Chapter 7
The sounds of bumps and squeaks assailed Lee's hearing, and the banging of a door jarred him from his overpowering sleep. Heavy footsteps stomped across the floorboards and harsh voices drew closer. Soon the glare of an overhead light bulb assaulted his eyes, even though his lids remained closed.
"He is very sick, doctor, is he not?" The voice of Jozsef Petrak penetrated the fog of Lee Stetson's barely conscious state.
Icy hands touched his hot skin, making him flinch as they pulled him from the fetal position and stretched him out on his back. Pain racked his battered torso, but he was too weak to protest. His whole frame shook with cold as the dampness of the unheated room seeped into his pores.
"Stop, you imbecile," the doctor ordered. "You handle him like a shack of potatoes. Do you not know any better, Petrak? The first rule of a physician is to do no harm. Now, I will examine him, yes?" The doctor bared Lee's upper body and placed the cold metal of the stethoscope against his chest, unaware of the silent scream that shrieked through his patient's mind.
Moving the instrument around the bruised and raw flesh, the doctor grunted as he listened. "Petrak, this patient should never have been removed from the hospital. You inflict more injury by bringing him here."
"We had no other choice. He would not stand a chance with the authorities."
"He stands no chance if you leave him here. This man needs oxygen, medicine and nursing care. He is an American agent, is he not? I will not risk my license on the little games you people play."
"Doctor, I only ask that you do whatever you can."
"I will arrange for intravenous nourishment for the poor man. However, it will only buy him some time. You must get his fever down and make him drink. His fate is out of my hands. Please, do not call me again."
A blanket was pulled into place over his body, and Lee managed a ragged moan as the coarse wool fabric brushed against the abrasions on his skin. He was in agony, but he couldn't speak up on his own behalf. He could only listen as the physician returned his instruments to his bag and hastily moved away from the bed. In a few pounding footfalls, the doctor exited the room, without any words of comfort or reassurance.
"Mr. Stetson . . . . Mr. Stetson."
Petrak's voice floated to Lee through his diminishing awareness. Why couldn't the annoying man leave him alone? Sleep was the only companion he could tolerate.
"Mr. Stetson, wake up. You need to drink." A large hand shook his arm, trying to force him to respond.
"Ummm." The painful groan was his only feeble attempt to communicate. It was too hard to speak, too hard to eat or drink, too hard to care.
He wasn't going to make it out of this one. Finally, in a rare lucid moment, he could face the truth. Each breath was a painful effort. His chest was clogged with congestion, and the air was barely getting into his lungs. He was dying - dying alone in a foreign land, with mere strangers offering the minimum of care.
It wasn't the way he'd expected to go. This wasn't going to be a flashy death. There'd be no heroics in the presence of the Agency elite. He wasn't going to go down in a blaze of glory.
No N.E.S.T. team would be flying into Hungary to save him. There would be no highly trained guards at his door and no devoted colleagues pacing the floor in an all-night vigil. How ironic that the legendary Scarecrow would slowly fade from existence, his life ebbing away, unseen and unacknowledged by those who knew him best.
Maybe, if he was lucky, his body would be shipped home, but that was very unlikely. The more probable scenario would be burial in an unmarked grave, somewhere in the Hungarian countryside. Or maybe the Petraks would have his body dumped into the Danube River? Possibly he would he be taken to a crematory to obliterate all evidence of his passing.
As pathetic as it all seemed, it really didn't matter. He had only one real regret - his lovely, loyal partner, Amanda King. He'd left too much unfinished business between them. There were so many words left unsaid. How he wished he could tell her what she deserved to hear. "You've been a great friend and partner. You're a beautiful woman. I'm incredibly happy when we're together. I'm sorry for fighting with you. I'm in love with you."
At least he'd cleared that up in his mind. Now he could die knowing, with crystal clear certainty, that he loved Amanda King - not just as a friend, but as the supreme centerpiece of his existence. She was the only woman he'd ever really loved. Sadly, he'd given his body away to so many others, while Amanda was the one he desired the most. Now he'd never know the joy of being physically intimate with her, but thankfully he knew the emotional intimacy of their unique connection. He was grateful for the happiness she'd brought into his life.
At some level, he knew she loved him, too. He saw it in the way her eyes lit up when he walked into a room. He felt it in her body as she melted into his arms when he offered protection or comfort. He heard it in her voice when she stammered for words to express her feelings. He knew it every time she steadfastly stuck by him, regardless of his bad temper, blind jealously, and playboy lifestyle. Amanda King loved him, and she'd been patiently waiting for him to acknowledge their burgeoning attraction to each other.
If he had to do it over again, he'd be more open about his feelings. He'd give their relationship a chance and struggle to conquer his fears about dating a close colleague, a mother with two kids, a life in suburbia. If he could fix everything, she wouldn't have to face his death with only their cruel fight as the last reminder of their friendship.
There was one comfort he could cling to as he faced his own demise. Amanda's sweet nature would save him from his bitter regrets. The woman he loved would treasure the time they'd shared together. She would forgive him for all the stupid things he'd said and done. She'd hold him in her heart and keep his memory alive - not as Scarecrow, but as Lee. Amanda would always love him for who he was and not for what she wanted him to become.
A lone tear trickled down his face, but he was too helpless to wipe it away. He hoped his passing would be mercifully quick. Now he could die in peace. His emotional house was finally in order. He'd bequeath his heart and soul to Amanda King. Somehow, she would know.
SMK-SMK-SMK
Amanda couldn't believe it. She was on the evening Milov flight out of Dulles. She sat quietly amid a plane load of Hungarian soccer players and coaches, returning home after an international soccer tour. Through a contact with the Hungarian Embassy, Billy had arranged for Amanda's passport and visa, using the name of Amanda Hortobagyi. She was now playing the cover of the team trainer's American cousin, who was being allowed back to Hungary to visit a dying grandfather.
Luckily, it was a night flight and the exhausted team only wanted to snooze. Shutting her eyes to rest, she realized she was too keyed-up to give into the luxury of sleep. Instead her troubled thoughts focused on Lee Stetson and the problems that needed to be resolved.
Problems? There was only one bottom line here - saving Lee's life. A fight with Scarecrow would be a precious gift at this point. She didn't care if they had a huge show-down with all guns blazing. Getting him up to speed for another go-round of insults would be just what the doctor ordered.
No doubt, Lee would be glad to see her, but he'd probably never admit it. To his last breath he would scold her for taking the risk of coming to his aid. However, she had great emotional stamina. She'd be able to take whatever he dished out, assuming he could even acknowledge her presence.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Amanda faced the truth. The sketchy reports out of Hungary were far from promising - they weren't even cautiously optimistic. Lee was barely hanging onto life, and her Bedside Bluebell skills were hardly the stuff of trauma units and intensive care. She was certainly no miracle worker. If Dr. McJohn's drugs didn't work, then, at best, she could make Lee comfortable and stay by his bedside. If he was going to die, then, by God, she didn't want him to die alone.
Seeking to calm her nerves, Amanda conjured up images of great American women who'd faced adversity with bravery and ingenuity. Suddenly, she recalled her fifth grade book report on Clara Barton, the founder of the American Red Cross. Mother had made a costume for her, and she'd presented the report of her favorite heroine before a packed school assembly of teachers, students and parents. The audience had given her a rousing round of applause, led, no doubt, by the cheers of her doting daddy.
The childhood memory was just the jolt of courage she needed. If the Civil War "Angel of the Battlefield" could go behind the lines to minister to the maimed and dying Union and Confederate soldiers, then Amanda King could travel behind the Iron Curtain to nurse one very sick federal agent.
She wouldn't have to gamble life and limb in the middle of a fierce battle, but her risks were just as deadly and her cause equally noble. In her shadowy business, too many died abandoned and alone - anonymous, unsung heroes who championed the cause of freedom for a nation that neither knew of their sacrifice nor mourned their loss. She couldn't rescue a whole battalion, but she could try to save one very brave and good man. In the final analysis, it was all the same. Life preserving life. In this case it was personal - the life was Lee's. He was her first waking thought of the day and her last thought at night. As she lived and breathed, she couldn't let him down.
SMK-SMK-SMK
Grateful for the smooth flight and the sight of their beloved homeland, the weary travelers applauded when the aircraft landed safely in Budapest. Everyone quickly exited the plane, ignoring the American woman clutching the arm of the trainer.
Making her way into the terminal, she hesitated at the sight of the heavily armed guards. Her escort, Miklos Hortobagyi, gently put his arm around her shoulders and nudged her on through customs. As she had been briefed, she produced her credentials but kept her head down and eyes averted. Without a word, the papers were shoved back to her, and she found herself waved through the gate.
After Miklos retrieved their luggage and hailed a cab, the pair soon found themselves traveling over the historic Chain Bridge that connected the two sides of Budapest. Wide-eyed, Amanda gazed out the window at the spectacular view, feeling like Alice in Wonderland in a new world of make-believe. For a few fleeting moments, she let the stunning scenery excite her spirit as she stared at the mystical surroundings with awe and wonder.
Set against the backdrop of a clear azure sky, the brilliant mid-morning sunshine framed the picturesque Danube River, that heaved like a living monument as it surged toward the south. The magnificent edifice of water glistened like fine-cut diamonds, dancing merrily atop the gently breaking crests of the river's white caps.
The wide waterway, a lifeline for the landlocked country, bustled with small merchant vessels and ferryboats. The Danube's natural beauty overshadowed the manmade crafts and dominated the surrounding landscape of rolling hills and the sun drenched valley. Despite the commerce, the river flowed unfettered, gracefully lapping the teeming shores of Buda and Pest, as it meandered on its journey through Hungary.
Catching the eye of his quiet travel companion, Miklos began a whispered recitation of the majestic wonders all around them. "Ah, madam, welcome to Budapest, 'the gem of the Danube'. The glorious city is the capital of Hungary, built along the banks of the most beautiful river in Europe. You like it, yes?"
Amanda's face relaxed into a smile as she spoke with a hushed reverence. "I'm overwhelmed by the beauty."
Miklos looked extremely pleased. "Ah, then, let me give you a panoramic tour. But, first, I give you history, yes?" Not waiting for permission, he plunged ahead with his detailed description. "In 1873, the Danube River united the three cities of Obuda, Buda and Pest. Now the city of Budapest has two hearts - one set more in the past, and one set more in the present. Buda is nestled in the hills. It's visitors see the ancient castles, palaces, forts, churches and medieval and baroque houses. Pest covers the plains. It is home to operas, theaters, sports stadiums, academies and industrial development."
Amanda was amazed by the sights that far exceeded her expectations. She'd anticipated seeing the stark, depressing communist apartment complexes, inhabited by people throughout the Eastern Bloc countries. But the drab housing was not what she saw today. Instead her eyes feasted on some of the greatest architecture in the world. Her voice was full of praise when she turned to look at Miklos. "You can see so much beauty right from the bridge, I don't know where to look first."
Miklos' dark, bushy mustache twitched as he laughed. Gesturing with a sweep of his hand, he took in the wide expanse of scenery around them. "Look to your right on the Pest side - you will see the massive neo-Gothic Parliament Building. Across the river, on the Buda side, you can see the neo-Romanesque Fisherman's Bastion and the tall spire of Matthias Church. Straight ahead lies the Buda Castle, which once was the Royal Palace and now houses the Hungarian National Gallery and the Budapest Historical Museum."
"Oh my gosh, your country is magnificent." For a brief moment, Amanda's sense of fear gave way to the enchantment of such a beautiful city. She longed to return to the fantasyland under happier circumstances. Maybe someday, when the tensions of the Cold War thawed and the super powers abandoned the lunacy of nuclear threats, Americans would travel freely in Eastern Europe. Her dream vacation would be a return trip to Budapest with Lee, just to enjoy the romance and old world charm of one of Europe's finest jewels.
Soon the taxi left the bridge over the Danube, and the two companions settled into a comfortable silence. Traveling up the long Buda Hill, away from the gleaming buildings that bordered the banks of the Danube, Amanda tried to rehearse Beaman's instructions. Dress plainly. Don't draw attention to yourself by taking pictures like a typical American tourist. Don't offer cheery greetings. Just keep your eyes down, and remember that people want to mind their own business. It's a communist country, and everyone is under suspicion.
Finally the cab turned off the main thoroughfare and pulled to a stop in front of a centuries old, five story Baroque apartment building. Amanda felt Miklos nudge her arm as the cab driver set her luggage on the curb. "Good luck," he whispered. Suddenly the realization hit her - she was on her own.
With a shuddering breath, the solitary figure quickly made her way into the dark, musty building. Seeing no one, she began the long climb to the fifth floor, lugging her suitcases and praying Lee would be alive when she reached his appartment.
Arriving at the top floor, she set down her luggage and waited to catch her breath. Never, in all her life, had she felt so overwhelmed and alone. Drawing on her inner strength, she gave herself a mental shake and focused on the task at hand. Lee needed her, she reminded the doubting part of her brain. Somehow they'd get through this together.
Sensing a presence, she realized she was being watched. Slowly a door opened, and a woman's face peered out from the shadows. As light filtered past the observer, Amanda stepped back in surprise. Oh my gosh, her mind screamed - not another Francine look-alike. Feature for feature, the resemblance was astonishing. Only the dark coloring spoiled the comparison. Of course, this had to be Magda Petrak's cousin.
Recovering from the shock, Amanda spoke first. "Hello, Miss Petrak. I think you're expecting me."
The dark haired Hungarian nodded silently and opened the door a little wider, ushering the American inside. "You are Amanda King, yes?" Her mouth turned up in a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Yes, I'm Mr. Stetson's associate." Amanda extended her right hand but slowly aborted the pleasantry when it was greeted by skepticism.
The tall, serious woman motioned for her guest to take a seat. "Please refer to me as Zsofia. Since Magda's defection, the Petrak name is anathema to the Hungarian Secret Police."
"Yes, of course. It must be very difficult for your family." Scanning the dismal room, Amanda noted the crumbling high ceiling and the faded wallpaper. Her resilience began to wane when her nose caught the odor of mildew emanating from the ragged carpet. Even worse was the sight of mouse droppings along the floorboards. The housewife from Arlington had a lot of work ahead of her, besides caring for Lee. "How is Mr. Stetson?"
Zsofia grimly motioned toward the closed door to the next room. "He sleeps all the time. We had a doctor here yesterday, but he only shook his head and said we should never have removed such a sick patient from the hospital. He fixed an I.V. to provide fluids, but the bag is empty now. We do not think the doctor will return."
Amanda nervously fingered the buttons of her blouse. "Has Lee been awake at all?"
"Sometimes Mr. Stetson seems to respond to us. However, his fever is quite high, and he is not coherent." Zsofia studied Amanda intently with a raised eyebrow. "He cries out for you. You are his lover, yes?"
Embarrassed, Amanda quickly countered Zsofia's suggestion. "Oh no! Mr. Stetson and I are strictly business associates. Well, not just business associates. We're friends - friendly business associates. There's nothing more to it."
Zsofia wouldn't let the subject rest. "Hungarian women find Mr. Stetson most attractive."
"In my country, too," Amanda mumbled. What was this woman after, or who? "Miss Petrak, I didn't come all this way to discuss my colleague's good looks."
The two women stared at each other until finally Zsofia shrugged. "It is too bad there is no wife or girlfriend to provide the hands-on, intimate care. Do you think you are capable of such nursing duties?"
"Of course," Amanda croaked as she cleared the catch in her voice. "I happen to be a certified Bedside Bluebell volunteer, fully trained to do hospital bedside care. What's more, I've completed the Advanced Red Cross First Aid course for my Junior Trail Blazers Troop. And, as a mother, I have years of experience with hands-on care."
Abruptly, Amanda stopped her defensive ramble and rose to her feet, pulling herself up to her full five feet, eight inches of height. "Excuse me, Miss Petrak. I wasn't expecting a job interview. My country sent me here because I'm experienced, competent and willing to do whatever needs to be done. So please, if you don't mind, I will see to his care."
Zsofia nodded curtly. "Then I will leave you to your task. My brother and I will be in touch."
Grasping the door handle with confident strength, Amanda stepped across the threshold to face the challenge that lay before her. She didn't look back when she heard Zsofia exit the apartment and lock the door behind her.
To be continued