and whose actions had started the cascade of events that had culminated in the showdown at the NSA. Laslo heard the breaks hiss as the driver released them and the bus began to roll toward the mother and her child who were about to step off the curb.
This was the one moment that could change it all. Laslo felt like he had all the time in the world. He flashed to the man with the camera phone and snatched it right from his hand.
The man jumped and then yelled, “Hey asshole, that’s mine.”
Before he had finished the sentence, Laslo was already next to the mother grabbing the stroller before she could push it off the curb in front of the oncoming bus. The bus roared by, the bus driver stood on his horn as before, and then it was over. Laslo handed the phone back to the man who was now apologizing to his kids for his poor use of language. Laslo graciously accepted the thanks of the mother, whose baby was now gurgling happily, and then headed on his way, a knowing smile on his face. Without that film there would be no six o’clock news piece, no NSA interest and, best of all, no trouble for Marion.
The next day Laslo arrived at work with nothing on his mind but the conversation he hoped he was about to have.
“Good morning, Laslo.” It was Marion again.
“Good morning, Marion,” returned Laslo, but this time there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he could barely suppress a smile.
“I was wondering if you have seen the movie Avatar yet,” continued the persistent girl. “I was planning to go this weekend, and well, I—”
Laslo cut her off, but this time said, “You know, a very good friend of mine recommended that movie. We should go together. Is that your phone number?” he asked, taking the piece of paper from her hand. “Yes, yes. I’ll call you tonight.” With that, he turned and strode confidently toward his station.
Marion’s mouth gaped wide as she looked from Laslo to her empty hand and back to Laslo again. Then her confused look slowly turned into a smile, and her eyes did a little dance.