A German Requiem

Liebl's practice, in Judengasse, was on the first floor of a shoemaker's shop.

When he came back into his office carrying two bundles of banknotes, he found me standing at the window.

'Two thousand five hundred American dollars, in cash, as agreed,' he said coolly, 'and 1,000 Austrian schillings to cover your expenses. Any more will need to be authorized by FrSulein Braunsteiner she's Herr Becker's girlfriend.

The costs of your accommodation will be taken care of by this office.' He handed me a pen. 'Will you sign this receipt, please?'

I glanced over the writing and signed. 'I'd like to meet her,' I said. 'I'd like to meet all Becker's friends.'

'My instructions are that she will contact you at your pension.'

I pocketed the money and returned to the window.

'I trust that if the police pick you up with all those dollars, I may rely on your discretion? There are currency regulations which '

'I'll leave your name out of it, don't worry. As a matter of interest, what's to stop me taking the money and returning home?'

'You merely echo my own warning to Herr Becker. In the first place, he said that you were an honourable man, and that if you were paid to do a job, you would do it. Not the type to leave him to hang. He was quite dogmatic about it.'

'I'm touched,' I said. 'And in the second place?'

'Can I be frank?'

'Why stop now?'

'Very well. Herr Becker is one of the worst racketeers in Vienna. Despite his present predicament he is not entirely without influence in certain, shall we say, more nefarious quarters of this city.' His face looked pained. 'I should be reluctant to say any more at the risk of sounding like a common thug.'

'That's quite candid enough, Herr Doktor. Thank you.'

He came over to the window.'What are you looking at?'

'I think I'm being followed. Do you see that man ?'

'The man reading the newspaper?'

'I'm sure I saw him at the railway station.'

Liebl removed his spectacles from his top pocket and bent them round his furry old ears. 'He doesn't look Austrian,' he pronounced finally. 'What paper is he reading?'

I squinted for a moment. 'The Wiener Kurier.'

'Hmm. Not a Communist, anyway. He's probably an American, a field agent from the Special Investigation Section of their military police.'

'Wearing plainclothes?'

'I believe that they are no longer required to wear uniform. At least in Vienna.' He removed his glasses and turned away. 'I dare say it'll be something routine. They'll want to know all about any friend of Herr Becker. You should expect to be pulled in sometime, for questioning.'

'Thanks for the warning.' I started to move away from the window but found my hand lingered on the big shutter, with its solid-looking cross bar. 'They certainly knew how to build these old places, didn't they? This thing looks as if it was meant to keep out an army.'

'Not an army, Herr Gunther. A mob. This was once the heart of the ghetto. In the fifteenth century, when the house was built, they had to be prepared for the occasional pogrom. Nothing changes so very much, does it?'

I sat down opposite him and smoked a Memphis from the packet I had brought from Poroshin's supplies. I waved the packet at Liebl who took one and put it carefully into a cigarette-case. He and I hadn't had the best of starts. It was time to repair a few bridges. 'Keep the pack,' I told him.

'You're very kind,' he said, handing me an ashtray in return.

Watching him light one now, I wondered what genealogy of debauch had jaspered his once handsome face. His grey cheeks were heavily wrinked with almost glacial striations, and his nose was slightly puckered, as if someone had told a sick joke. His lips were very red and very thin and he smiled like a wily old snake, which only served to enhance the look of dissipation that the years, and, most probably, the war had etched on his features. He himself provided an explanation.

'I was in a concentration camp for a while. Before the war I was a member of the Christian Social Party. You know, people prefer to forget, but there was a very great feeling for Hitler in Austria.' He coughed a little as the first smoke filled his lungs. 'It is very convenient for us that the Allies decided that Austria was a victim of Nazi aggression instead of a collaborator with it. But it is also absurd. We are perfect bureaucrats, Herr Gunther. It is remarkable the number of Austrians who came to occupy crucial roles in the organization of Hitler's crimes. And many of these same men and quite a few Germans are living right here in Vienna. Even now the Security Directorate for Upper Austria is investigating the theft of a number of identity cards from the Vienna State Printing Office. So you can see that for those who wish to stay here, there is always a means of doing so. The truth is that these men, these Nazis, enjoy living in my country. They have five hundred years of Jew-hatred to make them feel at home.

'I mention these things because as a pifke, he smiled apologetically '- as a Prussian, you may find that you encounter a certain amount of hostility in Vienna. These days Austrians tend to reject everything German. They work very hard at being Austrian. An accent like yours might serve to remind some Viennese that for seven years they were National Socialists. An unpalatable fact that most people now prefer to believe was little more than a bad dream.'

'I'll bear it in mind.'

When I finished my meeting with Liebl I went back to the pension in Skodagasse, where I found a message from Becker's girlfriend to say that that she would drop by around six to make sure that I was comfortable. The Pension Caspian was a first-class little place. I had a bedroom with a small adjoining sitting-room and bathroom. There was even a tiny covered veranda where I might have sat in summer. The place was warm and there seemed to be a never-ending supply of hot water an unaccustomed luxury. I had not long finished a bath, the duration of which even Marat might have baulked at, when there was a knock at my sitting-room door, and, glancing at my wristwatch, I saw that it was almost six.

I slipped into my overcoat and opened the door.

She was small and bright-eyed, with a child's rosy cheeks and dark hair that looked as if it rarely felt a comb. Her well-toothed smile straightened a little as she saw my bare feet.

'Herr Gunther?' she said, hesitantly.

'FrSulein Traudl Braunsteiner.'

She nodded.

'Come in. I'm afraid I spent rather longer in the bath than I should have, but the last time I had really hot water was when I came back from the Soviet labour camp. Have a seat while I throw on some clothes.'

When I came back into the sitting-room I saw that she had brought a bottle of vodka and was pouring two glasses out on a table by the French window. She handed me my drink and we sat down.

'Welcome to Vienna,' she said. 'Emil said I should bring you a bottle.' She kicked the bag by her leg. 'Actually I brought two. They've been hanging out of the window of the hospital all day, so the vodka is nice and cold. I don't like vodka any other way.'

We clinked glasses and drank, the bottom of her glass beating my own to the table-top.

'You're not unwell, I hope? You mentioned a hospital.'

'I'm a nurse, at the General. You can see it if you walk to the top of the street. That's partly why I booked you in here because it's so near. But also because I know the owner, Frau Blum-Weiss. She was a friend of my mother's. Also I thought you'd prefer to stay close to the Ring, and to the place where the American captain was shot. That's in Dettergasse, on the other side of Vienna's outer ring, the Gnrtel.'

'This place suits me very nicely. To be honest it's a lot more comfortable than what I'm used to at home, back in Berlin. Things are quite hard there.' I poured us another drink. 'Exactly how much do you know about what happened?'