‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning two hoodlums pounced on him-in broad daylight, mind you-I guess they were hiding in that skinny little lane. They came out, one in front of him and one behind-and the bigger one in front clamped a hand over Daranyi’s mouth, and the other one behind lifted a blade-some kind of knife or dagger-and began punching it into Daranyi. Well-boy, oh boy-I stood on that pavement absolutely petrified. And then I started to yell, to scream bloody murder-and the hoodlums froze the way I’d been frozen-and then they just broke away and ran like crazy. And that little Hungarian, he flopped down in the street like a dead whale. Well, everybody was in the street by then, and my taxi-driver was calling the cops.’
Craig asked himself: why Daranyi? Was this in some way a part of Eckart’s intrigue? He was on the right trail, he felt, and then, sagging inside, he realized that he might be too late. ‘Did you recognize either of them?’
‘No. Looked like a couple of delinquents, far as I could see. Wore those fat knit jazzed-up sweaters-one was turtleneck-I already told the police all I could see. The detectives are checking the alley or lane or whatever for clues. So anyway, here I am-Sue Wiley, Ace Witness.’
‘Are you hanging around for a story?’
‘What story? A down-at-the-heels historian gets mugged by a couple of kids who want his gold watch? Nuts. I’ve got to get out of here-this is the day-but those cops want me to wait a while. I’m sure sorry for the Hungarian. Hope he doesn’t die. Sa-ay, Mr. Craig, you’re a cute one, aren’t you? I’m the interviewer, and you’ve got me doing all the talking. Who was that blonde number you were holding hands with?’
‘Daughter of friends of mine in Wisconsin,’ said Craig. ‘I met Daranyi briefly, through her.’
‘Likely story.’
‘That’s right,’ said Craig, ‘likely story.’
The bedroom door had opened without anyone’s emerging as yet, but Craig was on his feet immediately. The doctor, prematurely grey and urbane, carrying his identity badge of a black bag, came out of the room, still speaking in Swedish to Lilly who followed him. As he spoke, Lilly hung on his every word, and then abruptly he broke away and went out the entrance door. Lilly’s hand beckoned to Craig.
He joined her.
‘They are going to bring the stretcher now,’ said Lilly. ‘You are permitted to have one minute with Daranyi.’
‘How is he?’ Craig asked with concern.
‘He will be all right. He was stabbed three times, but the physician says they are only flesh wounds, not so deep because Daranyi was wriggling and squirming when they tried to kill him. There may be minor surgery. I do not know.’
She went back into the bedroom with Craig behind her, closing the door to shield them from Sue Wiley.
There was a fine old brass bed, worn but polished, and on the bed a mound of blanket, and this was Nicholas Daranyi. He was lying on his stomach, his arms up on the pillow and his head sideways within his arms, so that his face pointed towards Craig. His dazed eyes, with their sedated pupils, were on his visitors.
Quickly, Craig took the chair beside Daranyi.
Lilly knelt on the floor below the bed. Anxiously, she said to Craig, ‘Do not waste words. Even though it is not so serious, he is weak and in pain. Go to the point. I have already told him of Emily being with her father, and what is wanted of Professor Stratman. I am not sure Daranyi understood everything, but-’
Daranyi made a sound, from his pillow, halfway between protestation and groaning. ‘Lil-ly-I understand.’
‘He knows all about it, then,’ Lilly said to Craig excitedly.
Craig leaned towards the pained face on the pillow. ‘Daranyi, you can hear me-I have only an hour-a man named Eckart has Max Stratman’s brother here. He-the brother-was supposed to have been killed long ago by the Russians, but he’s alive-been brought here somewhere in this city-in order to make Professor-’
‘I-understand.’
‘Have you ever heard the name Hans Eckart?’
‘Yes,’ Daranyi answered immediately, almost professionally. ‘A German physicist, East Berlin. He lunched with Professor Stratman on December fifth.’
‘Anything more?’
‘No-nothing.’
‘Daranyi, once you told me that you had an assignment from someone connected with the Nobel Prize awards. And Lilly has told me you were supposed to dig up inside stuff on those of us who are laureates.’
Daranyi closed his eyes and grunted into the pillows. ‘Yes. I had that assignment.’ His eyes remained closed, and the mound of blanket shuddered in a slight spasm of distress.
Immediately, Lilly reached out to touch him. ‘You are suffering too much. You have said enough. You must not-’
Daranyi’s lids opened and his eyes were alert and angry. ‘Quiet, Lilly. Can I not have a pain like ordinary mortals!’ He focused on Craig. ‘I have said little, but I am going to say much. Craig, these wounds of the flesh are nothing. The real injury that has occurred is to my professional pride. I have done this work for years. This you know. Always, I have been treated with dignity, with respect, like any competent workman should be. But this time I have been insulted-insulted. To have taken on this most difficult assignment-to have done so well, delivered so much, in good faith-and to be paid not in the salary I requested but in violence. This outrageous breach I shall not forgive. If I cannot have money, I will have revenge. Craig, I pray you can extract such payment for me.’
‘I’d like nothing better.’
‘Good.’ Daranyi tried to lift his head, groaned, and dropped his head to the pillow once more. He sucked his breath, and then he said, ‘Craig-what-what was on the tape? What did Eckart say? What did the girl say? Omit no detail.’
Speaking with precision and haste, Craig repeated, to the best of his memory, the threat of the tape recording. When he was through, he thought that Daranyi had not heard him, for the man appeared to be dozing or unsconscious. Suddenly Daranyi spoke. ‘Walther Stratman was known as Kurt Lipski all these years-is that what the voice said?’
‘Exactly.’
The head on the pillow moved with some private understanding. The eyes opened fully. ‘Yes,’ said Daranyi quietly, ‘it is all one, then. I gave them the information about Lipski, the clue that Walther Stratman was that person and still alive. They had no idea about Lipski and his interest in Miss Stratman until I dug it out and gave it to them.’ He winced. ‘And you see how they paid me for-for giving them this information.’ His face showed anguish. ‘The pain they have given me-’
Lilly grabbed Craig’s arm. ‘Mr. Craig, he is so white. He must not go on. He will faint. Please-’
‘Wait,’ Craig snapped, pushing her hand away. He turned back to the bed. ‘Daranyi, for God’s sake, while you can-to whom did you give this information? Whoever it was, that is the person at the bottom of it, the person responsible for bringing Walther here. Tell me who?’
Daranyi had vengeful strength for this. ‘Dr. Carl-Adolf-Krantz. He assigned-accepted-the information-paid me-this way… I gave him the photocopies-about-Emily Stratman-and-and-Ravensbruck-and about-the inquiries-from Lipski-from Russia-and now-’ The breathing from the pillow was heavier. ‘He-Krantz-Krantz-is-the-one-to-find-he-’
But the voice drifted off, as the lids folded over the eyes.
‘Daranyi,’ pleaded Craig.
Lilly was touching Craig’s arm. ‘You have what you want.’
‘Yes, but-’
The door had opened behind him, and the two stretcher-bearers came in with the doctor.
‘-I had just wanted to ask him,’ finished Craig lamely, ‘what he meant by Ravensbruck.’
As Craig rose and backed off, the doctor replaced him and looked down at Daranyi. ‘The patient is unconscious,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘We must move him to the hospital. Do not be worried. The injuries are superficial.’ He considered Craig curiously. ‘You learned what you wanted from him?’