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 10

I entered the Catholic church, St. Elizabeth’s, one of many throughout Hungary but as an institution, recognized by all as the last bastion of freedom against the Russian takeover of Hungary. And yet, the Church and her priests were targets. The front of the church had been burned because of Russian tank fire that destroyed an adjacent building.

Inside, at the Narthex, I glanced around to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. The stone church built in 1895 felt cool against the October warmth. The rows of pews stood empty except for two elderly women praying. Faint voices came from the confessional on my left. A poor soul, I imagined, admitting his sins to a priest who had heard it all.

At the far end, at the Sanctuary, three other priests, in black robes, whispered amongst themselves.

I wasn’t accustomed to visiting churches but made a point to learn about religious customs and terminology because priests and ministers and rabbis were often excellent sources of information. But religion had always been a conundrum for me, as I knew many religious people who were good citizens and more interested in doing good than doing harm, but as a matter of faith, I had not yet settled on what I believed. Perhaps I was tainted by my reading of The Prince, in which Machiavelli advises princes to use religion strategically as way to reinforce their authority and maintain stability of the masses. He advocated that personal faith might be less important than the state’s needs, ergo the ends often justify the means when it comes to politics.

In Hungary, religious practices were banned by the communists and they had even imprisoned the leader of the Catholic Church, Cardinal Joszef Mindszenty. I had heard reports of priests murdered or whisked away to labor camps never to be seen again. Another priest I knew said, the communists well know the Bible verse, “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will scatter.” An apt description of what the communists had in mind by attacking the Catholic church.

I approached the Sanctuary slowly. I didn’t want to intrude on the three priests but I hoped they might have information about what Kat was doing here and who the old man was. The whispering stopped when I stood before them.

“Good day, fathers, pardon my intrusion.”

The eldest of the three with flecks of gray and black in his hair appeared to be the most senior of the group, said, “Good morning. May I help you?”

I introduced myself as a reporter for Reuters working a story “but I seem to have missed a pre-arranged meeting with a reliable source and I think I saw her leaving the church a moment ago can you tell me where she might have gone?”

The priests exchanged glances which I read to be worried glances.

“Do you have a name for your source?” the head priest said.

“Katalin Vadas.”

More worried glances were exchanged before the two younger priests excused themselves.

“Yes, I know Katalin,” the priest said.

“So, she was here?”

“Yes.”

“And the older gentlemen…the one who left with her?”

“Perhaps we should take a seat.” The priest introduced himself as Father Attila Kormany before he led me off the Sanctuary to the first row of pews. He looked out across the dark of the church. Colors refracted off the stain glass windows. “I suspect my office is being listened to. This will be more secure. Now, tell me what you are really after and then I’ll know if I can be of help to you.”

“I’ve been told that the Russians are hunting for a specific Hungarian scientist and may kidnap him. I think Katalin has relevant information about this plot and I need to talk to her. If I can get this story out to the world, perhaps I can save this scientist’s life.”

“Oh,” he said.

I felt like my lies were piling up in front of Fr. Kormany but I couldn’t divulge too much because in this environment I didn’t know who to trust and that included priests.

He gazed at me for a long time without answering. I think he was reading me as much as I was reading him. The two of us dancing while struggling to find the same rhythm.

“You must pardon my hesitancy. These are terrible times for the church as the communists insist on destroying us, destroying our faith, and our commitment to bring the word of Christ’s teachings to all peoples. Earlier, before you approached, I forewarned my brethren to remain steadfast and reminded them that we are lampposts against the darkness.”

“I understand, father. Terrible times, indeed. But the older gentleman…”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me truthfully, you seek this information to help this man, or to write a story that puts you in good graces with your editors?”

I couldn’t but help feel a connection, or a kinship with this priest, and I wanted to trust him, but I simply could not, just yet. And at the same time, I needed his help.

“Father, I’m not looking to take advantage of anyone in Hungary. I’m simply recording what I see and hear and translating these events so the world can see the death and destruction taking place in this struggle on the one hand for freedom, and on the other for dominance.”

He lowered his voice. “Then, maybe we can help one another.”

“Possibly. Let’s begin with the older gentleman. Who was he?”

“Ah, my friend. I will tell you what you want to know, but I want you to write stories about the priests who have been murdered, or imprisoned, or tortured. The world needs to know about these atrocities. The Catholic Church is apolitical but we are being singled out because we are a threat to communists who know no God.”

“Agreed. I’ll do what I can.” I started to shake his hand but he waved me off. “There are evil eyes everywhere, perhaps in the old women praying in the pews, so it’s best we appear to be chatting. I do not need your hand. I simply need your word.”

And with that, I found a new ally. And then he shocked me. He leaned in and whispered, “The gentleman you are asking about is Dr. Laszlo Vadas, Katalin’s father. He’s the scientist we need to protect from the Russians.”