“Here… let me help you.”
Kanner guided Liebermann out of the cab.
The driver cracked his whip and the cab rattled off.
Liebermann listened carefully. A slight echo suggested a wide street but the ensuing silence indicated that they were a long way from the town center. He guessed that they were probably in the suburbs- and the cool, fresh air informed him that they had gained altitude. Perhaps they had traveled west?
“Come on,” said Kanner.
Liebermann heard the sound of an iron gate opening and then the crunch of gravel underfoot.
“Be careful, Maxim. There are some steps just here-three of them: quite deep and high.”
Liebermann imagined the facade of a smart villa. Perhaps they had driven out to Penzing or Hietzing?
Kanner knocked on the door.
Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat.
The precise repeated rhythm suggested a code.
When the door opened, Liebermann heard a gasp.
“I must see the venerable at once,” said Kanner. “It is a matter of the utmost importance.”
They were admitted and were escorted down what Liebermann assumed was a long hallway smelling of polished wood and lavender. This led to a flight of carpeted stairs, which Liebermann supposed would deposit them in the basement. However, when they arrived, there was a rolling sound-like that of the castors beneath a university bookcase. They then negotiated a more precipitous descent around a tight spiral stairwell. When Liebermann reached out to touch the wall, he felt cold, slightly damp stone. The air smelled of earth. Once again, for the second time in as many days, Liebermann found himself in the underworld.
Elysium.
Yes, the name was beginning to make sense.
Behind the venerable was a large painted wooden panel. It appeared to show a pelican with outstretched wings, feeding three young with its own entrails. It stood below a crucifix decorated with a single red rose.
Liebermann had just come to the end of his story, and a heavy silence prevailed. His attention returned to the panel-which had fascinated him from the moment Kanner had removed his makeshift blindfold.
The venerable let his forefingers meet to form a steeple.
“Very interesting.” He then looked at Kanner and nodded approvingly. “Thank you, brother. You acted wisely.” Kanner inclined his head in grateful acknowledgment. “Herr Doctor Liebermann,” continued the venerable, “you have been considerably more lucid than Inspector Rheinhardt. But in evaluating the risk-to ourselves and to our guests-we must be mindful of the facts. If the fiend is a devotee of Guido List, then he is certainly no friend of Freemasonry-and his debasement of Brother Mozart's blessed creation is further proof.” The venerable paused again, tapped his fingers together, and added: “It is possible, we must suppose, that I am to be his Sarastro, and Prince Nadasdy his Tamino. But you cannot be certain, Herr Doctor.”
“No,” said Liebermann. “But I think it very likely.”
The venerable stroked his snowy Vandyke beard. “How on earth could he have learned of our intentions?”
“Perhaps one of your number has been indiscreet?”
The venerable shook his head. “I doubt that very much. Tomorrow's initiation ceremony is the most important date in our calendar for more than a hundred years. Moreover, there is not a single member of our lodge who does not recognize the political sensitivity of the occasion. Prince Nadasdy still claims to be the rightful ruler of Transylvania. His father's estates were confiscated after the revolution… When we meet tomorrow, we are not only defying the police but the Hofburg. Indiscretion would cost us dearly. None of us are keen to spend the rest of our lives locked up in the Landesgericht.”
“Then it may be that Olbricht has intercepted some document?”
“Impossible,” said the venerable. “Sensitive information has always been encrypted.”
“He may have broken your code.”
“Our Masonic cryptograms are inviolable. He would have to be a genius.” The venerable leaned back in his chair. “All of which raisesin my mind-some significant doubts.” He squeezed his protruding lower lip and frowned. “With respect to the accuracy of your… theory.”
“Herr Losch,” said Liebermann, “I very much hope that you do not intend to proceed with tomorrow's ceremony.”
The venerable sighed and turned a ring on his finger.
“Herr Doctor Liebermann, I am indebted to you. But, in truth, I do not accept that we are in as much danger as you imagine. How would this Olbricht enter the temple? It is situated four stories beneath the earth! And although there will be many in attendance, we are all known to one another. We are as brothers. An intruder would be highly conspicuous.”
“Olbricht has an extraordinary knowledge of the sewers. There may be some entry point with which he is familiar.”
The venerable shook his head.
“I was party to the design of Elysium. There is no such thing. And even if there were, we would simply guard it, or seal it up! Herr Doctor, this Olbricht is only mortal. Yet you speak of him as if he were some supernatural being. He may be capable of monstrous acts-but he cannot walk through walls or become invisible.” The venerable's features hardened, reflecting a sudden resolve. “The inaugural meeting will take place as planned. And Prince Nadasdy will become an entered apprentice of the craft.”
Liebermann examined the venerable's face. The armature of rigid muscle around his jaw relaxed, and his resolute expression was replaced by a somewhat self-satisfied smile.
For some reason that Liebermann could not identify, Herr Losch seemed curiously unwilling to heed his warning. Liebermann felt frustrated-close to anger. He suppressed the urge to reach across the table and shake the old fool. What was wrong with him? Wasn't he troubled by the possibility of his own imminent demise-or, for that matter, the death of his Hungarian guest?
Liebermann found himself staring in mute incomprehension at the old man's enigmatic smile, and his mind was suddenly occupied by the image of a Sphinx. Once again he was reminded of the vast number of these mythical beasts that inhabited Vienna: crouching among sarcophagi in the museum, adorning the feet of lampposts, lining the paths of the Belvedere Gardens, squatting on Professor Freud's desk… All at once, he realized the nature of his error. He had entirely misjudged his appeal. The Masons were a secret society. His emphasis should not have been on the physical threat of death, but on the psychological threat of exposure!
“Herr Losch,” said Liebermann calmly, “I am most impressed by your courage and resolve. However, I beg you to consider: what if I am correct? Suspend your disbelief for a moment and contemplate what might happen if some terrible harm does befall Prince Nadasdy? There will be a full murder inquiry. Eventually, the police will find Elysium and all your activities will be revealed. Within days this place will be swarming with reporters from the Kronen-Zeitung, the Tagblatt, and the Freie Presse.”
A flicker of anxiety unsettled the venerable's calm features. His shoulders tensed.
“Yes… yes.” He gave a soft, purring hum of rumination. “That would be most unfortunate.”
“Everything that you hold dear will be sensationalized- subjected to unsympathetic public scrutiny. Such a scandal would probably herald the end of Freemasonry in Vienna. Surely, Herr Losch, you do not wish such a thing to happen during the span of your protectorate?”
The venerable raised his hands. The pitch of his voice communicated something close to desperation.
“But what do you suggest? What can I do?”
“Abandon the ritual.”
The venerable's expression snapped back to a mask of stubborn intransigence. “Never.”
“Then let me attend.”
“I beg your pardon?” said the venerable, tilting his head and leaning forward a little as if he were hard of hearing.
“Let me attend your ceremony,” said Liebermann softly. “If Olbricht does appear, I may be of some assistance: at least I will be able to recognize him. And if you are right, and he does not appear, then I give you my word that your secrets will be safe with me.”