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Back The Double Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
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  63. Acknowledgements

Another dead end was his first thought, as he exited the building. Though it might be a lead, after all. The name wasn’t right, but the presence of a Hungarian family in the flat might be a thread he could follow. His futile search, thus far, through the rain-swept streets had stripped him of whatever energy he’d felt when he’d boarded the train for Paris in the predawn darkness. But he still had three more addresses on his list. One of them might be the very one he was looking for.

24

Paris, France
October 1968

The party is already in full swing by the time he slinks through the door at twenty past seven. His plan is to make a brief appearance, mingle for a few minutes if absolutely necessary, then slip away. He didn’t want to come at all, but when his roommate arrived home with yet another girl in tow, it seemed best to make himself scarce.

The invitation for the party arrived last week at his student flat. A heavy white card, engraved with black calligraphy, requested the pleasure of his company at a reception for the first-year foreign students. The dress code stipulated jackets and ties for the boys, dresses for the girls. Wearing a jacket and tie to lectures had been done away with as part of the student unrest in May. But for a formal soiree, it made sense not to appear in sloppy jeans and a ripped T-shirt.

In a borrowed suit jacket and burgundy tie, slightly frayed at the ends, he slides his hand along the sweeping balustrade. As he ascends the winding staircase, his palms prickle with sweat. Classical music filters into the hall. A faculty member with a beard and black-rimmed glasses is in the middle of a speech when he ducks into the grand salon and finds an empty place at the back, trying not to gawp at the grandeur of the sculpted ceiling and gold filigree. Tuxedoed waiters circulate with trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres, under a blaze of lights from the crystal chandeliers. His terror mounts as he scans the clusters of students deep in conversation, pausing from their animated chatter to drink from their wine glasses. He hangs back on the sidelines, waiting for the right moment to slip out the door. When a waiter passes him with a tray, he accepts a glass of sparkling water, only to discover he’s chosen champagne by mistake. He holds it awkwardly in his hands.