Two Vory entered Raisa’s room, grabbing her by the arms, leading her into the hallway, out the front door, and onto the balcony. The courtyard below was crowded. Fraera stood at the center. Seeing Raisa arrive she waved her men aside. They parted, revealing Leo and Karoly on their knees, their arms bound in front of them like slaves ready for sale. Zoya was in among the crowd of onlookers.
Leo stood up. Guns were directed at him. Fraera gestured for them to be put away:
– Let him speak.
– Fraera, we don’t have much time. There are over thirty T-34s in the city right now. The Soviets are going to crush this resistance. They’re going to kill every man and woman and child holding a gun. There is no chance of victory.
– I disagree.
– Frol Panin is laughing at you. This uprising is a sham. This isn’t about the future of Hungary. You’re being exploited.
– Maxim, you see everything upside down. I am not being exploited: I am exploiting Panin. I could never have done this on my own. My revenge would have finished in Moscow. Instead of merely being able to take revenge on the men and women involved in my arrest, as I originally planned, he has presented me with an opportunity to take revenge upon the very State that destroyed my life. Here, I am hurting Russia.
– No, you’re not. The Soviet forces can lose a hundred tanks and a thousand soldiers and it won’t matter. They won’t care.
– Panin has underestimated the depth of hatred here.
– Hatred isn’t enough.
Fraera turned her attention to Karoly:
– You’re his translator? An appointment arranged by Frol Panin?
– Yes.
– You have instructions to kill me?
Karoly considered, then replied:
– Either myself or Leo was supposed to kill you. Once the uprising began.
Leo was shocked. Fraera shook her head dismissively:
– Did you not realize your true purpose, Leo? You are an unwitting assassin. You are working for Panin, not me.
– I didn’t know.
– That is your answer to everything… You didn’t know. Let me explain. I didn’t start this uprising. All I did was to encourage it. You could kill me. It wouldn’t make any difference.
Leo turned to Zoya. She had a gun over her shoulder, grenades on her belt. Her clothes were torn; her hands were scratched. She held his glance, an expression rigid with hatred as if fearful any other emotion might creep through. The boy who’d murdered the patriarch was beside her. He was holding her hand.
– If you fight, you will die.
Fraera addressed Zoya:
– Zoya? What do you say? Leo is speaking to you.
Zoya punched the air with her gun:
– We fight!