‘Jansci. That is the only name I have.’
‘Of course! I would have expected nothing — ‘ Hidas broke off in mid-sentence, his eyes widened and colour ebbed from his face. He took a step backwards, then another.
‘What did you say your name was?’ His voice, this time, was only a husky whisper. Reynolds looked at him in astonishment.
‘Jansci. Just Jansci.’
Perhaps ten seconds passed in utter silence while everyone stared at the AVO colonel. Then Hidas licked his lips and said hoarsely: ‘Turn round!’
Jansci turned and Hidas stared down at the manacled hands. They heard the quick indrawing of his breath, then Jansci turned round of his own accord.
‘You’re dead!’ Hidas’ voice was still the same hoarse whisper, his face lined with shock. ‘You died two years ago. When we took your wife away — ‘
‘I didn’t die, my dear Hidas,’ Jansci interrupted. ‘Another man did — there were scores of suicides when your brown lorries were so busy that week. We-just took one the nearest to me in appearance and build. We took him to our flat, disguised him, and painted his hands well enough to pass any but medical examination. Major Howarth, as you are probably aware by this time, is a genius with disguise.’ Jansci shrugged. ‘It was an unpleasant thing to do, but the man was already dead. My wife was alive — and we thought she might remain alive if I were thought to be dead.’
‘I see, I see indeed.’ Colonel Hidas had had time to recover his balance, and he could not keep the excitement out of his voice. ‘No wonder you defied us for so long! No wonder we could never break your organisation. Had I known, had I but known! I am privileged indeed to have had you for adversary.’
‘Colonel Hidas!’ The commandant’s voice was imploring. ‘Who is this man?’
‘A man who, alas, will never stand trial in Budapest. Kiev, possibly Moscow, but never Budapest. Commandant, let me introduce you. Major-General Alexis Illyurin, second only to General Vlassov in command of the Ukranian National Army.’
‘Illyurin!’ The commandant stared. ‘Illyurin! Here, in my room? It is impossible!’
‘It is, I know it is, but there is only one man in the world with hands like that! He hasn’t talked yet? No? But he will, we must have a complete confession ready when he goes to Russia.’ Hidas glanced at his watch. ‘So much to do, my Commandant, so little time to do it in. My car, and at once. Guard my friend well against my return. I will be back in two hours, three at the most. Illyurin? By all the gods, Illyurin!’
Back once more in the stone-walled room, Jansci and Reynolds had little to say to one another. Even Jansci’s usual optimism seemed to have failed him, but his face was as untroubled as ever. But Reynolds knew that everything was over, for Jansci even more than himself, and that the last card had been played. There was, he thought, something tragic beyond words about the man sitting quietly opposite him, a giant toppling into the dust, but quiet and unafraid.
And looking at him Reynolds was almost glad that he himself would die also, and he could not but be conscious of the bitter irony of his courage as the thought sprang not from courage but from cowardice: with Jansci dead, and because of him, he could not have faced Jansci’s daughter again. Worse, even worse than that, was the thought of what must inevitably happen to her with the Count and Jansci and himself all gone, but the thought had no sooner come than he had thrust it violently, ruthlessly away from him: if ever there was a time that no weakness must touch his mind, that time was now, and dwelling on the laughter and the sadness of that mobile, delicate face that was all too easily evoked in his mind’s eye was the highroad to despair. . . .
The steam hissed out of the pipes, the humidity spilled over the room, the temperature climbed steadily upwards: 120, 130 140 and their bodies were drenched with sweat, their eyes blinded by it, and their breathing was the breathing of fire. Twice, three times, Reynolds lost consciousness, and would have fallen and drowned in a few inches of water but for the restraining body belt.
It was as he was emerging from the last of these periods of unconsciousness that he felt hands fumbling at his fastenings and before he properly realised what was happening the guards had himself and Jansci once more out of the cell and into the bitter air of the courtyard for the third time that morning. Reynolds’ mind was reeling as his body was reeling, and Jansci, too, he could see, was being half-carried across, but even through the fog in his mind Reynolds remembered something and looked at his watch. It was exactly two o’clock. He saw Jansci looking at him, saw the grim nod of acquiescence. Two o’clock, and the commandant would be waiting for them, he would be as punctual and precise about this as he was about everything else. Two o’clock and the commandant would be waiting for them: and so, too, would the syringes and the coffee, the Mescaline and the Actedron, waiting to drive them over the edge of madness.
The commandant was waiting for them, but he was not waiting alone. The first person Reynolds saw was an AVO guard, then two more, then the giant Coco leering at him with a wide, anticipatory grin on his seamed and brutalised face. Then, last of all, he saw the back of a man leaning negligently against the window-frame and smoking a black Russian cigarette in a tapered holder: and when the man turned round Reynolds saw that it was the Count.
CHAPTER NINE
Reynolds was certain that his eyes and his mind were deceiving him. He knew that the Count was safely out of the way and that his AVO superiors would not let him move an inch without guarding him like a hawk. He knew, too, that that last hour and a half in that steam oven of a dungeon had had an enormously debilitating effect and that his mind, dark and woolly and still confused, was playing curious tricks on him. Then the man at the window pushed himself leisurely off the wall and was sauntering easily across the room, cigarette holder in one hand, a pair of heavy leather gloves swinging in the other and suddenly, there could be doubt no more. It was the Count, alive, completely unharmed, the old mocking self that he had always been. Reynolds’ lips parted in to the first conclusive moment of shock, his eyes widened, then the beginning of a smile began to limn its lines on his pale and haggard face.
‘Where on earth — ‘ he began, then staggered back against the wall behind him as the Count slashed him across the face and mouth with his heavy gauntlets. He could feel the blood springing from one of the recently healed cute on his upper lip, and with all. he had already suffered this latest pain and shock left him weak and dizzy, and he could see the Count only dimly, as through a haze.
‘Lesson number one, little man,’ the Count said casually. He eyed a tiny spot of blood on his glove with evident distaste. ‘In future you will speak only When you have been spoken to.’ The look of distaste transferred itself from his gloves to the two prisoners. ‘Have these men fallen into a river, Commandant?’
‘Not at all, not at all.’ The commandant was looking very upset. ‘Just undergoing a course of treatment in one of our steam rooms. . . . This is most unfortunate, Captain Zsolt, really most unfortunate. It has destroyed the entire sequence.’
‘I wouldn’t worry, Commandant,’ the Count said soothingly. “This is unofficial, and please don’t quote me, but I understand that they are being brought back here either late Tonight or early in the morning. I believe Comrade Furmint has the greatest of faith in you as a — shall we say — psychologist.’
‘You’re sure of that, Captain?” The commandant was anxious. ‘You’re quite sure?’
‘Certain.’ The Count glanced at his watch. ‘We must not delay, Commandant. You know how essential haste is. Besides,” he smiled, ‘the sooner they’re away, the sooner they’re back again.’
‘Let me not delay you then.’ The commandant was now affability itself. ‘I am quite reconciled to their departure. I am looking forward to completing my experiment, especially on so illustrious a personage as Major-General Illyurin.’
‘It’s not a chance which will come your way again,’ the Count agreed. He turned to the four AVO men. ‘Right, out into the truck with them, at once. . . . Coco, my infant, I fear you are losing your grip. They are made of glass, you think?’