The Memorist

Chapter 62

Wednesday, April 30^th-11:30 a.m.

Silently counting the all-too-familiar number of steps, she mounted the staircase to Beethoven’s Mölker Bastei apartment. Malachai and Sebastian followed as, without hesitation, she went straight to a violin in a case where, just as she remembered it, there was a card describing the instrument and giving its provenance in four languages. The three of them read different versions at the same time but both the English and German legends ended with the same information: the violin was a gift of the Gerhard von Breuning estate and was one of seven original instruments belonging to Beethoven and on display at the composer’s residences in Vienna and Baden.

“Except we’ve been here and there and didn’t see a bone flute,” Sebastian said.

“No. And you wouldn’t,” Malachai said. “It’s hidden. Beethoven said so himself in his letter to Antonie. Maybe Meer’s silver key will open its hiding place. Beethoven wrote that both the Archduke Rudolf and Stephan von Breuning had all the necessary clues even if they couldn’t see them.”

“And if von Breuning left his son everything that Beethoven gave him and Gerhard left everything to the state and the state put all those objects on display in Beethoven’s apartments…” Sebastian connected all the dots in his mind. “You think that hidden amidst all these objects there’s a flute made of ancient bone?”

Meer wasn’t listening to their conversation. The lights enfolded her, separated her from herself so that she was at once in this moment and outside of it, watching and trying to communicate with the woman on the other side of the divide who knew exactly where the ancient flute had been hidden. Her back ached; the metallic taste filled her mouth. Meer didn’t hear a voice giving her the answer to the puzzle, or see a ghostly figure pointing the way. Suddenly there was just knowledge she possessed that she hadn’t had a few seconds ago.

Crossing the room she paused in front of a second glass case. Inside was a silver oboe more than two feet tall and two inches across. A white oblong card described the instrument in four languages but Meer didn’t need to read the English version. The only words she cared about were the same in every translation.

Gerhard von Breuning.