Again Wolf attempted to get up, but Rheinhardt held him fast.
“Very well,” said Liebermann. “If you won't remove your tunic, I'll just have to proceed without your cooperation.”
The young doctor aimed the syringe at Wolf's upper arm. He moved the shiny cylinder forward along a horizontal trajectory. Its progress was slow and stately-like a silver airship gliding over the Prater.
Wolf's eyes became fixed on the sharp point of the advancing needle.
“For God's sake, stop!” the boy cried. “I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything.” Beads of perspiration had appeared on his forehead. “But you're wrong about Zelenka. I swear it. You must believe me… I never…” He hesitated before adding, “Touched Zelenka.”
“Then who did?” Rheinhardt asked.
“If you want to know more about Zelenka,” said Wolf, “then you should talk to Herr Sommer.”
Liebermann lowered the syringe.
Wolf's expression was pained, as if this revelation had cost him dearly. He fell silent-and the silence became protracted.
Liebermann noticed a subtle change in the boy's expression. The fear in his eyes was diminishing, like the steady trickle of sand vacating the upper chamber of an hourglass, and was being replaced by what could only be described as a look of calculation. Liebermann jabbed the syringe back into Wolf's view, and was reassured when the boy started.
“No,” said Wolf. “That won't be necessary.”
“Why Herr Sommer?” Rheinhardt pressed.
“They were lovers,” said Wolf.
“ What?” said Rheinhardt, his voice rising an octave.
“Zelenka and Herr Sommer… They…” Wolf hesitated, failing to complete his sentence.
“How do you know that?” Liebermann asked.
“They were seen together last summer. By Freitag.”
“Who?”
“Freitag. Another cadet. He saw them walking together up the Kahlenberg.”
“Couldn't it have been a chance encounter?” said Liebermann.
“No. You see, they were being intimate… in the little cemetery.”
“I see,” said Liebermann.
The young doctor opened the walnut box and placed the syringe carefully inside. He let the lid fall, allowing it to make a loud thud.
“You have been remarkably discreet, Wolf,” said Liebermann.
The boy looked at him quizzically.
“What I mean is,” Liebermann continued, “had you chosen to make this revelation earlier, Inspector Rheinhardt would have transferred his attentions-at least in part-from you to Herr Sommer. Yet you didn't say a word. If it wasn't you who inflicted those wounds on Zelenka-and you believe that Herr Sommer is party to such knowledge-why didn't you make this revelation before?”
“I didn't want Herr Sommer to get into trouble.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is useful.”
“How is he useful?”
“We have… an arrangement.”
“What kind of arrangement?”
“I had promised to keep his relationship with Zelenka a secret, and in return he agreed to falsify my examination results.”
“Your examination results!”
“Why are your examination results so important to you?” Rheinhardt interjected. “So important that you are prepared to blackmail one of your masters!”
“I'm no good at mathematics, and I'll need a good pass to gain admission into preferred branches of the military.”
Rheinhardt let go of Wolf's shoulders and slumped down on an adjacent chair. He looked tired-and somewhat bewildered by the boy's cunning.
“I am prepared to accept,” said Rheinhardt, “pending an interview with Herr Sommer, that you were not responsible for Zelenka's injuries. However, what about Perger? What did you do to him?”
Wolf breathed in sharply. “It wasn't that bad…”
“What did you do?” Rheinhardt repeated.
“I threatened him. That's all.”
“Why?”
“Perger knew all about Zelenka and Herr Sommer. Perger and Zelenka were as thick as thieves. I knew that you would eventually get Perger to talk… so I pushed him around a bit. If Herr Sommer was disgraced, I wouldn't get what I wanted.”
“Do you know where he went-Perger?”
“No,” said Wolf. “No… no, I don't.”
Rain had begun to fall, and the windows resonated with its gentle drumming.
“Apart from Perger and Freitag,” Rheinhardt continued, “did anyone else know about Herr Sommer's…” The Inspector hesitated. “Herr Sommer's relationship with Zelenka?”
“No.”
“We have no proof, then, other than your word-and Freitag's, of course.”
“I am telling the truth,” said Wolf, darting a nervous glance toward the walnut box on Liebermann's lap.
“What if Herr Sommer denies your allegation?” said Rheinhardt.
“I have something in my possession that once belonged to Zelenka,” said Wolf. “Herr Sommer was very keen to get hold of it- very keen.”
“A dictionary?” said Liebermann.
“Yes,” said Wolf, surprised.
“A Hartel and Jacobsen dictionary?”
“Yes. I thought there might be something incriminating written inside-but there isn't. I've checked.”
“Where is it?” said Rheinhardt.
“I've hidden it,” Wolf replied.
“Somewhere in the school?”
“Yes.”
“Then you had better go and get it,” said Rheinhardt. “Immediately.”
64
“Well?” said Rheinhardt. “Do you think he's telling the truth?”
“On the whole, yes,” Liebermann replied. “I am confident that his revelation concerning Herr Sommer's homosexuality is true- and that Herr Sommer had become intimate with Zelenka; however, my confidence in Wolf's testimony faltered at two junctures. When Wolf denied harming Zelenka, he said that he had never touched him. Yet I noticed a slight hesitation before he said the word ‘touched’-as though he had met some unconscious resistance.” “Then you do think he was lying. He did harm Zelenka.” “No,” said Liebermann, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” “I'm sorry, Max, you will have to speak more plainly.” “I am of the opinion that Wolf did touch Zelenka… And it was the memory of that touching, erotic touching, that impeded the fluency of his denial.”
Rheinhardt blew out his cheeks and exhaled, allowing his lips to interrupt the airflow so as to produce a series of plosions. When he had finished, he said, “And the second thing?”
“When Wolf claimed that he did not know Perger's whereabouts, I thought his denial was too insistent.”
“Then perhaps we should administer our truth serum, after all.” Liebermann smiled coyly. “No. There wouldn't be any point.” Rheinhardt's brow furrowed. Liebermann tapped the walnut box and continued: “The bottle contains a saline solution and a harmless stain. I would be very uncomfortable injecting a young man with belladonna and morphine.”
Rheinhardt's mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments before he spluttered, “I… I… I don't believe it! Why on earth didn't you tell me!”
“Authenticity! We needed to play our parts with utter conviction.”
“But all those things you said about belladonna-did you make it all up?”
“No, it's all true-and we might well have used twilight sleep to loosen Wolf's tongue; however, that would have been such an inelegant solution to our problem. The use of psychological devices is considerably more satisfying, don't you think? More subtle. And my ruse has been successful enough. I have not tampered with Wolf's brain chemistry, yet he has told us a great deal.”
Rheinhardt shook his head from side to side. “Sometimes, Max, you test my patience to the very limit.”
“Indeed,” said Liebermann. “But never without reason.”
The young doctor turned the key of the walnut box, and dropped it into the dark, gaping maw of his leather bag.
“What a sorry and sordid state of affairs,” said Rheinhardt. “Frau Becker allowed others to believe that she was having an improper relationship with Zelenka so that she might better conceal her assignations with Lang, and at the very same time Herr Sommer's indiscretions were serving an identical purpose, concealing his assignations with the boy himself! It is a pity that none of them stopped to consider the possible consequences of their mutually advantageous lies-particularly on the all too fragile mind of Dr. Becker.”