Vienna Secrets

71

THERE WAS A KNOCK on the door. Liebermann stopped writing, closed his journal, and placed it in his desk drawer.

“Come in,” he called out.

The door opened slowly, and a gentleman stepped into his office. He was carrying a homburg hat in his hand and wearing a long frock coat. Liebermann recognized him-bald head, long beard, pince-nez-a professor of philosophy whom he often saw around the university. He had also seen him somewhere else, but he couldn’t quite remember where.

“Herr Dr. Liebermann?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Priel. Professor Josef Priel. Do you have a moment? There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“Concerning?”

“Concerning the death of the young Baron von Kortig.”

Liebermann assumed that the professor had some involvement with the hospital committee and offered him a chair. Priel bowed and sat down, crossing his long legs.

“I was informed by an associate of yours, Dr. Gabriel Kusevitsky-and his brother, the dramatist, Asher Kusevitsky-that your future here at the hospital is now uncertain on account of your conduct at the time of the young baron’s demise. But it is obvious to any right-thinking person that you acted in the best interests of your patient. Therefore one can only suppose that your present predicament owes much to the mischievous interference of politically motivated parties.”

“Indeed,” said Liebermann. “That is almost certainly so.”

“The Kusevitskys mentioned a dossier… sent to an investigator at the security office?”

“Yes, by a member of parliament. It contained letters from the old baron, an unfavorable statement by a witness-an aspirant named Edlinger-and the draft of a scurrilous article.”

“Extraordinary.”

“If it had not been for the intervention of a friend, I might have been made the subject of an official inquiry.”

“And charged with religious agitation, no doubt.”

“That might have been the outcome, yes.”

“A very worrying development,” said Priel, tutting. “Very worrying. I understand that you are to appear before a hospital committee soon.”

“That is correct.”

“And a final decision will be made about your future.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, the chancellor is not very optimistic about my prospects.”

“The chancellor. Would that be Professor Gandler?”

“Yes.”

Priel hummed. When the sonic possibilities of the note had been thoroughly explored, he said, “Gandler will be more concerned about pleasing patrons than about your welfare. He has friends in the town hall, you know.”

Liebermann sighed. “I didn’t realize.”

“And if you are dismissed, what are your plans?”

“It will be difficult for me to get another position here in Vienna.”

“There are other hospitals-private establishments-that would not be unsympathetic; the hospital where Gabriel Kusevitsky works, for example.”

“I do not know the medical director,” said Liebermann meekly. He had not troubled to socialize advantageously, and now he regretted it. His only professorial acquaintance was Freud, a man who possessed little influence outside his own small circle of devotees.

“Introductions could be made,” said Priel, disregarding Liebermann’s reservation. “However, if your appointment at another institution was arranged, it would solve your problem, but it wouldn’t solve the problem.” Priel altered the position of his head, and his pince-nez flashed as they caught the light. “If you are dismissed, and the decision of the committee is not challenged, it will set something of a precedent-don’t you see?-a dangerous precedent in these difficult times.”

“Challenged?” Liebermann repeated. Not quite sure what the professor was proposing.

“This scandalous affair was never really about your ability to practice medicine. My dear fellow, there is more at stake here than your position.” The professor was beginning to sound a little like the chancellor. “We have a collective responsibility…”

The rest of Priel’s sentence was drowned out by a frantic banging on Liebermann’s door.

“Yes, please come in.” Liebermann called out over the noise.

A nurse appeared. Her face was flushed and she had clearly been running.

“Herr Doctor-Herr Poppmeier…”

“Yes? What about him?”

“You must come-immediately.”

“Why?” Liebermann’s first thought was that his patient might have-quite unexpectedly-attempted suicide. “What’s happened?”

“Something unbelievable.” The nurse glanced warily at Professor Priel and then back at Liebermann. “Please hurry.”

“Has he tried to harm himself?”

“No. He’s gone…” She raised her hands and stamped her feet. “He’s gone into labor!”

“But that’s ridiculous!”

“Forgive me, Herr Doctor, but I must insist that you come this instant. Herr Poppmeier is having a baby. He really is.”

Liebermann stood up.

“I am sorry, Herr Professor, but I must attend to one of my patients who-if I have understood Nurse Stangassinger correctly-is about to transcend the biological limitations of his sex.”

The professor smiled, wrinkles fanning out from his eyes.

“I am happy to wait. Not only am I anxious to finish our conversation, but I am now equally anxious to hear the outcome of Herr Poppmeier’s miraculous confinement.”