Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Viktor’s driving was erratic, to say the least, and he refused to answer any of Jack’s questions.   He just said that he was just being paid to take her somewhere, to her mother.   She kept repeating the word over and over in her mind.   Her mother.    After about fifteen minutes, Viktor pulled up outside an apartment block in the suburbs of Budapest.    “Number 471, second floor, apartment 5b,” he said brusquely.   He drove off quickly as soon as Jack stepped out onto the pavement.    She attempted to hide her nerves by knocking firmly on the door of apartment 5b.    The door was answered by an attractive, elegantly dressed woman of about 60.   The woman stared briefly and then said, in an Eastern European accent,  “Jacqueline? Thank you for coming all this way.   Please come in.”    “Everyone calls me Jack.   And you are?”    “Martuska.   It is good to meet you.   ...

It was her first time in Budapest, or any other Eastern European city for that matter. Stanley had advised her where to stay and given her details of how to make contact with KT. The hotel was in Buda, five stars. She was already spending the money she was yet to receive for the bureau.    I t took her two attempts to get through. KT was deep-voiced and luckily spoke good English. He confirmed the location of their rendezvous. In the taxi, she was surprised by her complete lack of nerves. From what Stanley had said, her father had led at least two lives and here she was about to dive into one of them. He’d briefed her on what to say, what to ask and what not to say. And it had felt perfectly natural taking all this on board. She was a florist, albeit an upmarket one, and yet here she was in a Hungarian taxi slowly moving through morning rush hour traffic to meet a man Stanley had described as a spy.    The goulash in the small local restaurant the previous evening...

Martuska knew that she was being followed but kept her stride with her head held high. When she heard the car pulling up alongside her, she quickly jumped in and it sped off. She turned to see in the distance the exasperation on their faces, and she smiled ruefully. Again, she had allowed her feelings to override her better judgement and compromise her position. Becoming so emotionally invested in Henry was never a sane idea. “I thought I was supposed to meet you at the Water Tower” she said nervously “There has been a change of plans” he replied without meeting her gaze, his jaw tightening as he meandered through the beautiful park, speeding past the tranquil water fountain. Jack couldn’t believe the valuation that Mr Gregory had put on the bureau. It was a provisional figure but even so she had to stop herself gasping down the phone. Even a quarter share would set her up nicely, but maybe there’d be a way of getting a bigger share. No sooner had she finished the call...

James made his way back to the table and Martuska fumbled with the paper bag. It slipped from her grasp and upended all of the contents by James's feet.     He let out a weary sigh.   Full of pure rage she stood up and slapped him hard across the face.   "I have no time for womanisers, Henry. No time at all," she said then turned to leave but he grabbed her arm.   "They're for my niece," he said.    Martuska stared at him hard as if to see whether he was lying. He didn't blink once.    She sat down and James let his arm slide down hers till he held her hand which he brought to his mouth to kiss.    "I'd never betray you like that. You must believe me," he said, letting go of her hand.    Martuska looked pensive, and clutched her handbag firmly to her chest. She waited, unsure of what to believe. He continued to openly stare at her, willing her to trust him.    "Alright, Henry. I believe you," she said th...