I turned round, to see what he had seen. The door curtain to the restaurant had lifted; in the entrance, a slim tall girl stood, looking around. She was blonde, blue-eyed, a Hungarian beauty; she wore a short furry topcoat over a blue mini-dress. Hollo waved at her; she waved back. ‘Oh, I just forgot to mention,’ he said, ‘I told a friend of mine you would buy her lunch. You don’t mind, I hope?’ I looked over at the girl, who was taking off her coat and hanging it; she was very attractive. ‘I don’t mind at all,’ I said. The girl walked through the tables towards us; first she embraced Sandor Hollo, then she turned and smiled at me. ‘So how are you?’ she said. Hollo leapt up: This is Mr Jay or Kay, I don’t remember.’ ‘Francis,’ I said. ‘And this Hazy Ildiko,’ he said, ‘You are late, darling, always late. And this man is asking me such questions about Criminale Bazlo.’ ‘Oh, really, Criminale Bazlo, do you really like him?’ she asked me, sitting down. ‘I’m not sure,’ I said, ‘I’m just trying to find out about him.’ ‘Another,’ said Ildiko. ‘He makes a film and asks so many questions,’ said Hollo, ‘I will go to the waiter and order some food and wine, yes?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said Ildiko. ‘The best of course,’ said Hollo, ‘You know our friend is a very rich man?’ ‘Not exactly,’ I said. ‘Talk to her,’ said Hollo, patting my shoulder, ‘By the way, Ildiko is the editor who publishes the books of Criminale.’

Ildiko looked at me from the other side of the booth and laughed. ‘So you know Sandor,’ she said, ‘What a rogue, don’t you think? You mustn’t believe a thing. He is always in trouble, no one knows what to think about him.’ ‘Criminale’s publisher,’ I said, ‘Are you really?’ ‘Yes, this is almost true, I am a bit,’ said Ildiko, ‘But for my little house he is already too famous. Today-he writes in German or English. His books come out first in Stuttgart or New York.’ ‘But some of his books?’ I asked. ‘Yes, we published him early, when he was not so great, so he lets us make the Hungarian translation. We think he is a Hungarian, even if he does not. Of course now in the free market it is very-hard for us. Luckily we have our impossible language.’ ‘Does that mean you know him well?’ I asked. ‘Please, do you talk all the time about Criminale?’ asked Ildiko, ‘What about football, the weather?’ ‘Do you know what he’s doing now?’ I asked. ‘I think he makes a big book, but he does not like to talk to me about it,’ said Ildiko. ‘You mean you’ve seen him lately?’ ‘Of course,’ said Ildiko. ‘About two weeks.’ ‘Two weeks ago?’ I asked, ‘Where, here in Budapest?’ ‘Yes, he keeps an apartment here,’ said Ildiko, ‘If you are so interested, why don’t you meet him?’ ‘Is that possible?’ I ask. ‘I think so,’ said Ildiko, ‘And then you don’t have to ask me so many questions.’

When Hollo came back to the table, he was followed by the waiter, who set the table for a meal as we talked. ‘I ordered the perfect meal,’ said Hollo, sitting down in his red braces, ‘Goose livers, followed by fogas. Best Balaton wine, no expenses spared.’ ‘Very good,’ said Ildiko, ‘Sandor, your friend says he would very much like to meet Criminale. Why don’t we have this lunch and then go there in the Ultimate Driving Machine?’ As she said this, she looked over at me and smiled. Hollo frowned. ‘No, not such a good idea,’ he said. ‘Why not?’ asked Ildiko, glancing again at me. ‘You know very well,’ said Hollo, ‘Criminale does not like me any more.’ ‘He doesn’t trust you any more,’ said Ildiko, ‘But if you come with an important foreign visitor . . .’ ‘How do you even know he would like that?’ said Hollo, ‘If you insist to go, I will wait outside, in the car. I do not want to meet him. Besides, he will be away, he is always away.’ ‘You see?’ said Ildiko, smiling at me, ‘In Hungary a student never loves his teacher. That is because the best way to succeed is to denounce him.’ ‘I did not denounce him,’ said Hollo, ‘Only I disputed his grasp on correct historical reality.’ ‘It’s the same,’ said Ildiko, ‘Never mind, everyone does it.’ ‘He does not forgive me,’ said Hollo. ‘He will have forgotten, darling, of course,’ said Ildiko, ‘He is a big man and has more things to think of than little Hollo Sandor.’

‘Bitch!’ said Hollo. ‘Pig!’ said Ildiko, looking delighted. ‘Wonderful fish,’ I said, uneasy. ‘You are making a scene in front of our host,’ said Hollo, ‘Didn’t I fix you up a nice lunch?’ ‘You are a beautiful boy,’ said Ildiko, reaching out and stroking his cheek, ‘Just, nobody trusts you!’ ‘Okay, okay, we will go after,’ said Hollo very grudgingly, ‘I just know he will not be there anyway.’ ‘You see, I knew he really wanted to take you,’ said Ildiko, smiling brightly at me, ‘Now, is it true you are making a film? I would love to make a film, especially a film with travel.’ ‘So far it’s been no film and all travel,’ I said. ‘Maybe I can help you,’ said Ildiko. ‘Maybe we both can help you,’ said Hollo. ‘This one, who thinks he knows everything,’ said Ildiko. And so we talked on, through a long and excellent meal.

At the end of it, the bill came, and I suddenly thought of Lavinia. I checked the paper, and saw with relief that by Lavinia’s lavish West End standards it must have come to no more than the price of a first-rate after-the-opera snack. We went outside, into the square. Here Ildiko stopped on the pavement, and stuck her arm through mine. ‘We will just wait here, and you can bring to us your Ultimate Driving Machine,’ she said to Hollo, who walked off, his coat collar turned up, toward the Saint Matthias church. This fine philosopher, you know how he lives now?’ asked Ildiko. ‘Fixing things,’ I said. ‘He talks to German and American businessmen in the bars and cafes, and promises he will find them some investment,’ said Ildiko, ‘Next he goes to some more bars and cafes, and talks to the government officials, telling them he can find them hard currency and takeovers. So a little bit here, a little bit there, and everyone has something. Be a little cautious.’

‘I am,’ I said, ‘But he’s very helpful.’ ‘You know, once he believed in the heroic future of the people, the great progress of history,’ said Ildiko, ‘Now what does he believe in? Video-recorder, mobile phone, fashion suit, the Ultimate Driving Machine.’ ‘What does he call himself, a Wenderer? I asked. ‘No, a Wendehals, maybe a Veränderer, always a quick-change artist,’ said Ildiko, ‘My country is full of them. Perhaps this is how we have survived, better than some. But sometimes I think this is not the best way.’ ‘What happened between him and Criminale?’ I asked. ‘You ask so many questions,’ said Ildiko. ‘I have to, it’s my job,’ I said, ‘I’m a journalist on a story.’ ‘Well, okay, what does it matter,’ said Ildiko, ‘What happened is what always happens. The student, he was Bazlo’s student, takes on the master and tries to seize his place. The master resists, of course. Especially if he is Criminale, this is a clever man, by the way.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ I said, ‘So what happened?’ ‘Oh, the student accuses the master,’ said Ildiko, ‘He is not reliable, not politically is in some troubles, but these things are always difficult. People take sides, there are battles everywhere. Then someone wins, someone loses. Sandor thought he had won, he always thinks that. Criminale came to him and said these things are not nice, let us make some peace, I find you a very nice job in Vienna. But when Sandor came back again to Budapest, he found his post here was no more. Now you see why he does not want to go to Criminale, they have this bad history together. But Sandor likes to do anything for me. Oh look, here it is, Ultimate Machine. I go in the front and show him the way, if he has forgotten. And I think you get in the back and shut your eyes, you know how he drives.’

So I sat in the back of Hollo’s car as it raced in a zigzag back down the streets of the hillside, then through a tunnel under the castle, then across the Chain Bridge over the Danube and into Pest. Hollo and Ildiko bickered in the front: were they lovers, old student friends, just useful contacts for each other? It occurred to me that, now I was in their Hungarian world, the whole story of Criminale, which had bothered me so much in London, was perhaps nowhere near as obscure and mystifying as I’d thought. Here too was a world where history was always changing, where old battles and allegiances had played, where people were always having to remember and handle and reconstruct the past. Gerstenbacker had given me a fine word for that – Vergangenheitsbewältigung, written down on a bit of paper as he left the inn at Heiligen – that seemed to explain everything, and more. It was a world where a master had his restive students, where dangerous accusations flew back and forth, where philosophers were bound to have their adversaries and ideological betrayers, where minds, changed when necessary, and shifts of power and state opinion made lives no purer or safer than those of – well, almost any of us.