Murder In Steel

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

       Opening the garage door with the remote, driving into my own garage and seeing the mess in there I promised to clear out some years ago were all part of the joy of coming home. I looked forward to a long soak in my bathtub, maybe my wife scrubbing my back and scalp, a rubdown, a strong cappuccino, a stiff cognac, my favourite terrycloth housecoat, a fire in the fireplace and just silence among the people who love me. 

       My plan was to re-establish my usual routine, ASAP. I wanted to go about my days as I always had, to forget, if possible, the nightmare of the last visit to the place where I was born, to reconnect with my family, students, with my laboratory, with my library, with my books, music, swimming, research. Most important was to debrief and discuss what happened and record as much as possible, as accurately as possible, in minute detail, to the best of my recollection. I needed to be brought up-to-date on how my relatives reacted to my disappearance. How did the Canadian authorities attempt to locate me, if at all, or, were they even aware of my plight? Did my wife call them for help about my disappearance? Was her call acted upon?

       As it turned out, she called the Department of Foreign Affairs several times. Each time she was told that everything was being done to locate me. She was told not to alert the newspapers. She told me that her patience was exhausted and she was going to contact a reporter the day I called from the Consulate. She also called some of my friends in Budapest, none of whom managed to find out anything about me.

        What exactly was done by the authorities to locate me? Was a diplomatic note passed to the Hungarian ambassador? Was the Canadian Ambassador recalled as an indication of the outrage the Canadian Government felt? Collecting information would take time and energy and would, no doubt, take some of my sleep away as I would be reliving the terror I felt. Don’t believe the soothing words that time heals. Time was passing but I only needed to close my eyes to start sweating, to expect the next kick or blow, to feel the pain, the humiliation, the feeling of helplessness, to hear the gleeful laughter.

       I needed to rest and almost started crying when after a hot bath I was to sleep in my own bed. Even the squeak of the mattress made me happy as did the realization that as soon as I removed my hearing aids, the squeaking would stop.

       Before anything else, I needed to get a medical examination. I was tortured and beaten and I wanted proof that this left permanent and non-permanent damage. I had scars, broken teeth, burn marks in addition to some psychological damage which couldn’t be seen as easily. I called my physician and asked for an exam and tests but I also asked him to have another witness there, preferably another doctor and, of course, I had to explain the reasons. My doctor had been looking after my health for a couple of decades already and I was pleased to hear his agreement. He understood the need for promptness and I was off to see him directly. A complete examination, written and photographic documentation and witnessing the resulting reports by the two doctors and the lawyer took almost three hours but, while I didn’t have a clear plan for how I would use these to exact my revenge, I felt that the documentation was necessary.

       I needed to see my students, to talk to them, to ask what happened in my absence, what new knowledge was discovered, if anything broke down in my lab. The usual case when I was away was that nothing happened and on my return I would be subjected to the endless horror stories of why no work was performed, the debriefing event being dubbed the “story hour.”  Also, I was anxious to get back on track with my lectures and publications. 

       It took a few months but I reestablished the usual flow of things. I realized the comfort in routine. I had my teeth rebuilt, and while I was sad not to be able to be proud of my perfect teeth at my age - I never had a cavity in my life - the new teeth looked superbly white, regular and I regained my movie-star smile, lost when my teeth were damaged during the interrogations.