CHAPTER FOURTEEN
November 2-3, 1956
“Zoli, sit down.” György pointed to a chair at one end of the long table. “You, sir,” he ordered my brother, indicating a chair at the other end. “Over there, please.” He waited until both men were settled as far apart from one another as possible before taking a seat himself.
Jakub had risen from the table, prepared to come between them to avert a fight. He remained standing, vigilantly dividing his attention between the two of them as they sat, stone-faced, in their respective chairs. Finally, Gray broke the impasse. From his jacket pocket, he extracted a familiar-looking sheaf of notebook pages and waved them in Zoltán’s direction.
“I believe these belong to you,” he said. “Some of your secret files, no doubt. So very clever of you, leaving them i
