Chapter 4
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Chapter 4: The Big Moment (大香蕉)
The dawn sun was lighting the top of the Rockies as the two young muscular American proletarian factory workers, looking as if they had walked straight off a Socialist realist propaganda poster, entered a small coffee shop in Boulder, Colorado. A diminutive waitress approached. She gave them a table near the window and then took their orders. "I would like one coffee, black no sugar and one hot milk chocolate," said one, looking up at her sullen little face. "And perhaps I'll take a waffle with blueberry syrup too, baby." They had finished their frappes by the time the waffle arrived, the taste of them turning bitter and acrid on their tongues.
"Funny that, I really am in no mood to eat Tuna",said the first one. "Strange, that," the other worker responded," I realized myself that I am in no mood for tuna, but whats even stranger is that this thought actually occurred to us, at all, since it is breakfast and we have ordered waffles with blueberry syrup". "hmm ..." His companion pondered, absentmindedly making patterns on the table with the water on the bottom of his glass, "maybe there is some symbolic association that we are making". "yes," his friend exclaimed, "it reminds me of something I read in Scientific American mind a few months back..."
Just then their conversation was broken by the arrival of their girlfriends...
In another country the setting sun shone in through the panorama windows of the second floor of the great building. Mikhael sat in the corner gazing out at the view from the executive bar. The Daugava, the old town, and the railway station were laid out beneath him. This was his empire.
He gave the bartender a slight nod of his head as he heard his phone ringing (so he soon would tell the Police) and reached to answer it. Though well known for being ruthless, he was also a little slow. The excesses of both his dining that day and the vodka hindering him further. He took the phone in his hand, then paused. Something was wrong - no one dared call him when he did not expect it, not at this time. He paused... it was... Sahra Wagenknecht? Why on earth would a German Communist politician be calling him???
He sputtered... "What the hell are you...", "What?", "Yes there is a man in a red shirt here... but look...." "Aha..." His voice dropped, he fell silent and his eyes took on the smooth sheen of a predator.
"Ten minutes, ok...". Mikhael checked his wallet. He took out his finepoint and circled the date. Ten minutes! He'd be ready! He casually lay down a 20 Lat note on the table, Mikhael was a mean son of a b*tch. Everyone knew that. They all knew better than to get in his way. Even Carlo, Mikhael reflected. A wry grin came across his face as he threw a 10 Lat note down on the table. "Five minutes left," he thought.
For two moments time stopped, through the giant windows the blood red setting sun shone across the Daugava, its rays glinting off the spires of the old town. A man walked by, hatless.
Carlo returned from the bathroom, "I guess you got the call too, lets do it!" "Two minutes" said Mikhael coldly and calmly looking at his watch. Carlo nodded. He knew what had to be done, though he wondered whether there was a better way.
Carlo bent down and set the timer on the detonator for one minute - just time enough to get down the escalator and out of the door: time to jump out of the way of the falling debris. The explosive charge hidden inside his briefcase was just enough to do the job."OK, lets get out of here Mikhael," he said.
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