Assignment - Budapest (24 page)

“There will be patrols. We are near the canal again, and I don’t think it will be frozen over enough for them to walk across. They will have to wade, and with this alarm out for us, there will be guards watching for us. They have seen the burning bus by now. There will be a hundred men around us in a few more minutes.”

He looked at the white fog to the west. The brittle reeds of the marsh grass stood higher than his head, and he remembered the tales of refugees who had tried to cross this swamp without a guide and become lost and wandered for hours and even for days without finding their way to safety. The girl’s breath made a fine vapor in the frosty air, and she reached for his hand, leaning heavily against him.

“Come, we must go on, darling. I will take you to the canal.”

“And no farther?” he asked.

“I have been confused, but things are clearer for me now. My place is not in America. It is here, where I can do some good and help my people. I do not like to think of living with myself as a coward, knowing how I might have helped others in my own country.”

He shook his head. “It will be too dangerous for you.”

“I think I can manage to stay alive and safe. You should not have any cause to worry about me, Sam. I can keep my hair dark, like this. You like it, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ilona.”

“Because it reminds you of Deirdre.” She touched his face with cold, light fingers. “You do not have to keep the truth from me. You want to go back to her, you want to have her, much more than you ever wanted me. This is the kind of thing a woman knows, without words.”

“Is that why you don’t want to go back?” he asked quietly. “No. I told you the main reason. The other—about you, and the way I love you—it would not be fair to either of us if I went with you and became a burden to you.”

“You would never be that,” he insisted.

“I know. But when you see her again, everything will be different. I am sure of that. She will understand.”

“I don’t think so,” Durell said.

“You will see. I know these things better than you. I wish it could have been different, but some things are not for me, and you must not worry about me when I leave you. I will be all right. Not like Maria, who is bitter and reckless and wants to die. Perhaps she has died already, back there, fighting like a man to give us these few moments to get ahead of the guards. I will not be like that. I will be careful. And useful. You will hear from me again.” She stood up. “Come. It is only a little farther to go now.”

Ten minutes later they stood at the edge of the swamp. There was no more firing from the south now, where Maria had gone to hold off the guards posted at the watch-tower station. The night was still, with no wind at all, and the mist hung in long, low streamers over the canal ahead that marked the frontier. Here and there a clump of white birches stood like up-thrust hands with twisted, grotesque fingers clawing the dark night. Dogs were barking somewhere behind them, where they had left the bus. Durell wondered about McFee and the Tagys. There was no sign of them up and down the canal, although he could not see very far through the mist. He could only hope they had gotten through safely.

About three hundred yards beyond the canal stood a farmhouse, windows cheerfully lighted whenever the mist moved aside to permit a glimpse of the yellow light. Over there was Austria and freedom. Here was tyranny and death.

“Come across with me, Ilona. You can’t stay in this area tonight.”

The barking of the dogs was louder behind them. “Perhaps you are right. For tonight, anyway.”

“Here, let me carry you.”

“No, no. I can wade across myself.”

The water was bitterly cold, knee-deep in most places, although halfway across the canal Ilona suddenly stepped into a hole and went in above her waist. They were trying to be silent, but she made an involuntary sound of fright when her footing slipped. Durell grabbed for her and caught her close to him, and then a gun cracked behind them and a man’s harsh shout of warning broke the silence of the night. Durell looked back. The figures of a dozen men were emerging from the wall of swamp reeds behind them. Dogs ran ahead to the water’s edge, barking frantically. A spotlight flared from the watch tower, but the shaft of light was diffused by the mist, making strange iridescent haloes and patches of multicolored light where the spot wandered.

“Come on,” Durell gasped.

He grabbed at Ilona’s hand and half dragged her to the opposite bank of the canal. She fell again, and he got an arm around her waist and hauled her out of the water with one last effort. Her teeth chattered and she gasped for breath. A volley of rifle shots followed them, and bullets spanked the frozen embankment of the canal. Durell crouched low and pushed Ilona over the top. The spotlight touched them, swept on, came back and pinned them against the dark earth.

“Run!”

A machine gun chattered. Durell threw the girl to the hard ground after they had gone only a few steps, and fell on top of her. The bullets screamed over their heads. Durell stared ahead. The farmhouse seemed an infinite distance away. The frontier guards were wading into the canal now, close behind them. He crawled forward over the frozen earth, pulling the girl with him. There was a small hut ahead, but Ilona drew him aside when he started for it.

“Not there. We are still in Hungary! Another hundred feet* straight ahead!”

Birch trees stood in eerie clumps to their left. Durell drew a deep breath and gathered himself for a final dash. His heart was pounding.

“Let’s go.”

They got up and ran. Most of the guards were wading across the canal at the moment, and were unable to fire. But the machine gun promptly began to clatter, and the spotlight sought them out again. The birches came closer, closed around them,, were behind them. The farmhouse was near. Three people were standing there, looking at them, beckoning them on. Durell saw they were two men and a woman, and one of the men wore the uniform of an Austrian frontier guard. He saw a small road, a line of telephone poles going westward, and faintly heard the encouraging shouts of the Austrians.

Then Ilona suddenly stumbled and fell.

Instantly he turned and dropped beside her. The girl’s face was a tortured white mask upturned to his. She reached back and touched her leg.

“It’s a bullet. I can’t—you go ahead. Please, please!”

He wasted no time arguing with her. A car was approaching the farmhouse along the road from Austria. He could see the headlights clearly. The first of the AVO men were clambering out of the frozen waters of the canal, running across the dark field toward the birches that hid them. Without wasting another moment, Durell picked up the girl and ran at a staggering gait toward the farmhouse. For an instant she struggled, crying out for him to forget about her and save himself. She was surprisingly light in his arms. He saw a wire fence, broken down into the brittle weeds, and he clambered across and knew at once that he was over the frontier line when faint cheers came from the people at the farmhouse. But there was no safety yet. He knew that the AVO men in desperation might still pursue them.

“Put me down. Please,” Ilona whispered.

He ignored her. He was through the fence and somehow still going, and when he looked back, he saw that the AVO men had slowed their pace at last. The machine gun was silent, in the face of the Austrian frontier guard who was coming toward them across the distant field.

It was then that Durell noticed the car again. It had been approaching along the Austrian road to the farmhouse, but now its headlights swung and began to bounce as the driver cut abruptly across the flat field toward them. Durell halted. He was still a hundred yards or more from the farmhouse, and the people there stood waiting for him. He looked back. The AVO men had halted, too. The car’s headlights came directly toward him, bathing him in light. Some sixth sense gave him warning, and he knelt and carefully put Ilona down. Her arms clung to him for a moment, and then she let go. Durell straightened with the Mauser in his hand.

The car was a small Italian Topolino. He recognized it. It belonged to the traitor, Roger Wyman.

The Topolino came bouncing across the rough field to within a few feet of them and then stopped. The headlights were switched off and the man inside got out. It was Wyman.

He stood tall and casual, smiling as he came toward them. He did not look like a traitor, a man who had betrayed them to the AVO and done everything he could to insure their capture and death. He looked like any other well-dressed, powerfully built American, his blond hair thick as he took off his little fuzzy Austrian hat. His Nebraska twang sounded like home.

“I see you made it. Congratulations, Durell.”

He held out his left hand. His right hand was in the pocket of his tweed overcoat. Durell saw the glint of his white, even teeth in the gloom, saw the hard pale stare of his eyes as he looked at Ilona, sitting on the frozen earth holding her wounded leg.

“How did you get here?” Durell asked.

“We heard at the Embassy that something was breaking along this section of the frontier. A lot of extra guards, some tanks. Our information service is quite adequate, you know.” “Yours, especially. Get out of my way.”

Wyman said smoothly, “Don’t point that gun at me, Durell. I have one of my own. I suppose you’ve guessed that.” “I’ve figured out a lot of things,” Durell said. “Turn around.”

“On the contrary. It’s you who must turn around. Start walking east. Both of you. They’re waiting for you over there in Hungary.”

It was a stand-off. The people at the farm had no inkling of what was happening; they still stood in the doorway of the farmhouse, watching, expecting them to turn and walk toward them any moment. The white mist moved around them with long, cold fingers.

Ilona said thinly: “You would make us go back there, Mr. Wyman? To have them kill us?”

“Precisely.” Wyman’s white teeth gleamed again. “You know where my sympathies lie. It is a matter of reward, of pay. I never had much money, you know. Just a poor farm boy, kicked around from pillar to post. You try to make a gentleman out of yourself, but it never works. You’re never accepted, you see. Talk about equality and justice and opportunities! I’ve been stuck here without advancement for years. The other side offered me plenty, and I don’t feel I owe any allegiance to the side that kicks me, sneers at me, insults me.”

“You must be crazy,” Ilona whispered. “You expect to have things handed to you? You feel bitter because you had to struggle as a boy, getting where you are now? Have you no idea what life means over there?”

“I’m only interested in the dough. And a future with everything money can bring. Come on, get up. That nosy Austrian guard will come over in a minute and see what’s keeping us. Go on, get up.”

“She can’t walk,” Durell said. “She’s got a bullet in her leg from your friends.”

“Help her, then. And drop your gun, please. You can’t possibly raise it in time to shoot me before I get you through my pocket. You know the odds, Durell.”

“One thing,” Durell said. “The people you let slip through the screening apparatus. Bela Korvuth’s ring. You know all their names?”

“Of course.” Roger Wyman still smiled. “Come along, now. Help the girl up. You know enough to be sensible, I’m sure.”

Ilona said, “Help me, Sam.”

He helped her to her feet. She leaned heavily against him. Her face was pale, her eyes not frightened but angry as she looked at Wyman. From the farmhouse came a querulous shout. Ilona spoke quietly.

“How could you, for profit, sell the lives of your fellow countrymen? What do you know about being hurt? You have spent your years feeling sorry for yourself, refusing to accept your own inadequacies, and like a spiteful child, you send better men to their death over there.”

“Shut up,” Wyman said tightly. “Start walking back. Quickly!”

“No,” Ilona said.

She lurched forward against the big blond man, her hand grabbing for the gun in Wyman’s hand. At the same moment, Durell jumped for him, driving the girl aside, praying Wyman’s gun wouldn’t go off. It fired with a shattering burst and Ilona gave a small, choked cry and fell to her knees on the hard turf of the field. The next moment Durell had him, feeling the man’s bull-like strength, knowing he was handicapped by the long hours of exhaustion behind him. He couldn’t hold Wyman. The gun in the man's hand kept lifting again, the muzzle rising toward him as they grappled. Dimly, Durell heard shouts from the farmhouse and other yells from the AVO men at the frontier line. Wyman’s gun crashed again, smashing a bullet into the ground at their feet as they swayed, locked together. Durell hooked his foot behind the other’s ankle and suddenly summoned all his remaining energy in the judo maneuver. Wyman was strong, but he was not clever. He lost his balance, went over backward with a curse. His gun hand was wrenched free of Durell’s grip and it spit flame wildly as he fired a third time. Ilona screamed. Durell’s Mauser slashed across Wyman’s face, slashed again, and once more. There was a fury in him beyond his immediate control.

Wyman got to his hands and knees and lurched away to one side. His hands were empty; he had lost his gun. His face streamed blood. Durell drove after him, a lust to kill burning in him. He struck once more and Wyman went down, sprawling on his face in the frozen mud. Durell felt Ilona’s hands on him, holding him back. He shook her off, saw her fall, and suddenly the wild anger in him against the man on the ground began to fade. He straightened, drawing in great, deep breaths of the freezing night air. Slowly, the roaring of his pulses began to ease. He saw the Austrian border patrolman help Ilona to stand, and there were other people running toward him now from the farmhouse. He saw McFee and Dr. Tagy. They had made it. His anger ebbed still farther.

“Are you all right, Ilona?”

“Yes. It is just my leg.” He saw her wavering smile. “My return to Hungary will have to be delayed.”

Durell touched her cheek with his fingers. He drew another deep, steadying breath and looked backward at the frontier. The searchlights in the Hungarian watch tower were going out, one by one. He heard the dogs barking for another moment, and then they, too, were silent.