Vienna Secrets

27

The adjutant entered Schmidt’s office.

“Councillor.” He bowed and clicked his heels. “Hofrat Holzknecht would like to see you at once.”

Schmidt looked up from his papers.

“I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

“I believe Hofrat Holzknecht wishes to see you this instant, Councillor.”

Schmidt reprimanded himself for his ill-considered response. A politician wishing to ascend the internal hierarchy of the town hall should not keep a person like Holzknecht waiting.

“Of course,” said Schmidt. “Forgive me. I was preoccupied with this new housing bill.”

He tidied his papers, stood, and followed the adjutant out onto the landing. As they made their way toward Holzknecht’s domain on the second floor, Schmidt wondered why he had been so peremptorily summoned. It crossed his mind that he might have been a little careless lately. Perhaps one of his associates had been indiscreet? It would be most inopportune if some of his business dealings came to light at this particular point in time. He was having so many brilliant ideas. He was a man at the height of his powers! It would be tragic-not just for him but for all of Vienna-if he were unable to oversee his various schemes and bring them to a satisfactory conclusion.

They arrived at Holzknecht’s bureau, which occupied a whole suite. The adjutant led Schmidt through two small antechambers to Holzknecht, who was seated behind a desk beneath a portrait of the emperor and several photographs of the mayor performing civic duties.

“Councillor Schmidt,” announced the adjutant.

“Ah, there you are, Schmidt.” Holzknecht did not stand. “Have you heard?” Before Schmidt could answer, the Hofrat dismissed his adjutant by glancing at the door.

Schmidt took a seat in front of Holzknecht’s desk.

“About Eberle’s proposal for the new housing bill?”

“No, no, no… about your colleague Councillor Faust!”

“Faust?”

“Yes, Faust. He’s been murdered.”

“What?”

“I know. I could hardly believe it myself.”

Schmidt did not react. He sat perfectly still, as if stunned. Finally he asked, “When did it happen?”

“On Saturday morning. He was decapitated-like that monk, Stanislav. It’s extraordinary. And what a coincidence! Remember we were all together when your nephew found the article in the newspaper. Who would have thought… poor Faust… that he would be the next victim? It’s chilling, isn’t it?”

“Do the police have”-Schmidt did not want to betray his excitement and made an effort to keep his voice steady-“any idea who is responsible for these atrocities?”

“No.”

“Was he robbed?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then why was he murdered?”

“God knows!”

“Decapitation…,” said Schmidt pensively. “It must have been the same person.”

“Or persons… This morning I spoke to the security office commissioner on the telephone. The state censor intervened with respect to the reports of Brother Stanislav’s murder. The monk’s head was in fact torn from his body. The same thing…” The old man balked at the thought. “The same thing happened to poor Faust. It would take more than one man to perform such a heinous deed.”

“What a terrible way to die.”

“Indeed. Let us pray that he was oblivious when the time came.”

Schmidt crossed his legs and let his fingers interlock.

“It seems almost ritualistic, don’t you think?”

Holzknecht was too distressed to detect Schmidt’s meaning, and the councillor thought it prudent not to press the point. He would have many other opportunities in due course. The two men spoke for a while until the conversation became nothing more than disconnected statements of horror and disbelief. Eventually Schmidt said, “You must excuse me. There is some work I must complete for the mayor’s transport committee by this evening.”

Holzknecht rose from his desk and accompanied Schmidt to the door. Before opening it, he said, “Of course, this means that you now have a very good chance of being appointed to the mayor’s special advisory panel.”

“With respect, Hofrat Holzknecht,” said Schmidt, “I cannot think of such things at present.”

“Forgive me…,” said the old man. “You were close colleagues, and no doubt close friends. However, I just wanted you to know that I’ve always regarded you as a man of talent, Schmidt. Perhaps your time has come.”

The councillor assumed a rueful expression and walked through the two antechambers with his head lowered. When he reached the corridor, he was smiling.