WELCOME TO LAKE BALATON

Jack Varga is a detective of Hungarian origin at Scotland Yard. Because his colleagues and boss don't like him, he is transferred to Hungary, to Lake Balaton, as part of a European Union Project. He is tasked with helping the Hungarian authorities investigate murders and drug trafficking in the Lake Balaton area, coordinating the work of Hungarian and English law enforcement agencies. But things don't quite turn out as he hopes in this new position... (Excerpt from the crime novel - translated from Hungarian by Google)

Balatonlelle!

"So this is it," thought Inspector Jack Varga, as he got off the Intercity from Budapest, which reminded him more of a smelly, unair-conditioned, crowded suburban passenger train than an express train connecting major cities. He was already having a hard time bringing himself to go on this terrible forced mission. But what could he do, because his boss, James Redwood, had given him a choice: either go to Hungary or send him up north to the Shetland Islands, where he could spend days staring at seagulls and the occasional whale. For a criminal investigator barely 36 years old, that would have certainly meant the end of his career.

Jack was a tall, lean man with strong features, a gently curved nose, a high forehead, and black hair combed back in all directions. He wore a blue wool suit and a long-sleeved white shirt. His feet were muddy somewhere in front of his brown leather shoes. His bright blue eyes radiated intelligence and curiosity. His gait and posture sometimes seemed a little awkward, resembling the movements of a suddenly elongated adolescent boy.

"Life is bustling there by Lake Balaton, and you'll have plenty of work," those who knew this East-Central European region much better than he did told him. And since he also spoke Hungarian perfectly, it seemed quite obvious that he would choose this instead of Shetland. True, nothing in the world tied him to this country except the Hungarian language. He only knew the language because his parents had planned for the rest of their lives to return to Hungary permanently when they retired. But fate intervened, and six years ago they both died in a serious car accident. So their dream came to nothing.

And they always told him that since their mother tongue was Hungarian, they would never be able to talk to him and the boys in a truly relaxed and profound way if he didn't know this slangy language.

Of course, the Hungarian police authorities were taken aback by Scotland Yard's offer to send them a young, well-trained detective from the United Kingdom, organized by Interpol, who could connect the English and Hungarian investigative authorities more effectively, and thus put more pressure on the drug trade, which had been growing strongly in the last ten years. The Prime Minister of Hungary declared a fierce fight against the drug mafia and promised to apply zero tolerance against drug dealers and smugglers.

So, whether he wanted to or not, here at Lake Balaton, Jack became one of the new hopes in this often seemingly hopeless fight. Of course, the main reason for his transfer was not to help the Hungarian authorities with him. It only looked good on paper and was easier for everyone to digest. In reality, his boss and colleagues wanted to get rid of him. They envied him for solving even the most complicated murder cases with extraordinary ingenuity and flair. No one in his department could even kick a ball past him. And that's never good in a team where he's not the boss. That's why they found this loophole for themselves. They knew that they would be treated with respect at Balaton and that he would have virtually unlimited power, except for his only official boss, the Fonyód detective colonel, who, however, probably wouldn't stir up much dust, because Interpol would provide the hopefully successful work with such serious financial support that all criticism would be silenced.

His most important task, of course, would be to curb the rampant drug trade at Balaton, eliminate the dealers, and catch the users. But he had already been told that he would be expected to do the same in murder cases, because in recent years there had been a lot of unsolved murder cases in this area. When he learned this, he was really excited, because this was his true passion: putting murderers behind bars.

"There's not much hustle and bustle here," he said to himself as he looked around the small station platform. "There are hardly a few people loitering on this street parallel to the tracks, and only a few people have gotten off the train. What a lively life! They only lied to me about this to keep me quiet. That scumbag Redwood has taken good care of him!"

"Inspector Varga? Is that you?" he suddenly heard the question from behind him. When he turned around, he saw two policemen dressed in dark blue uniforms in front of him. A man and a woman. The woman was in her late thirties, her slightly plus-sized body stretched out to the point of a pimple above her black boots, her trousers baggy at the ankles. The wind blew her shoulder-length, thick brown hair into her face. The man looked much older, about sixty, but he was thin, bony, and the way he walked showed that he was holding himself very well. He had let his thinly trimmed mustache grow into a strip along his thinly trimmed beard that ran along his chin. His jet-black eyes and snow-white teeth were a sharp contrast, making his face striking and a little mischievous. A friendly light shone from his eyes.

They approached with quick steps, wide smiles on their faces, arms outstretched, and when they reached him, they both extended their hands at the same time.

"Yes, it's me..." he groaned, slightly embarrassed by the unusually cordial welcome. He was not used to such displays of emotion in England. There, they would certainly have greeted him much more restrainedly.

- We welcome you to Hungary, sir - said the policewoman, and as they shook hands, she leaned so close to him that for a moment he was afraid she would even kiss him on the cheek at the end. And that would have bothered him a lot, because he did not like emotional outbursts at all. Then it flashed through his mind that perhaps his future colleague just wanted to know what kind of deodorant he used. - My name is Klaudia Horváth, and I am a Balatonlelle native.

His police colleague then squeezed his hand so hard that he almost hissed. "This must be some Hungarian custom," he thought resignedly, trying to put on a good face. "They'll only calm down when they find out who I really am; a boring, two-handed, unfortunate slob, who was sent here by his boss not for the sake of it, as these good guys think, but purely as a punishment and to rid himself and the team of me. I was not liked at all at Scotland Yard. They always said that I didn't tick like them; I was eccentric, asocial, with a strange investigative style and a sly way of thinking. True, this couldn't have been a big disadvantage in solving murders, because in the annual summary I solved by far the most murder cases successfully. But of course, that didn't particularly interest those who thought I was unsympathetic and a loser. To them, I was, and that's it... Just like my ex-wife did when she told me that our life was boring and somehow... here she sighed deeply, looked at me with pity and continued; somehow not on the same page We are swinging. What exactly that meant back then, a good two years ago, after six years of marriage, only he knew, of course..."

- My name is Imre Nagy, but please call me Imi - the policeman told him. - I hope you had a good trip, sir. - He articulated the word "sir" a little more emphatically, and in the meantime he glanced at his colleague as if expecting approval.

- Oh, yes, thank you... - Jack replied, still a little dazed with surprise. It was not that the whole thing had gone badly for him. But it had an unpleasant effect on him, and it had caught him by surprise. In his circles, within the confines of Scotland Yard, this openness and cordiality that emanated from these two people towards him would have been unimaginable. There, everyone kept a three-step distance from each other, both physically and emotionally. The cold and objective welcome, the quick and simple handshake, the petrified, at best slightly upturned mouth would have made this first meeting much easier for him. He was used to it, and this directness irritated him.

But he tried to get over the surprise as quickly as possible and tried to divert the conversation: - If I'm informed correctly, my package will arrive by post from the airport and I'll get it tonight.

- Of course, sir, of course - Imre grinned in his face and tried to take the brown handbag from his hand. - Give it to me, I'll take it...

- Leave this! - Jack snapped. - What do you think? I always have this bag with me when I travel.

- Oh, excuse me, sir - Imre replied hotly and raised his hands apologetically. - I just wanted to help.

- I don't know what the custom is here, but here people keep their handbags with them - the inspector frowned and shook his head. - Or maybe you think I can't handle it?

"Oh no, sir, please forgive me," the older man apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you for the world, but..."

- Okay, okay, no problem – Jack waved. – Can you help me find the toilet here? I didn't want to go on the train because you know how it is… the compartment is so small, and it's dirty most of the time… and everything moves…

- I'll show you right away, sir – Judit said almost enthusiastically now, and motioned for him to follow. The toilets were barely fifty meters away, at the western end of the station building. – Here's the entrance. If you want, I'll show you how to…

- Don't bother! – Jack snapped, and stormed in through the round-windowed trapdoor. "Now they're starting to get on my nerves. Maybe he wants to come here with me too? What the hell is wrong with these people? Instead of leaving me alone, they're swarming around me like mosquitoes in the summer. I have to shoo them away..." he thought angrily as he tried to find a free toilet stall.

There were only two stalls in the men's room besides the urinals. It was true that he only wanted to do his little thing, but he didn't want anyone standing right next to him with the same intention, so he chose the stall over the urinal.

One stall was occupied, but luckily there was no one in the one next to him. He closed the door behind him, pushed up the toilet seat, and sighed deeply as he finally relieved himself. It had been a long journey from the airport to here, and he had drunk quite a bit at the station while he waited for the train.

When he was finished and was about to open the door of the cubicle, someone slipped a note through the gap under the plastic wall separating the two cubicles. He stared at the small piece of paper for a moment, petrified, and then he heard the door of the other cubicle open and the person who had been there leave the room.

"They don't even wash their hands after using the toilet. What kind of people live here..." he thought, then bent down and picked up the note, which read in handwriting:

Go back to where you came from. If you don't, you'll die soon.

Jack stared at the piece of paper and the lines on it for a few more minutes, petrified. It took him a while to even comprehend what he was reading. It wasn't that he was scared, but it had come too unexpectedly. The police academy in London had trained them to deal with these kinds of threats, and although he had never received a death threat himself, he had a few strategically proven methods in his toolbox that he could use to respond professionally.

When he finally recovered from his surprise, he reached into his bag and took out a small plastic bag to put the note in. He knew that this would be one of the most important pieces of evidence against the perpetrator if they caught him.

He left the toilet, went to the sink across the street, and washed his hands. Then he looked carefully around the toilet stall where the threatening person had been. The toilet had been flushed, so he saw little chance of finding a DNA sample. And even if they did, it wouldn't prove conclusively that the person had threatened him here and now. It could only be considered a sign of suspicion, an indicium, which would not be grounds for an indictment in court.

He rushed out onto the platform and quickly walked back to his Hungarian colleagues, who immediately started towards him when they saw him. – Did you succeed, sir? Everything okay? – Imre asked, seeing his worried face.

– No, nothing is okay! – Jack hissed in annoyance. – Didn't you see any suspicious figure coming out of the men's room while I was in there?

– What do you mean, sir? What kind of suspicious figure do you mean? Did something happen?

– Look! Read it, but leave the note in the bag! – Jack handed him the object of the crime. – What kind of place is this, where they greet me like this immediately after my arrival? Someone threatened me with death. I thought this was a quiet country and I would be able to solve the murders here comfortably… Instead, I was attacked the day I arrived and became a target. Perhaps I was a little misinformed when I was sent here. Even in that gangster-ridden London, a police detective doesn't get such a threat every day.

"Oh, I won't deny it, sir, this is really outrageous!" the older man said in disbelief, shaking his head. He handed the bag to his colleague. "What do you think of this, Judit?"

"This is really shocking! But I don't think it's anything serious," the policewoman frowned, tucking the strands of hair that were hanging in her eyes behind her ear. "I think it's just some bad joke. Someone wanted to have fun with you."

"Who?" asked Jack. "I suppose very few people know what I'm doing here." – Or maybe the news is that big?

- We'll find out, sir, calm down! – Imre tried to calm him down, and put his hand on his shoulder.

- I hope so! – the inspector snapped, and took a few steps towards the eastern end of the station, gaining a little distance from his colleagues who were too close to him. – I think we can go. Could you please take me to the police station, where I can get a little more information about my duties here?

- Of course, sir, of course - Imre excused himself, and already motioned for him to follow him to the service car.

All three of them remained silent on the barely five-minute drive to the police station. Above the police station's imposing, semicircular entrance, in addition to the Hungarian flag, the European Union flag fluttered in the wind. In the same building next door, the city hall was located. The building had been beautifully renovated both inside and out.

Imre led his new boss up to the first floor, and into a spacious room with four desks.

- Well, we'd be here, boss - said the older man when they entered the door and Jack could look around. This was the first time he called him boss.

- And my office? - he asked with a raised eyebrow.

- Hmmm, that would be it, sir – Judit excused herself, then before Jack could react, she quickly continued: - But believe me, working here is not as bad as it looks. Your desk is the biggest, at the end of the room, and the high-backed swivel chair is very comfortable… and the big monitor. And we have air conditioning… And the cooperation with the coroner, the crime scene investigators, and the lab is very good… and we have a great coffee maker, under the big windows…

- Not to mention Annamária's Bar, on the beach! – Imre enthused. – We used to discuss the daily events there in the evenings. You'll see! Annamária is a real lady. Intelligent, pretty, funny, and at the same time disciplined, a kind of real businesswoman. I think there's no better place in the world than her bar…

- Well, okay, okay, that's enough! – Jack interrupted, then looked questioningly at the young man sitting behind one of the tables, who was still unknown to him. – And who is he, if I may ask?

– Yes, he is, of course, excuse me, sir, he is Miki, my partner – Imre shouted, completely excited by his own story from the bar. – I work with him in the field. You know, this is how we work here. In pairs. You will work with Judit, and I with Imi. You are the investigators, and we are their assistants. And you are the boss of us all, after all. At least that is what Detective Colonel Péter Fekete told us when he told us that he wanted to set up a new Balaton investigation team under your leadership.

– Interesting – the inspector concluded, and approached the young man. He could not have been more than twenty-five years old, the uniform looked very good on his athletic, tall body. His short hair highlighted his slightly protruding ears. His dark eyes sparkled deep in his long face. His skin was a little darker than the average European's, but he didn't look Romani or Middle Eastern.

- Good morning, sir - he extended his hand in a friendly manner and jumped up from his seat. - I'm Police Officer Miklós Sirtes, and most people simply call me Miki.

- Good morning to you too, Miklós, or Miki if you prefer - Jack said, shaking his hand. - So you're the fourth member of our team... Well, I'm very glad that we're all together now, and I'd like to start work right away. I think they'll take you to my accommodation sometime in the evening, once my suitcases are here.

- Of course, sir - Judit nodded. - I've already asked at the post office, your packages will arrive around four in the afternoon at the latest. - Oh, and one more thing, sir! Colonel Fekete called to say that he'll drop by today at around five to meet you. Then we can go to your accommodation.

- Okay, let's start by saying that I was given the task of, on the one hand, suppressing the drug trade, and on the other hand, solving the homicide and murder cases that have remained unsolved in recent years and that may occur in the future. And we can do all this with the help of the cooperation of the Hungarian criminal authorities and Scotland Yard - he said with a sigh, then took a deep breath and sat down behind the largest table assigned to him. He began to rock in the swivel chair, then turned on the computer and waited impatiently for the starting program to load.

- Excuse me, sir, but that chair is not suitable for... - Judit tried to warn him of the danger, but it was too late. The leg of the chair swung to the side, and Jack flew off it and hit the back wall.

- My father's son and his calf! – Imre shouted, jumping over to help him up from the ground. – Are you okay, boss?

– Great – the inspector shook himself and dusted off his jacket. – They said this chair was comfortable.

– Well, it's comfortable, sir, but it's not suitable for… – Imre tried to correct him, but Jack interrupted him too.

– Is there anything else I need to know to be able to move around this room without any particular danger?

– The computer… – Judit pointed to the machine under the table. – It doesn't always work perfectly. Sometimes the internet doesn't work either. But the monitor is quite big, and there are some really good games on the hard drive. For example, I really like…

– Oh, please don't continue! – Jack waved and hurried over to the white magnetic presentation board in the corner at the other end of the room. – I think this is fine. Isn't it? Well, if the computer doesn't always work reliably, we're going to need a board like this.

He placed it in the middle of the room and searched his drawer for felt-tip pens to write on. "Excellent, excellent," he muttered to himself as he tried the pens. "This one will do just as well. Now let's see what we know about the latest murder that was committed here at Lake Balaton, and the perpetrator of which has not yet been found. I want the file and all the information about it.

The others looked at each other questioningly, and after a short pause Judit spoke again: "Excuse me, sir, but it's past half past one, and that's when we usually have lunch. I think you'd do better if you didn't get down to work today so we could show you a few more things. For example, where you can eat here. I think you're hungry by now, and there's a kindergarten canteen near the town hall. We can order a menu from there at a very reasonable price. There are two menus, one is always…

- Okay, let's go eat – Jack said. – I'm used to dinner, that is, evening meal, which I'll sort out somehow when they show me my accommodation. I think the shops will still be open then.

- Yes, sir, the Spar is next to the station, it's open until eight. You can still do some shopping there for the evening, if you like – the policewoman assured him. – We'll be back here in an hour. Are you really not going to come with us to the dining room at the town hall?

- No, no, thank you – the inspector replied, and carefully sat down at his desk. – Go ahead, I'll keep myself busy in the meantime.

When he was left alone, he looked around the spacious room once more. "My dear father! What awaits me here?" – he thought, and sighed deeply. "The computers are old, the internet is slow, I don't have a separate office, and my future colleagues are very strange creatures. Of course, all this may be completely normal here, in this country, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

He buried his face in his hands, feeling like he wanted to leave everything here right now and travel back to London. Even if he didn't know what would await him there. Maybe he would have been better off getting a job in Shetland after all?

He put his bag on the table, opened it, and unpacked everything. His cell phone, his fountain pens, his notebooks, the small bottle of mineral water he had bought at the station in Pest, and the small bag he had put a note addressed to him in the toilet... He placed it in front of him and began to read the ominous lines over and over again. Who threatened him and why? Does this have anything to do with his work here, or was it really just some kind of joke? How did the person even know why he was here? Does he know him personally, or was he just told about him? Either way, he's going to find out! He has to find out.

He slid the bag into the bottom drawer of the desk, and after the internet finally started with great difficulty, he searched for the Scotland Yard website, where he could connect to his own detective profile through a two-factor authentication process. Although he didn't have anything to do electronically for the time being, it somehow calmed him down, and made him feel a little closer to his homeland, which he might have to leave for many years.

.....

(If you want to know the sequel, order the printed or electronic version of the crime novel from me, which will be released after August 2026...)