When Father returned to his room, Adrienne—who is so petite, but so smart—asked to partake in my plans to discover Mom. I declined her, but she got this absurd expression on her face, like she thought she was above me. Now that, Uncle Lanci, is a fearful (yet impending) notion. Adrienne said that she had made a peek into my letters and knew that I was making interactions with Eszter to find Mom. Why do I even make attempts to conceal a thing from Adrienne? She is more smart every day, and I felt angered but also proud that she made a successful spy.
Then she made a one hundred percent bolder move and declared she had most rights to meet Anika. In an instance I knew I had to make a compromise, at the least. I would never expose her to Eszter or to the peril of my journey to Munich. So I granted her the win to meet Anika.
We could not go to a bar, because I do not care how much Adrienne is growing, I will not give her the view into alcohol yet. We made an accompaniment with Anika to a restaurant that had spaghetti, since Adrienne is more picky than someone with her wits should be.
When Adrienne greeted Anika, I swear that Anika had laughter amongst her eyes. “I have heard so much about you,” Anika said.
“Of course, you have. And I have been anticipating meeting you too,” Adrienne burst. How did we, Father and I, manage to raise such a bold girl? Father, with his mostly silence, and me, with my pent-in frustration, could not subsume responsibility for Adrienne. I wonder if her life was so hard that she became brave because of it. Or maybe she was never made to feel small or useless because of her words. In which case, maybe I should make a congratulation to myself.
Anyway, at Adrienne’s silly boldness, Anika appeared taken backward, but she laughed and laughed and made a kiss on Adrienne’s cheek.
“Let’s eat the whole restaurant,” I spouted to show my enthusiasm too.
Adrienne chirped yes and sat right down at the most proximal table. At dinner, she went forth discussing her achievements in school and Anika listened with her one hundred percent. My heart grew monstrous watching this because I made an understanding how giving Anika is. Also, only someone who is in love with me would be so willing to listen to my petite sister with so much intention. That’s right, Uncle Lanci, I am not of fear to say that Anika is in love with me.
I made a misshapen, though, because I did not provide Adrienne with a lecture on what she can, and cannot, discuss. This is especially important in regards to Eszter. Adrienne could sense this, and she had her personal agenda in mind, of course.
“Did you know Mike is making attempts to escape the country?” Adrienne said, then smiled so devious I made a delivery of a kick into her shins.
“These are all not facts yet. It’s just a fantasy,” I said.
“He’s lying. He’s so bold to do it,” Adrienne said, like she was telling upon me. I realized she was making attempts to abolish my plans, by informing someone who could stop me of them.
“You are right, Adrienne, your brother is bold,” Anika said in the sweetest tone. I admire her calmness in this situation. How in this universe did I receive the luck to have this angel specimen make adoration of me? Adrienne, though, she was making me more angered.
“He’s going to try to take the Eszter woman with him,” Adrienne said. “She knows a code on the radio to flee the country.”
I made a force to interject now and said, “Adrienne, that is enough. What has become of you?”
“If you aren’t going to take me, you can’t go.” This petite, wobbly frown overcame Adrienne’s face as she crissed her arms. So that was just it, Uncle Lanci, she did not want me to abandon her. This made a break of my heart. If she thinks that her own brother, who shows her most love, would leave her, then she will think others will too. How will she ever fall in love and make a relationship? Oh, this makes killings of me, and I honestly would like to rethink if this is a strong idea for me to go. What are your most thoughts, Uncle Lanci? Oh, why do I even make inquiries of you? You have such nothing information for me.
My desperation has transfixed into confusion. If I go, I leave Adrienne, and if I don’t go, I cannot bring back the mom that abandoned her. Do you comprehend, Uncle Lanci, that more than anything, I want Adrienne to see that love doesn’t leave you forever. She must understand there is permanence in love, that it may get lost for so long, too long, but it is always there, no matter what.
I sit here knowing that the beams of light in my life, my Adrienne and Anika, are here in Hungary and I am making efforts to flee them, with a crazy woman leading me forth. You, Uncle Lanci, must act with swiftness before my resolve becomes dissolved. Please, give me courage with “The Door is Still Open to My Heart” by Dean Martin, because I am feeling it open, but I am wondering if there is such thing as being too open.
Sincerely,
Mike a Korvinközből
Desire is fuelled by all, but fulfillment. —Ernő Osvát
Dora Turján
February 24, 1965
“We’ll need to do something if the radio starts jamming more,” Marta whispered, leaning into Dora. The two stood in front of Radio Budapest’s office, which had been sending out signals daily to block Radio Free Europe. Dora had broken down and told Marta everything and, as expected, her friend sprang into action, dragging Dora to Radio Budapest so they could find a way to clear the airwaves.
“But what can we do? March in there and demand they stop for no reason at all?” It all sounded so surreal and cliché to Dora anyway—the fact that a code could set the people she loved free.
“Well, we can’t possibly wait for them to jam it permanently.”
“I just wish I had a clear answer.” Dora knew little existed in Ferenc’s letters that would guide them to a quick solution. He had continued dropping his letters off at the designated location, and as the jamming became more persistent, Ferenc’s anxiety bloomed, until his handwriting could hardly be deciphered. The fact that Eszter didn’t show any urgency to tell Ferenc the code and get out of that death trap further confirmed her insanity. Dora knew she needed to take matters into her own hands, but had no idea where to start.
“What are you girls doing here?” A voice boomed from behind Dora and Marta. They turned around to see Ivan juggling a briefcase and an armload of files.
“We just …,” Dora scanned her brain for a feasible lie.
“We’re just on our lunch break.” Marta stepped forward and relieved Ivan of the files.
“Don’t you two have jobs to be doing?”
“Yes, I actually have to get to a meeting.” Marta hoisted the files into Dora’s arms and whispered in her ear, “You’ll get more out of him without me.” She trotted away, leaving Dora to her own devices.
“Do you have something to do here?” Dora looked up at the Radio Budapest offices, wondering how she hadn’t seen her dad sooner.
“A lunch meeting, next door.”
“Oh, I can walk you to the meeting,” Dora said.
“It’s over. I’m just coming from it.”
“I can walk you back to the ministry.”
“As long as you aren’t missing anything important,” Ivan said, trying to conceal the smile spreading across his face.
Guilty for how much joy this brought her dad, Dora couldn’t bring herself to interrogate Ivan about the radio, at least not on their walk. She began to doubt whether she could extract the information she needed from him anyway, without giving herself away. She wished Marta hadn’t ditched her—not like Marta was some spy or mastermind—but she at least envisioned all the good that could come from taking risks, whereas Dora only imagined the bad. Her dad would probably just seize this opportunity to give her a new assignment. She’d walk away more stressed than before.
Ivan lumbered into the ministry and led Dora up a marble staircase. At every third step, he paused to rest, as if the weight of Eszter rotting in the prison below was pulling him down. Dora certainly felt that way. She realized just how fragile her dad had become. The emotions he spent years hiding had burrow
ed deep into his bones and seemed to be gradually corroding them. She wondered if the same thing would happen to her.
“I need to get back to swimming,” Ivan said, collapsing into his desk chair.
“I think you need to rest.”
“I’m too busy for that.”
“What are you working on?”
“A new a museum exhibit,” Ivan said.
“On what?” Dora tried to bide time as she scanned Ivan’s desk for any sort of document with the word radio on it. If she could find something on paper, that would be one way to avoid probing her dad.
Ivan smiled and leaned back in his chair, the color finally returning to his cheeks. “It’s going to be all about the farmers and workers who courageously grow and produce food for us,” Ivan said.
“Excuse me, sir,” a man, bald and scowling, stood in the doorway. “We really need you to sign these documents as soon as possible.”
Dora remembered the last document she saw Ivan’s signature on, and her body lurched into panic mode. Drenched in a cold sweat, she gripped the sides of her chair as if the floor was about to give way. Dora couldn’t imagine Ivan signing another document endorsing the torture of Eszter, but then again, she couldn’t imagine him signing the first one either. Dora knew she’d draw attention to herself if she tried to stop Ivan. Her best bet was to search his desk for information, which would be easier with him gone.
“I’ll be right back,” Ivan said, squeezing Dora’s shoulder as he passed her. “Just stay here, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Dora dreaded the thought of discussing anything with Ivan at this point, but she couldn’t think about that now. She had to find something—anything—that would help Eszter. She searched Ivan’s desk drawers, but they were nearly empty. She wondered how often he cleaned his desk and archived his work. It seemed like every day, by the looks of it. She rummaged through the trash, finding only receipts and shredded notes that would take hours to piece together. She searched underneath the mountain of folders stacked on his desk, but they all related to the museum exhibit he was planning. Finally, beneath all the folders and sitting face-up on Ivan’s pearly, waxed desk, was a document titled “Radio Interruption Plan.”
It was an overview of their plans to reinstate the aggressive jamming of Radio Free Europe. With Ivan’s name signed next to various steps of the program, it proclaimed the efforts were for the safety and security of Hungary as more people tried to leave its borders without proper visas. Ivan included a number of safeguards in the plan, ensuring only a small group of people knew when the radio would be jammed and how. He created passwords for the equipment, and he even mandated that they store the master jamming devices in a padlocked room at the Radio Budapest offices. Soon, the jamming would be in full effect and completely block Radio Free Europe. Dora checked the proposed date: the first of March.
“Okay, Dora, where was I?” Dora heard her dad from behind her shoulder, the memo in full view on her lap.
Dora jumped, but quickly regained her composure. “You surprised me.”
“What are you looking at?” Ivan asked, though he could clearly see the answer.
“I was curious about the radio jamming program,” Dora said, like she had just picked up a book off the shelf to peruse.
Ivan looked at her from the corner of his eye, inspecting Dora, who tried to focus on reading every word of the document. “You just happened to find it on my desk?”
“I was tidying up.” Dora had placed the files into neat stacks, realizing she’d need an excuse in case Ivan caught her. Maybe she wasn’t so bad at this spying thing after all.
“I’ve been meaning to brief you on this anyway. As you can see, we’re stopping Radio Free Europe from dominating the airwaves once and for all. Soon we’ll only have one radio station, our own Radio Budapest.”
“It’s a very ambitious schedule,” Dora said.
“It’s a very important effort.”
“Is it truly necessary?” Dora didn’t know why she even asked. She wouldn’t win this fight, no matter how hard she tried, and saying anything more would make Ivan suspicious.
“If only you understood …. I’ll tell you one thing, Dora. Boldiszar died because of this radio.”
That buried yet familiar anger rushed into Dora. Why did her dad insist on holding Boldiszar’s death over her? She wanted to tell him she knew about Radio Free Europe and Eszter’s involvement in Boldiszar’s death, then watch his face drop and twist into shock. Dora realized, though, that would incite Ivan to question her, and she couldn’t endure an interrogation. Still, this was no way to honor Boldiszar’s memory.
“If you aren’t going to tell me how he died, please stop bringing him up.”
“Just read this.” Ivan handed Dora a memo, this one looking more worn than the others.
October 24, 1956: Memo #1 on Murder of Boldiszar Balasz and Dmitry Babadzhanian
Boldiszar Balasz and Dmitry Babadzhanian were found dead in the basement at 5 Kikerics út. The same gun was used to kill both of them. Accounts taken from Babadzhanian’s comrades attest that a woman identified as Eszter Turján fatally shot both men. Boldiszar was a leader of the Freedom Fighters and Dmitry was the son of the great General Hamazasp Babadzhanian.
Dora knew her mom led Boldiszar to the Soviets, but she had assumed it was a Soviet soldier who killed Boldiszar, not Eszter. The world transformed once again, and this time she felt herself falling, falling in the space left behind.
“We don’t know much more than this,” Ivan said. “We believe Boldiszar was encouraged to go to this location by Radio Free Europe, with the help of your mom. We don’t know what happened next, but we do know your mom somehow killed him, along with Dmitry.”
“How do you know this is true?”
“There were other soldiers who witnessed the murder. They describe your mom shooting both of them.”
“That’s not possible. I don’t believe you.”
“It’s right here, Dora.” Ivan pointed to the memo.
“How do you know those soldiers weren’t making it all up?”
“Please, I can’t entertain any more questions right now. I have to get to work. Believe me when I tell you that Radio Free Europe ruined our family and the people we loved.”
Dora sat there trying to piece together everything her dad had said and showed her, along with everything she knew about her mom. No one piece of the puzzle fit the other, because the big picture could not possibly be that Eszter murdered Boldiszar. She had to find out the truth for herself. She wanted to look her mom in the eyes and ask her what happened. She couldn’t put credence in these memos, especially if Ivan wasn’t willing to answer any of her questions.
Dora remembered that man in the cemetery, and how he wanted her to tell Eszter they knew it was a mistake. Dora never did deliver the message, barely able to speak when she finally came face to face with her mom. But what was the mistake? Dora had assumed it was Eszter leading Boldiszar to the Soviets. But could he have been referring to Boldiszar’s death?
Dora’s mind started grasping for answers, sending her into a tailspin. Maybe Boldiszar made a grave mistake during the course of the revolution, one so serious that the Freedom Fighters threatened Eszter’s life if she didn’t kill Boldiszar. He could be careless and impulsive sometimes, poor at calculating outcomes, and Dora wouldn’t be too surprised if he did something to anger the higher-ups in the movement. But Eszter wasn’t reckless enough to kill a Soviet soldier too.
Dora thought about how her mom looked that day in the courtroom. She couldn’t imagine her as a murderer. She seemed so frail and old, at least twenty years older than Ivan. A wildness lit up her eyes, but only when the judge spoke to her. When she saw Dora, her eyes softened, and she seemed almost shy. Dora felt so deeply sad to see her mom’s tattered clothes, her missing teeth, and how she incoherently mumbled to herself.
Everything Dora tried to ignore for the past nine years—her anger toward Eszte
r and simultaneous longing for her—tore through her. But none of it seemed to matter when she realized just how much Eszter needed her. She had no one, and Dora had been no one for too long.
“You know what, Dora, I need some help with this jamming initiative,” Ivan said, summoning Dora from her thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to lead it. I really have too much to do right now.”
“I don’t think I’m really in the right position to do so ….”
Marta would tell her that this was an opportunity to stop the jamming, but Dora knew Ivan too well. He would expect her to do the job, and do it well. He would check in on her daily and probably ask Dora’s colleagues about her performance.
Within seconds, Ivan had Joszef on the phone to negotiate the terms of Dora’s temporary employment with Radio Budapest. Dora understood it wouldn’t really be a negotiation, since Joszef would say yes at all costs due to Ivan’s high ranking in the party. At least she wouldn’t have to stalk Ferenc anymore.
“It’s done.” Ivan clicked the phone back onto its stand. “You can start today.”
*
At the Radio Budapest studios, the head DJ greeted Dora with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. Tomasz, who was roughly the same age as Dora, eyed her up and down without saying a word. He scratched his head, launching flakes of his scalp into the air. Dora followed their luminous trajectory until they came to a rest on his black, wrinkled shirt.
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