The Budapest Experiment: Hungary Eyes, #1

By Maurice G. Miller

At what price would you sell your soul...?

This captivating thriller weaves business, politics, seduction, power, and religion all into a compelling tale of international intrigue.

Set in 1991, during the dawn of the Post-Communist era in Hungary, this novel chronicles the exploits of Michael Rousson, an adventurous but struggling American entrepreneur.

During this period of tumultuous political, economic, and social change, the Russian Mob is taking advantage of the ensuing turmoil to entrench itself deeper into the business landscape of the former Soviet Bloc countries.

Navigating the business culture of Budapest, Michael senses an air of mysticism and lurking danger. The intensity heats up, as a series of business dealings and events leads him to a consulting position with the 'Organization.'

Seduced by their women, money, and power, Michael becomes entangled in the web of Mob culture. An examination of conscience reveals a spirit ravaged with feelings of guilt and betrayal, but a rapidly growing bank account serves as the means to justify his actions.

Pondering his future, he wonders if he can balance this extreme Budapest lifestyle with his ‘ordinary’ family life back home. After padding his wallet for the past several months, would the Organization let him just walk away, or would there be consequences?

This book is intended for mature audiences.

˃˃˃ Looking for something different? Don’t miss this debut thriller novel!

Add to your cart now and immerse yourself into the 'experiment'.

˃˃˃ 4.67 of 5 stars Goodreads reviews and ratings!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Full Tilt Publishing
• Release date: Nov 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540124821

Book preview

Table of Contents

The Budapest Experiment (Hungary Eyes, #1)

Chapter 1 - The Invasion

Chapter 2 - Establishing Base Camp

Chapter 3 - Gathering the Troops

Chapter 4 - Beginning the Offensive

Chapter 5 - Devil or Angel

Chapter 6 - Making Inroads

Chapter 7 - The Road Home

Chapter 8 - Second Tour of Duty

Chapter 9 - Tasting the Nightlife

Chapter 10 - All In

Chapter 11 - Face the Music

Chapter 12 - Friendly Fire

Chapter 13 - Into the Lion's Den

Chapter 14 - Who's 'The Boss'?

Chapter 15 - The Balancing Act

Chapter 16 - The Story Behind the Story

Chapter 17 - Friend or Foe

Chapter 18 - Dressed To Kill

Chapter 19 - Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 20 - Tight Quarters

Chapter 21 - Debrief

Chapter 22 - A Hero's Welcome

Chapter 23 - On Heaven's Door

Chapter 24 - Only the Beginning

Chapter 25 - Welcome To the Bratva

Chapter 26 - 3's Company, 4's a Crowd

Chapter 27 - The Daily Grind

Chapter 28 - Enjoying the Benefits

Chapter 29 - Angel In the Lake

Chapter 30 - A Night At the Opera

Chapter 31 - Coming Down the Stretch

Chapter 32 - The Betrayal

Chapter 33 - And In the End...

Note From the Author

The Budapest Experiment - Hungary Eyes Book 1

An International Thriller Novel

By Maurice G. Miller

Full Tilt Publishing

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Copyright © 2016 by Full Tilt Publishing.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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The Budapest Experiment/Maurice G. Miller.—1st ed.

ISBN 978-0-6924281-0-0

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Chapter 1 - The Invasion

Michael’s heart pounded in his chest while doing his best to avoid looking down the bore of the silencer pointed at his head. Unexpectedly, thoughts and concerns over Katy’s reaction to his potential demise superseded his own fear of dying. Never having told his wife the whole story behind his newly found success here in Hungary, she would make blind assumptions not really knowing all the facts. Sadly, she would become a widow and single parent of three children. He, on the other hand, would be perceived by his family and friends as the ‘bad guy,’ without ever having the chance to prove his innocence.

Sitting opposite him in the back seat of the Mercedes was Gregorio, an ex-soldier in the Russian Army Special Forces. Certainly, he did not need the pistol to keep Michael in check, as it would probably take him less than ten seconds to snap his neck if he chose to. Finger on the trigger, he had killed many times before and would like nothing more than to pull that trigger again. Staring at Michael, he sported a coy grin as if to say ‘please give me a reason to do this.’ Not very fond of Americans to begin with, he lived most of his life in Cold War Russia, where America was the ultimate enemy. Michael suspected the gun was drawn mostly to fuck with his mind and didn’t expect that Gregorio would actually shoot him, though the fear factor was certainly working. Not knowing much about guns, he could not tell if the safety was on or off. 

Michael had a few things going for him here. First, dead American businessmen were not a good thing for this burgeoning democratic country—or the Russian mob, for that matter. Second, he knew he did not pilfer the $15,000 his captors mentioned was missing when taking him from his apartment in the middle of the night for this joyride. There was no question in Michael’s mind that Laszlo Toth, a member of the Organization, had to be the one who embezzled the money. Crumbling under the financial pressure of his substantial drug habit, Laszlo set him up to take the fall. Right now he was probably looking to get out of town or was already long gone. Perhaps he thought he could get away with it. Michael worked closely with Laszlo over the past several weeks and he never came across to him as a very smart man.

Almost certain they were taking him to plead his case to the man they called ‘The Boss’, he found a strange comfort in this. There were many men in the Organization who were referred to as ‘boss,’ but The Boss was the brains and leader behind a vast operation centered in Budapest that was known by many names, including the Russian Mob, The Brotherhood (Bratva), and the ‘Organization.’ Through a series of unlikely circumstances, Michael and The Boss had become acquainted. They had made a strange connection with a similar interest in American sports—in particular, basketball and the Chicago Bulls. The Boss had taken a liking to him in their limited encounters over the past three months. The two men in the car, Gregorio and Ivan, were the top guys in The Boss’s personal security team. Michael wondered if this was a favor, sending these two, knowing they may not be as trigger happy as some of the others. Michael’s body tensed against the leather seat as the driver, Ivan, sped through the streets of Budapest, hoping the occasional hard bumps they hit would not cause Gregorio’s trigger finger to move too much.

It had been a quiet ride so far with not much being said. It made no sense to plead his case or even discuss the issue with these guys, who would have no problem working him over if they misinterpreted and thought he said something out of line. ‘Silence is golden’ would be the policy here.

As the Mercedes took the on ramp to the M6 Highway heading south out of Budapest, it confirmed they were headed to The Boss’s country home in Pécs near the Yugoslavian border. This was a spot where someone could easily be made to disappear. A place he had visited before.

Not another car in sight at 2:30 in the morning, the headlights pierced the pitch-black highway. Even at ninety miles an hour, it would take a while to get to Pécs. Michael, trying to calm himself down, began to reflect and ponder on the series of events that led him to this situation. The ups and downs of a project he fondly referred to as ‘The Budapest Experiment’ were beginning to flash before him. . . .

Eight Months Earlier—January 1991

The announcement over the plane’s intercom caused his eyes to open abruptly from the brief nap he was able to manage. Looking out the window on the flight’s approach to Budapest’s Ferihegy Airport, Michael saw gray, overcast, dreary, skies, what he would soon come to know as a typical winter day in Eastern Europe. He turned to the young lady, whom he had the pleasure of sitting next to on the flight, and thanked her for the assistance she had given him. She was a native Hungarian coming back from a visit to relatives in the US, and he had badgered her on and off for the past seven hours on the Pan-Am flight from Boston. Questions about business and culture in Hungary were the things he was most curious about. He also asked for help with pronunciations of common phrases from the conversational Hungarian language book he was trying to digest. She seemed pleased he was making an effort to learn the language. Adél was in her mid-twenties, an assistant bank manager, attractive, cordial, and didn’t seem to mind periodically interacting and conversing with him, making the flight seem shorter than it really was. Beautiful smile, blond hair, deep blue eyes, her English vocabulary was remarkably good.

Thanks so much for all your help and allowing me to bother you. It’s been a great help to me.

Oh, it was no bother, I am glad I could help. Good luck to you and maybe we will see each other again in Budapest some time. Michael perceived a bit of a twinkle in her eye as she spoke.

Thirty-eight years old, just under six feet tall, Michael had thick, short, light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. With facial features reflecting his French and German heritage, he thought he looked best when sporting the ‘five o’clock shadow’ look. Well-proportioned at around 160 pounds, he was an avid bike rider, golfer, and tennis player, keeping in decent physical shape.

During the flight Adél expressed how excited Hungarians of her generation were about the future and the potential opportunities in their home country. The Communist state economic systems and the Soviet military occupancy employed in Hungary for more than forty years had been torn down, much like the Berlin wall over a year ago in November of 1989. There was now a movement toward renewed hope for the younger generations of Hungary and all of Eastern/Central Europe.

For Michael, the three years or so leading up to this first trip to Hungary were extreme to say the least. He graduated just a year and a half ago, at age thirty-six, with an undergraduate business degree in finance. This achievement had been a long time coming. It was the same university he had originally attended directly out of high school back in 1970 to study civil engineering. At age twenty-one, he discovered that engineering was not for him and left college to marry Katy, his girlfriend of more than four years. They had three children in their first five years of marriage. Working various jobs to support his family, including starting two entrepreneurial ventures in technology and real estate, he always dreamed of reaching financial independence for his family.

Michael returned to college in January of 1987 and for the next two and a half years simultaneously attended university full time during the day while working full-time night shifts, a grueling schedule for a man who was thirty-four years old trying to balance family with full-time work, full-time college studies, and participation in the activities of his three children. His night job was mundane with little stress, inspecting and assembling sophisticated components used in high-tech communications and tracking devices for the US military. But in the end it did finally pay off with a degree.

As fate would have it, the very scenario prompting layoffs in his department shortly after graduation also presented what Michael considered an opportunity for the future. President Reagan and his successor President Bush, along with Western allies, set the framework for the fall of Communism in Eastern and Central Europe and an end to the Cold War with the Soviet Union. The demand for military-related technologies and equipment subsided, and layoffs within his sector of the company became imminent. Considering his employer had fully reimbursed him for two and a half years’ worth of full-time college tuition, he expected to simply be moved to a different department within the company. A job shift from his current role in high-tech manufacturing to an accounting or finance position would certainly be forthcoming. Life would be fairly simple, working eight hours a day crunching numbers and reports, a higher salary, and plenty of time for family and friends. This imagined scenario was not to be, as the job cuts were deeper than expected and impacted departments across the whole firm. Michael opted to take a voluntary layoff with severance package. It was March of 1990, being an entrepreneur at heart, he started a consulting firm, Central Eurovest Ltd., and began to explore opportunities to redirect his career.

During the final semesters of his business studies he had done a significant amount of research on the global economy. Central and Eastern Europe were often identified as regions of great growth potential and possibilities for new trade with the US and Western Europe. Of all the countries in that region, Hungary and Poland were the most advanced in terms of having developed business laws that supported the open market system and repatriation of profits for foreign investment. So for him this seemed to be the best place in the region to start to pursue his new fortune. ‘The Budapest Experiment’ was born. Let the invasion begin.

The landing was smooth, but as the plane taxied on the tarmac it slowed down and came to a stop about a quarter mile from the terminal. The jet’s engines shut down and the cabin lights came on. Within two minutes Michael could see out the window that three military jeeps were approaching the aircraft at a pretty good speed. Each jeep had a driver and two Hungarian soldiers armed with Russian AK-47 rifles. As the jeeps came to a stop, all six men with the rifles got out and surrounded the plane, guns held in both hands. Michael wondered, Was there a terror threat? Maybe a dignitary on board? This is my welcoming committee? He turned to Adél.

Any idea what’s going on here?

She gave him a smile and shook her head side to side as if to say ‘don’t worry.’

This happens when security levels are at height, she said in broken English. Probably because of Kuwait, they don’t want anyone near American planes.

That makes sense. Scary, but I guess at the same time it helps me feel a bit more secure, he responded, raising his eyebrows.

While Michael was planning his invasion into the economic worlds of Hungary and Eastern Europe, Saddam Hussein, the leader of Iraq, had an invasion of his own happening in Kuwait. It was the top headline on all the news outlets. With all that was going on in preparing for this trip, Michael did not consider the impact of what was playing out on the world stage would be during his first reconnaissance mission to Hungary.

As they arrived at the terminal Michael thanked Adél a final time. To his surprise, she gave him a warm hug and a kiss on both cheeks before heading toward the passport check for Hungarian citizens.

Making his way through customs and luggage pick up, the first order of business on entering the main terminal area was to change some of his US dollars to Hungarian forints. A few currency exchange cages were located on the main terminal floor and he chose the one that looked the most legit to change the first one hundred dollars.

One of the first things he noticed on exiting the terminal was how small the vehicles were here compared to the US. A slight sense of panic set in realizing he was actually in Budapest with no established contacts or connections, and knowing only the simplest phrases of the language. But nonetheless, he was brimming with excitement to start his new venture.

Chapter 2 - Establishing Base Camp

Europa Hotel, please, Michael said getting in the cab.

OK . . . Welcome to Budapest, the cab driver spoke in English.

Driving through the outskirts of Budapest on the way into the city, Michael took in as much as he could of the surroundings. Many houses and apartment buildings stood along both sides of the road, all seeming to be in various stages of neglect and disrepair. Broken down and rusted farm machinery lay idle in the fields as they passed them by. All of this, one might guess, was the result of the downfall of Communist rule that had been previously established for decades. The overall impression he got was that of bleakness and despair. Things started looking a bit brighter as they approached the downtown city limits.

Sorry for my English is not as good, the cab driver blurted out.

See over there gypsies . . . good to stay away. Robbers as you say, dirty people.

A group of people were standing on a street corner across from where the cab was stopped at a traffic light in a not-so-great part of town. Some wore flamboyant clothing, the driver profiling them as gypsies.

Thanks, I’ll remember that, Michael replied. Your English is quite good.

I teach myself English will go to California someday.

Good luck with that. You are doing well so far.

Thank you, sir.

Michael would learn that many Hungarians perceived life in America to be like the Baywatch TV show with nice sandy beaches, palm trees, and sexy men and women running around in skimpy bathing suits.

As they drove toward the heart of Budapest the old world architecture really began to standout; a few modern buildings were sprinkled in between and he noticed a good deal of construction going on.

A short time later the cabbie spoke up again.

Be careful for the Arab money changers, will cheat you to get your American dollars, he said as he pointed to a man on the street with a fistful of Hungarian forints.

OK, I will keep an eye out for that. Not really sure what he was talking about, Michael would soon become acquainted with the ways of the Arab money changers. 

They had finally arrived at their destination in the center of Budapest, The Europa Hotel. Michael paid the cabbie, leaving a nice tip as a contribution toward that trip to the US he mentioned, and thanked him for his advice. Entering the lobby, it was a beautiful historic hotel with lots of old world charm. The ornate woodwork, paintings, rugs, and décor were truly amazing. A little rich for his taste but he was given advice that this was ‘the place’ to make connections.

Three months prior to arriving in Budapest, Michael attended a networking session put on by the Massachusetts Economic Development Commission related to trade in Eastern/Central Europe. It was a worthwhile event providing potential opportunities to get his venture going. While there were many local firms at the session looking to do business in this region, none seemed to have the desire to actually travel to these countries to establish business relationships. This was good news for a consultant, and he made a list of vendors and products to take with him on his first trip planned for January. As expected, Poland and Hungary were the hot spots that generated the most interest at the seminar.

After leaving the networking session, he realized he didn’t have much cash on him but at least enough for a few beers in Boston before heading home. Grabbing a stool at a local bar, he ordered a beer, noticing someone a few seats down reading the paper. He remembered seeing this man at the session but had not met him yet. Might as well keep the networking going.

Hi, my name is Michael Rousson, and I remember seeing you at the session today. Please take my card.

He noticed an empty beer glass in front of this person.

Can I get you a drink?

Yes, sure, that would be great. Thank you, the stranger said with a slight foreign accent that sounded like Russian or maybe German.

Michael motioned to the bartender to deliver the man a drink. As the beer arrived, the man put aside the newspaper and they extended cheers to each other.

My name is Viktor. I see from your card you are a consultant? You are interested in working in Europe?

Viktor had a medium build with light brown, almost blond, hair and blue eyes. There was a boyish appearance to his face but Michael guessed they were about the same age. As an orthodox Jew, he wore a yarmulke. Aside from the fact that he was obviously Jewish, he looked like a German foot soldier you might see in a World War II movie. Michael spent the next half hour or so explaining his recent experience and plans to search out opportunities in Hungary, all the while hoping that Viktor would buy another round of drinks. That never came to pass.

What happened next would eventually lead Michael on the ride of his life into a world filled with money, sex, violence, intrigue, and betrayal.

You are of course smart to choose Hungary, Viktor said. I have been there many times and have some great contacts in Hungary that I have known for years. I will tell you something. One of the best industries to make a quick profit in Hungary is fish farming. You know that the water there in Hungary is naturally heated underground and filled with minerals that make for the finest fish farming in all of Europe. You can research this. The Germans are trying to move in on this to corner the market.

Fish farming was an industry/concept that Michael had never heard of, but it sounded intriguing.

Where can I get some research data on this?

Did you bring your car into Boston today? Viktor asked.

Yes.

If you could give me a lift home, I can give you some phone numbers I have stored there to contact in Hungary.

OK, Michael answered a bit reluctantly. I’m parked a few blocks from here. What town do you live in?

Weston, he replied.

Weston is an upper-class suburb about ten miles west of Boston, a location leading Michael to believe that Viktor was probably a successful businessman. It was also not very far from Michael’s home in Waltham.

Sounds good, let’s go. I live over in Waltham.

They walked to the parking garage and got into Michael’s 1986 Chevy Station Wagon. During the ride as they were maneuvering through traffic, Viktor spent a good deal of time talking about his connections and network throughout Europe. He also made a point of how much he appreciated the ride since he needed to be home before sundown; it was Friday night, the eve of the Jewish Sabbath.

You know you will be competing with the Germans, Italians, Russians, and even the Chinese in trying to set up business in Hungary. With my connections I can help you a lot, Viktor boasted. Turn left here, he motioned with his hand a short way up route twenty after they had turned off the highway. They pulled into a driveway leading to a modest size cape house.

Wait here, I will be right back with the contact info I was telling you about, Viktor said as he opened the car door and then walked quickly into the house. About ten minutes had gone by and finally Viktor came out of the house holding a piece of paper as he approached the driver side window.

Here are two numbers you can call when you get to Hungary. One is an attorney who is working for the fish farm owners and the other a man who comes from Cape Anne who is doing similar things to what you are planning. He has been in Hungary for the past year or so. I will also speak to one of my business partners, Rabbi Biermann, to see if he will be in Budapest the same time you plan to be there. He is very well connected with business leaders and politicians. I will call you at the number on your card to let you know.

Thanks for this info and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Michael rolled up the car window and took a quick look at the piece of paper. The names scribbled down were Éva Schwartz—attorney, and Frank Lebow—consultant. The phone numbers had more digits than a typical American phone number and the addresses looked strange with the symbol Ut. instead of St. for the street names.

About two weeks later, in mid-October, Michael received a call from Viktor.

Hello, Michael, this is Viktor calling. I am calling to let you know that I spoke with Rabbi Biermann and he will be in Hungary for the entire month of January beginning on the fifth. He said he is willing to help you and maybe even find Hungarian investment partners for your clients.

Not sure why this person would be willing to help so much, he thought.

That’s great. I’m looking forward to meeting with him. Do you have a contact phone number for him in Hungary?

No, you will need to go to the Europa Hotel and the front desk will give you his room phone number. I suggest you stay at the Europa while you are in Budapest, as this is where the important business players from all over the world stay.

OK, I will do that, Michael replied, without even considering what the expense might be. Can you tell me more about Rabbi Biermann?

The Rabbi is a native Hungarian who moved here to the US in 1975 but returned to Hungary and was actively involved with the political and social changes going on over there since this so-called Hungarian Revolution a few years back in the summer of 1989. He has made a lot of friends in this new business climate and in the government. We attend the same synagogue when he is staying here.

This made Michael feel a little better. I can’t wait to meet him. So you really think this fish farming business will be a big thing?

Oh yes, it is already. I am hoping you will be able to take advantage of this before the rest of the European businessmen do and the Rabbi can help you. Also, when you are over there, try the natural spring thermal spas and bath houses. The waters are known to have special minerals that provide healing powers for the body.

In Budapest, the clerk at the front desk of the Europa handed Michael the key to his room, #237. Entering the room there was a queen-size antique bed immediately in front of him. Going through his normal routine, he immediately flopped on the bed to test the mattress. It seemed comfortable enough, with plenty of pillows. Overall it was a good first impression, a nice room with a taste of French Renaissance decor. Checking out the bathroom, he found that the fixtures were probably as old as the furniture. There were spoke faucet handles on an old sink, an even-older toilet, and a claw-foot bathtub with a hand sprayer. There was no shower.

It had been a long trip and he was tired, not having slept much on the plane. Only 3:30 pm Budapest time, he decided he would take a bath and get some rest in preparation for tomorrow, his first day on the ground. The goal was to try and stay awake for as long as he could to help with the jet lag but was not feeling optimistic he would last very long.

Setting an ashtray beside the tub, he ran the water at full hot. The water was fairly warm but not hot the way he liked it for his regular daily shower at home. He lit a cigar and eased himself into the now-full tub. Laying his head back on the tub’s edge, he puffed away in a moment of great relaxation, a moment that would be short lived.

Hearing some noise and activity coming from outside of his room, he thought a knock on the door would be imminent. The next thing he knew a maid had entered the room. Being alone, he hadn’t bothered closing the bathroom door and could see right into the adjoining room. As the maid passed by the open bathroom door, her eyes met his and he noticed her blush when she saw him.

Pardon, she said using the French connotation.

It’s OK, Michael quickly responded. Do you speak English?

Yes, a bit, she replied.

Stepping forward, she positioned herself in the middle of the bathroom doorway and he got a good look at her. A fairly attractive young woman with a decent figure, she was probably in her mid to late twenties. It was a bit hard to tell with her maid cap and uniform on, but she did look kind of cute and sexy in the outfit. With no bubbles in the tub water, she got an equally good look at him. Michael realized that from where she was standing she had a view of ‘everything’ and considered putting the cigar down into the ashtray and covering his private parts with his hands, but that seemed too prudish and awkward. She didn’t seem to mind that he was naked there in front of her, so instead he took another puff on his cigar and tried to appear casual. He was curious about the nightlife in Hungary, and he decided to take advantage of the English-speaking maid who happened to walk into his room.

Can you tell me if there are any clubs around that play rock ‘n’ roll music? Michael asked.

As a musician, Michael was hoping to catch some local musical talent while he was there in Budapest.

Rock clubs not too many near. . . .  My best is The Grogg on Váci Utca (pronounced oot-sa; Hungarian for Street), she said, struggling to come up with the right words in English.

Could you please write that down on the pad of paper that’s on the desk? Michael asked.

Pardon, I not understand.

Michael then made a writing motion with his hands, pointing to the desk.

On desk . . .

Oh yes, I will do.

Thank you.

He noticed that during their brief conversation her eyes would drift subtly back and forth toward his genital area, initiating a partial state of arousal. It was enough to make things look impressive without the embarrassment of having to talk with this young woman with a full erection sticking out of the tub water. He was hoping this would stay under control.

Still standing in the doorway, she paused for an awkward moment and smiled.

Do you need anything more, sir?

A loaded question, was it a proposition? Keeping his emotions, among other things, in check, Michael chose the safe route.

No, I think I am all set. Please just write the club name and street for me, he again used his hands to simulate the writing motion. Thank you.

Yes, I do now. Enjoy your room.

Watching her eyes intently, he noticed a final glance toward the middle of the tub. She then turned to the desk and wrote on the pad of paper, and waved goodbye as she left the room. Michael waved back and gave her a smile. Curious as to why she came in the room in the first place, he never asked her name. She had nothing in her hands when she came in the room and did not take anything out.

Sitting in the tub for the next fifteen minutes or so, contemplating what had just happened, and what maybe could have happened, he finished off his cigar. Although he had no way of knowing it then, this maid pointing him in the direction of The Grogg would prove to be the beginning of the first successful phase of The Budapest Experiment.

The water had now cooled down to the point where it was time to get out. Drying off, he wrapped a towel around himself to be prepared in case there was another intrusion. Walking over to the desk he looked at the pad of paper where the maid had written the name of the club, street address, a phone number, and a signature: Anikó. This was obviously her name, but was this phone number hers or the phone number for the club? Either way, it didn’t matter much right now. It was approaching 5:00 Hungarian time and he was in bad need of a good night’s sleep.

Chapter 3 - Gathering the Troops

Opening his eyes he looked over at the clock on the nightstand and it read 4:20. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept for more than ten hours. It wasn’t long before his mind began to race, going over all the things he needed to do. Getting back to sleep was not going to happen. After getting dressed, he sat at the desk and started his ‘to do’ lists for the day and going forward. There were four main goals for his first full day here: Call the Rabbi, find an interpreter, try to touch base with Éva, the attorney, and contact Frank Lebow, the guy from Massachusetts that Viktor had mentioned.

After waiting in his room until 7:30 he headed for the hotel lobby. The first stop was the coffee shop where he ordered a muffin and a soda. Diet Coke was called ‘Coca-Lite’ in Hungary and definitely did not have the same taste as the American version, but it was as close as he was going to get. Next stop was the front desk of the hotel lobby.

Excuse me, do you speak English?

Yes, sir, the hotel clerk responded. How can I help you?

My name is Michael Rousson and I am a guest at the hotel. Could you please give me the room telephone number for Rabbi Biermann?

One moment please, Mr. Rousson, the clerk said, fiddling around with some papers.

You can dial the number, 2-4-8, from the house phone over there, pointing to the phone on a table not far from the desk.

Thank you so much.

You’re welcome, and let me know if I can be of further service.

Michael continued to be amazed at how well versed Hungarians were in English, which was a good thing with his limited Hungarian vocabulary. Picking up the receiver of the house phone, he dialed the Rabbi’s number.

Rabbi Biermann, a voice with a heavy Russian/Yiddish accent answered.

Good morning, my name is Michael Rousson from Massachusetts, and our mutual friend Viktor suggested I call you when I arrived in Budapest. He told me you could help me with my research into possible investments in the fish farming industry.

Yes, Viktor did tell me about you and I was waiting for your call yesterday and it never came, the Rabbi responded in an almost scolding tone of voice.

Michael remained calm. Viktor never mentioned he had to call the Rabbi immediately, the same day he got there.

Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were expecting my call that soon, Michael said apologetically.

Viktor gave you Éva’s number and address, go there and she will give you some detail on these opportunities. When you have investors and money in place, come to see me first before you do anything, speaking again in a stern and almost commanding voice.

OK, it was in my plans to contact her today. Although it may be a while before any kind of investment is in place.

My advice is you must act quickly if you want to take advantage of this. If you wait, you will lose out. I must go now, good luck to you, sir.

Thanks for your time . . . The Rabbi hung up before Michael could finish his sentence.

This was not at all the way he envisioned things happening. The Rabbi seemed abrupt, rude, and demanding instead of helpful. Something about this whole situation and the connection with Viktor just didn’t seem right.

Fish farming surely was not the only industry that Michael had planned on pursuing while on this trip. There were several other paths to explore from contacts made at the economic development session. Potential products encompassed a wide variety of industries including food, beer, clothing, medical supplies, and sporting goods.

The next step was to look into securing the services of an interpreter. Research back home showed there was a company that provided interpreters for foreign businessmen on the Rákóczi Utca, which was several blocks away but a fairly easy walk. The name of the company was called, appropriately enough, ‘Translations.’ Anxious to explore Budapest and immerse himself in the culture, it was time to hit the streets. After completing the call with the Rabbi, he headed to the Concierge station in the lobby to buy some transit tickets and secure a map of Budapest.

Stepping outside the hotel, the weather was the same as the previous day, thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit with gray cloudy skies. It did not seem too bad being used to the much colder temperatures of New England in mid-January. It didn’t take long for him to find out that Hungarian drivers don’t tend to yield to pedestrians and was nearly clipped while crossing one of the roads.

Walking through the streets of Budapest gave him an eerie feeling. There was a coldness about it that had nothing to do with the weather. Michael smiled as he thought to himself, Transylvania. Old-world architecture mixed in with concrete jungle depicted the city’s landscape. Occasionally, he would pass older buildings with gated, quad-shaped courtyards like you might see in Western European countries. Some of these gates were locked and some weren’t. U shaped balconies rose as high as three stories from the street. Were these apartments, businesses, or some combination of both? Layers of mysticism and spirituality matted themselves into this environment as if some evil being or rogue gypsy could be lurking around any corner, or in some alleyway, just waiting to devour the souls of innocent victims passing by. Looking almost as if they were zombies, cold and somber, smiles from people he passed on the sidewalk were hard to come by, especially for anyone over the age of forty.

While the fall of Communism and the advent of the market economy brought hope and potential opportunities to the younger generations in Hungary, impacts on the older generations were devastating. Blue-collar factory workers, military support personnel, and farmers receiving government subsidies were hit the hardest. People who worked the same job at the same manufacturing plant, or harvested the same fields for twenty years or more in a regimented environment, were now exiled to the unemployment ranks as the Soviet military