CHAPTER TWO
En Route to Budapest
October 30, 1956
We hit the first roadblock outside Győr: a barricade constructed of fenceposts, chicken wire, sawn-off tree limbs, and bales of hay, the ramshackle structure manned by a bunch of farmers in rubber boots, some wielding hunting rifles. Next to them stood a run-down tractor draped with a Hungarian flag, the Soviet emblem torn from its center.
“What’s this?” said Gray, bringing the Škoda to an abrupt halt that nearly sent me into the windshield. We were all in the front seat, the back given over to an assortment of luxury items impossible to procure behind the Iron Curtain: fashion magazines, perfume, tins of caviar, fancy chocolates, French cigarettes, and a bottle of champagne, along with several pairs of dungarees for Lázár’s nephew. Onc
