Maria took her arm and shook it gently, "Come along, Eva," she insisted, "It's very important. We've got to leave… "
When Eva still didn't move, didn't even glance at her, Maria grew a little afraid, "Eva!" she called loudly. "Look at me! Look at me, Eva!" Her voice was high-pitched and barely under control. "Eva!"
"I'm all silky," the girl whined suddenly. "Look at me! I'm so silky and sexy, aren't I?"
Maria's heart beat faster. There was an odd, faraway look in Eva's eyes. She swung the girl round to face her, her fingers biting into the softness of Eva's arms.
"Listen to me, darling," she commanded. "You're suffering from shock or something. Maybe you got too excited just now. But we've got to go! You must get dressed! Do you understand?"
Eva's eyes looked right through her. Maria shook the girl violently. "Eva!" she shouted. "Eva!"
"So silky… so silky… so silky…!" the girl repeated in a dead monotone. Maria released her suddenly and backed away… terrified! She remembered the way those very words had poured remorselessly through her own mind. And how she had felt on the very brink of madness!
Eva had turned back to the mirror as soon as Maria's hands left her. She sighed and touched herself in a horrifying travesty of narcissism, her every movement betraying the seeds of insanity which were quickly ripening in her mind.
Maria couldn't tell if this was merely a temporary breakdown or if Eva's brain had suffered permanent damage. But she knew that the girl was termed a genius and that she had been under a tremendous strain during the past years, working practically nonstop on her brilliant and revolutionary theories.
The crack-up may have happened anyway. But there was no escaping the fact that the events of the last day had contributed to this breakdown. Maria felt panicky, completely at a loss. If she took Eva back to Hungary in this state they would immediately suspect her of doing this to the girl deliberately. If she handed her over to the Western agents they would kill her. And the only other alternative to murder Eva herself-she knew she could never even consider.
Wasn't there some kind of symbolism associated with wanting to be wrapped entirely in a tightly clinging garment? Maria found herself wondering about the psychology of the question, probably to take her mind off the insoluble problem of deciding what action to take.
Probably it represented an overwhelming desire to return to the safety of the womb. Poor Eva. She certainly had a great deal to escape from. There was the pressure of her work, the feeling she must have of being no more than an object for East and West to fight over.
And then, the world came to an end for both Eva and Maria, as well as the poor Hungarian maid. With two heavy thuds, the door splintered open and the two bodyguards lurched into the room. The three sets of eyes stared at them mercilessly. One man held a large Luger in his hand, the other one (the one whom Maria had encountered in the restroom on the plane) had a much longer weapon-a pistol with a large silencer on it.
There was a "thump" sound and Eva fell to the floor, blood pouring from her heart. Another "thump" sound, and Magda joined her. And then the man smiled cruelly at Maria. She would never know if she heard the third "thump." The shot killed her immediately.
There was more shooting, however as the men left the room. Two Western Intelligence agents and four local policemen gunned them down. Don Cabot only stood in the background and watched. His lips twisted into a snarl.
He was not finished. He was not through. Coming through this episode seemed to have proved something to him.