Jeremy steered her back to the subject. “He never knew about your foray into Hungary?”

“God, no. He’d have started another war to get us out.”

“What made you go?”

“Romance, adventure. I’d wanted to be a journalist as long as I could remember, but, you see, I was young, rich, pretty and female—and no one took me seriously, especially at age twenty-two. Judith and I were in Vienna when the revolution broke out in Hungary, and I saw my chance.”

“Did you know Mac was there?”

She sighed. “Dear stuffy Mac. Yes, I knew. We’d known each other since we were tots, and so naturally we looked him up when we got to Austria. When the trouble started and I’d made up my mind I was going to pursue my first big story, I decided I’d go to Mac for information. There were dozens of journalists in Vienna—colleagues of my father’s—I could have bugged, but Mac was an expert. He knew Eastern Europe, he knew the language, he was a part of the story. But he’d also disappeared. Well, of course, I guessed exactly where he’d gone.”

“Didn’t you also guess he was on a mission?”

“Naturally. But I didn’t care.”

Jeremy winced.

“I’d made up my mind I was going, too. I didn’t think there would be any danger. You have to understand, Jeremy, that during those first few days, after the initial uprising, there was a real euphoria in the air—people actually thought the Hungarians were going to win. Journalists were pouring into Budapest. I wanted to be there, too.”

“But you weren’t a journalist,” Jeremy pointed out softly. “You didn’t have credentials...”

“I know: but I had money. It was ridiculously simple to gain illegal entry into the country.”

“What about Judith?”

“Judith—” She smiled wistfully, going after another cigarette. “Judith believed she could do anything I could do—and ought to. She insisted on coming with me. I argued, but she said she’d tell my father what I was doing if I didn’t let her tag along. So I did. And there we were, two little rich girls, one with an internationally famous face, prancing about a Soviet bloc country in the midst of a revolution. By the time we reached Budapest, all hell was breaking loose.”

Jeremy nodded sympathetically. “How did you hook up with Mac?”

“A Hungarian had heard about us—from the people who’d smuggled us into the country.”

“Balaton?”

She shook her head. “Bartholomew Wakefield.”

“I see.”

“Mmm. It was strange. He never made fun of us, never told us what silly fools we were. He just helped us. I’ve never known anyone else like him. Well, I trusted him immediately—it took Judith a bit longer— and told him about Mac. But he already knew about Mac, and he brought us to him, more or less dropping us on Mac’s doorstep like a couple of orphans.”

“Mac must have loved that.”

She laughed. “He was properly furious.”

“But he agreed to help you?”