Heart of Lies (5 page)

“If you like, I’ll tattoo a tiny Eiffel tower on my chest. Just a small one, though.”

“Will we live in Budapest when we get married?”

“We can live wherever you like.”

“That’s rather daring.”

“I’m feeling rather daring right now. Here comes the rabbit stew.
Bon appétit
.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, each contemplating the enormity of the change that had just swept through their lives.

“All because I went to investigate a plate of Madeleines,” murmured Martha.

“I have news for you, my dear. I was prepared to chase you down the street if necessary. I could tell through the window that you were the one for me.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Must have had something to do with the way you wrinkled up your nose when you were reading the menu. Much like what you’re doing right now.”

“Hmm. Now it’s the cheese tray I am considering.”

“The glorious cheeses of France. I tell you, we Hungarians eat well, very well, but I believe the French have superior cheese.”

“And wine.”

Leo adopted a wounded look. “That could only be said by a person who does not know Hungarian wine. We can rectify that. Why, with the exception of champagne—”

“Isn’t that the exception that swallows the rule?”

“Now that you mention it, that’s the one thing this evening is lacking. Waiter? Champagne, please. The best you have.”

Glasses filled, Leo raised his to Martha. “My darling, this is the best I can give you now, but I promise better things in the future. No, don’t interrupt. I promise to love, honor, and cherish you, and to create a wonderful life for you. Just believe in me.”

She tapped her glass against his. “I do believe in you.”

Leo watched two thin, parallel lines of bubbles dance from the bottom of his glass to the surface. He had so much to tell Martha, so much to share with her, so many things he wanted to do for her. He would need a lifetime.

Hours later the morning burst upon them, cold and clear, for in their haste to get back to bed they had forgotten to close the heavy interior curtains in their room. They made love one more time before rising, with the slow rhythm of lovers willing to explore each other without reservation.

This time they dressed wordlessly, communing in the shared privacy of their last moments together before they faced the outside world.

“May I bring you back to where you’re staying?” Leo asked as they left the hotel.

“No, I think not. But when will I see you again?”

Leo pondered this for a moment. He didn’t know what his day would be like, or how much time his activities would take.

“Martha, I’m desperately sorry to say that I have another business meeting. It concerns a new career opportunity for me. I’m sure, though, that I can get free by tonight. Can you meet me at five o’clock at Angeline’s?”

“Of course.” She tried not to pout. Five o’clock seemed like several lifetimes away.

They walked to the taxi stand in the square across from the Notre Dame cathedral, where he kissed her, and kissed her again, unable to make himself let go. She finally pushed him away and jumped into a taxi, blowing him kisses as the driver sped away.

He watched until the cab lost itself in the mass of early morning traffic, then started back to his own hotel.
Damn.
He’d forgotten to ask her if there was a telephone number he could use to call her. No matter. Nothing could keep him from being at Angeline’s this afternoon.

He was passing a newsstand on the corner of Rue de Rivoli when a headline caught his eye. Leo fished in his pocket for a franc and tossed the coin to the proprietor, snatching up a copy of
Le Monde
and folding it under his arm without waiting for his change. He stumbled into the closest café, ordered an espresso, and opened the paper. In bold letters he saw spread across the front page:

Leo dropped the paper. How could he have been so stupid? Now he knew where Károly had obtained his money: from a printing press.

He checked his watch. It was not quite eight o’clock. Cartier’s would not open for another two hours, but they might already know they’d been duped. Were they looking for him already?

Panic rose like bile in his throat. He could give the necklace back. He could explain. He would turn Károly in. No, the French distrusted the entire Hungarian nation. They would thank him for his information, call him a liar, and he would still go to jail for a very long time.

His disoriented brain tried to think of other alternatives. He could try to negotiate a deal with Károly. He would give the bastard the necklace in exchange for his own freedom. Now his life mattered. His continued existence was no longer a cosmic joke. He had found Martha.

Martha
. He had no way of getting in touch with her. He would have to find somewhere to hide until five o’clock. Good God, were Janos and the others in on this scheme, too? Had he been the patsy from the outset?

He threw some change on the table to pay for his untouched coffee and went back into the street, pulling his hat low over his forehead. There was no reason for anyone at the hotel to connect him with Jean Pierre Printemps. Unless, of course, a physical description of him was already being circulated to the public. He would have to risk that much.

Within a few minutes he was back at his hotel, relieved to see that the police chief was not already waiting for him in the lobby. He needed time to collect his thoughts, to come up with a plan. Ignoring the elevator he sprinted up the four flights of stairs to his room, his adrenaline pumping full force.

Leo burst into the room and sat down on the small single bed, head in his hands.
Now think. Think about how to save yourself.

Károly’s voice interrupted the silence. “Well, you little Jewish bastard, where have you been all night?”

Leo stood and turned to face Károly, who was stepping out from behind the door, which Leo had not even bothered to close. Károly did so now, and locked it. It was then that Leo noticed the gun in his hand.

Károly came closer, until he was standing just on the opposite side of the bed from Leo. His face wore the sneer of a coward in complete possession of unearned power.

“So, tried my lovely necklace on the neck of a little French whore, did you? You’d better answer me, pretty little Jew boy. It isn’t in the hotel safe. Where is it?”

“You set me up.”

“So you’ve heard the news. Well, we managed to change thousands of francs before Kovacs got himself caught. Of course I set you up, you cocksucking fool. You executed the biggest single trade we accomplished.

“Imagine Janos Bacso’s surprise when I showed up yesterday and told him that his brilliant interpreter, the man who was nearly his son-in-law, is in reality a vile, untrustworthy Jew. You can see how embarrassing it was for him to have recruited
your
assistance in the
purchase of arms for our organization. Luckily I brought a suitable replacement.

“Janos was only too pleased to allow me to persuade you to help us in other ways. The cash we’re raising, the guns we’re buying, they’re not going to aid the spineless military who allowed the dogs of Europe to rape our country. We’re fortifying the future rulers of Hungary, the men who have the strength of will to reclaim the Empire.”

Gombos.
It all made sense now. Appalling sense. Károly and Bacso were working for Gyula Gombos, head of the Hungarian Fascist party. They wanted weapons to take by force what they could not achieve through democratic means: complete control of Hungary.

Károly’s expression shifted from triumphant to threatening. “Where’s the necklace?”

Leo felt the receipt for the necklace burning a hole into his foot. “It’s not here.”

“You expect me to believe that? Take off your coat and toss it to me. Slowly.”

Leo did as he was told.

“Now your jacket.” Again, Leo complied.

“Now turn your pockets inside out.” Without pointing the gun away from Leo’s chest, Károly spread Leo’s clothes on the bed and searched them with one hand. He found nothing but the wallet he’d given to Leo, Leo’s wallet, and Leo’s passport. He tossed the clothes onto the floor.

Leo could tell that the man was losing control.
Good
.
Get angry. An angry man doesn’t think clearly.
He must goad Károly into making a mistake.

“You can’t just shoot me here in broad daylight.”

“You’re wrong about that, you stupid shit. Bystanders don’t react that quickly. By the time anyone realizes a shot has been fired, I’ll be gone. In fact, I’ll enjoy shooting you. I’ll get nearly as much pleasure out of shooting you as I did out of putting a bullet in the mouth of that brainless communist bitch you lived with on Andrassy.”

Erzsebet. The villa. It was now the property of the Ministry of the Treasury. A horrifying numbness overcame Leo as the full implication of Károly’s words hit him.

Then the reaction set in.

Black rage poured out from behind the closed door in his soul, filling his muscles with violent power. He stood motionless, poised to kill. He knew how to kill a man with his bare hands. The war had taught him that much.

Károly was still talking. “Tell me where the necklace is, or I’ll start breaking pieces of you off until I find it, starting with your well-used testicles.”

“It’s in a safe place,” Leo muttered through clenched teeth. As he spoke he shifted his gaze a fraction, almost imperceptibly, down toward the bed and then back to Károly’s.
Look away, bastard. Look away for just one second

Erzsebet’s killer stepped into the trap. Keeping the gun pointed at Leo, he leaned over and tried to pull up the side of the mattress with one hand.

Using the bed as a springboard Leo came at him, lunging across the small bed with the speed and strength of a creature from hell. His raised forearm caught Károly full in the throat, pinning him to the wall. The man had no time to cry out, for the force of Leo’s blow crushed his larynx. His stunned reflexes were unable to fire a shot. Leo went for the
gun, snapping two of Károly’s fingers as he twisted the weapon out of his hand.

Leo saw the pain and terror in the man’s eyes, and exulted in it. With one push he shoved Károly face first onto the bed, then, lifting the gun high in the air, smashed the metal butt into his skull. Again. And again, until the sight of blood oozing from the back of the dead man’s head brought him to his senses.

He became aware, first, of the heavy quickness of his own breath, as if he’d just awakened from a nightmare. Looking at Károly’s lifeless body, he felt no remorse, only a vague sense of having finished an exhausting task. He leaned against the wall to steady himself, and looked down. His pants and shirt were spattered with blood. Quickly he removed his shoes, took out the receipt from the Ritz, then stripped off the rest of his clothes. He then used a corner of his shirt sleeve to wipe his fingerprints from the gun. He left the gun, and the wallet with the counterfeit notes, on the bed beside the corpse.

Someone knocked. Leo reeled toward the door. The chamber maid’s worried voice floated in from the hallway.

“Sir? Are you all right? Is everything all right?”

Leo snatched a towel from the wash basin and wrapped it around his waist. He composed his features and unlocked the door, opening it a fraction wider than was decent given his nakedness, using his body to block the woman’s view into the room.

“Yes?” He gave her a devastating smile, designed to make her think that the sight of her at his door brought a special joy to his day.

“I thought…there was a noise. You’re in no trouble?” she stammered.

“I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I fell out of bed. Can you imagine?” His smile invited her to imagine other things as well. “I guess I’m just too big for a small bed. I hope the noise of my hitting the floor didn’t disturb you.”

“No, sir, it was the man in the room downstairs.”

“Please give him my most sincere apology, will you? I’ll be checking out today so it certainly won’t happen again.” Another smile, this one requesting her assistance, telling her she was the only one in the world who could help him with so important a matter.

“Of course, sir. I will explain, sir.”

“Thank you.” He smiled once more. She melted. He closed the door.

How much time did he have? He couldn’t leave the hotel in a way that would arouse suspicion. He whipped a razor across his face, put on a fresh suit, and threw the remainder of his things in his suitcase. Then he wrapped his blood-stained clothes in a towel and tossed that in, too. He would have to get rid of them later. He took a few more seconds to wipe down the gun, then the wash basin, the desk, the doorknobs, and anything else he might have touched during the one night he had stayed there.

Before leaving he took an extra blanket from the closet, covered Károly’s body, and tossed two pillows over his head, so that anyone glancing in might not be tempted to investigate the rumpled bed linen immediately. He retrieved his coat, wallet, and passport from the floor, put the Ritz receipt in his wallet, and left the room, pulling on his gloves and then carefully locking the door behind him. Now, at least, the police would have to rely on eyewitness descriptions of him. Thank God he’d registered under an alias.