At the ticket barrier I presented my papers to an American MP and, having explained my presence in Vienna to his satisfaction, walked into the station, dropped my bag and looked around for some sign that my arrival was both expected and welcomed by someone in the small crowd of waiting people.
The approach of a medium-sized, grey-haired man signalled that I was correct in the first of these calculations, although I was soon to be apprised of the vanity of the second. He informed me that his name was Dr Liebl and that he had the honour of acting as Emil Becker's legal representative.
'I have a taxi waiting,' he said, glancing uncertainly at my luggage. 'Even so, it isn't very far to my offices and had you brought a smaller bag we might have walked there.'
'I know it sounds pessimistic,' I said, 'but I rather thought I'd have to stay overnight.'
I followed him across the station floor.
'I trust that you had a good journey, Herr Gunther.'
'I'm here, aren't I?' I said, forcing an affable sort of chuckle. 'How else does one define a good journey these days?'
'I really couldn't say,' he said crisply. 'Myself, I never leave Vienna.' He waved his hand dismissively at a group of ragged-looking DPs who seemed to have camped out in the station. 'Today, with the whole world on some kind of journey, it seems imprudent that I should expect God to look out for the kind of traveller who would only wish to be able to return from whence he started.'
He ushered me to a waiting taxi, and I handed my bag to the driver and climbed into the back seat, only to find the bag come after me again.
'There's an extra charge for luggage carried outside,' Liebl explained, pushing the bag on to my lap. 'As I said, it's not very far and taxis are expensive.
While you're here I recommend that you use the tramways it's a very good service.' The car moved away at speed, the first corner pressing us together like a couple of lovers in a cinema theatre. Liebl chuckled. 'It's also a lot safer, Viennese drivers being what they are.'
I pointed to our left. 'Is that the Danube?'
'Good God, no. That's the canal. The Danube is in the Russian sector, further east.' He pointed to our right, at a grim-looking building. 'That's the police prison, where our client is currently residing. We have an appointment there first thing tomorrow, after which you may wish to attend Captain Linden's funeral at the Central Cemetery.' Liebl nodded back at the prison. 'Herr Becker is not long in there, as it happens. The Americans were initially disposed to treat the case as a matter of military security and as a result they held him in their POW cage at the Stiftskaserne the headquarters of their military police in Vienna. I had the very devil of a job getting in and out of there, I can tell you. However, the Military Government Public Safety Officer has now decided that the case is one for the Austrian courts, and so he'll be held there until the trial, whenever that may be.'
Liebl leaned forwards, tapped the driver on the shoulder and told him to make a right and head towards the General Hospital.
'Now that we're paying for this, we may as well drop your bag off,' he said.
'It's only a short detour. At least you've seen where your friend is, so you can appreciate the gravity of his situation.
'I don't wish to be rude, Herr Gunther, but I should tell you that I was against you coming to Vienna at all. It isn't as if there aren't any private detectives here. There are. I've used many of them myself, and they know Vienna better than you. I hope you won't mind me saying that. I mean, you don't know this city at all, do you?'
'I appreciate your frankness, Dr Liebl,' I said, not appreciating it much at all. 'And you're right, I don't know this city. As a matter of fact I've never been here in my life. So let me speak frankly. With twenty-five years of police work behind me I'm not particularly disposed to give much of a damn what you think. Why Becker should hire me instead of some local sniffer is his business.
The fact that he's prepared to pay me generously is mine. There's nothing in between, for you or anyone else. Not now. When you get to court I'll sit on your lap and comb your hair if you want me to. But until then you read your lawbooks and I'll worry about what you're going to say that'll get the stupid bastard off.'
'Good enough,' Liebl growled, his mouth teetering on the edge of a smile.
'Veracity becomes you rather well. Like most lawyers I have a sneaking admiration for people who seem to believe what they say. Yes, I have a high regard for the probity of others, if only because we lawyers are so brimful of artifice.'
'I thought you spoke plainly enough.'
'A mere feint, I assure you,' he said loftily.
We left my luggage at a comfortable-looking pension in the 8th Bezirk, in the American sector, and drove on to Liebl's office in the inner city. Like Berlin, Vienna was divided among the Four Powers, with each of them controlling a separate sector. The only difference was that Vienna's inner city, surrounded by the wide open boulevard of grand hotels and palaces that was called the Ring, was under the control of all four Powers at once in the shape of the International Patrol. Another, more immediately noticeable difference was in the Austrian capital's state of repair. It was true the city had been bombed about a bit, but compared with Berlin Vienna looked tidier than an undertaker's shop window.
When at last we were sitting in Liebl's office, he found Becker's files and ran through the facts of the case with me.
'Naturally, the strongest piece of evidence against Herr Becker is his possession of the murder weapon,' Liebl said, handing me a couple of photographs of the gun which had killed Captain Linden.
'Walther P38,' I said. 'SS handgrip. I used one myself in the last year of the war. They rattle a bit, but once the unusual trigger pull is mastered you can generally shoot them fairly accurately. I never much cared for the external hammer though. No, I prefer the PPK myself.' I handed back the pictures. 'Do you have any of the pathologist's snaps of the captain?'
Liebl passed me an envelope with evident distaste.
'Funny how they look when they're all cleaned up again,' I said as I looked at the photographs. 'You shoot a man in the face with a .38 and he looks no worse than if he'd had a mole removed. Good-looking son of a bitch, I'll say that much for him. Did they find the bullet?'
'Next picture.'
I nodded as I found it. Not much to kill a man, I thought.
'The police also found several cartons of cigarettes at Herr Becker's home,' said Liebl. 'Cigarettes of the same kind that were in the old studio where Linden was shot.'
I shrugged. 'He likes to smoke. I don't see what a few boxes of nails can pin on him.'
'No? Then let me explain. These were cigarettes stolen from the tobacco factory on Thaliastrasse, which is quite near the studio. Whoever stole the cigarettes was using the studio to store them. When Becker first found Captain Linden's body he helped himself to a few cartons before he went home.'
'That sounds like Becker, all right,' I sighed. 'He always did have long fingers.'
'Well, it's the length of his neck that matters now. I need not remind you that this is a capital case, Herr Gunther.'
'You can remind me of it as often as you think fit, Herr Doktor. Tell me, who owned the studio?'
'Drittemann Film-und Senderaum GMBH. At least that was the name of the company on the lease. But nobody seems to remember any films being made there. When the police searched the place they didn't find so much as an old spotlight.'
'Could I get a look inside?'
'I'll see if I can arrange it. Now, if you have any more questions, Herr Gunther, I suggest that you save them until tomorrow morning when we see Herr Becker. Meanwhile, there are one or two arrangements that you and I must conclude, such as the balance of your fee, and your expenses. Please excuse me for a moment while I get your money from the safe.' He stood up and went out of the room.