The Angel Makers (37 page)

‘Sari Arany,’ she says.

On the other side of the room, the world crashes down on Béla’s head.

Her first mistake, Sari thinks, was ever to assume that she was safe. Her guts twist when she remembers the sense of light-hearted relief with which she woke up that morning. She should have known: it was never going to be over until the two of them were safely out of Falucska; until then, there was always the chance that something could go wrong.

She denies everything. Géza tells her that Francziska Imanci and Jakova Gersek have both confessed, and that the latter has implicated her. It’s a battle to stop her rage from showing on her face, but she manages it, swallows it down, showing only confusion. It’s not entirely an act; she can’t believe how quickly things have fallen apart, can’t believe that Francziska and Jakova have collapsed so quickly, surrendered to their own deaths. It’s not over, she tells herself. For Rózsi’s sake, and for her own, it’s not over.

Béla will not meet her eyes.

Béla is certain that if he spends one more second looking at the triumph and pride wreathing Géza’s boyish face, he will vomit. He doesn’t feel like himself any more; he feels somehow subtracted. He can’t believe it, it’s not true – the others, maybe, yes, but not Sari. It’s yet another example of how an intelligent, courageous, and unconventional woman is punished by a small, closed-minded community. And yet she’s been accused, and he cannot fail to act, because Géza will not let him pretend that nothing’s happened.

They are standing outside Sari’s house, and from the moment that the door shut behind him, Géza has not shut up about the logistics of what they have to do next. Béla’s hand itches with the desire to punch him.

‘Of course, now that the two of them have confessed, we have to arrest them,’ Géza says. ‘But there’s obviously a need for ongoing investigation in the village, so what should we do? We have to think of a way of securing Mrs Imanci and Mrs Gersek so that they don’t try and leave while we’re questioning other people.’

‘The church,’ Béla says dully. He can see it from where they stand – empty, with large double-doors that can be easily blocked from the outside, windows small and high enough to prevent escape.

Géza’s face lights up. ‘Excellent! We can shut them in there, while we … Well, and that’s the other question. What are we going to do about Miss Arany? We could arrest her on the strength of Mrs Gersek’s accusation, couldn’t we? She’s far more reliable than old Mrs Imanci was when Francziska Imanci was concerned, surely? Or if we needed more evidence, then we could go back to Francziska Imanci. If she hears that Mrs Gersek has implicated Miss Arany, surely she’d be prepared to back her up?’

He pauses, thinking. ‘On the other hand, if Miss Arany really is the one who supplied the poison to the other women, is it worth arresting her straight away? Perhaps we should watch her, see what she does. Perhaps she’ll go and warn some of the other women, and we’ll be able to take some more of them in …?’

It’s obvious that Géza is thinking aloud, barely expecting a response from Béla, who simply shrugs. Acid floods his stomach. Of course Sari isn’t responsible for this, there’s no way that he can reconcile the woman that he knows with the image of a murderess. And yet, there’s the question of her dead fiancé. What had she said? That he died ten years ago, around the time of the end of the war, making him the first of the ten-year plague of non-specific illnesses. He curses himself for even daring to think it. She wouldn’t, of course she wouldn’t. But she would know how, wouldn’t she? Of all the people in the village, she and Judit would know how. He bites his lip and tastes blood.

‘Let’s go and get Mrs Imanci and Mrs Gersek,’ he says to Géza, cutting him off mid-flow. ‘You’re right, it’s a good idea not to arrest Miss Arany straight away. We’ll see what she does.’

And pray God she does nothing
, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

‘They’re back,’ Judit announces from her post at the window. She’s been stationed there since Géza and Béla left that morning. She was banished to the bedroom while they were talking to Sari, ostensibly looking after Rózsi, but of course she was crouched by the door the entire time, listening to what was going on, and when she’d emerged, Sari hadn’t had to explain anything to her. Sari has hardly moved since, poised at the table, but Judit knows that she is thinking, and she knows that giving up hasn’t crossed Sari’s mind. Judit’s given up, because it never mattered much to her in the first place. She’s had a very good run, and she always knew that it would end, and she’d said as much to Sari as soon as Béla and Géza left. She’d looked into Sari’s white, stricken face, and told her.

‘Don’t you dare think about me,’ she’d said. ‘I’m staying here. What will come will come. But you get out of here if you can, and take Rózsi with you.’

Sari hadn’t answered, just stared at her quizzically, and Judit had taken it as a challenge. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sari!’ she’d snapped. ‘I may well be dead before they even get me on the gallows. I couldn’t care less. All I care about is that you get yourself out of here.’

And Sari had nodded, and she hasn’t said another word since. Judit’s been giving her time to think, trying to help as much as she can by keeping her apprised of any developments. She watched Béla and Géza go off towards Francziska’s house, bring her back to the church and lock her inside. She watched them do the same with Jakova, and now they’ve come out of the church and are settling themselves just behind the porch of the Jokai house with only the tops of their heads visible, so that they would probably be overlooked by anyone who hadn’t been scrutinising their movements intently for the past half an hour. Judit feels a faint, indulgent contempt.

‘They’re watching the house,’ she tells Sari.

For a moment Sari stays as still as she’s been all morning, and then rouses herself, visibly sloughing off her thoughts.

‘They want to see what I’ll do,’ she says.

‘Yes,’ Judit agrees. She thinks it’s probably safe to leave the window now, and comes to sit opposite Sari at the table.

‘What do they want me to do?’ Sari asks. ‘What could I do now that would be any help to them?’

‘Francziska led them to Jakova. Jakova led them to you.’ Judit shrugs, leading Sari to draw her own conclusions.

‘They want me to lead them to other people,’ Sari says slowly. She nods. ‘Yes, that makes sense. But if I do that, it’s as much as admitting what I’ve done.’ She’s silent for a moment. ‘Jakova has already accused me. Francziska’s not going to hold out if she knows that Jakova’s already given them my name. They’ve got me whichever way you look at it, haven’t they?’

Judit grimaces. ‘Looks that way.’

‘So the question is whether I go down alone, or whether I take other people with me.’ She grins swiftly at Judit, but no, it’s not a grin; it’s more of a snarl, and Judit, familiar as she is with horror, feels her blood chill slightly. ‘Well, there’s no real question there, is there? If I’m going to hang, that bitch Kiss and her damn friends are going to be right beside me.’

Judit recovers quickly. ‘That’s the spirit. And there’s another thing, too.’

Sari thinks fast, and then smiles, a real smile this time. ‘There’s only the two of them. The more people I lead them to, the less time they can concentrate on me.’

‘You don’t need long. You know the area around here better than anyone else I’ve met. All you need is enough time to get back here, collect Rózsi and enough food to last for a little while, and get to the woods. Hide out there for a couple of days, until they’ve taken the others off to Város, and then go.’

Sari nods. There’s no point in asking where she should go. She remembers the conversation she had with Béla, just last night, about needing money to leave. Yes, of course she needs money, money would make this mess a whole lot easier, but if it’s a choice between life and death, it’s actually no decision at all. She knows enough about how to live off the land to ensure that she and Rózsi won’t starve. It’s a chance, enough of a chance to be worth taking.

‘Rózsi’s at Lujza’s,’ Sari says. ‘Go and get her. Pack enough food for a few days. Make sure it’s ready for when I come back.’

‘All right.’

Sari gets to her feet. ‘Right, then,’ she says. Impulsively she bends and kisses Judit’s withered cheek. ‘I love you, Judit.’

Judit shakes her off with feigned irritation. ‘I know that, you stupid girl. Now get going.’

Béla sees the door open, and next to him, Géza gasps. ‘Here we go!’ he says.

‘Don’t get too excited,’ Béla admonishes. ‘It might be nothing.’

Dear God, let it be nothing
, he says to himself. He watches Sari emerge, look around, and, obviously seeing no one, descend the steps.
Just go to the river
, Béla urges her,
or to the forest. Look for herbs. Don’t, please, God, don’t do anything more to implicate yourself.
He knows he can’t avoid arresting her now that Francziska has tearfully added her voice to Jakova’s, but maybe, if nothing else happens, maybe she can avoid being convicted. Maybe.

Sari’s at the bottom of the steps now, and she turns, to Béla’s dismay, not in the direction of the forest, or the plain, but towards the cluster of houses at the centre of the village. Géza hisses with excitement. She rounds the corner and they ease themselves out from where they’ve been hiding, and follow her, Béla with utmost reluctance and Géza trying to hold himself back from a run. They catch sight of her again, and she’s approaching a house. It’s not a house that they’ve been to before, and Béla feels a brief blossoming of hope; perhaps this is the woman who was sick yesterday, perhaps that’s why Sari’s visiting her today. It might still be all right. Perhaps.

For five minutes, there’s no movement. Béla is acutely conscious of the way the wind feels on his skin, the faint prickling as his body hair stands up in anticipation … and then Sari comes out of the house. Five minutes, Béla tells himself; plenty of time for a cursory medical examination. No matter that Sari doesn’t have any equipment with her; she could just be checking on the woman’s well-being, planning to come back later if further attention’s needed.

Géza urges them closer. ‘I’ll stay outside,’ he whispers, ‘see where she goes next. You knock on the door.’

Obediently, for he has no energy to challenge the sudden revolution that’s left him powerless and Géza in charge, Béla climbs the front steps, and knocks quietly. No answer. Well, that would make sense; an ill woman wouldn’t want to open the door to a stranger. He looks back down at Géza, who gives a frustrated signal:
go on!
Béla knocks again. Again, no answer, but a noise comes from inside the house, a confused, fumbling rattle. Béla tries the door handle, and to his surprise, finds it open. He walks into the house, feeling like a cad for infringing on a poor woman’s privacy like this. The living room is empty, but has a curious atmosphere of warmth and movement, as if it’s been occupied until very recently. Working on a hunch he can’t let himself ignore, Béla moves on silent feet to a room at the back of the house, which he knows to be the bedroom, and there he finds Matild Nagy easing her plump, comely body out of the sash window.

It’s as good as a confession.

There’s no time to take her down to the church. Uncomfortably certain that it’s very much against procedure, Béla sits her down on a chair, binding her hands and feet with hastily torn up sheets, to which she submits with unexpected placidity. Perhaps she’s in shock; perhaps her abortive escape attempt has shaken all the life out of her. By the time he’s able to leave the house, Géza’s already crouched like a cat by the porch of a nearby house. As Béla approaches, he raises his eyebrows in a wordless question. Béla nods, feeling sick.

‘Sari left here about a minute ago,’ Géza whispers, and Béla’s insides twist – she may be a murderess, but that doesn’t give Géza any right to use her first name. ‘She’s gone up there – Orsolya Kiss’s house. She’s still inside. We’ll go there next.’

As they mount the stairs, Béla realises that it’s the house of Zsofia Gyulai. It’s not a surprise, therefore, when they open the door to the sound of agonised sobs.

They tie her up, too. Géza’s as discomfited by the idea as Béla is, but can’t come up with an alternative solution; ‘We’ll be back for you in an hour at the most,’ he says to Mrs Gyulai, in an attempt at consolation, but she just sobs harder.

Béla has been looking out of the window at intervals, and saw Sari leave the Kiss house a few minutes before, heading back to Judit’s. ‘Let’s go,’ he says to Géza. Arresting Orsolya Kiss is going to be one of the only redeeming features of this entire fiasco.

They knock on the door once, for courtesy, and predictably, the house is silent. Predictably again, the living room is empty, and Béla beckons silently to Géza, drawing him towards the bedroom, where he feels certain they’ll find Orsolya trying to make a break for freedom through the window. He’s surprised, then, to find Orsolya sitting, still, head bowed, on the very edge of the bed. But any hopes that she would come quietly are dashed when she raises her head, giving them an oddly coquettish smile, which distracts them just long enough for her to raise the pistol held loosely in her right hand.

The bullet sails harmlessly past Béla’s right ear, but it’s enough to scare them both, and within a second Géza has tackled her and brought her heavily to the ground. After the initial resistance, she doesn’t struggle, though Béla kneels beside them just in case. When it seems certain that she’s subsided, he turns to the dresser on his left, yanking open drawers until he finds her underwear drawer, whereupon he snatches up a couple of handfuls of stockings. Géza heaves her onto her front and starts to bind her hands behind her back, and Béla stands, brushing himself down, and that’s when he catches sight of something glinting alluringly in the opened drawer.

‘I’ll go and pick up Miss Arany,’ he says.

From his awkward position on the floor, Géza twists himself around and gives Béla a searching look.

‘Why don’t you take over here, and I’ll go and pick up Miss Arany?’

Béla shakes his head. ‘No, no. You’re doing an excellent job here.’