Sam saw Tibor get on the bus, so he left the others and followed him inside. As Tibor sat down in one of the front seats and picked up a newspaper, Sam said, “Good morning, Tibor. How are we doing?”
“I have two cousins on the road at that end and two down the road at the other end. They’re all heavily armed and have telephones to warn us. I have a van with six men a mile off who can come up behind either group—my wife’s brothers.”
“That’s great,” Sam said. “We have to keep the diggers safe. Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me help take something from Bako for once. And because your check wasn’t a fake.”
“Your help wasn’t fake. You saved Albrecht’s life.”
“You saved Albrecht. I just said, ‘Do as I say or this crazy man will kill you.’”
“You must have said it right.”
Tibor studied him. “You’re planning something else. What is it?”
Sam smiled. “They don’t need me to dig up this field. But I think I can do something that will fool Bako and keep his men busy so these people can do their work.”
“Arpad Bako is a very big man. You saw just one of his businesses. He has money and power, and he has rich, powerful friends here and elsewhere. You have to be careful.”
“He’s after the tomb of Attila the Hun, just as you thought.”
Tibor laughed. “Not the Fountain of Youth? Not the Ladder to Heaven?”
“I’m sure you know the stories. Attila was supposed to have been buried in secret with his treasure and then the Tisza River diverted to cover the grave.”
“Ah, of course. We’re all told that as little children,” said Tibor. “Arpad Bako must be the only child who ever believed it. Besides, the Tisza is a thousand kilometers long, and it used to be even longer. Lots of it has been diverted, some parts cut off and left dry. All the swampy parts were drained.”
“That’s the beauty of it, Tibor. Remi and I are not going to find the tomb. We’re just going to make Bako watch us look for it.”
“I want to join you.”
“Welcome aboard. Speaking of boats, do you have any relatives with boats?”
“Not a relative, a friend. He would rent it for, say . . . nothing.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Well, you just risked your life to rescue a friend from a compound full of armed men and paid me a fortune for spending a day and a night helping you. It’s good business to be your friend.”
The next morning, a thirty-foot fishing boat, Margit, puttered up the Tisza River at five to ten knots. Sometimes it would idle, barely holding against the lazy current of the river, and then begin to make diagonal crossings. The Margit was towing something, but it was impossible to tell from the shore what it was because it never rose above the surface.