The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“I’ll get the old man,” Sándor Tor said into his cellular. “You get the bastards in the Mercedes. Ram them if you have to.”

Rákosi didn’t reply, but Tor saw him jump back into the Chrysler.

Tor pulled his Mercedes to the curb.

The old man was sitting down as if he had been knocked backward. Tor saw blood staining the shoulder of his white suit.

The man on the ground was still fighting Max, whose massive jaws were locked on his arm.

Tor jumped out of the Mercedes, taking his pistol from its holster as he moved.

He took aim at the man Max had down, then changed his mind. He went to the man and swung the pistol hard against the back of his head.

The man went limp.

Tor looked down the bridge and saw that both the attackers’ Mercedes and Rákosi’s Chrysler had disappeared.

He punched another autodial button on his cellular, a number he wasn’t supposed to have.

“Inspector Lázár,” he announced. “Supervisor needs assistance. Shots fired on the Szabadság híd. One citizen down. Require ambulance.”

So far as Tor knew, there was no Inspector Lázár on the Budapest police force. But that would get an immediate response, he knew. Before he had gone to work for the Tages Zeitung, he had been Inspector Sándor Tor.

He went to the old man. The dog was whimpering. There was a bloody wound on his skull.

Christ, I only hit that bastard once and he was out. I saw him beating on Max’s head and Max never let loose.

That dog’s not whimpering because he’s in pain. He’s whimpering because he knows something is wrong with the old man.

“An ambulance is on the way, Úr Kocian,” Tor said.

“Sándor, I need a great favor.”

“Anything, Úr Kocian. I should not have let this happen.”

“What you should have done is gone home when I told you.”

“Do you want to lie down until the ambulance gets here?”

“Of course not. The first thing I want you to do is call Dr. Kincs, Max’s veterinarian, and tell him you’re bringing Max in for emergency treatment.”

“Of course. Just as soon as I get you to the hospital—”

“The Telki Private Hospital. Don’t let them take me to the goddamned Szent János Kórház. They’d never let Max stay with me there.”

“All gunshot victims are taken to Szent János Kórház,” Tor said.

“And you can’t fix that?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Jesus Christ, what are we paying you for?” the old man demanded and then ordered: “Help me to my feet.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Úr Kocian.”

“I didn’t ask for an opinion, goddamn you, Sándor! Do what you’re told! Get me the hell out of here before the police show up.”

The old man winced with pain as he tried to get to his feet.