“They said they didn’t have any more,” said Haas, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Well, they’re lying-obviously.”
“We done everything we could,” said Oeggl. His speech was slurred, although not because of the wine. He always spoke like that.
“Come now,” said Schmidt, lighting a cigar. “I’m sure two experienced gentlemen like yourselves could be a great deal more persuasive if you put your minds to it.”
“Well, we could,” said Haas. “But…”
“But what?”
“It’s risky. Sometimes it’s difficult to judge. You know? How far you can go?”
Haas rubbed the scar on his cheek. It looked a little inflamed.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Schmidt benevolently. “Do whatever you think is necessary. If something untoward occurs-well, I won’t blame you. Accidents happen.”
“With respect, your honor,” said Oeggl, “if accidents happen, then the police get involved.”
Schmidt shook his head.
“How many times must I repeat myself? That really isn’t a problem. I’m on exceptionally familiar terms with the boys at the Grosse Sperlgasse station. They won’t ask any questions, I can assure you. So… next time, do whatever it takes. Indeed, I would go as far as to say that perhaps the time has come to make an example of someone.” Schmidt picked up the coins and let them drop onto the table. “I mean to say, this will hardly keep us in the style to which we have become accustomed, eh, gentlemen? Do whatever is necessary!”
Part Two
26
Anna Katzer was wearing a white blouse with cuffs made of Valenciennes lace and a purple crepe de chine skirt. Purple was her color. Men always noticed her more when she was wearing purple. The effect was very reliable, so much so that Anna was inclined to invest the color with magical powers. It was of some significance, therefore, that Anna had chosen to wear her favored hue for her guest: Gabriel Kusevitsky.
As soon as Gabriel entered the parlor, it was evident that the color had worked its spell. The young doctor was clearly overwhelmed. He made a discreetly flattering remark, but his wide-eyed expression declared the true extent of his appreciation.
Anna remembered what Olga had said about the Kusevitsky brothers: intellectuals, too preoccupied with their work to be interested in the society of fashionable young ladies. Well, she thought, it seems that this Kusevitsky brother is not yet completely lost to the brotherhood of coffeehouse philosophers.
Anna had invited Gabriel to tea immediately after their first meeting. The invitation had been subsequently repeated, and accepted, on three further occasions. Olga had advised Anna against appearing overly anxious for his company. Men, she had said, are inclined to desire more strongly that which is withheld. However, on reflection Anna had chosen to ignore her friend’s counsel. Gabriel Kusevitsky was an earnest fellow, and would probably find the stratagems of courtship-the games and ploys-confusing, childish, and tedious. She would wear purple, and do nothing more.
Once again, Anna talked about her charity work. She noticed how intently Gabriel listened. He sat very still, as she thought a psychiatrist should, but occasionally raised a finger to his lips. His hands were delicate, a little like those of a boy. Another woman might have described those hands as fragile or effeminate, but Anna considered them sensitive. Anna spoke more seriously than usual. She made fewer flippant remarks and was altogether less girlish. Without Olga there, it was easier to present herself as a more substantial person. In many respects she felt more comfortable in this new guise. As she spoke, somewhere at the back of her mind a certain sentiment was finding quiet expression: a doctor’s wife should conduct herself with dignity. It was shocking that she should be thinking such a thing, at such an early stage of acquaintance. But she had always imagined that she would marry a doctor. Rather a doctor any day than one of the young businessmen her father was always asking to lunch.
After the tea had been drunk and the cakes consumed, Anna asked Gabriel what he intended to do after completing his research.
“I will apply for a clinical post-within my discipline-at the General Hospital or one of the private institutions. However, I have always harbored a wish to make a contribution greater than that which can be accomplished through the practice of medicine alone.”
“Isn’t it enough to heal the sick? I can’t think of anything more worthwhile or personally satisfying.”
“Medicine is a great force for good, but it cannot cure all ills.”
“All ills?” Anna repeated.
Gabriel paused and considered his companion. He seemed to be making some kind of assessment. He seemed to be searching out an essential part of her person, a secret corner. His eyes narrowed behind his thick spectacle lenses, and Anna felt a little unnerved.
“There is much wrong in the world,” he said softly. Then, after a long pause, he added, “And I want to do something about it.”
“Do you have political ambitions?”
“Yes, of a kind.”
“The town hall? Parliament?”
The young doctor smiled. “You wanted me to interpret one of your dreams, but now you seem to be more interested in mine.”
Anna blushed but quickly regained her composure.
“Yes,” she said, flashing her eyes at Gabriel. “I am interested in your dreams.”
This time it was the doctor’s turn to blush. The frankness of her honest affection was unexpected. Even more so was the soft touch of her hand as it landed gently on his own.
27
The adjutant entered Schmidt’s office.
“Councillor.” He bowed and clicked his heels. “Hofrat Holzknecht would like to see you at once.”
Schmidt looked up from his papers.
“I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“I believe Hofrat Holzknecht wishes to see you this instant, Councillor.”
Schmidt reprimanded himself for his ill-considered response. A politician wishing to ascend the internal hierarchy of the town hall should not keep a person like Holzknecht waiting.
“Of course,” said Schmidt. “Forgive me. I was preoccupied with this new housing bill.”
He tidied his papers, stood, and followed the adjutant out onto the landing. As they made their way toward Holzknecht’s domain on the second floor, Schmidt wondered why he had been so peremptorily summoned. It crossed his mind that he might have been a little careless lately. Perhaps one of his associates had been indiscreet? It would be most inopportune if some of his business dealings came to light at this particular point in time. He was having so many brilliant ideas. He was a man at the height of his powers! It would be tragic-not just for him but for all of Vienna-if he were unable to oversee his various schemes and bring them to a satisfactory conclusion.
They arrived at Holzknecht’s bureau, which occupied a whole suite. The adjutant led Schmidt through two small antechambers to Holzknecht, who was seated behind a desk beneath a portrait of the emperor and several photographs of the mayor performing civic duties.
“Councillor Schmidt,” announced the adjutant.
“Ah, there you are, Schmidt.” Holzknecht did not stand. “Have you heard?” Before Schmidt could answer, the Hofrat dismissed his adjutant by glancing at the door.
Schmidt took a seat in front of Holzknecht’s desk.
“About Eberle’s proposal for the new housing bill?”
“No, no, no… about your colleague Councillor Faust!”
“Faust?”
“Yes, Faust. He’s been murdered.”
“What?”
“I know. I could hardly believe it myself.”
Schmidt did not react. He sat perfectly still, as if stunned. Finally he asked, “When did it happen?”
“On Saturday morning. He was decapitated-like that monk, Stanislav. It’s extraordinary. And what a coincidence! Remember we were all together when your nephew found the article in the newspaper. Who would have thought… poor Faust… that he would be the next victim? It’s chilling, isn’t it?”