*
Karoly Bardossy, one of Hungary’s richest and most powerful businessmen, has been found dead in his jacuzzi at his luxury villa in Obuda. Police sources said there were no initial indications of foul play, but a full investigation would follow.
Bardossy, 73, was the chairman and CEO of Nationwide Ltd., and the uncle of Prime Minister Reka Bardossy. Eniko Szalay, her spokeswoman, said: ‘The prime minister is shocked and saddened by this terrible news. The death of her uncle is a great loss for Hungary’s business community and the country as a whole.’
Bardossy’s death comes the same day as the results of an extensive historical investigation into the origins of Nationwide Ltd. is released. The probe, by Israeli historian Elad Harrari (see accompanying story) reveals how Tamas Bardossy, the father of Karoly, took over the extensive holdings and properties of the Berger family in 1944 after the Nazis invaded. Tamas Bardossy signed an agreement with Miklos Berger, the head of the family and owner of the Bergers’ industrial empire, to protect the Bergers’ assets and properties and pass them on to any surviving members, once the war was over.
Soon after the agreement was signed Miklos and his wife Rahel went into hiding. But they were quickly discovered by the Gestapo, and deported to Auschwitz where they were killed. The Bergers’ factories, industrial plants and other assets were all absorbed into the Bardossy family holdings. The Berger family home in Obuda is now the residence of Reka Bardossy, the same house where she grew up.
Only now, more than seventy years later, can the full story of the terrible betrayal be told.
*
Reka read through to the end of Zsuzsa’s story, clicked on the link for Elad’s investigation and read that. It was all there: the two documents were reproduced, the sales agreement between her grandfather and Miklos Berger, the second agreement nullifying it. Newsline.hu had done a thorough job: there was a video interview with Elad about his work, another with Erno Hartmann about the significance of the findings – ‘extremely important, shedding valuable new light on the fate of the wealth of Hungarian Jewry’ – and Zsuzsa’s article was thorough and detailed. One of the video reporters had even shot a stand-up report outside the house, telling the story of how it used to be the family home of Miklos and Rahel Berger. Zsuzsa had also written an accompanying article exposing the company’s tax structure and vast payments to its directors.
The business correspondent had written an analysis on the likely impact of the death of Karoly Bardossy and the wartime revelations on the firm. The former would drive the share price down for a while, he opined. The latter would cause some sound and fury for a few days, but would fade away by the end of the week. The share price would soon recover.
Reka was pleased to see that there was no mention of Eva neni for now, as agreed. That part of the story, that she was the daughter of Miklos and Rahel Berger and so was the heir to their empire, would come out as well. But not yet – and only when they had a media minder for her in place. Another, smaller, story reported the arrest of George Porter, Karoly Bardossy’s former bodyguard, for the murder of Geza Kovacs.
Reka switched on the large flat-screen television on the other side of the room. The story was already getting picked up by the international press. ‘The secret history of the Hungarian prime minister’s family wealth is revealed,’ announced the BBC, while CNN proclaimed, ‘Hungarian oligarch dies as wartime family betrayal is revealed’. The BBC was also interviewing the Budapest correspondent for the Economist, a British journalist in his early fifties. ‘History here is a live thing, not the dead past. It still shapes everything,’ he explained.
Yes it does, thought Reka. But sometimes we can shape it too. She turned the volume down, sat back and looked around the lounge, taking in the decor, the furniture, the paintings. Was it still her house? Would she stay here? How strange to think that it wasn’t her decision any more. If Eva neni let her, she would. If she wanted the house back, she would hand it over.
But before that, two last tasks.
There were two faded sheets of paper on the coffee table next to her phone, a handwritten note, and by them a steel mixing bowl, a lighter and the digital recorder that Antal Kondor had used in the park.
Reka spread the papers out, smoothed them down. Her uncle was dead; so was the Librarian. Nobody else knew these documents existed. She had not mentioned them to Zsuzsa or Elad. There were no scans, or photographs, or digital records.
She looked down at the yellowing sheets, German-language records of a telephone call and a telephone tap from March 1944, read them through once more. The handwritten note said, You deserve to see these. Use them as you wish. J.T.
She slowly tore all three into small pieces, dropped them into the steel bowl, clicked the lighter on and set them on fire. The dry, brittle paper burned quickly, turned to ashes.
Reka picked up the digital recorder, played the recording of Karoly Bardossy in the park, listened to his shrill confession once more.
Her index finger hovered over the delete button.
She pressed it.
FORTY-FIVE
Offices of newsline.hu, three weeks later
Zsuzsa Barcsy turned to the camera and said, ‘Our guest today is Balthazar Kovacs. Until recently he was the country’s best-known policeman. But he has now left the police force. He has been appointed director of the new Roma Historical and Cultural Foundation, which has just been set up by the government – and we are the first news organisation to interview him.’
She turned to Balthazar. ‘Thank you for joining us today, Balthazar. That’s quite a career change, from being a detective on the Budapest murder squad to running a historical foundation. What will the new foundation do?’
Balthazar outlined the plans for a new cultural centre for writers, musicians and artists, which would also incorporate a museum of Gypsy culture and a memorial to the Poraymus. ‘We are especially pleased that Erno Hartmann, the former director of the Jewish Museum on Dohany Street, has agreed to sit on our board as an adviser,’ he added.
Zsuzsa and Balthazar were sitting in newsline.hu’s new studio. The news organisation was based in the former premises of 555.hu. The sprawling flat was no longer a ramshackle, hipster hang-out. It had been transformed after a substantial donation from a mystery donor. The parquet floor was slick and polished, the windows had been replaced, the walls replastered and painted. The studio had sound insulation, state-of-the-art recording and lighting equipment, a sound engineer and a producer. A photographic backdrop of Budapest at night covered one wall.
Zsuzsa and Balthazar sat in two armchairs, facing each other, talking through the issues facing Hungary’s Roma. The interview went on for ten minutes or so as Balthazar outlined how the foundation would also set up a Roma research department to produce policy papers for the government. ‘There is a lot of work to do, both within the Roma community and wider society. But we need to start somewhere and now is the time.’
‘It sounds great – and long overdue,’ said Zsuzsa. She glanced at her notes. ‘And work is going ahead on the Virag Kovacs Music School, in memory of your late sister?’
Balthazar nodded. ‘Yes, we hope it will open later this year. The government is being very supportive and we are very pleased about that.’
Zsuzsa smiled. ‘You seem to be turning into a de facto spokesman for Hungary’s Roma community. Would you consider a career in politics yourself?’
Balthazar shook his head emphatically. ‘No. I’ve never even thought of that. And we have far too much to do at the foundation.’
A voice sounded in Zsuzsa’s earpiece as the producer told her to bring the conversation to a close. ‘One last question, Balthazar: why do we need a museum of Gypsy culture and the Poraymus, the Gypsy Holocaust?’
Balthazar said, ‘There’s a long answer and a short one to that question.’
‘For now, the short one, please. But we look forward to welcoming you back soon.’
‘Because it’s time to tell our stories.’
‘Thank you.’ Zsuzsa turned back to the camera. ‘And in a few moments, our next guest is Ilona Mizrachi, the former Israeli cultural attaché, recently promoted to ambassador. Ilona will be telling us in detail about the new trade and cultural agreements that were signed, after Israeli prime minister Alon Farkas’s visit.’
Balthazar stepped out of the studio and into the main editorial office. Newsline.hu also had a new editor-in-chief, who was now walking towards Balthazar.
‘Thanks, Tazi, that was a great interview,’ said Eniko Szalay. ‘It’s going to be a fantastic museum. You will do a great job.’
‘I hope so,’ said Balthazar. He looked at Eniko. She wore a pink T-shirt and dark jeans, looked relaxed and in control. ‘You seem very at home here.’
She smiled. ‘That’s because I am. I’m a journalist. It’s good to be back. I’ve seen the other side and it’s not for me. Reka was very gracious, though.’
