As Tibor took them from place to place, Sam and Remi kept track of the black car. When they stopped abruptly near the center of the city, the car nearly caught up with them. Remi took another photograph through the rear window.

Tibor noticed. “Those men remind me of the way things were under the Communists. There were people who seemed to have no jobs except to follow people around and report them.”

“I’d like to know who they’re reporting us to,” Remi said.

“I wonder if we can find out,” said Sam. “Will the police tell us who owns a car if we have the license number?”

“I think they might.”

Remi magnified the picture she had taken of the black car. She took a piece of paper from her purse and copied the license number on it, then handed it to Sam.

Sam said, “I’ll double your fare if you’ll find out. Here’s the number.” He handed the paper over the seat to Tibor.

He pulled the car into a parking space near the police station and disappeared inside.

Sam dialed the number at the Fargo house. “Hi, Selma,” he said.

“Hi, Sam. I was just getting ready to call you with some of the information you asked for.”

“Let’s save most of it for later. I think we’ve reached the moment when we’ve got to know whether Tibor Lazar is a good guy or a bad guy.”

“I have a tentative answer for you. He hasn’t done anything to give him a criminal record or bring him to the attention of Interpol. He owns a small house and a small taxi company, and there are no suspicions that it’s a front for anything. He has three cabs and owes money on all of them. He’s too poor to be anything but honest.”

“Perfect,” said Sam. “Thanks, Selma.”

After about twenty minutes, Tibor came out again. He got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. As he backed out of the space and drove forward, he said, “Bako.”

“Bako?”

“Arpad Bako.”

“Do you know who he is?” asked Remi.

“I’ll tell you all about my visit to the police while we’re on the road.” He moved down to the river and drove to the south. As he picked up speed, he looked in his rearview mirror as though he expected to be followed. “We must start with you. You are Samuel and Remi Fargo of La Jolla, California.”

“We knew that,” said Remi.

“Did you know that the local police knew that? They’re operating on a directive from the national government. They have been asked to keep you under loose surveillance—when you leave your hotel, when you return, and so on. They believe you are here in search of ancient treasures. Is that right? Are you treasure hunters?”

Sam said, “We’re amateurs who are interested in history. We have made some valuable archaeological finds, both under the sea and on land. But some of the most important were made of wood or bronze or steel and are treasures because they revealed things about the past. It’s true that some of the artifacts we’ve found include gold or gems. But to dismiss us as treasure hunters is simplistic.”