THE PRIVATE DINING ROOM in which Councillor Schmidt sat-one among many-was where he usually met with his mistress; however, he also used it for other “business” purposes. Schmidt could depend on the landlord, Herr Linser, to be discreet. When it had been proposed by the transport committee that the block of dilapidated eighteenth-century houses, in which the dining room was located, should be demolished to make way for a new streetcar line, Schmidt had argued that the route extension was not really necessary. In due course an alternative had been approved. And when two health and safety officers had paid the establishment an impromptu visit, and had subsequently forwarded a damning report to the relevant bureau in the town hall, Schmidt had made sure that the report was unavailable when the municipal hygiene group met to discuss what action should be taken.
Shortly after, Schmidt had suggested to Herr Linser that, if he so wished, he might choose to express his gratitude in the form of a monthly 10 percent levy, paid in cash and delivered by hand to an associate of Schmidt’s named Knabl. When Herr Linser first balked at this suggestion, Schmidt reminded him that reports that had been mislaid could also be found again. Herr Linser apologized for his bad manners, begged to be excused, and promised the councillor that he would never take his patronage for granted again.
Sitting opposite Schmidt were two of his most trusted “business associates,” Haas and Oeggl. Both of them were wearing badly fitting suits in which they looked distinctly uncomfortable-Haas in particular, who kept on running his finger around the inside of his shirt collar as if it were too small and were stopping him from breathing.
“More wine, gentlemen?” asked Schmidt.
Haas and Oeggl both nodded, and Schmidt replenished their glasses. Then he emptied onto the table the contents of an envelope that they had given him earlier. It contained a wad of dirty banknotes and an assortment of silver and bronze coins.
“Is that all?” said Schmidt.
“They said they didn’t have any more,” said Haas, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Well, they’re lying-obviously.”
“We done everything we could,” said Oeggl. His speech was slurred, although not because of the wine. He always spoke like that.
“Come now,” said Schmidt, lighting a cigar. “I’m sure two experienced gentlemen like yourselves could be a great deal more persuasive if you put your minds to it.”
“Well, we could,” said Haas. “But…”
“But what?”
“It’s risky. Sometimes it’s difficult to judge. You know? How far you can go?”
Haas rubbed the scar on his cheek. It looked a little inflamed.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Schmidt benevolently. “Do whatever you think is necessary. If something untoward occurs-well, I won’t blame you. Accidents happen.”
“With respect, your honor,” said Oeggl, “if accidents happen, then the police get involved.”
Schmidt shook his head.
“How many times must I repeat myself? That really isn’t a problem. I’m on exceptionally familiar terms with the boys at the Grosse Sperlgasse station. They won’t ask any questions, I can assure you. So… next time, do whatever it takes. Indeed, I would go as far as to say that perhaps the time has come to make an example of someone.” Schmidt picked up the coins and let them drop onto the table. “I mean to say, this will hardly keep us in the style to which we have become accustomed, eh, gentlemen? Do whatever is necessary!”
Part Two
The Tree of Life