No man is an island,” he says.
Rácz listens without comment. He’s stubborn, but doesn’t fight new ideas. “Do you think that would be clever?” he asks, reflecting.
The lawyer smiles politely. “You can’t even fart without politicians nowadays,” he says. “And if you think that you can run away from politics, politics will find you,” he adds sagely.
Rácz smiles. He likes the lawyer’s idea. He’d never before even thought of concerning himself with politics. Politics is the roguery of the rich, he’s known that from childhood. But now he’s rich, he realises, once and for all. He stands up abruptly and lights a cigar that went out during his sustained reflection. Yes, he decides: from now on, politics and hotelier Rácz will be inseparable partners!
* * *
The long awaited auction of the Hotel Ambassador is happening semi-legally in a small meeting room of the Town Hall. It’s one of the smallest rooms, thanks to the means the lawyer appropriately selected to motivate the miserably paid city officials. The lawyer is now sitting in the first row, together with Rácz and Urban, his arms crossed and looking confident. The employees of Sekuritatia hired by Ščepán are placed all around the room. They are wearing civilian clothes, but their shaven heads and broad shoulders without any intervening necks suggest dangerous vitality and silent menace. Anyone who knows something about the functioning of the city centre is aware that this will be Rácz’s one-man show.