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Budapestlookedharmlessinthe morning. The sun hadn’t warmed anything, but it gave the illusion of softness. That was the trick of winter here. Everything appeared tender, like a quiet postcard city, but underneath it all, the bones were still Soviet steel.
We met near the Erzsébet Square fountain, its cracked basin half filled with brittle leaves and stray cigarette butts. Its water hadn’t flowed in years—not since the last shells dropped on this side of the Danube.
Thomas was already there when I arrived, standing with one hand in his coat pocket and the other holding a folded city guidebook he hadn’t opened once. He glanced up when he saw me and gave the smallest nod, the one he used when we were supposed to be two strangers at a corner, waiting for time to pass.
I fell in beside him but didn’t speak.
Egret arrived next. He lingered across the street long enough to ensure no one followed too close, then ducked into the square with a touch of his usual swagger—but it was muted this morning. His face was drawn, his humor tucked somewhere behind his collar.
Sparrow came last.
She approached from the south, weaving through a knot of schoolchildren, her scarf pulled high and her eyes scanning without appearing to. She looked like a local, which was the point.
Thomas gave a quick glance around the square. Once. Clockwise.
“I spotted two tails,” he said. “One posted by the tram stop, one across the street with a cigarette and a newspaper. See any others?”
Egret dropped to one knee to tie a shoelace that hadn’t come undone, his head rising to allow his eyes to scan. “Made your two. Another possible one in the corner. Woman with the empty stroller.”
“The Soviets don’t think women should do this kind of work.” Thomas grunted. “Anyone else?”
When Egret didn’t speak, Sparrow whispered, “Clear on my end.”
Thomas took one last glance, as though memorizing the architecture, then said, “Let’s walk.”
We moved in twos.
Thomas and Egret took the lead, their voices low. Sparrow hooked an arm in mine as we hung back, giving the others twenty paces and the illusion of unconnected company. We were a pair of foreign siblings exploring the city while the other two made polite conversation about nothing at all.
We turned east, slipping past cafés that hadn’t opened yet and storefronts whose mannequins wore coats that hadn’t been in fashion since Mussolini had a pulse. Sparrow shifted beside me, her gloved fingers twitching.
“Tell me again why we’re not in a warm hotel?” she asked, voice soft.
“Because the wallpaper has ears, love. And the chandelier and toilet paper rolls and telephones and—”
She sighed. “You’re telling me this entire mission rests on our ability to out-walk the KGB?”
“Oh, Sparrow, dear, we’re not just walking,” I said, making a dramatic flourish with one hand. “We’re strolling.”
She snorted, squeezing my arm, then leaned in. “You ever get the feeling we’re not going to make it out of this one?”
I smiled without meaning to.
“Every morning since we got here.”
At the next block, we closed the gap and fell into step as a group. Thomas shifted so that his voice would carry only a foot or two in either direction. His body was deceptively relaxed, but his eyes kept checking the reflective surfaces of every shop window we passed. I knew the look. He was watching for echoes—footsteps out of sync with the city, movements that felt rehearsed.
“We’re on for tonight,” he said. “Station Four. East platform. 20:15 departure.”
Sparrow lifted an eyebrow. “All four of us go?”
“Three ride. One watches the boarding.”
“And that’s you,” Egret said.
Thomas nodded.
“If anything goes sideways, you’ll be the first to spot it,” I said.