“Professor Priel?”
The professor looked up from the journal.
“Was I correct in my assumption?”
“What?”
“Were the murders of Brother Stanislav, Councillor Faust, and the procurer Jeheil Sachs intended to revive memories of the Prague golem, your purpose being to provide the Jews of Vienna with a symbol of empowerment?”
Priel nodded, but his expression declared that he was contemplating a more comprehensive answer. After a brief pause, he added, “I also hoped that some-the Hasidim, for example-would take a more literal view of the evidence. I hoped that they would actually believe that a kabbalist of Rabbi Loew’s stature had returned to protect them, which, I gather, has indeed transpired. A people need to be strong in their faith to survive. I have made a good start with the Hasidim. I am confident that the wider community will follow.”
“I do not consider the promotion of superstition an achievement, Herr Professor.”
Priel shook his head. “The irrational is an essential part of human nature. To overlook the irrational is to overlook the greater part of our constitution. I would have thought that you, a psychiatrist conversant with the works of Professor Freud, would appreciate this important point.”
“Professor Freud indeed acknowledges the irrational, as the principal cause of psychopathology.”
“That may be so, but Professor Freud’s objectives are somewhat different from mine.”
“True. Where he seeks to heal divisions in the psyche, you seek to open them up in society.”
As Liebermann spoke, he found that his wrists were moving more easily. Were the bonds loosening?
Priel set his jaw and drummed his fingers on the journal. Eventually he said, “We are a people under threat, Herr Doctor. And the threat is not merely physical but spiritual. And when I use that word-“spiritual”-I am referring not only to the numinous. I am referring to something broader of which religion is but a part, albeit an important one. I am referring to our sense of who we are, which is preserved in our music, our poetry, our stories, and our dreams. They want to take those things away from us-”
“They?”
“The priests, the Christian Socials, the Pan-Germans, and we are complicit in our demise. We assimilate, convert, and become embarrassed by the appearance of a caftan on the Ringstrasse! They divide us. They weaken us at a time when we must be strong. And unlike you, they respect the power of symbols and the irrational wellsprings of human imagination. They have their crosses, their Norse gods, and rune signs to rally behind, while we are left with nothing. While we forget, they remember. While we ignore our archaic heritage, they are celebrating theirs.”
“You talk like a prophet, Herr Professor.”
Priel shook his head. “You don’t have to be a prophet to foresee what is coming.”
“Another term for Mayor Lueger, and things will continue just as they are.”
“I don’t think so, Herr Doctor. I really don’t think so.”
The professor’s movements suggested he was about to stand.
“How did you know about my journal?” Liebermann asked.
Priel sat back in his chair. “I was bored and looked through your drawers when you were called out of your office. A private journal-unattended. It was simply too tempting.”
“You didn’t know about it beforehand?”
“How could I have known?”
The bonds were loosening! Liebermann pulled his thumbs in and twisted his hands. The Klammer Method was proving more useful than he had ever imagined.
“Well, someone might have told you.”
“Who?”
“Gabriel Kusevitsky.”
Priel became impatient and stood up. “And now…”
“The kabbalist’s lair? Was Rabbi Seligman your accomplice?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“The caretaker.”
“How did you persuade him to cooperate?”
“I bribed him.”
“Did he understand your purpose?”
“He’s a simple man, but intelligent enough not to ask questions.”
“But he must have-”
“Please, Herr Doctor!” Priel interrupted, raising a finger to his mouth.
“You have already killed one Jew,” said Liebermann. “And now you are about to kill another. Perhaps you should study the golem legend more closely? Isn’t it true that, ultimately, the Prague golem could not be controlled, even by Rabbi Loew? Isn’t it true that it ran amok, destroying parts of the Prague ghetto? Yes, the golem legend is about empowerment, but it is also about the judicious use of power. It is also about being wary of unleashing forces that we may not be able to contain. It is a metaphor. You have released the irrational-the golem within-with inevitable consequences: You are killing your own people, not protecting them.”
The professor ran his hand over his pate. His expression was suddenly shadowed by the presence of doubts.
“I…” He hesitated and started his sentence again. “Men like Sachs… they are evil.”
“And what about me? Am I evil too?”
“No, Herr Doctor. You are not evil. Merely…” Priel paused to select an apposite term. “Unfortunate. Please understand, I do not want to kill you.” The professor shook his head violently. “If there were another way…” His voice sounded strained. “But there is no other way. What I must do… it is far too important. I must proceed. Don’t you see that?”
“When violence is employed to serve an ideal, it invariably negates that ideal. No truly good cause was ever furthered by the use of violence.”
“Enough, Herr Doctor!” the professor snapped. “I will not be lectured by you! Do you think the Jews of the Ukraine would agree with you? Do you think they would approve of your philosophy, which is nothing but a hollow luxury! Do you know what’s happening out there? Do you? It’s started all over again, just like before! The horror! The carnage! Villages burned to the ground! Cossack atrocities that beggar belief: cats sown into the bellies of pregnant women!”
“And as before, the Jews will flee-and find safety, here in Vienna!”
“In Mayor Lueger’s Vienna?” Priel sneered. “Where Schneider can propose that a special police force supervise the Jews at Easter to prevent ritual murders? Where funds are made available to distribute anti-Semitic literature in elementary schools? And where a Jewish doctor cannot care for a dying patient without being accused of religious agitation!”
Priel tossed Liebermann’s journal onto the workbench and opened a drawer. He took out a bottle and a large sponge. As soon as he had removed the glass stopper from the bottle, the room filled with the distinctive sweet smell of chloroform. Liebermann pulled his thumbs in tighter.
Almost, almost…
Priel poured some chloroform onto the sponge and turned to Liebermann.
“I am sorry, Herr Doctor.” His anger had dissipated, and he appeared to be genuinely saddened by the task he was about to perform. “But I must do this. I really must. Please do not struggle. As you know, the chloroform will be much more effective if you take deep breaths, and I promise to administer the chloroform again, before…” He sighed. “Before we reach our destination. Do not be fearful. You will feel no pain or discomfort. I will make every effort to ensure that you do not regain consciousness.”
The professor reached out and placed the sponge over Liebermann’s nose and mouth. Liebermann complied, taking a deep breath. Chloroform, administered in this fashion, could take up to thirty minutes to produce narcosis. He calculated that he could afford to feign acquiescence.
“Good,” said the professor. “Good. Close your eyes, eh? It will be better… easier.”
Liebermann spoke sotto voce into the sponge. The muffled sound was incomprehensible.
“What?” Again, Liebermann mumbled a string of unstressed syllables, and the professor drew closer. “What did you say?”
Priel put down the bottle and removed the sponge.
Liebermann’s hands slipped from the bindings. The muslin dropped to the floor. Professor Priel’s eyes widened quizzically.