“On the night of October 23, 1956, at a mass demonstration for the reading of demands over Communist-controlled radio, violence erupted, and what’s known as ‘the thirteen days that shook the Kremlin’ began. It was a spontaneous revolt of noble intent, virtually without organization or leaders—and,” she added, “it nearly succeeded.

“And it was a Hungarian affair. There was no help from the West.

“In those two weeks,” she went on, “Hungary went from being a totalitarian state to a popular democracy back to a totalitarian state. It must have been a terrifying time to live through.

“Imre Nagy, a longtime Communist popular with the people, was placed in power. Through popular pressure and Russian intransigence, he was forced to radicalize Hungarian demands. He took steps to establish a multiparty coalition—anathema to hard-core Communists. He declared Hungarian neutrality, withdrew Hungary from the Warsaw Pact, did what he could to draw support from the West, condemnation of the Soviet Union from the United Nations, and to keep the Russians at bay.

“But he was a Communist, and the West, especially the United States, didn’t trust him—or really understand Hungarian nationalism. Besides which, the Suez Crisis erupted at the same time.” Caroline stretched out on the couch. “So they waffled. The Soviets said screw this, and sent in the tanks.”

Ashley grimaced. “End of revolution.”

“But not an easy end. The Hungarians put up a hell of a fight, against incredible odds—and a far better-equipped enemy. Homemade gasoline bombs can disable only so many tanks. Estimates of the dead range from three thousand on up to thirty thousand and even higher, the most credible being on the higher side. Some two hundred fifty thousand fled over the borders to Austria and Yugoslavia. Thousands were arrested, and many were executed—most notably Imre Nagy himself.”

“A heavy price to pay.”

Caroline rose slowly from the couch. “Yeah. But some say that Hungary bought a few decades of Russia walking on eggs with the revolution and now they’re even experimenting with limited free enterprise. I’d like to take a trip over there, check out the place.”

Ashley smiled. “We can go together. Thanks, Caroline—you’ve done a terrific job.”

“Hey, I wasn’t no magna cum laude for nothing.” She shut her steno pad. “But I know I’ve oversimplified. As I said, I don’t know much about that period or that region.”

“Neither do I. Do you recall any mention of the Balatons?”

“There’s Lake Balaton, but that’s it.”

Having received word of Sarah Balaton’s visit yesterday, Ashley was hoping the Texas heiress was still in the city. Patti was checking with hotels, hoping to track her down. Ashley desperately wanted to talk to the woman who said her family owned the Balaton jewels.

Again, she thanked Caroline.

“Forget it. Just get your life straightened out, Ash. We miss you around here.”

Sarah Balaton fed the pigeons at Fanueil Hall Market Place with crumbs from her croissant. She was sitting on a bench in an open area between two of the three old market buildings that had been renovated into shops, boutiques, restaurants, vegetable stands. It had stimulated the revival of the entire Boston water-front. She had bought fresh-squeezed orange juice and a croissant in the middle building.