XxXBudapest XxX
Past 1962 October.
Budapest is the city of spas. Xavier has even heard it described as the heart of Europe, old buildings and the Danube cut through the city's heart, cobbled streets that wind their way up to the hills that nestled a rambling castle. Budapest is a happy city, except for the soldiers and the secret police. Old ornate Roman fountains juxtaposed to the strict cold statues erected by the communists to honour the war dead. The war is over, the city is being repaired and there appears to be none of the shortages that plague other communist cities. All of this is lost on Charles. This is dangerous. They have forged papers. Hungry is Russia's pet. MI6 (English) spy's will not be welcome guests. They have entered the country illegally flown in from the coast and sailed in, after a rondevue with a small ferry and successfully traveled up the Danube. Erik has packed a small bag with weapons, and Moira is carrying their radio; Xavier is lugging their small wardrobe. Erik thinks this is immensely funny. They meet up with Logan at dusk on at the city's docks. Unharassed they walk to a small run down flat in the heart of the city.
The flat pushes Xavier's definition of flat. Hovel might have been more appropriate. No running water, holes in the walls, and more importantly no heating. In winter Budapest is cold, very cold. Moira is not impressed; Erik knows it will be cold, but looks around the sparse flat with little concern. Logan laughs at their belly aching, and placated them by starting up a metal stove that sits in the middle of the room. They make coffee, so good it reminds Erik of Germany before the war. Seated and comfortable, getting here has taken them four days of rough traveling, Charles had a longing for tea.
Pleasantries out-of-the-way, they get down to business. "His name is Darwin, he is a Roma, recruited by the Russians and he now works as a secretary to the White Queen. But wait for it Chuck, he's prepared to go double agent,." Logan folds his hands behind his head leans back. "
"The white queen." Moira breathes. She met with her during the war, in France. It was not pretty.
"We gathered that much from your communiqué." Erik comments from the corner with a little impatience, as Charles' fingers entwine with Moira's, imparting comfort under the worn table. Logan is slightly hurt; he had thought he was being at least a little convert in the cypher.
"What are you so worried about?" Xavier asks, releasing Moira's hand.
Logan smiles a slight grimace, no hiding anything from X, ever. Logan pauses before replying, striking a match to light his stoogy, he puffs two long plumes of smoke into the dull room. The white of his teeth show as he speaks, "I am worried that he an't the only one going double." Logan's accent is Canadian and broad. Like Erik he is recruited by the British secret service (Charles), before he can return home from the war. Logan too was part of their team in France, but since the war he has worked mostly over the curtain, running agents in and out. His job has a high degree of risk; he likes it, all cloak and dagger. Daggers are his specialty.
"Who?" Erik this time. He leans towards Logan daring him to name the traitor.
"Wouldn't tell me. Bastard demanded to meet with someone higher up."
"And you brought us here!" X's eyes are flashing at him. Erik and Moira look furious. Logan's led them into a trap.
"I know I know chuck, it's bad either way but he did say one thing," Logan taps out some of his cigar onto the floor before continuing, his eyes narrow beneath the bushy brows as he looks Xavier right in the eye, "the Russian agent works at the Circus. So I figured I'd tell you in person and then you could decide yourselves." He smiles with his cigar crammed into the corner of his mouth, happy to, as they say to pass the buck on that one.
"You should have tied the little SOB to a post and sent him to England, Logan." Moira is not impressed. She stands and leaves the table.
"As much as I love sending care packages home to you all, Moira, he's Roma, there aren't too many of them here now (the Soviets have rounded them up and sending them on to their gulags), but if I attacked one of their own I'd lose them, they're a tight-knit bunch, and without them they'd make my work here much more difficult. The Roma runs this town and for now I like to count them as friends."
Charles' red lips cannot help but smile for all James's courage and daring he still liked to keep things as black and white as possible, loyal as ever, God help him if he ever had to betray anyone. Xavier was almost jealous of Logan and his simplicity. "Where does he want to meet?" Xavier wants in, he speaks each word with slow relish considering the situation. A game , he likes games. Erik too has a small cold smile on his lips as he watched Charles change from bumbling professor to spy master. They had been playing games for such a long time now.
Logan nods, acknowledging Charles' interest. "There is a little café up in the hills, near the castle. I've met with him there before. But Charles, listen before you decide," Logan's grey eyes narrow again beneath his bushy eyebrows, "the café is in a deadly bloody lane. One way in one way out. Apartments wall the street and it ends with an eight foot high wall." They digest this pleasant piece of information with mutual frowns. Moira returns to sit beside Charles.
"But you've been there?" Charles continues.
"Gave me the creeps X."
If it gave Logan the creeps the place must be a picnic, Charles considers his empty cup a moment before asking his next question. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"
All of them hold their breath. Xavier eyes him critically. Logan considers his answer, he knows the weight Charles will give to his opinion.
"Yes I do. The guy seems to be on the level. Scared out of his mind. Wouldn't even talk for my knife trick." Erik and Logan invent the knife trick that Logan refers to, together during the war, just for Emma after she captures and tortures Moira.
"So it's a bloody trap. A dead-end, walled both sides and an enemy agent we don't know. The agent who is promising to give you the world Logan if you just lead someone else, preferably someone with more rank than you Logan into a nice street with no escape." Moira says, both sarcastic and fuming.
"When does he want to meet?" Charles continues ignoring her a little. Logan smiles. Erik does too, but for a different reason.
"Tuesday morning ten o'clock."
"Very civilized of him." Logan laughs outright "Yes. Might even get yourself a pot of tea X."
"Well if it's a chance to get a decent cup of tea, I'd say it's totally worth risking all our lives." They laugh, Charles did actually smuggle tea in with him.
"It's a chance, to get at the queen and clean out the Circus." Erik is for it. Moira against it. Charles is not sure. "Yes, but..."
"Is it worth getting shot over?" Moira cuts off Charles mid-sentence her brown eyes pierce his critically for a moment. Worried.
Logan interrupts:
"We can go running into a trap, get shot at and possibly find a traitor; or you can leave here now go back to your nice safe offices at the Circus and forget all about this. And you can sit around your precious table with your tea and share all of your hard work with Russia." Logan stubs out his cigar, he has been to the Circus once long ago, he has been at the damn table and had tea. X can remember the date and wonders if maybe he has left Logan out here alone for too long. "Let me know by tomorrow if you want in, or out." James nods and leaves quickly, before he has closed the door the argument has begun.
They put the decision to a vote, even though Erik actually out ranks them, because this plan risks all of their lives and they are friends. In the end Charles sides with Erik, and Moira, they have only been married a short time; Moira wants to kill Erik on the spot there and then. They argue the plan back and forth. In the end it comes back to the Circus. Home. If home is not safe, nobody is safe. The neighbours of the flee-infested flat think there is a domestic.
In the morning, Erik meets Logan at the door sporting a black eye, thanks to Moira Logan guesses. She throws a fabulous right hook. "Get your gear Logan." He orders. Logan wisely reserves any comments.