Back Oxygen Save as PDF
Chapters (40)
  1. Copyright
  2. Dedication
  3. Introduction
  4. NIGHTWATCH
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. WHAT ARE DAYS FOR?
  22. 1
  23. 2
  24. 3
  25. 4
  26. 5
  27. 6
  28. 7
  29. 8
  30. 9
  31. 10
  32. 11
  33. 12
  34. 13
  35. 14
  36. 15
  37. 16
  38. Acknowledgements
  39. Reading Group Guide
  40. About the Author

‘You should eat,’ she said, looking at his plate.

László shrugged. ‘The heat...’

‘There may be a storm later,’ she said.

‘You think so?’

He would have liked to have known what the rules were here, whether he was to assume they could be overheard, despite the fact there was no one at the tables either side of them, and there was music, the inevitable dreary waltz, seeping from speakers hidden in the walls. He thought they should have given him some training in Paris. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

He leaned towards her. ‘Will you be coming with me?’

‘No,’ she said. Then with a trace of her old impatience, ‘Of course not.’

She drank her Coke and crushed an ice cube between her teeth. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘The Budapest train leaves at fourteen-twenty. When you reach the city you will stay at the Hotel Opera on Révay utca. Do you know it?’

‘I know the street. Near the Basilica.’

‘Correct.’

‘And what do I do there?’

‘You go sightseeing.’

‘For how long?’

‘Two, three days. Leave the bag in the hotel safe.’

‘Wouldn’t it be safer to keep it with me?’

‘It is important that you do exactly as we ask. Nothing more and nothing less. When everything is ready you will be contacted.’

‘How?’

‘That is for others to decide.’

She tapped out her cigarette, then reached down, very casually, to take hold of the strap of his bag.

‘You have everything you need?’

‘But that depends on you,’ said László.

She allowed herself the briefest of smiles. ‘Enjoy your vacation,’ she said. He wanted to ask her whether they would meet again, but already he felt quite sure that they would not. He was sorry for it. Having so thoroughly disliked her at their first meeting, he now decided she was admirable, pure as a blade, though he suspected it was a purity that might one day feel justified in leaving a device in a crowded bar. Charlotte Corday, Ulrike Meinhof. Joan of Arc! How odd he should find himself her confederate in this affair. He watched her walk away. Was she ‘Françoise’? It was a long time since a woman had interested him like this. He was pleased to find it was still possible.