“That’s the word,” said Remi. “They’re probably just wondering what we’re doing walking around an old cow pasture.”
“All right,” he said. He started the car and made a three-point turn and drove back to the bridge they had crossed, returning to the west side of the river. He kept looking in the mirror. “Are you sure you don’t know them?”
“Positive,” said Remi. “We’ve never been to Hungary before.”
They drove to Arad Martyrs Square and saw the monument to the men killed in the 1848 revolt, the Musical Clock with sculpted figures from a medieval university, Klauzál Square, Schéchenyi Square, all in the city’s center. The district was full of flowers and trees and pastel-colored baroque buildings that didn’t look real.
As Tibor took them from place to place, Sam and Remi kept track of the black car. When they stopped abruptly near the center of the city, the car nearly caught up with them. Remi took another photograph through the rear window.
Tibor noticed. “Those men remind me of the way things were under the Communists. There were people who seemed to have no jobs except to follow people around and report them.”
“I’d like to know who they’re reporting us to,” Remi said.
“I wonder if we can find out,” said Sam. “Will the police tell us who owns a car if we have the license number?”
“I think they might.”
Remi magnified the picture she had taken of the black car. She took a piece of paper from her purse and copied the license number on it, then handed it to Sam.
Sam said, “I’ll double your fare if you’ll find out. Here’s the number.” He handed the paper over the seat to Tibor.
He pulled the car into a parking space near the police station and disappeared inside.
Sam dialed the number at the Fargo house. “Hi, Selma,” he said.
“Hi, Sam. I was just getting ready to call you with some of the information you asked for.”
“Let’s save most of it for later. I think we’ve reached the moment when we’ve got to know whether Tibor Lazar is a good guy or a bad guy.”
“I have a tentative answer for you. He hasn’t done anything to give him a criminal record or bring him to the attention of Interpol. He owns a small house and a small taxi company, and there are no suspicions that it’s a front for anything. He has three cabs and owes money on all of them. He’s too poor to be anything but honest.”
“Perfect,” said Sam. “Thanks, Selma.”
After about twenty minutes, Tibor came out again. He got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. As he backed out of the space and drove forward, he said, “Bako.”
“Bako?”
“Arpad Bako.”
“Do you know who he is?” asked Remi.
“I’ll tell you all about my visit to the police while we’re on the road.” He moved down to the river and drove to the south. As he picked up speed, he looked in his rearview mirror as though he expected to be followed. “We must start with you. You are Samuel and Remi Fargo of La Jolla, California.”
“We knew that,” said Remi.
“Did you know that the local police knew that? They’re operating on a directive from the national government. They have been asked to keep you under loose surveillance—when you leave your hotel, when you return, and so on. They believe you are here in search of ancient treasures. Is that right? Are you treasure hunters?”
Sam said, “We’re amateurs who are interested in history. We have made some valuable archaeological finds, both under the sea and on land. But some of the most important were made of wood or bronze or steel and are treasures because they revealed things about the past. It’s true that some of the artifacts we’ve found include gold or gems. But to dismiss us as treasure hunters is simplistic.”
Remi said, “We never find a site and loot it, as treasure hunters would. We register it with the government of the country where we find it. We get permission from the authorities to dig and report what we find. In most places, the government owns whatever we find.”
Tibor said, “They say you’ve become very rich. Is that a lie?”
Remi smiled. “Not a lie. A misunderstanding. Sam is an engineer. Some years ago, he invented a machine. It’s an argon laser scanner that is used to identify mixed metals and alloys at a distance. We borrowed all the money the bank would lend us and started a company to build and sell the scanners. If we’d failed, we would’ve been in debt forever. But the company thrived. We’re the only source for the scanners. Larger companies began to ask us if we would like to sell our company. When we got the right offer, we sold. All of that happened before we ever began to search for old secrets.”
“So you’re just very lucky,” Tibor said.
“We have been so far,” Sam said, nodding. “And I’d like it to continue. Maybe we should speak with the police if they’re suspicious of us.”
“It would be better if you didn’t,” Tibor said. “They’re not interested in you yet, so let them stay uninterested.”
“So were the four men who have been following us police officers?”
“No. They’re creatures of Arpad Bako.”
“Who is he?”
“Describing him taxes my poor ability in your language. I can say he’s a greedy, evil man. But that’s not enough. He’s a thief. He’s a pig, a dog, a rat, a snake, a cockroach!” Tibor shifted into Hungarian for another sentence or two, then subsided.
“He doesn’t sound good,” said Remi. “He’s a zoo.”
“I’m sorry,” Tibor said. “I hate him. I’ve hated him since before I was born, and, since then, I’ve learned to hate him more.”
Remi said, “Can you tell us anything about him that we’ll understand? What does he do for a living?”
“He inherited the family businesses. The biggest one is a medicine factory. Pharmacology, you understand? They make pills and vaccines and things.”
“We understand.”
“It’s a big company. There are people like me who think the way it got so big was selling drugs to people whose only sickness is their need for drugs.”
Sam said, “You said you hated him before you were born. What did that mean?”
“His family and mine were on different sides for hundreds of years. His were against the revolt of 1848 and got members of my family arrested for treason. In World War Two, his family became Nazis just so they would be able to confiscate land and businesses. They informed on my grandfather’s brother to get him tortured and shot because he had a small farm the Bakos wanted. The next generation of Bakos were Communists to get privileges they then used to run the black market. When that government fell, they bribed people in power to let them take control of the medicine factory. Every time the world turns upside down, a Bako ends up on top and steps on other people’s heads. Arpad is the worst of the worst. He was in the car when his driver hit my second son, going over a hundred kilometers an hour. Bako made up the story that my son was a pickpocket who had stolen something from a man and run into the street without looking. He got five of his creatures to swear to it.”
Sam said, “Do you hate him enough to take a risk to deny him something he wants? Maybe to punish him?”
“I? Tibor? I would jump at the chance.”
“A good friend of ours, a German archaeologist, was kidnapped yesterday in Berlin. He’d made a discovery near here and gone to Berlin to study what he’d found because he was afraid. He’d seen those four men in the black car following him.”
“I understand,” Tibor said. “Bako is one of those people who claim they’re direct descendants of Attila the Hun. A few years ago, a bunch of them petitioned the government to have themselves declared an official minority group. It’s just greed.”
“Greed? I don’t follow,” said Remi.
“It’s the tomb. He wants to find the tomb and claim it as his own.”