Vienna Blood

80

The first course of cabbage and raisin soup had been very filling, but not sufficiently so to deter Stefan Kanner from insisting that the waiter should bring large helpings of Wiener schnitzel, Brussels sprouts, baked breaded tomatoes, and innviertler speckknodel (diced bacon mixed with chopped parsley, wrapped in dough and cooked in salted water). He also ordered two bottles of a rough local wine that since his student days had always been jovially referred to by young medical men as atropine.

“The guilt is intolerable,” said Liebermann. “I can hardly bear to think about it.”

“It had to be done,” said Kanner, spearing a bacon dumpling. “You did the right thing. Clara will get over it-and it'll be for the best. Now, stop punishing yourself and have some more atropine.” Liebermann mechanically did as he was told, gulping down the astringent liquid. “Of course, what you really need right now,” Kanner continued, “is the company of a sweet girl with whom you have an understanding. My own melancholy mood has much improved thanks to such an arrangement.”

Kanner popped the dumpling into his mouth.

“I beg your pardon?” said Liebermann.

“Her name is Theresa,” said Kanner. “She's the cashier at a little coffeehouse in Mariahilf. I go there sometimes to play billiards in the afternoon-and cards at night. I suspect that she is having some sort of liaison with the pay waiter-a roue who looks more elegant than most of his customers. One afternoon I happened to meet Theresa just as she was leaving. We conveyed to each other what was on our minds, achieved a perfect understanding, and drove in a closed fiacre to a secluded spot on the Prater, where we spent a very merry evening. She is extraordinarily pretty-eyes like saucers-although she's in the habit of humming an old operetta song more times than I consider strictly necessary: Love requires endless study, who loves but once is a fuddy-duddy…” Kanner paused and shrugged. “And-as is the way with such things-thoughts of my dear Sabina soon faded.”

“Mmm,” said Liebermann.

“You don't approve?”

“It's not a question of approval, Stefan. One's treatments should meet the specific needs of the patient. And I fear, Herr Doctor, that in my particular case at least, such a cure will only exacerbate the illness. My guilt will not be relieved by taking a turn around the Prater with a cash girl.”

“Then what is your solution?” asked Kanner, looking a little miffed at Liebermann's gentle rebuff.

“Industry.” Liebermann was aware that he was sounding pompous even as the word escaped from his lips.

“Maxim, you sound like my father!”

Liebermann made an appeasing gesture with his hands and smiled.

“I'm sorry, Stefan. What I meant to say was-I have, of late, found my police work with Inspector Rheinhardt very…” He paused to find the correct word. “Diverting. I really must tell you about it. There have been some quite extraordinary developments.”

Liebermann proceeded to give Kanner an account of his recent adventures: the discovery of the cello case and the pursuit of Olbricht through the sewers-the sabre, and the contents of Olbricht's notebook. Kanner listened carefully.

“And there is to be another murder-a double murder?” said Kanner. “On the twelfth? But that is tomorrow.”

“Almost certainly,” said Liebermann.

The atmosphere in the room had become muted. Kanner seemed unusually meditative and subdued.

“And you are of the opinion that…” Kanner took a box of Egyptian cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. “That this Olbricht character will try to murder an aristocrat and the chief Freemason of Vienna-on the same day?”

“I cannot be certain. But it is a reasonable hypothesis.”

Kanner took out a cigarette and tamped it on the side of the box.

“Inspector Rheinhardt spoke to the head Freemason yesterday afternoon,” Liebermann added. “But I understand that he didn't seem to take the threat very seriously. Rheinhardt suspected that the gentleman believed his warning was some kind of security office deception: relations between the police and the Freemasons are not good. Inspector Rheinhardt considered it prudent to have the gentleman followed but to his great consternation found that by yesterday evening he had completely vanished.”

Kanner lit his cigarette and blew a perfect smoke ring that rose up and hovered above his head, creating the illusion of a disintegrating halo.

“And you're quite sure it isn't a police trick?”

Liebermann's expression conveyed his incredulity. “Of course it isn't a trick!”

Kanner pulled at his chin and grimaced. “In which case, I have a confession to make.”

Liebermann inspected his friend closely. Kanner's blue eyes were startlingly bright. “You do?”

“Yes. I am a Freemason: and tomorrow, on the twelfth of December, Prince Ambrus Nadasdy of Hungary will be initiated as an entered apprentice at a secret temple known as Elysium. The ceremony will be presided over by the head of our fraternity, Venerable Grand Master Losch-the gentleman who has so successfully evaded your friend Rheinhardt.”

Liebermann stared at Kanner, dumbfounded. “Then we know where Olbricht's going to strike!”

“Max.” Kanner's expression was grave. “What I have just told you must not be revealed to anyone.”

“But the police… I have to.”

“It would be utterly pointless. No member of the craft in Vienna would ever disclose the location of Elysium. We are acting illegally.”

“But Stefan, Prince Nadasdy and Herr Losch could be killed!”

“Perhaps, with your assistance, we will be able to prevent such a catastrophe. Now swear! Swear to me that you will say nothing of this to the police.”

Liebermann swallowed. “I will not betray your trust, Stefan. I swear.”

“Good. Now, where is that waiter? We must settle our account at once and leave.”

“Leave? Where are we going?”

“Elysium!”