“I’m glad I caught you first.”
“I’m glad you did too!” Ivan said, shades of the cheerful dad she once dreamed about coming through. “How has the job been going?”
“The radio, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, great. Except today, the strangest thing happened… it just started jamming.”
Ivan ran his fingers along the ridges of the pool’s imperfect casing. “That’s right… I should have warned you….”
“I was hoping I could help get it back on schedule.”
“The jamming decision was made above my head. It came from the top, from Kádár himself.”
“But, why?” Dora asked, trying hard to temper her frustration.
“It’s a long story, and I don’t know all the details.”
“It didn’t seem like Kádár, or anyone else, used our jamming equipment today though.”
“He keeps additional equipment in the ministry, just in case,” Ivan said. “Remember, Dora, always build redundancy into your systems.”
“Redundancy… yes….” Dora knew exactly who had access to the keys that unlocked all the rooms in the ministry. Dora tried to maintain a pleasant level of small talk for several minutes before excusing herself. She had just the information she needed.
“We have to find Ferenc so he can give Tomasz access to the jammers in the ministry,” Marta said, after hearing Dora’s story.
“It’s the only way,” Dora agreed, trying not to think about how, at this time tomorrow, Ferenc and her mom might be in a completely different country. “But where will we find him? He could be anywhere….”
“That’s not true. Your dad’s rally is starting soon. Ferenc will be there if he knows what’s good for him and his family, especially before he flees the country and leaves them to answer questions.”
“We’ll never find him there.”
“We have to try.” Marta grabbed Dora’s hand and began leading her toward Hősök Square, where the rally was set to take place.
Under the banner of a black, starless sky, thousands of young people flooded the square. Blinding lights illuminated the masses as barricades funneled them toward the stage, making it seem even more crowded than it already was. The reluctant participants, most likely attending for their own protection, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, smoking cigarettes and gazing half-interested at the minute figures on stage. Dora and Marta could barely move through the crowd, let alone go in search of Ferenc.
“And we must all be aware of our purpose…,” the loudspeaker sent a voice through the audience, which Dora recognized as her father’s boss. If she squinted, she could see Ivan standing on stage. Behind him, massive, long black curtains hung from pillars, as if to remind everyone of the party’s immense power.
“… that we are workers responsible for the well-being of this nation,” Ivan said, taking hold of the microphone. “You might say you would prefer to be a movie star, a wealthy capitalist, that working in a factory is not for you. Or maybe you hear friends saying that. I caution you, do not give credence to this petty bourgeois egotism. Staying and working in Hungary will provide you with more fulfillment than anything else. Nothing compares to the feeling of working hard for your country.”
The crowd erupted in applause, though Dora didn’t see anyone near her doing much clapping. They had probably set up speakers to project fake cheering in the square.
Marta poked Dora in the side, pointing toward a group of men huddled in a circle. “Dora! That’s Ferenc.”
Dora stood on her tiptoes, trying to see where Marta was pointing. Sure enough, Ferenc stood in the group, frowning and rubbing his forehead as he focused on whatever was in the middle of the circle.
“What are they doing?” Marta nudged Dora toward Ferenc.
“I have no idea.”
As Ivan’s voice rolled through the crowd, Ferenc looked mournfully at his watch. Every time he seemed to frown even harder, and without any indication, he tore away from the group.
“Where is he going?” Dora pleaded as Ferenc forced his way through the throngs of people, slipping out of view.
“I don’t know, but we have to follow him,” Marta whispered.
“Let’s go.” Dora eyed the security police surrounding them. “But not too quickly.”
As they passed Ferenc’s friends, Dora peered through the gaps between them to find the center of their focus. In the middle of the group, on the ground, sat a small, black radio. It was emanating static like an uncapped fire hydrant. Dora had an idea where Ferenc was going.
ESZTER TURJÁN
February 28, 1965—Midnight
HE’S BEFORE ME, his eyes flaring, the fire in them so bright I have to shield myself.
“Did you hear it? Did you hear it?” Ferenc points to the radio. “We unjammed it!”
He’s so excited.
“I heard the code,” I say. “How did you do it?”
“We broke into the room where they store the jamming equipment, and my friend Tomasz disabled it.”
“But didn’t you hear the code too?” I am getting suspicious.
“We didn’t have time.”
“Is that the only reason you came down here? For the code?” I’m worried he’s going back on his promise to take me.
“No….” He starts pacing. “I still need your help to get on the envoy.”
“I will help you, but hide under the bed for now. We have to wait until the guards change and the second one gets too drunk and tired to notice us.”
I notice the adrenaline sparking in Ferenc’s eyes. It’s the look I saw in Boldiszar when I led him through the streets that night. I lean back against my bed and wait. Escape is my chance. It’s my only shot at seeing Laszlo face-to-face, proving to him that I am alive, I am breathing, and I am still someone. Then there is Dora, of course.
My stomach begins to leap from inside of me, going somewhere. I don’t know where. I begin to feel that same burst I experienced after I shot the Soviet soldier.
“You have to promise me one thing,” I say. “You will never leave my side until I am out of here.”
“I will take you. I have always said I will take you. Please, let’s go soon.” Ferenc stirs below my bed, and I press down with my all my weight to stop him from moving.
Minutes lurch by us. I stare at a small ant crossing what, to him, must seem like a ravine, but it’s just the crack between two bricks. If I could be as tiny as that ant I would have crawled out a long time ago, I want to tell Ferenc. I would not need him.
The guards change, but first they do their inspection of our cells, back and forth, back and forth. I pray they don’t take me for themselves tonight. Not tonight, not ever again. Their steps send vibrations through the floor that I am sure Ferenc feels too. He does not move once.
The worst is always to come. I must remember that. I tell Ferenc that we will make our escape in two hours. That is when the second guard will be completely incapacitated.
He’s coming into my cell. Oh, no, he is going to do it to me. He is going to take me, and we will miss our window. I want to scream, but I can’t. I want to fight him, but I am so weak.
“Eszter, Eszter, Eszter.” I can smell the vodka, but not on his breath, from his pores. It’s in him. “Are you going to come with me tonight?”
I can feel Ferenc below me, because he’s poking the mattress, and I don’t know what it means, but I know I have to stop this guard. I have to protect Ferenc and get out of here.
I shake my head.
“Oh, you’re a feisty one tonight, aren’t you?” He falls onto my bed and he tries to lift his head, but it’s filled with vodka. I can hear it sloshing back and forth inside of him. “I have something for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a red geranium, withered and pressed from being in his pocket. He runs it along my mouth. “Isn’t it so lovely?” He picked it from the pots in the windows upstairs, I’m sure of it.