Nazi Germany now began an undeclared war against Czechoslovakia. It started first in the Sudetenland and spread to all areas of the country where ethnic Germans were present in large numbers. Over 100 Czech soldiers and policemen died in the fighting and 2,000 kidnapped and taken into Germany. So terrified was Czechoslovakia’s ally France and France’s ally Britain by the possibility of a new war with Germany that they pressured Prague into ceding those areas where Germans comprised over 50 percent of the population, only to have Hitler demand the immediate surrender of the entire Sudetenland to the Reich.
The Czech people took to the streets. Shouting “Give us the guns—we paid for them!” within 24 hours a million men volunteered for military service. Under pressure from Gajda and his confederates, a new government led by General Jan Syrový was formed, a decree proclaiming general mobilization issued and the army readied for war.
In London, Czechoslovakia’s ambassador, Jan Masaryk, announced, “The nation of Saint Wenceslas will never be a nation of slaves.”
In Berlin, Oster and the other conspirators were overjoyed. Czechoslovakia would fight. They made ready.
The two women slept in the passenger seat of the car as it sped towards Prague. Abrienda had wanted to go directly to Hradec but Nika told her she needed to check at the Hungarian Embassy. They went to Prague instead.
“You have much to tell your people; I understand,” Abrienda replied. “Will you be leaving for Budapest tomorrow… or the next day?”
Nika ran her hand through Abrienda’s straight, silky hair. “Not tomorrow. If I must, I will return as soon as soon as I can.”
Abrienda laid her head on Nika’s shoulder. “Let’s learn not to talk about things until they happen. If we don’t, we’ll go mad.” Her mood brightened. “I have a surprise for you!”
“I knew it! You were married twice and have three children away at school!” Nika replied.
“Besides that!” Abrienda said and handed Nika a small, gift-wrapped box.
“May I open it now?” Nika asked.
“You must,” Abrienda replied. Nika quickly removed the paper wrapping, opened the box and saw two brand new sets of keys inside.
“They’re to my homes here and in Hradec. Now you can come when you wish, but when you do stick your calling card in the door. That way, if I have one of my ex-husbands with me, I can prepare them for what they’ll find!”
Nika carefully closed the box. “The only purely good thing that has ever happened to me was when I met you.”
She bent over slightly and kissed Abrienda on the mouth. The box fell from Nika’s hand onto the carpet.
Nika arrived at her embassy early the next morning. Waiting for her was a communique from Viktor asking if she had any new information and after calling to confirm she did was told to kindly return to the embassy at 9 am tomorrow and file a report.
Abrienda met Nika for lunch at an open-air café beside slightly below Charles Bridge on the right bank of the Vlatava River. She had to tell Abrienda they needed to delay their journey to Hradec until late tomorrow, or next day… or maybe, the day after.
Their brush with the giving and receiving of death prompted no banal, melancholy reflection, no false self-serving cri de coeur about the meaning or fleeting nature of life.
“You are a remarkably good shot.” Nika observed.
Abrienda smiled impishly. “I wish I could say the same,” she said, sipping her coffee. “About you, I mean.”
Nika looked shocked. “What do you mean?”
Abrienda put down the cup and patted her lips. “Nika, darling, it doesn’t take Old Surehand to hit somebody at fifteen paces with a machine gun, especially if the people you shoot at are standing still, more or less.”
Abrienda stirred her coffee while Nika fumed. “I plan to spend the rest of the day thinking of how to get even with you tonight… and at a range a lot closer than 15 paces!”
Abrienda again gave Nika her naïve, little girl look. “Oh dear… more empty promises!”
Nika arrived at the Hungarian embassy precisely at 9 am the following morning. She was shown into a paneled room and there found Viktor waiting for her.
“This is one of the many things I like about you, Agent Molnar. You are always on time,” he said.
“Alright, Viktor, I will make you happy and say it… I am surprised to see you,” Nika said. “and I love your flair for the unexpected. Can they bring us something to drink?”
“Coffee is on the way,” he replied.
“Nothing stronger?” Nika asked.
“Never on duty. You know that,” Viktor told her.
“What I know is how prolific a liar you’ve recently become,” Nika said as the coffee arrived. “You wanted my report verbally and not committed to paper, hence the surprise visit, correct?”
“How observant you are. I don’t want anything you tell me recorded for posterity, and the room is soundproofed. I want to get back to Budapest by tonight, so please begin, but kindly spare me any accounts of your recent sexual exploits with your Chinoiserie stepsister, as I want to arrive home emotionally in one piece.”
An hour later, it was Viktor who asked if the embassy had anything stronger to drink than coffee.
“So, according to your report, peace or war in Europe solely depends on whether the Czechs will fight, or if your little half-Czech friend’s friend can make them fight, correct?”
“A million Czechoslovak men appear willing to do just that,” Nika said with an air of triumph.
“Very well. You have given us intelligence of vital importance,” Viktor said, and went to the door. “Congratulations.”
“Am I returning with you to Budapest?”
“Certainly not. I have other agents, and one of my best is exactly in the bedroom I need her to be. Things are moving even faster, so check in daily and keep me up to date, understood?”
Viktor used the time returning to Budapest to consider all he had heard from Nika, allowing himself to entertain the thought her analysis might be tainted by her involvement with the de Soza woman.
In two days, the Hungarian and Polish general staffs would meet to determine their course of action against Czechoslovakia should Germany invade. Would the Czechs fight regardless of the odds and without the backing of France and Britain, thereby bringing about a military coup in Germany that would depose Hitler?
If Viktor reported that Czechoslovakia would fight and Hungary must remain neutral, and was wrong, the Germans would never support Hungary’s claim for the return of the lands she lost to her various unfriendly neighbors after the late war. If he followed his instincts, told the Regent Czechoslovakia would ultimately cave into Hitler’s demands, Hungary would retrieve a great deal of lost territory and achieve her major strategic goal of securing a common border with her fraternal ally Poland. If wrong and Czechoslovakia did fight and France and Britain supported her with the help of Romania and Yugoslavia, Hungary as a nation could disappear off the map of Europe.
Captain Mardar despised the Czechs. He considered them cowardly, dishonest opportunists, an opinion based upon his experiences in the old Austro-Hungarian army. He had even less regard for the Slovak half of the country, though he did think their women stunningly beautiful.
The captain read Nika’s report again, put it in his briefcase, and settled in for the long drive back to Budapest. “Turn on the radio, lieutenant. There might be some news.”
The car radio was set to Radio Kossuth in Budapest which was in the middle of re-broadcasting a speech Britain’s Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had given a few hours earlier. The reception was poor, fading in and out.
“…I must say something to those who have written to my wife or myself… our own countrymen… countless others… France, from Belgium, from Italy, and even from Germany, and it has been heart-breaking to read the growing anxiety they reveal…”
“How horrible, fantastic, and incredible it is that we should be digging trenches and trying on gasmasks here because of a quarrel in a faraway country between people of whom we know nothing.”
“After my visits… have realized vividly how Herr Hitler feels… must champion other Germans and his indignation… grievances have not been met before this. He told me privately, and last night he repeated it publicly… question is settled; that is the end of Germany’s territorial claims in Europe.”
“However much we may sympathize with a small nation confronted by a big and powerful neighbor… involve the whole British Empire in war simply on her account. If we have to fight, it must be on larger issues than that. I am myself… a man of peace…”
Viktor smiled. He had made his decision. Czechoslovakia would not fight. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.
“What more could be done? Millions of men volunteered to fight, yet still we capitulated. I then discovered France and Britain had delivered an ultimatum—not to Hitler, but to Beneš, informing him that if war broke out, France and Britain would consider Czechoslovakia the aggressor! It shattered his will, which he never had much of in the first place, and the absolute refusal of France to fight alongside us eviscerated army morale. I could gather no support among the officer corps. The government had spoken and was now their duty to carry out the surrender terms.”
Gajda rubbed the sides of his forehead and sighed. “The suicidal legalism of the Czech mind in full, hideous bloom.”
Abrienda had never seen her courageous friend like this before. He was listless, broken. She feared for his health. The government had believed Gaida’s threat to stage a coup unless a new cabinet led by General Jan Syrový was put in office. Syrový’s first act was to order general mobilization and Gajda and his fellow conspirators stood down, yet the man they expected to defy Hitler surrendered not only the territories he demanded but those claimed by Poland and Hungary as well. Betrayed, Gajda was unable to again rally the support needed to mount a coup and placed under house arrest.
“We constructed 10,000 machine gun bunkers, 262 heavy weapons bunkers, artillery bunkers with underground chambers, and provided our million-man army over 1,000 artillery pieces and 400 tanks. Today, those same bunkers are waiting for German troops to occupy them, and the tanks and soldiers are now being deployed to evacuate the Czech people from a third of their own country. The new German border will be just west of Pilsen, Bohemia is now completely indefensible, while a veritable army of pessimists, cowards, and opportunists who will happily accommodate themselves to what they consider an inevitability they created through their lack of courage govern what’s left of our country. Were it not so tragic, I would laugh.”
Nika had unexpectedly been called back to Budapest the day before and Abrienda was visiting Gaida at his own home, the disaster unfolding around them having overcome even his wife’s years of jealousy. To make herself more welcomed by the lady of the house, Abrienda brought 100,000 korunas as a donation to the relief agency she had set up for the 300,000 Czechs and Jews fleeing the Sudetenland into what remained of Czechoslovakia and was at that very moment busily distributing the funds.
“I returned every medal and honorer given me by France during the war. When I arrived at the embassy to deliver them, the ambassador was in tears. ‘Mon general, I weep for your country,’ he said. ‘Monsieur ambassador, a year or so from now you will be weeping for your own,’ I replied.”
He shook his head in bewilderment. “I have completely failed.”
Abrienda massaged the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, then rose and walked behind him. “You did not fail. You were betrayed. Courage, Black Mountain. We lost a battle, but it’s only the first battle. The war has just begun.”
She placed her hands on either side of his head and began massaging his temples, then down his neck to just behind the ears.
“Umm… it has been a long time since you did that for me, Abri,” he murmured.
“Years,” she said, remembering. “It’s not over yet. The Germans want the whole country. We will see what happens when they try and take it. But I was wrong, too. I wanted accommodation and fairness. Now I say, when they are finally beaten, we drive every goddamned German out of the country.” Gajda turned slowly in his chair to face her. “That’s a change, Abri.”
“A lot of things have changed,” she said.
Major General Hans Oster chose to take out his anger upon the head of Lieutenant Blumenthal when they next met.
“So much for von Braband’s celebrated Hungarian spy assuring us the Czechs would fight for their miserable mutation of a country.”
“Did you, did anyone believe the French and British would act so cravenly? Morena is not the only one who got this one wrong. Canaris still has great faith in her. In fact, he is seeing about getting our deliriously happy new allies in Budapest to second her to Abwehr if, or perhaps I should say, when we occupy Bohemia and Moravia. She would prove invaluable in helping us identify and quash any nascent resistance on the part of the Czechs.”
“Really? I thought being suspected of committing extraordinary murders throughout much of the civilized world was her peculiar talent,” Oster replied.
“Hans, that is not helpful,” von Blumenthal remonstrated.
Oster lit a cigarette. “You’re right. At least she seems to be on ‘our’ side, to the extent a spy or agent can be on anyone’s side. She may prove useful to us the next time.”
“The ‘next time’?” von Blumenthal asked.
“You think this is over?” Oster asked. “Hitler doesn’t. As you said yourself, the rest of Czechoslovakia will be next. Eventually, the British and French will run out of excuses or places to hide. When they finally do, then we can bring him down—one way or the other.”
He drew on his cigarette. “Hitler wanted a war. He is furious with Göring and Mussolini for pulling off a peaceful settlement at Munich.”
“It’s as I said. Göring does not want a war. I still think he could be of use to us.”
“For God’s sake, forget Göring!” Oster said through gritted teeth. “Hitler still wants a war. Well, he’ll have his war. Then we’ll have his neck!”
“It’s hardly a reflection upon your competence that the Czechs refused to fight,” Viktor said as he poured Nika a drink. “Your analysis was sound and based on primary sources. Nor is it your fault your Little Mata Hari’s friend Gajda overpromised and couldn’t deliver. Meanwhile, you’ve supplied us with other, priceless information; we may be the only European intelligence service that knows so much about the resistance to Hitler within the senior ranks of the German army.”
Viktor finished pouring himself a drink and sat across from Nika. “In fact, one of your predictions has just proven correct.”
He offered Nika a cigarette, and when she declined, lit his own. “French intelligence is about to move against the Cagoule and imprison your admirer Deloncle, so in no way am I even thinking of criticizing you over what took place in Czechoslovakia. You were wrong, but for the right reasons.”
When she was called back to Budapest, Nika expected to be reprimanded or even relieved due to her assessment the Czechoslovak government would fight rather than grant Germany the Sudetenland or overthrown and replaced by one that would. She felt relief that this was not going to happen but wished desperately to change the subject.
“How are the Twins getting on?” Nika asked.
Viktor laughed. “Oh, they’re having a fine time organizing bands of Magyarons in Ruthenia and Slovakia to cause trouble until we and the Poles get permission from our new friends in Berlin to send in our troops.”
“So, now what?” Nika asked.
Viktor stood up and began to pace his office. “As part of the Munich agreement, Czechoslovakia has three months to meet our demands, but the Regent has decided along with the Poles to start probing Czechoslovak defenses along the border. He called Czechoslovakia ‘a cancerous tumor in the heart of Europe’ and vows to have it removed with German help yet does not want to jeopardize Hungary’s relations with the British.”
“He tried to play a double game for us but failed. Hitler called in our ambassador, lectured him on ‘the historical duplicity of Magyars’, and closed by saying the Regent was trying to stand on two stools and would shortly find them both pulled out from under him.”
Viktor looked out the window. It was a beautiful day, and he thought how much he wished he could share it with his new wife. “Our ambassador’s brisk chat with Der Führer concentrated Horthy’s mind wonderfully. Our official policy is now the complete elimination of Czechoslovakia from the map of Europe and to no longer be shy about it.”
“How is married life, Viktor?” Nika asked. What had started four months ago as a casual romance had developed into something far more serious, and with war looming the couple decided to marry in a small ceremony in his bride’s hometown.
“Complicated but good. I am sorry I did not invite you to the wedding, but… Laura is extremely jealous.”
Nika shook her head. “I am not upset. I understand it. I recently discovered I am also the jealous type.”
“Are you?” Viktor replied with raised eyebrows. “Does Little Miss Manchu ever give you cause?”
Nika smiled. “No. It’s all in my imagination.”
“An unhealthy place for it to dwell,” Viktor warned. “Don’t try to change the subject. Hitler intends to eliminate Czechoslovakia. This is now our policy as well. Do you understand? Our policy.”
“I understand, Viktor. Perfectly.”
“Would you like a different assignment?” Viktor asked.
“To where? Our station in Manchukuo? No, I don’t want a different assignment.”
“Good. I am giving you indefinite leave. Things are falling nicely into place so can spare you for a while but want you in Czechoslovakia until it finally and mercifully sinks beneath the waves of history. I should also mention your work has come to the attention of our new German allies. They may invite you to visit Berlin soon. Please keep that in mind in case you are considering early retirement.”
Herr Bohm was listening to the BBC when Abrienda arrived.
“Good afternoon, Abrienda. Can you give me just a few minutes? Winston Churchill is speaking.”
Abrienda nodded and they both listened.
“We have suffered a total and unmitigated defeat… you will find that in a period of time which may be measured by years, but may be measured by months, Czechoslovakia will be engulfed in the Nazi régime. We are in the presence of a disaster of the first magnitude… we have sustained a defeat without a war… The whole equilibrium of Europe has been deranged, and that the terrible words have, for the time being, been pronounced against the Western democracies: ‘Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting.’”
Herr Bohm turned off the radio. “If that man was in charge…”
“Only he’s not,” Abrienda said. She removed her gloves and began walking around the shop. “I hate to ask you to close shop in the middle of the day, but I am afraid what I want to discuss cannot wait. You know how impulsive I can be.”
“I do indeed. It’s part of your charm. As for closing the shop, what would I not do for my best customer?” Herr Bohm replied. “And on the off chance we ever needed to talk here again, I thought to add this to my stock!” He produced a bottle of cognac and two glasses.
“Oh, excellent. If you’d offered me to drink more schnapps again, I’d rather go to Berlin and kiss Hitler on the mouth!”
She pulled a stool up to the podium where Herr Bohm conducted his business while he decanted and poured.
“Is all your money safely out of the country?” he asked.
“Yes… Switzerland and America, some time ago.” She sampled the cognac and gave an appreciative nod.
“As you know, I inherited control over the informal network my father created to advance his business interests and occasionally exercise political influence. I wish you to help me convert it into something more.”
Abrienda walked through the shop again. Though small it had many odd, dark corners where people might secret themselves. She had, on occasion, done so herself, and wanted to make sure those corners were empty.
Bohm watched with amused admiration.
“I did tell you we were quite alone,” he said as she climbed onto the stool.
“Yes, you did,” she replied and took another sip of cognac. “Sorry. As Churchill just said, Hitler has measured the French and British and found them wanting. Soon, the Germans will come here and take what’s left. Before that happens, I want you to help me create a network of people willing to resist German occupation.”
“The purpose being?” asked Bohm.
“To collect information of use to Germany’s enemies.” She took a larger sip from her glass than the last. “Troop movements, strength, equipment, morale, anything that could be of help to their future enemies.”
“You came here to ask me to risk my life alongside yours?”
“Everyone’s life will be at risk in the event of occupation, but armed resistance is hopeless. We are a small country in the center of Europe without Alps, Pripet Marshes or Sahara to help us fight the enemy. Besides, that sort of thing is not in the Czech character. They crave order and reserve. That’s why anarchism as a movement never had a chance here. However, ten million orderly and circumspect spies in the middle of Europe would be far more valuable to Paris and London than a few blown-up German tanks or dead soldiers ever could be.”
Bohm nodded. “I agree completely. Excellent.”
“I have reason to doubt it would be healthy for me to remain in a Nazi-run Bohemia,” Abrienda continued. “In fact, your good friend Count von Braband sent me a letter informing me I am on a list of those to be arrested when Germany invades. Kind of him, I thought.”
“The Count was very much taken with you the night we met at your home.” Bohm replied.
Abrienda laughed. “It didn’t seem that way to me. He practically accused me of being a lesbian! It hardly matters. I cannot stay when the Germans arrive. We must try and do as much as we can before they do and want to leave you in charge.”
Bohm took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I am not a warrior, like you. I can handle the intelligence gathering aspects of such an organization, nothing else.”
Abrienda touched his hand. “I need your fine mind and sound courage, not storming a bunker, grenade in each fist. Can you design a plan as to how this will work before I am forced to leave?”
Bohm only nodded and Abrienda thanked him.
“You will miss Bohemia, won’t you, if you must leave?” he said as Abrienda opened the door to leave. She stood for a moment in the doorway.
“Yes, but I’ll come back,” she replied and closed the door behind her.
Abrienda wanted to walk and had the cab driver drop her off at her tram stop so she could walk up the hill to her house. She passed by the home of the Novak family and saw Mrs. Novak working in her garden. She called to her, waved and continued up the hill.
“Abri! Abri!” Mrs. Novak cried out, running after her. “Something strange has happened. An hour ago, a car stopped in front of your house, and I saw someone get out and enter the foyer of your house. I think they’re still inside!”
Abrienda felt like someone had just set her on fire. “Did… you see who it was, Mrs. Novak?”
“A little taller than you, dressed like a gangster. Long coat, gloves, fedora, scarf, like you wear. A black car with strange license plates dropped him off in front of your door and went right inside like he owned the place! You want my husband to go with you? Maybe we should call a gendarme?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Novak,” Abrienda replied. “I think I know who it is—thank you again!” she said and ran to her house.
Abrienda’s building had a private elevator, but when it reached the first floor, she merely stood facing the door. There was a buzzing in her ears and felt feverish. “God…” she said to herself. “How can I pray for this… and expect you to give it to me? But please, please, let her be there. Amen.”
She crossed herself and pushed the button to open the door.
It didn’t open.
Abrienda pressed a second time. Again, no response. She took a deep breath, then furiously began jabbing and hitting the button until it finally complied. Freed from the contraption, she took one step out and saw the white business card stuck in the door jam. She grabbed the card, saw Magyar script printed on the front and the words “You around?” written on the back in Czech. She frantically attacked the first lock, but before she could commit more violence against the second, the door swung open.
“Hello, Abri.” Nika stood nonchalantly in the doorway, wearing only her fedora. She leaned against the door jam. “In future, just leave the groceries at the door and bill my account.”
“Minx!” Abrienda cried, stepped inside and kicked the door closed behind her.
Next morning, Abrienda received a call from the Polish embassy. A letter had arrived for her that must be delivered to her in person by the ambassador himself. Nika was still sound asleep, so Abrienda left a note on her pillow and took a cab into the city.
Abrienda was received by the ambassador who handed her a letter from Foreign Minster Beck. He requested she read it before leaving the embassy, as Beck wanted a reply as quickly as possible.
Abrienda was taken to a room where she could read the letter in private. In it, Beck informed her that when—“when”, not “if”—Germany invaded what remained of Czechoslovakia her liberty if not her life would be endangered. He reminded Abrienda the offer of political asylum was as good today as when it was given five years ago and pleaded with her to take it. The letter was accompanied by a shorter one from Carton de Wiart, urging her to do the same.
Abrienda’s sudden trip to the Polish embassy could not have suited Nika better. Once certain she was well on her way, Nika went into Abrienda’s study. slowly opened the top drawer of what had been her father’s desk so as to disturb nothing inside, took a mental picture of where and how everything was arranged then began a methodical search for what she needed. She carefully sifted through folders and papers but was having no luck until a small paper envelope fell from one of the folders.
Nika shook the envelope open and was rewarded by several passport-size photographs falling on the desk. She took two and after having made certain all was back in its proper place closed the desk just as she heard a key scratching at the front door.
Abrienda found Nika standing at the record player.
“Miss me much?” she asked and kicked off her shoes.
“I need to talk to you,” Nika replied. “But we need drinks and comfort for it to be just right.”
“Well, we’ve got the one, and I’ll get the other!” Abrienda replied and began to sing:
“You’re the top,
You’re a dance in Bali,
You’re the top,
You’re a hot tamale…“
Abrienda returned with the cognac, but Nika was now all seriousness. “Abri… if the Germans invade, they will arrest you, interrogate you, then shoot you. I couldn’t live if that happened. They might as well shoot me, too. I can help you.”
“Help me escape to Hungary? I would effectively be your prisoner. That might turn out to be pleasant. Is that what you had in mind?” Abrienda asked teasingly.
“I was thinking Poland. You have powerful friends there. They would welcome you. Is that why you went to the Polish embassy this morning?”
Abrienda pulled Beck’s letter from her purse and handed it to Nika. “The first time they made me the offer was to protect me from my own people; the time, to protect me from the enemies of my own people. Somehow, it struck me as funny I should be so universally unpopular.”
She took another drink. “Nevertheless, I said ‘yes’.”
“Thank God!” Nika exclaimed and hugged her tightly. “When you leave, I’ll go with you and make sure you get safely across the border.”
Abrienda leaned forward and kissed her. “Thank you. At least we would have a chance to say goodbye, because if it does happen, we may not see each other again… for a long time.”
She looked away, pensive.
“Maybe, a very long time.”
Nika rose and went to the phonograph.
“And now, my surprise! While you were chumming it up with the Windsor’s and their posh friends in a chateau outside Paris, I heard this song again on the radio in Brussels, found a record shop and bought it. It’s by Lucienne Boyer.” “You bought in Brussels? Not Paris?” Abrienda asked.
“Yes… Brussels. The American military attaché assigned to their embassy is of Hungarian descent and came across information he thought would be of use to us. Viktor sent me to meet him, pay for what he had and it back.” She placed the record on the turntable.
“And why, pray tell, should I be in Paris? What do you suspect me of doing there? Miss Abrienda de Soza, not every sensational, unsolved murder in Europe is my handiwork.”
She carefully put the phonograph needle on the record’s first groove so as not to scratch the vinyl.
“I know your taste runs more towards Edith Piaf, being she was a former gangster’s moll, sings a lot about the French Foreign Legion and so on. Just your type of woman.” She shook her head.
“It’s the next one I want you to hear. See? I think of you always… even when I am not murdering pathetic little bal musette girls in Paris… wait, this is it! She leapt onto the couch and wrapped her arms around Abrienda.”
“Parlez-moi d’amour,
Redites-moi des choses tendres
Votre beau discours,
Mon coeur n’est pas las de l’entendre”
Abrienda’s voice was soft and blissful. “That is so beautiful, Nika. You have ‘sung to me of love’ since the day we met. I pray you never stop. Keep playing it until we wear the record out.”
“And… I’m glad you were in Brussels.”
Nika replaced the needle, and the song played again.