Bronco Arrives

The next day I awoke very early. To avoid eventually being followed, I left my house through the back exit, directing myself through partially wild, overgrown gardens, and then only through wreckage. This secret exit allowed me to find myself two or even three streets away, almost in another part of town. 

Punctually at seven eleven I was on the platform and when they announced a half hour delay, from boredom I began to loaf around. 

This station always worked strongly on my imagination. Countless times I heard through word of mouth various secrets and exciting tales, that apparently under this station there were three more levels, meaning three more stations just like this, and that during sieges the trains would for some time still peacefully run, because the underground platforms often had tunnels of many kilometers length and at the lowest level platform there was still a train full of gold, because at some point during the war everything had suddenly flooded with water, which to this day there was no way to pump. 

Finally Bronco arrived. 

He looked great, he was tanned, he had an athletic look about him, an athletic silhouette. For baggage he had only an American army backpack with a characteristic black five pointed star between two horizontal stripes. 

This backpack he received once from me and from that time he did not go anywhere without it. Knowing that Bronco rode here through the entire night and that soon we would begin to work, I offered him coffee, for which we went to an even not so bad restaurant at the station. Everything else in the vicinity, except the milk bar that found itself on the corner that was open all night and was occupied actually by hookers, was still shuttered closed. 

We managed to get a good breakfast. 

I kept my word to Bławat and Leo. I acted in full secrecy, giving Bronco a different version of events. I told him that now I had to execute a certain wildly for me important and complicated operation. Here Bronco became very worried, thinking sincerely of a surgical operation. 

I corrected him, saying that it had to do with a financial-organizational operation, in brief—about hitting, in a very short time, a six figure sum of money. I came up with and worked out all the minute details of the entire action, because I had to have this money and I needed help from someone really trustworthy. 

Because of this I had asked him to come, I could not manage it alone and could fuck up the whole matter. 

“If the action goes down, I’ll reward you for all of it generously, such that you will definitely not be disappointed,” I said. 

“Why do you need all this money?” he asked. 

“Because I have to buy something for myself.” 

“What?” 

“You see, someone is selling a Bugatti, a Bugatti Royale, and I must have it.” 

“What do you need a car for? You’ll be able to drive monthly two hundred kilometers, and even this within the boundaries of your county, that stupid order came down a long time ago.” 

“I’m going to keep the car in the garage and the entire month every day I’m going to go look at it, as if in the garage were hanging MONA LISA, and these two hundred kilometers every month I’ll drive within an hour.” 

Bronco did not look convinced.