Peter Pišt'anek - Rivers of Babylon

“The name reminds me of something,” says the manageress.

Ščepán spreads his arms, and suggests a subtle bow, as if to say, “You know, it can’t be helped.”

The manageress continues, “I don’t think I’ll need your services. I pay my taxes. Part of that money goes to finance the police. I can’t see why I should pay twice over. Maybe I’m naïve, but I still believe that when I need them, the police will protect me from thieves, teenage hooligans, characters with grudges and, not least, extortionate speculators who’d like to live off us small business people under various pretences.” The manageress gets up and opens the door defiantly.

“You said, ‘When you need someone’?” Ščepán asks, still seated. He smiles. “My dear lady, when you need someone, it’s too late. We in the private company Sekuritatia deal above all in prevention. We’re not interested in running after an arsonist after he’s started a fire, even though I’m not saying that sometimes we can’t be very firm.”

“I believe that I’ve made myself clear, gentlemen,” says the manageress and with a smooth gesture points to the open door. “In any case, I’ll mention your proposition to my friend, a major in the police,” she adds. “He’ll certainly advise and help me.”

“You need to believe that,” says Ščepán, shrugging. He nods to Šolik and the latter finally moves away from the window overlooking the yard.

“You’re a very clever woman, aren’t you?” says Šolik says, in an offended tone.

“Yes,” says the manageress, “I had a very good education.” Her facial expression suggests that she’s pleased that everything has finally been made clear by Šolik’s remark.

“That was a tough bitch!” Ščepán says outside, almost with admiration.

“So what?” Šolik remarks contemptuously. “An ordinary intellectual cunt,” he lets fly, cut to the quick.

“Don’t worry; we’ll get her,” says Ščepán. He opens his notebook and makes a little note.

“And now?” asks Šolik. “Where to, chief?”

Ščepán reflects. He looks in his notebook. “Let’s go just round the corner from here, to Oravec and Debnar, the electronics shop,” he says. “They’re sure to pay up,” he concludes, full of hope. “Just remember,” he says to the depressed Šolik, “in the end, they all pay, and with interest backdated. After all: who are we? We’re Rácz’s men; that’s who we are!”

Thus encouraged, the men resolutely set off.

* * *

Rácz is paying from his own pocket to renovate the office the manager abandoned; it will all belong to him, anyway. The tradesmen work frantically; Rácz pays handsomely.

Finally, all is finished. Rácz enters the comfortably furnished office and sits down in a leather swivel chair behind a giant kidney-shaped table. On his glass-covered work desk is a light blue screen.

“What gadget is that?” asks Rácz asks, pointing to the screen.

“It’s a computer,” says the lawyer, who was personally responsible for renovating the vanished manager’s office.

Rácz looks round the room. His eye rests on the elegant blue paintwork covering the black, smoke-damaged walls. “What do we need a computer for?” he asks. “Rácz can calculate anything, anyway,” he declares.

The lawyer clears his throat. “That’s right, I know. But the computer is no ordinary calculator. Its memory holds the whole future financial dealings of the hotel and other affiliated businesses. We’ll also be able to keep tabs on the people working in our protection service. And all this will be done without paperwork.”

Rácz nods. “That’s different. Rácz hates pushing papers, bureaucracy. Well, fine, we’ll have to move with the times. The computer can stay for the time being. But have it turned off, the flashing screen gets on Rácz’s nerves. Besides, his memory still serves him well. Rácz knows very well who’s paid and who hasn’t for protection services. Ščepán can sort it out at the double. Rácz has given him a free hand! Nobody plays games with Rácz.” Rácz looks the lawyer over with a steady gaze filled with icy steel flashes.

“Now we’re here,” he says, “we’re staying! Anyone who wants to do business in this city has to deal with us! Nobody will even fart without our permission, is that clear?”

The lawyer rubs his hands with enthusiasm. Whatever made him even think he could fight a genius like Rácz?

“Quite right, boss! You’re right, as always! Without us, without our support, nobody will be able to do a thing! Nobody!”

Rácz sits back. He stretches out his arms. He’s wearing an impeccably tailored suit. His eyes radiate energy. He picks up the phone. “Give me my fiancée, please,” he says. “Three-eight-three, one-six-one. Listen, young lady, could you possibly make an effort to remember this number? Is that really too much to ask of you? Fine, I accept that.” Rácz puts on a conciliatory self-satisfied expression. “But I don’t want to repeat this in future,” he says patronizingly. “Rácz’s secretary has to know more than Rácz himself.”

The lawyer backs towards the door. Rácz halts him with a gesture. “Get me a list of Austrian credit institutions,” says Rácz, covering the receiver with a hand. Find out all that’s necessary. If need be, you and Urban will go to Vienna even before the auction. We have to be ready. You can go now!”

“Good morning, Mama!” Rácz says, when Lenka’s mother answers the phone. She insists on being called Mama. Rácz has to call Lenka’s father Karol. “She’s at the university?” He’s disappointed. “When will she be back, in the evening? I’ll call her then, and no, I won’t be able to join you for dinner, I’m too busy. Yes, we’re working on it. Auction? Perhaps next week. Thank you very much! But we’ll see each other before then. I hope you’re right! Of course, I’ll do everything I can.”

Ščepán knocks at the door and enters. He clears his throat. Rácz has just finished his phone call. His calls don’t take long; he’s brief and to the point. He sizes up the ex-secret policeman. “Well, how do you like your job? Is working for Rácz good, or bad? Is Rácz mean?”

Ščepán deflects the very possibility of such rhetorical questions with equally rhetorical gestures. “No, no, boss,” he protests decisively, but respectfully. “All of us, my men and myself, are very grateful to you and will serve you to our last breath.”

Rácz nods happily. Rácz has plans. They may be a bit grandiose, but that doesn’t change a thing. Rácz is accustomed to achieving everything he attempts. He is planning to build a big security organization. A private security firm. The police will be nothing by comparison. It will happen soon. The nucleus of this powerful force will be Ščepán and his two people, Šolik and Tupý. This organization will take care of security at the Hotel Ambassador and other sites that Rácz will eventually buy. Similarly, as Ščepán can imagine, it will take care of the security of all small businessmen who ask Rácz for protection.

Ščepán listens attentively and unwittingly stands to attention. Rácz pauses. Why go rabbiting on? Everything’s quite clear! Rácz gets up and walks up to the ex-secret policeman. He looks straight into his eyes. Rácz wants to know if a certain issue has been resolved. There were apparently problems with a boutique nearby.

Ščepán smiles, proud and content. As far as the Sandra boutique is concerned, the boss needn’t worry at all. A few days ago somebody threw a stink bomb into the shop. A day later, unknown evildoers flattened and slashed the owner’s car tyres. Now the owner is ready to pay the sum requested for protection.

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.