He reached a hand across the table.
‘Ethan,’ he said. ‘My name’s Ethan Usherwood.’
She took his hand, gripping it firmly.
‘Horváth Ilona,’ she said.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Horváth.’
She burst out laughing.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I forgot. In Hungarian, the family name comes first, the personal name last. You can call me Ilona.’
‘Which means?’
This time she blushed and mumbled something he could not make out.
‘What did you say?’
‘It’s a very embarrassing name, but very popular. It means “beautiful”. It’s a silly name. Don’t pay it any attention.’
He looked at her more closely. In fact, the name did her justice. She had wavy shoulder-length brown hair, her eyes reminded him of the cat he’d had when he was seven, and when she smiled she was captivating. But seeing a pretty girl sitting opposite him only brought back memories of Sarah and a realisation that he might be within an hour or two of learning whether she was alive or dead.
They drank wine and talked, mainly about Ilona and the plans she’d made for her life after graduation later that year. What they boiled down to was her longing to be free of Sancraiu, either to stay in the big city in Bucharest or to travel abroad. Since she was fluent in Hungarian and Romanian and had a confident grasp of English; she had hopes of a career in translation or interpreting.
As she spoke, he wondered just how much he should tell her. He could hardly pretend he’d just turned up in the region as an independent.
‘I’m an architectural historian,’ he said in the end. ‘My current project is to study castles in Transylvania.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘How interesting. There are so many of them. Bran, Huniazi — have you been to Huniazi yet? — Sighisoara, Peles. And Margau, of course. What a fabulous castle that is.’
‘Absolutely. Fascinating, all of them.’
‘Especially Margau. It has always been my favourite.’
‘Mine too. Best of a great bunch. But I’m not headed there now. I want to visit a castle much closer.’
He saw her lips close, her eyes narrow.
‘Really? What castle would that be? I don’t know any castles round here. Perhaps you really are lost after all.’
He shook his head.
‘It’s called Castel Almásy. Or perhaps you know it as Castel Lup,’ he said. ‘Wolf Castle. Is that right?’
This time her facial expression changed completely. The friendliness went out of her eyes. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet.
‘Ilona? What’s up? What did I say?’
‘Nothing. You said nothing. But now it’s time for me to go.’
She picked up her jacket and shrugged it on.
‘Won’t you…?’ he began, but she was already on her way to the door.
He took some notes from his pocket and slapped them on the table, hoping they would cover the bill, then rushed after her. She was out in the street, headed across the road, her jacket bright against the pearly afternoon light. He rushed after her, passed her and blocked her way.
‘What’s going on, Ilona? One moment we’re talking, next thing you run off as though something’s biting you. What the hell is up?’
She looked as if she was furious about something.
‘First you lie to me,’ she said, ‘then you say you plan to head for Castel Lup, of all places. And you’re surprised to find me running away? Now, please, I want to go home. I think I’ve talked with you enough.’
‘I just need an explanation. You say I lied to you. What made you think that?’
‘You said you’re an architectural historian, but you know nothing about castles in Transylvania.’
‘Of course I do, I—’
‘There is no castle in Margau. I made that up, just to see how you would react. I thought you would say “I’ve never heard of such a place, tell me more.” But instead you said, “this my favourite castle, this is the best of them all”.’
He’d fallen right into her little trap.
‘And Castel Lup?’
‘You don’t need me to tell you. If you plan to visit it, you know more than I do. But it’s enough for me to know you’re headed there, that you know people there. Now, please let me get past.’
‘Ilona, I don’t want to make trouble, and I don’t want to upset you, but there are some things I think you should know.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, to start with, I’m not an architectural historian, I’m a policeman.’
Ignoring the weather, they walked up and down the street several times. He told her as much as he thought she could stand: his grandfather’s death, Sarah’s abduction, the Austrian and his companion with what sounded like a Hungarian name.
She began to relax. The anger left her eyes and was replaced by puzzlement. When he finished, she walked him back to the bar. As they came in, eyes opened wide again, and the murmuring recommenced.
‘Why should I believe this version?’ she demanded.
He took the warrant card from his pocket. She read it, nodded, and handed it back.
‘I know what a detective is,’ she said. ‘But what is a detective chief inspector?’
He tried to explain, but grew hopelessly lost in the complexities of police ranks. Seeing his confusion, she smiled for the first time since her walkout.
‘And you think this woman, what is her name…?’
‘Sarah.’
‘Yes, this Sarah, you think she’s in Vár Farkasnak?’
‘Where?’
‘That’s what we call your castle. In Hungarian. Castle of the Wolf. Castel Lup.’
‘I can’t be sure she’s there. It’s a guess. Why does this place make you so angry?’
‘No one here knows much about it. You call it Almásy Castle, but that was a long time ago, sixty, seventy years, perhaps much more. After the Second World War, when Transylvania finally became part of Romania, a lot of Hungarians left. Most went to Hungary, and some others went to Austria. I think that was when the Almásy family left. Maybe they still make visits here, I don’t know. But the castle belongs to new owners. They don’t like to come here to the town. And they don’t like any of the townspeople to go there. Some people from Oradea, from the tourist office, went to the castle. They wanted to explain that it would make a great location for a hotel, that tourists would flock there and pay a lot of money to stay. Or maybe just to visit.’
‘What happened?’
‘Something bad. They never went there again. I heard this from a friend, but that’s all she knew. The castle is guarded behind some sort of fence. There are wolves in the forest around it. There are guards who carry guns and have big dogs. We hear stories, but nothing definite. Some say they sacrifice children there, that they belong to a sinister cult, that they bring women and hold orgies, that they are Nazis, that the castle is a very strict monastery. No one knows. Not here, anyway.’
She stopped and drummed on the table gently for a moment, then snapped her fingers shut.
‘You should go to Bucharest,’ she suggested. ‘Maybe the government knows about the castle. You could go to the Serviciul Român de Informatii — the intelligence services. Or the police.’
‘Ilona, I don’t have time. If she’s here, she arrived early this morning. These men are ruthless. If she’s still alive, it may not be for long. All I want is a set of directions so I can find the place. The rest is up to me.’
‘Do you have a gun?’
‘I don’t think that’s—’
‘Ethan, you’re not in the land of the famous British bobby now. I won’t help you if you want to go up there without a gun. You’d just be… What is the word?’