13
The taxi dropped Morgan a little way from the entrance to Memento Park because the roads were so busy. It seemed that all of Budapest was gathering, or at least those who supported the nationalist cause. And what good Hungarian wouldn’t want to, she thought, as the red, white and green flags fluttered in the breeze.
There were families holding hands and groups of young people laughing and drinking. It was a scene that resonated with pride, and Morgan certainly understood the attraction of nationalism. After all, who didn’t want to be proud of their own country?
She looked around for Berényi but the crowd was thick, moving through the park slowly, and there was no sign of him. Around the edges, Morgan could see groups of men with hard faces and fists that clenched plastic tumblers of
