Chapter 34 Chapter Thirty-Three

The express train for Perpignan disappeared completely behind the silvery woods and village roofs, and Barry swayed. "Well, he's in the car, we're not." "Yes," I said. "Where we are, he knows very well." "It won't be clear soon." Barry strode towards the ticket window. "There is no train to Perpignan until tomorrow morning," said the conductor. "The buses to the main cities are only available tomorrow afternoon." Not crying, not angry, "Barry, I can't wait until tomorrow morning to get a ride to Perpignan! We'll lose too much time."

"Well, there's nothing else," Barry said irritatedly. "I've asked taxis, cars, farm trucks, donkey carts, hitchhikers—what else do you want from me?" We walked towards the village without a word.Everyone we met at the gate or in the garden seemed to be in a daze, as if bewitched. We came to a farmhouse, and a woman came out, wiping her hands on a local apron.She was not surprised to see us.Barry said I was her sister and she smiled happily and didn't ask any questions even though we had no luggage. Barry asked if she had a room for two, and she gasped and said, "Yes, yes," as if to herself.

Our room is next to the garden and is the oldest part of the house. Barry looked at me. "Well, I know you're mad," he teased me. "I told you to avoid the danger that was close at hand, but you didn't care about it. Later, there were some inconveniences, but you cared." He was so rude that I was out of breath. "Why do you talk like that," I finally said, and walked away through the stone pile. "Do you still want to stay on the train?" he asked softly. "Of course not," I turned my face away, not looking at him. "But you know as well as I do that my father may have arrived at St. Matthews."

"But Dracula, whoever he is, isn't there yet." "He's a day ahead of us now," I countered. "First," Barry said. "We don't know who was in the car, maybe it wasn't the villain. Your father has his own minions, doesn't he?" "If that was one of his minions," I said, "things might be worse, and he might already be at St. Matthews." "Or," Barry said, but he stopped.I knew what he was trying to say: "Maybe he's here, right here with us." "It's obvious enough where we get off," I finish for him.

"Who is being rude now?" Barry caught up with me from behind, and awkwardly put his arms around my shoulders. I knew, all along, that he had said at least something that suggested he believed my father's story.Tears that had been suppressed overflowed from the eyes and flowed down. "Okay," Barry said. I nestled my head against his shoulder, the sun and sweat warming his shirt.After a while I moved away from his shoulder and we walked back to a silent supper in the farm yard. "Come to my room," Helen said dryly to me as soon as we got back to the hotel. "Listen," she said, taking off her gloves and hat, "I've been thinking about something. It seems we The search for Rossi has hit a real hurdle."

I nodded sullenly, "I've been thinking about this for half an hour just now. However, Turgut may be able to find some materials for us from his friends." She shook her head, "It's like fishing in a river." Needle." "The sea," I said dryly. "Looking for a needle in a haystack," she corrected, "I've been thinking that we've overlooked some very important sources." I stared at her: "What is it?" "My mother," she said flatly, "you were right when you asked me about her in America. I think about her all day, and she knew Rosie long before you knew him." ...I haven't seriously asked her about him since she first told me he was my father, I just know it's a painful subject for her. And"—she sighed— — "My mother is not well educated. I don't think she can tell me about Rosie's research. She told me last year that Rosie believed Dracula existed, but I didn't ask her too much — —I know she's superstitious. But now I'm wondering if she knows anything that might help us find him."

Hope spiked in me as she began, "But how do we talk to her? I remember you saying she didn't have a phone." "She didn't." "Then—what to do?" Helen held the glove tightly and hit her knee hard, "We have to see her in person. She lives in a small town outside Budapest." "What?" Now it's my turn to be annoyed. "Oh, it's easy, we'll just hop on a train, grab your Hungarian passport, and my — oops — American passport, and drop by to talk to one of your relatives about Dracula." Unexpectedly, Helen smiled, "Paul, there's no need to lose your temper so much,"

I had to laugh, "Well," I said, "what's your plan? I see you always have an idea." "Yes, I do." She smoothed out her gloves. "Actually, I wish my aunt had a plan." "Your aunt?" Helen looked out the window and looked at the old stucco of the old house across the street, "She is different from my mother, she has a phone, I think I will call her." "You mean, she can put your mother on the phone and let her talk to us?" Helen groaned, "Oh my God, do you think we can talk about private or controversial things on the phone?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "No, we're going there in person. My aunt will arrange it. Then we can talk to my mother face to face. And"—her voice softened a little—"they'll be glad to see me. It's not too far from here, and I haven't seen them for two years." "Okay," I said, "for Rossi's sake, I'm willing to try anything, though it's hard for me to imagine slipping around into autocratic Hungary." "Ah," said Helen, "isn't it harder for you to sneak into Romania under despotism, then?" This time I was silent for a while, "I know," I finally said, "I've been thinking about that too. If it's true that Dracula's grave isn't in Istanbul, where might it be?"

We sat for a while, each lost in thought, but we couldn't think too far apart. Helen moved, "I'm going to see if the landlady will let us use the phone downstairs," she said, "My aunt will be coming home from get off work soon, and I want to talk to her right away." "May I go with you?" I asked. "It's about me, after all." "Of course." Helen put on her gloves, and we went downstairs, stopped Mrs. Housing in the living room, and spent ten minutes explaining our intentions. Helen sat in a chair in the living room, dialed a dizzying number, "It's ringing," she smiled at me, a beautiful, frank smile, "my aunt is going to hate this." Then, she Becoming alert, "Eva?" she said, "Elena!"

I listened carefully and she was definitely speaking Hungarian.On the other end of the phone, her aunt seemed to have a thousand words to say.Sometimes, Helen listened intently, and then suddenly broke into the strange sound like the hooves of a horse. Helen seemed oblivious to my existence, but suddenly she glanced up at me, grinned, and nodded triumphantly, as if her conversation had turned out satisfactorily. "Say it, Helen," I muttered as I sat back in my chair, "I'm so freaked out." "It's good news," she said quietly. "What the hell did you say to her?" She grinned, "Well, there's only so much I can say on the phone, I have to be very formal. But I told her I'm in Istanbul, doing an academic study with a colleague, and we'll be in Budapest for five days, Good to end our research. I explained that you are an American professor and we are collaborating on a paper." "What's it about?" I asked, a little worried. "On Labor Relations in Europe During the Ottoman Occupation." "Fine, but I don't know anything about it." "It's all right," Helen brushed a fluff off the lap of her clean black dress, "I can tell you about it." "You're just like your father." I blurted out the remark in an easy-going, learned way that reminded me of Rosie. To my surprise, Helen looked sad and just said: 'This is a powerful idea about heredity over environment. She continued: 'Anyway, Eva is kind of mad, especially since I told her you're an American, I know she's going to be mad, and of course she needs sir to be mad to look normal on the phone.' "Appears normal?" "She'll have to think about her job and status. But she says she'll make arrangements for us. I'll have to call her again tomorrow night. That's all. My aunt is very smart and sure has a way. When we have more After the news, we will buy a round-trip ticket from Istanbul to Budapest, maybe a plane ticket." I sighed as I thought about the possible overhead.But I just said, "In my opinion, she's going to have to do a miracle if she's going to get us into Hungary and keep us out of trouble!" Helen smiled, "She can perform miracles, so I won't work at the cultural station in my mother's village now." Helen stood on the golden street, "I want to see this city again," she finally said, " Maybe we'll never come back here again. We can walk around there before we eat." "Okay, I want to do the same." We walked towards the magnificent building without speaking any more.As we approached, we fell into a deeper silence, as if our hearts were approaching each other.I don't know if Helen felt the same, or if she was silent because the size of the church made us small. I'm still thinking about what Turgut said to us yesterday—he believed that Dracula somehow The city is cursed by vampires. "Helen," I said, though I didn't quite want to break the silence between us, "do you think he's buried here—here in Istanbul? If so, there's reason to worry about him after Sultan Mehmet's death It's gone, isn't it?" "Him? Ah, yes." She nodded, "It's an interesting idea, but wouldn't Muhammad not know? Could Turgut find no proof? I don't believe this kind of thing can be covered up." No one will know about it for hundreds of years.” “If Muhammad knew, it’s hard to believe he would have allowed his enemies to be buried in Istanbul.” She seemed to be thinking about it.We are almost at the gate of Hagia Sophia. "Helen," I said slowly. "what?" "If there is a possibility that the grave is here, then it could mean that Rosie is also here." She turned around and stared at me.Her eyes lit up. "Of course, Paul." "I read in guidebooks that Istanbul also has underground ruins - catacombs, cisterns and stuff - just like Rome. We have at least a day before we leave - maybe we can talk to Turgut Talk about this." "That's a good idea," Helen said softly, "the royal palace of the Byzantine Empire will definitely have an underground world." She almost laughed.But she touched the scarf around her neck, which seemed uncomfortable there, "Anyway, the ruins left by the palace must be full of evil spirits-perhaps emperors who blinded cousins ​​or did something similar. Keep each other company , couldn't be more appropriate." We read each other's minds with rapt attention, and wondered what strange and ethereal pursuits those thoughts would lead us to. I didn't notice at first that someone was staring at us suddenly and fiercely. It was not a big scary monster, but a thin little man, hovering twenty feet from the church wall, inconspicuous in the crowd. In a moment of shock, I recognized the little scholar, with his disheveled gray hair, white knit cap, ecru shirt and trousers, as the man who had entered the library that morning.But the more shocking thing is yet to come.The man made the mistake of looking at me so intently that I could suddenly meet him in a crowd.He disappeared, disappearing like a ghost among the happy tourists. I rushed forward and nearly knocked Helen over, but it was too late.The man disappeared and he knew I saw him.That unnatural beard and the face under the new hat I must have seen in schools back home.The last time I saw it, it was quickly covered by a sheet of paper. This is the face of the dead librarian.