Assignment - Budapest

by Edward S. Aarons

  Ilona would come back. She had to.

  He remembered how she had been the night before, in the attic room of the Hegedus farm. There was something fine and wonderful in the simple relationship that had built up so quickly between them. He wanted very much for her to come through this safely, to find what she wanted, to hold this thing she sought that she had never known in all her life. She had not been forced to come back here with him, to this place of terror and death. She had known the risks, the special dangers for herself, and she had agreed to his question with a simple nod, swallowing her fear. There was a strength in her that he marveled at, thinking about the painful conclusions she had reached alone in her own soul. Freedom was something Ilona had never known. It had been within her grasp, back in Washington; she could have been safe there. But she had returned to Budapest with him, and she was his responsibility, no matter what denials she might make about it.

  The street was empty. She did not come back. There was no sign of Janos, and it was two o’clock now, two hours late, and it was time to think of what he could do without her.

  Dr. Tagy was asleep. His wife sat in quiet terror beside him. Maria joined Durell at the window, her thin figure severe and prim, her voice quiet.

  “What if Ilona doesn’t come back?” she asked quietly. “She is very late now. If it is known that she works for the West now, and is regarded as a traitor by her former associates in the AVO, it will go very very hard with her if she is caught.”

  “We’ll have to do without her, if she doesn’t meet us here.”

  “And the boy? What about Janos? We need the car.”

  Durell looked at her. “You talk as if you’re willing to come with us.”

  “There is nothing left here for me in Budapest. I have no relatives, no friends. If you will take me, I will go to the West with you.”

  “Do you know of another car we might be able to use?” She shook her dark, narrow head. “No. And I do not think you could persuade Dr. Tagy and his wife to flee without their son."

  “We’ll wait until dark before we decide,” Durell said. “I have been watching you. You need Ilona. There is something else you want to do here in Budapest, besides rescue Dr. Tagy. Isn’t that so? Something, perhaps, more important than the doctor. Are you really a spy? Are there any secrets you wish to take with you?”

  “No. No secrets, Maria.”

  “Don’t misunderstand me. I hate the Russians. I hate what they have done to my poor country. Our men who are in the government are only pawns, paying lip service to the conception of their being independent, but all the time the Russians sit behind them and pull the strings and tell them what to say and do. If you can hurt them in any way, I will help you.”

  “That’s not my job here,” Durell said. “I have to find a friend. I’m sure he’s in one of the AVO prisons here, and Ilona set out to learn which one.”

  Maria’s mouth thinned. “She went back to the AVO?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then they have her, and there is no use waiting for her. You can only pray that she will die quickly.”

  “We’ll wait and see,” Durell said.

  He didn’t like it. In the past, when he had to wait like this, he had been able to sit with measured patience, ignoring the time, the dragging hours, the uncertainty. Here, in this place, he felt trapped and futile. He had the feeling that things were moving beyond his reach and control, and every now and then he wondered about Dickinson McFee, in the hands of the AVO. He had known the little man for almost ten years, and while he would not have admitted it to anyone, he felt almost a love for McFee, for the little gray man’s devotion, intelligence, dedication to the job he did. McFee had been good to him more than once, had helped him at times when cool and calculating reason should have ordered his abandonment. He could not leave here without McFee. If McFee were already dead, that was one thing. But if he were alive, if he was being tortured at this moment, Durell had to help him. He had to do something, and yet he could not move for these long, desperate hours of the afternoon, there was no place he could go or start until he definitely gave up hope for Ilona.

  It was late afternoon before he saw Janos’s battered old car. Nothing had changed in the apartment. Dr. Tagy had wakened, eaten some soup that Maria prepared for them all, and then he went back to sleep again. Nobody had disturbed them, and it was growing dark, with a thin overcast in the western sky over the city, when Durell saw the old Zis turn the corner.

  His pulse jumped erratically for a moment, then settled down. He had not realized how anxious he had been about the boy. The car came grinding slowly up the hill and then halted directly in front of the apartment house, which Durell did not like.

  Maria joined him at the window. “It’s Janos?”

  “I think so.”

  The boy got out from behind the wheel, his thin freckled face smiling. Something seemed to be different about him, but Durell could not spot what it was. Then someone else got out of the car, and it took a long moment before he recognized who it was. It didn’t make sense.

  “Who is the girl?” Maria whispered.

  The girl who joined Janos on the sidewalk had dark, raven-black curls in a rather severe cut, worn under a small suede beret. She had on a lined trenchcoat, belted tightly about her waist, and dark blue shoes. She said something to the boy, and Janos nodded and waved toward the door of the building and she passed from sight.

  “It’s Ilona,” Durell said. “She’s taken time to dye her hair black.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  The sudden quickening of elation in him then came to a sudden halt. Someone else was in the car. It was a man, bulky of shoulder, massive in his blue uniform. The man paused on the sidewalk with his hand on Janos’s slim shoulder and looked directly up at the bay window where Durell watched. Everything seemed to come to a halt inside Durell. He heard Maria gasp in sudden fear.

  The man with Janos was an AVO guard. Durell recognized the broad jaws, the thick black line of bushy brows over clever, suspicious eyes.

  It was the same AVO man who had halted him and questioned him near the Tagy house that morning.

  Durell reached for the Russian tommy gun Janos had left with him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Durell closed the door to the bedroom where Dr. Tagy and his wife waited, then crossed the other room with a quick stride, the automatic rifle in his hand, and took up a position beside the front entrance. He waved Maria back and to one side. Maria Stryzyk looked pale and shaken. He motioned to her for silence as someone knocked on the door, quickly and lightly.

  “Maria?” It was Ilona’s voice. “Maria, let me in. Hurry.” Durell opened the door. There were heavy footsteps below, on the stairway going down to the street level, but Janos and the AVO man were not yet in sight. He caught Ilona’s arm and pulled her swiftly inside. She looked quite different, and yet she was the same. Her smile was quick and tremulous, her brown eyes bright with relief as she came against him and kissed him.

  “Thank God, you are safe. Did you find Dr. Tagy?” “They’re all here,” Durell said. “Quickly now, who is the man with Janos?”

  She saw his gun for the first time. “Put it away. He is a friend.”

  “No, he isn’t. He stopped me this morning near the Tagy house.”

  “I know. He told me. His name is Matyas. He is a friend.” “How can you trust him?”

  Ilona looked surprised. “How does one trust anybody here?”

  “How did you meet Janos Tagy?”

  “I went to the Tagy place, thinking you might still be there. Janos was alone in the house. He talked quite freely to me, after I let him know I was looking for you. He told me what you had done, and it is wonderful. Then the AVO man came in—Matyas—and I almost died of fright. Janos held a knife to his throat, surprising him from behind. But there was no need to be afraid. He pleaded with us to take him along. He said he had been following you all day, since early mor
ning, when we got off the train at the station.”

  There was no time for further questions. Janos came bounding up the stairs, his face joyous, and he was followed by the heavy, deliberate tread of the AVO guard. The man’s heavy face smiled tentatively, and he held out his hands, palm forward, at Durell’s gun.

  “Please. Trust me. I beg of you, believe me, I am a friend." “Get in here,” Durell said shortly. “If you’re not alone, you’re a dead man. Do you understand that?”

  “Of course. I assure you, nobody will follow.”

  “Assure yourself of that, not me. Get over there and sit down.”

  Janos had gone into the bedroom to join his parents. Maria drew a deep, uncertain breath and took the gun from Durell and stood covering the AVO man. Her face was momentarily convulsed with hatred.

  “I think we should kill him, just to be sure.”

  “Wait, please,” Matyas whispered. “Ilona, tell them. Tell them how I could have arrested you several times over.” “Maybe you just wanted her to lead you here,” Durell suggested.

  “No, it is not so. Tell him, Ilona! This woman wants to kill me!”

  “It would be too good for you, killing with bullets,” Maria said thinly. Her face was tight and hard. “That uniform makes me sick to my stomach.”

  “But it will be very useful to us, Maria.” Ilona spoke quietly, placatingly. She took off her small suede beret and shook her newly black, shining curls free. Durell had difficulty adjusting to the change in her appearance. He saw that she had also picked up a large handbag somewhere, and now she took several bottles from it and put them on a table. “These are for you, darling,” she told Durell. “It seems that our description has been circulated throughout Budapest. It came through from Austria about noon. You can guess from whom the description came. Apparently, last night all that was available to the police was the simple flash warning that an enemy agent and a woman might be found at Geza Hegedus’s farm. Our friend in Vienna could use a better communication system, I suppose. Or perhaps he was too hurried and surprised by our appearance to make thorough arrangements last night. However, he made up for it this morning. There isn’t a chance for us to go anywhere in this city without being recognized and arrested. You will have to dye your hair, darling. Since mine was red, I changed to black. You will have to become a blond. I am sure Maria will help. It is simple, as a disguise, but we can only hope it will work.”

  Durell nodded. “Did you contact your friend, Aczel, at Szabad Nep?”

  “I had to wait until noon, when he came out of the building for lunch. I was afraid to go in before then, because there were too many people there who might have recognized me, and among them there could have been one who knew of my assignment with Bela Korvuth. That would have finished everything. But when Aczel came out, I talked to him and learned I could trust him. I had to wait another hour while he made inquiries. It had to be done carefully, but Aczel has friends in high places, among the puppet administration. He is in love with me, in case you wonder why he was willing to help.”

  “What did he learn?” Durell asked.

  “Your little friend who was captured and trapped night before last at Gyor was taken to the Fo Street prison here in Budapest. Then he was transferred to the main AVO headquarters at Sixty Stalin Ut. He is still there, being questioned.”

  “Is he still alive, Ilona?”

  “Oh, yes. They will not kill him. They may not even use physical torture on him just now. They know who he is, you see. They know they have caught a tremendously important fish in their net. They may use psychological torture, and surely they have begun to use drugs on him, but Major Ulitsky, the Soviet MVD man who is really in charge of the AVO now, is quite elated by it all. He has given strict orders that McFee is not to be physically injured. Great plans are afoot for a tremendous propaganda trial that will show the world it was Western fascists and capitalistic warmongers who stirred up the trouble in October.”

  Durell faced the news grimly. Worse than anything, worse than the loss of Dr. Tagy, or Ilona, or the escape of Bela Korvuth, this could tear things wide apart. His eyes were dark and sober as he looked at Ilona.

  “What chance is there of getting him out of Stalin Ut.” “None whatever, as long as he is there.”

  “You said something about Matyas’s uniform being useful.” “Yes. They are going to move McFee this afternoon.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “To a small prison on the outskirts of Pest. They are taking him across the Kossuth Bridge about four o’clock. There won’t be a chance to touch him while he’s being transferred.”

  “Why are they moving him?”

  Ilona shrugged. “It was Major Ulitzky’s orders. Apparently, the Russians don’t trust the AVO to handle the matter properly. I understand the smaller prison, in Rezd, is run entirely by the MVD.”

  “Do we have a chance there?”

  “Possibly. We will have to plan it very carefully,” Ilona said. “It is a far greater chance that we will all be killed.”

  “It has to be done,” Durell said. “We have to try.”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “What time do you think would be best?”

  “Perhaps at seven. Aczel said a very important Russian is flying here from Moscow tonight, to take personal charge of the interrogation. Once that happens, nothing more will be possible. Our chance will be lost. But the transfer to Rezd will be after the evening meal, about five o’clock. Say between six and seven. That will be best.”

  Durell looked at the big figure of the AVO guard. The man was sweating, uneasy in the face of Maria and the burp gun. The man looked tough and brutal, with his broad, scarred face, his heavy brows, his wide, hard mouth. But that didn’t have to mean anything, he thought. There was a plea in the man’s eyes, a tight and desperate demand for understanding.

  “You say you followed this girl and me this morning?” he asked.

  “Yes, comrade, when you first—”

  “We are not comrades.”

  “I am sorry. It is a habit.” Matyas swallowed noisily and held up his big hands. “Let me join you. Let me help you. I wanted to talk to you when I stopped you before, when you gave me your lighter in front of that ruin on Castle Hill. I knew what you were. I knew your story about being ill, and having worked in Pecs, was false. I could tell from your accent that you are a foreigner. And I also knew you were a very brave man to come here.”

  “You have things pretty much your own way in your job here,” Durell said. “Why give it up to join us?”

  “I want to. My brother—he is in New Haven. In America. He left long ago. I should have gone with him, but things were too easy for me, as you say. I have done many things I have been ashamed of, but believe me, I tried to help those who came my way. I don’t want to be hated by my own people. It is a lonely thing, to walk the streets and see how people hate you. I never knew—I never dreamed how it was, until the fighting began. Ever since then I have been afraid.”

  Durell glanced at Maria. The dark-haired woman seemed uncertain. Her gun was lowered. Ilona decided it.

  “We may need his uniform,” she said. “And his papers, for tonight. It is true, we could kill him now and be as well off, but Matyas is also a strong man, and we will need strength. You have only yourself, and Janos, who is a boy. Dr. Tagy will need help. And the three of us—Maria, Mrs. Tagy and myself—we are only women. It is too much of a burden for you to carry alone, my dear. I think we can take a chance with Matyas.”

  Durell nodded and agreed.

  His hair and mustache were blond by six o'clock, rinsed and soaped several times to dispel the sharp odor of the peroxide Ilona had purchased. The long hours of waiting had dragged slowly by somehow in the crowded little flat. Maria had emptied the kitchen of whatever food they could carry, and Janos had gone out again and scrounged an extra can of gasoline from somewhere. The car stood undisturbed on the dark street below the apartment windows. Durell wore Matyas’ uniform. Mat
yas was bulkier than Durell, but the clothing fit well enough to pass, and the man’s papers carried no photo of himself and only a smudged description that could have passed for anyone after Durell had spent some minutes with pen and ink in changing some of the scrawled items.

  Durell, Matyas and Ilona left the apartment at six-fifteen. Maria remained behind with the Tagys, although Janos objected strenuously to being forced to stay. There was no place for him in Durell’s plan. Matyas wore Durell’s clothes, and Durell carried the “Russian guitar” and his own gun as well. Matyas was unarmed. Ilona had the AVO man’s pistol.

  Durell drove, following Ilona’s directions. The way led down the hills of Buda and across the Kossuth Bridge over the Danube into Pest, then out along the boulevard named Rackoczi Ut. There was only light traffic. The city seemed darkened by the despair of terror still clinging to it. In the industrial outskirts of Pest, Ilona directed him into a side road that led to the factory suburb where the prison stood. The night was very dark, thanks to the overcast that had come up in the evening, but it was not as cold as it had been. Presently the houses and buildings thinned out, and fields and a few farms came into evidence. In another mile they came to the barbed wire surrounding the prison.

  The place had been one of the minor estates of the Karolyi nobility, a gloomy and forbidding pile of masonry with castellated walls and watch turrets with slotted windows. Spotlights played in an irregular pattern inside the wire fencing beyond the main gates. Two T-54 tanks were parked off the road here, and a truckload of soldiers stood shivering in the raw wind, waiting to start for some unknown destination. Striped wooden bars were lowered across the road.