Free Revolution by J.S. Frankel Page A

the
trouble as they drove along.
    “There have been a number of wild animal
reports,” he said while navigating. It was roughly two in the
afternoon and Harry struggled to concentrate. Jet lag could do that
to a person. Being enhanced didn’t make him immune to it. He’d
slept on the airplane, but all the same, he couldn’t wait to sack
out.
    Traffic remained surprisingly light and
Bartok continued his stories of mayhem. “Stories of people in the
countryside being savaged, ripped apart... at first, we thought it
the work of a madman. However, when we saw the bite marks and our
coroners confirmed that no knife or human hand could have done...”
his voice shook briefly... “Done such savage things, we began to
think otherwise.”
    He fished around in the glove compartment and
brought out a file. “These are some photos our police took. The
picture on top is the latest, only three days ago.”
    Bartok handed the file to Farrell who leafed
through it. Wordlessly, he passed it to the back seat. Harry got a
look at the victims. There were five pictures, all with massive
bite marks to the neck and claw marks to the bodies. All of the
victims had been rent limb from limb. Anastasia took the pictures
and began to growl. “This one,” she said, referring to victim
number three, “looks like it was torn apart by a bear. I recognize
the bite marks.
    “But this one,” she held up a picture of the
first victim, “it looks like a bird’s talons tore into her.”
    Istvan declined to look at the pictures and
stayed huddled in his seat. Anastasia passed the pictures back.
“Are we going to the forest now?” she asked.
    “No,” Bartok replied. “We are going to the
coroner’s office first to look at the victims and then discuss what
to do. We shall look tomorrow morning, first thing. I promise you
this.”
    Privately, Harry thought they were wasting
time and Anastasia obviously felt the same way, for she growled her
disapproval, but Farrell turned around in his seat and shook his
head. “It’s how things are done here. Remember, we’re guests.”
    That settled the argument. Shortly
thereafter, they arrived at a two-story mid-sized brick building in
downtown Budapest. People walked by, seemingly unconcerned with the
limousine driving along the road. Harry peeked out the window and
wondered what the ordinary citizen would think of him and his
companions. He then squelched the thought. He knew.
    “This is where the bodies are,” Bartok
announced as they swung into an underground garage. He parked the
car and gestured for them to exit. “We shall take the service
elevator. Ordinarily, there are five people on duty, but our
ministry has asked them to take time off. Any new arrivals come
in,” he chuckled, although Harry found nothing funny about it,
“they will go somewhere else. For now, I do not wish to provoke a
scene or cause any undue fear. We will be left alone there.”
    “Hey,” Anastasia said with a note of
indignation. “How are we making a—”
    “We won’t, but that’s how it is,” Harry
interrupted and put his hand on her arm to quiet her. “We look how
we look and people aren’t going to be used to that.” He glanced at
Bartok. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
    “Correct,” Bartok nodded. “I am sorry.
Despite my surprise when I first met you, I now know why you look
as you do. However, others won’t. You must understand that when the
attacks began, the civilians were understandably frightened. There
were mobs, riots, and innocents were hurt. Please forgive their...”
he stopped to search for the right word, “ignorance.”
    Anastasia shook Harry’s hand off and sat back
in her seat, muttering non-sequiturs. They took the elevator to the
basement and walked down a quiet corridor with Bartok in the lead.
Five doors down, he inclined his head to the left. “They are in
here. The upper levels are for the administrators and the
technicians. There is no one else around. For now, your