The Claimant [antikvár]

PROLOGUE Fetevis Palace, Hungary, January 1 945 N'ews of the Russian advance came in the evening. ^ Captain Gabler brought it up from the village on his motorcycle, the sound of its unsilenced engine shattering the peace of the still winter air, announcing his arrival long before he came in sight. It had snowed earlier in the day but by three the sky had cleared and across the frozen lake the Palace now lay serene and majestic in the evening sunshine. Propping the machine against the central fountain, Gabler pulled off his gloves and slapped them in his helmet which he hung from the handlebars. A footman opened the door as he reached the top of the steps. He offered to take the captain's coat but Gabler refused; this wasn't a courtesy call. He was only going to be there a few minutes, he didn't need all the social niceties. In the situation they seemed somehow absurd. Twenty-six years old, strong and stocky, Gabler was commander of the small unit of soldiers billeted in the village, a member of the Arrow Cross, the Hungarian Nazi Party. He was under no obligation to keep the Count informed of events, his duty at this moment was solely