Free The Budapest Protocol by Adam LeBor Page B

crystal decanter. He offered the drink to Hunkalffy. Hunkalffy shook his head, and sat down behind his desk.
    “I’ll speak English, so Herr Sanzlermann can understand us. Now this memo, Miss Orczy, about the supposed ‘threats’ to our pharmaceutical industry and media,” said Hunkalffy.
    Cassandra sat upright. “Prime Minister, I must protest. Herr Sanzlermann does not have clearance, and he is also a foreign national. These are matters of national security. As an experienced statesman himself, I am sure he will understand,” she said in English, her voice emollient as she turned towards him.
    Hunkalffy shook his head. “Herr Sanzlermann is an old and trusted friend. We see eye to eye on many, even most issues.”
    “I am sure you do. Nonetheless, I repeat these are classified matters. I must ask that Herr Sanzlermann leave the room.”
    “You were not so fussy about foreign nationals when you were a student in Moscow, studying under the KGB at the Dzerzhinsky Institute,” sneered Hunkalffy.
    “I was sent to Moscow by the Hungarian security service. I served, and continue to serve my country. You didn’t complain twenty years ago when my predecessors smuggled you over the border into Romania after Ceausescu announced that all Hungarian villages in Transylvania were to be turned into concrete agro-complexes. We took you in, dodged the
Securitate
, brought you out, and then introduced you to our contacts in the west. You even met Prince Charles. All of which established your reputation as a valiant fighter against communism. I am sure you agree, Prime Minister, we are all patriots in our own ways.”
    Hunkalffy remained silent, although his eyes glittered.
    Still angry at the implication she was a traitor, she plunged on, unable to stop herself. She examined a mother of pearl button in her blouse as she spoke. “Your uncle was a veteran member of the party in your home town of Gyor, was he not? He joined in 1957. I believe he even once stood for a post on the Party’s Central Committee.”
    Sanzlermann listened to the exchange with growing interest, gently stroking his left hand. “Really, Attila, I didn’t know that your relatives were communists.”
    Hunkalffy forced his face into a smile. “Ach, every family has its black sheep. Frank, let us meet later. As you see I have things to arrange.”
    “That was perhaps not very wise of you, Miss Orczy,” said Hunkalffy, switching back to Hungarian after Sanzlermann had left. “But not as much of a mistake as this report of yours that arrived on my desk last night.”
    Hunkalffy leafed through the pages stamped “Secret”. “Are you seriously suggesting that KZX Industries and the Volkstern Corporation represent a threat to our national interests?”
    “Yes, Prime Minister, that is exactly what I am saying. We believe that under cover of the economic liberalisation that followed our accession to the European Union, neighbouring countries, especially Germany and Austria, are attempting to take control of our drugs manufacturers, and our print and broadcast media. You will see that we have found evidence of telephone and email intercepts, as well as surveillance by operatives of unknown origin.”
    Hunkalffy sat back, picked up a pencil and chewed its end. “Miss Orczy. Please, look at a map. We are a small country, we need foreign capital. Germany and Austria are our neighbours, our historic friends. The European Union has brought peace and security here, for the first time in our history. The borders are open. People can say whatever they like, travel wherever they like. There are no more tanks in the street, no more torturers in the basements. Nobody knocks on our doors in the middle of the night any more. Do you miss that? I don’t. Or perhaps you would prefer your friends in Moscow to buy up the country.”
    “And what friends are they?” she demanded.
    Hunkalffy sat back. He put her memo aside, and opened a drawer. He took out several photographs,