The Fox of '56

Deception Lurks in the War-Torn Streets of Budapest

In 1956 as Hungarians mount their revolution against the Soviets, CIA agent Henry Caldwell is sent to Budapest to monitor activities. But when he sees Katalin, the love of his love who disappeared four years ago, he’s confused. Through the war-torn streets, Henry finds himself in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse where trust is scarce and survival uncertain.

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Chapter 13

Dr. Vadas dug into a shelf under a sink and withdrew a bottle of amber liquid. He filled two glasses and offered me one. “To your health. Now, where were we?”

I eyed Kat. “Not drinking?”

“Palinka ruins my brain.” She dug under the sink and withdrew a bottle of red wine. A used cork plugged the top. She poured herself a glass and we clinked.

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Fast footfalls descended into Dr. Vadas’ laboratory. “I got here fast as I could. Are you two all right?”

The visitor was Father Kormany. But he wore street clothes. One would never know this was a respected priest. He gave a curt nod to Dr. Vadas who said, “Oh, yes. Pardon my manners.” The old doctor rummaged under the sink found another glass and filled it with palinka. We toasted around again.

Fr. Kormany tossed his drink down in one swallow. “I think I may have been followed. Orlov’s men have been staking out the church as have the AVH. To be safe, you should leave—maybe the country. You’re no longer safe here, nor at the church.” He pointed to the broad chalkboard. “And Laszlo, erase your calculations.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” Dr. Vadas ambled over to the chalkboard and began erasing. I followed him.

“What does this all this mean, Dr. Vadas?”

Without looking at me, he vigorously swept his eraser across the board. “This equation predicts the time-dependent effective neutron multiplication factor for a fission bomb core during implosion, optimizing neutron economy and reducing critical mass.”

“Oh, okay. What does this mean for a poor layman, like me?”

His eyes twinkled. “My apologies. I get carried away with my numbers and assume everyone else can read the equations. Let’s say you have a compact, small by most standards, twenty kiloton fission bomb. For it to explode requires 4.5 kg of plutonium-239, with a beryllium reflector and precisely timed polonium-beryllium initiator (an ignitor, if you will) thus reducing fissile material requirements by twenty to thirty percent, which makes warheads suitable for tactical missiles.”

Kat interjected. “This is why everyone wants my father. His calculations prove there is more economy to be found in making bombs.”

“I see. But I warned you your father is in danger and you scoffed at me.”

Kat pulled me aside. “Henry. The only place safe for father right now is in Austria. I need Orlov’s help to get him there.”

“And that’s why you’re flirting with him?”

She lowered her head. “I’m not proud about it, but yes.”

“You know you can’t trust him, right?”

“I don’t care. I have to get father to Austria. I’ll figure it out from there.”

“Kat, let me help you. I’ve heard the American scientific community would welcome your father with open arms. I can’—”

“Yes, but the Austrians and the Germans would do the same for him, I’m sure of that,” Fr. Kormany added.

“Perhaps, Father,” I said, “but you’re both playing a dangerous game if you give Orlov access to Dr. Vadas.”

The boom of Soviet tank fire across the streets of Csepel shook the building. The noise of gunfire reminded me that we were not safe. I hoped the building above us was of no interest to the Soviets.

“Just how do you think you can help?” Kat said. “Your news organization will write glowing stories. Is that it?”

“No. I…” I couldn’t reveal my CIA connections, not yet. I couldn’t chance that slipping out from either Kat or Fr. Kormany.

The priest crossed himself. “The bombings are getting more intense. We should leave.”

Dr. Vadas wrapped his small bottle of palinka with a towel and shoved it into his jacket. He clasped shut a suitcase already filled with papers. “Leave your books,” Fr. Kormany said. “I can collect them for you later. We must go.”

I suggested we meet after dark behind the Café Hungaria.

“Who can eat at a time like this?” Kat said.

“No. Not what I meant. The manager is a friend. He can help us get out of Budapest.”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Kat. Orlov is not your friend no matter how much you think he can help you.”

Father Kormany took Kat’s hands in his and he gazed into her eyes. His countenance was calming. “Katalin. You must trust your instincts. Do what’s best for you and your father.”

She shook her head. “I need time to think.”

Dr. Vadas moved to the stairs. “Please, darling. We should go. It’s not safe.”

We ascended the stairs and entered hazy and littered streets filled with debris of bricks and the smoke of gunfire. Freedom fighters ran from building-to-building seeking cover before they either returned fire with small arms, or hurled Molotov cocktails at tanks. It all seemed so futile.

Father Kormany hugged Dr. Vadas and Kat. “May God be with you.” Then he peeled back in the direction of the church.

We rounded a factory building pock marked from bullets and ducked into an alley when we realized we’d been trapped.

Orlov stood ahead of us. Legs wide apart, his hands on his hips, a pistol in his right hand. Behind us lurked three of his henchmen. Their guns were holstered but they held menacing whips and boards studded with nails.

Orlov’s voice boomed down the alley. “Dr. Vadas. I’ve been wanting to meet you. Come with me, please. Be my guest for dinner.”

“What is this?” Kat said.

“What do you mean dear one? I thought you wanted my help. Here I am.”

Orlov holstered his pistol and stepped toward us. The henchmen stalked closer from behind.

“Kat. Walk with me. Once we get to Orlov keep going. I’ll detain him.”

“But how?”

“Just do this.”

She nodded and took her father’s hand. The three of us walked forward. When I was within arm’s length of Orlov, I yelled, “Run!”

Kat pulled her father forward. I punched Orlov in the stomach. The move surprised him. One of the henchmen ran past us in chase of Kat and Dr. Vadas. Before I could disarm Orlov, a whip snapped. The crack echoed against the alley walls. The whip’s long thong wrapped around my neck and jerked me backward. Something hard hit my head. Flashes of light sparkled in my eyes from the blow. My ears rang and all went black.