J. Jones - The Third Place

Werthen stood and put out his hand as the two approached. ‘It seems they do, Gross. It must be something very urgent to call you away from your professorship in Prague.’

Shaking hands, they both took the measure of the other.

‘You’re looking fit-’

They spoke at the same time and smiled at this. It helped Werthen soothe his nerves to have Gross on hand, as well.

The door opened again and in walked Prince Montenuovo, a punctilious little man dressed in the eighteenth-century livery of a court councilor.

‘So, you have been reunited,’ he said. ‘It is good to see you both again.’

‘Save the pleasantries for later, Prince,’ Gross blurted out. ‘What’s this all about?’

Werthen all but winced at the abruptness of Gross’s query. The famed criminologist was not one for decorum.

‘As you wish, gentlemen.’ Montenuovo smiled with his mouth, not his eyes, and sat in a chair behind a large expanse of gilt desk. He made no offer of a seat to them, but Gross was not waiting for an invitation, dropping into a chair like a man exhausted from a long march. Werthen remained standing for a moment.

‘Sit down, Werthen,’ Gross commanded, as if he were master of the court.

‘Yes,’ Prince Montenuovo intoned, unruffled by Gross’s brusqueness. ‘Do take a seat, Herr Advokat.’ He placed his delicate hands on the desk in front of him, interlocking the long fingers. ‘Now, to the matter at hand. You have been summoned on a matter of the utmost urgency and secrecy.’

The prince paused dramatically to see what effect this pronouncement would have.

‘One assumes so,’ Gross said with a degree of irritation. ‘Otherwise why would I be whisked away from pressing duties in Prague, or my esteemed friend here summoned like some common lackey?’

This comment seemed to sail over the prince’s head like an evil wind to which he paid scant attention.

‘I must first confirm your willingness to aid the empire in this matter. And that you will do so with the utmost discretion.’

Werthen made to speak, but once again Gross took charge. ‘Well, of course we are, my good man. We’re both loyal subjects.’

‘Advokat Werthen?’ Prince Montenuovo nodded at him.

‘Doktor Gross in this case speaks for me, as well.’

‘There. You see?’ Gross thundered. ‘Now, let’s get on with it. What matter of state is there to deal with? Missing documents at the General Staff? A spy in the Ministry of War? Something we can get our teeth into, I hope.’

Prince Montenuovo again smiled with his mouth only, an expression that looked much like a grimace. ‘Nothing quite so melodramatic, I am afraid, though nonetheless important to the empire. It is a matter of a missing letter.’

‘Ah, a missive from one head of state to another,’ Gross said. ‘Information that could tip the balance of power.’

This time Montenuovo actually did grimace, Werthen noticed.

‘Not quite,’ he said. His hands were still interlocked on the desk in front of him, but now the knuckles were turning quite white.

‘Perhaps you could apprise us of the situation without further surmises on our part,’ Werthen said diplomatically, earning another scowl from Gross.

‘Indeed. Yes. I assume you both know of Frau Katharina Schratt?’

‘Wonderful actress,’ Gross said, not offering to make it easier for Prince Montenuovo.

‘Yes, of course. The star of the Burgtheater. But I also assume you know of her … friendship with the emperor.’

Gross continued his little game. ‘I rather thought she was the favorite of our beloved empress, may she rest in peace.’

‘Yes, there was that …’ Montenuovo began.

Werthen finally came to his aid. ‘We, like most of Vienna, know about the emperor’s friendship with the good lady for over two decades. And of rumors that such friendship may extend beyond the platonic.’

‘This missing letter, then,’ Gross said, ‘is from one to the other, I assume.’

‘From the emperor to Frau Schratt,’ Montenuovo explained.

‘And it contains some evidence to indicate the non-platonic nature of their friendship?’

‘There you have it, Doktor Gross. A missive of a delicate nature that should not fall into the wrong hands. The newspapers, for example. We have press censorship here, of course, but were the letter to be sold to a foreign newspaper …’

‘But the emperor must surely be forgiven a dalliance following the tragic assassination of his wife,’ Werthen said.

The other two were silent and he slowly realized what a naif he was.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘It was written while Empress Elisabeth was still alive. Is that it?’

Montenuovo nodded. ‘A keepsake. A memento that Frau Schratt kept locked in her desk drawer for these many years with the waxing and waning of the special friendship. She was quite put out, you know, following the empress’s death, that she was no longer protected from intrigue and calumny. Others in the royal family did not really care to see her involvement in public affairs nor her influence over the emperor.’

Montenuovo made another dramatic pause. ‘It was a difficult time for the emperor, but lately they have made up. And now she has discovered this missing document. Were it to fall into the wrong hands it could prove more than a mere embarrassment.’

‘What’s in it, for God sake?’ Gross said.

‘The emperor does not say, merely that it must be found.’

‘And you expect us to retrieve it?’ Gross asked. ‘When did it go missing?’

The prince shrugged. ‘Frau Schratt is rather vague about the timing. It appears she last saw it about a week ago. Then, having cause yesterday to examine files in the locked drawer where the prized letter was kept, she discovered it had disappeared.’

‘Not merely mislaid?’ Werthen asked.

Montenuovo shook his head. ‘She is sure of that. Apparently she went through the documents several times. It is missing. Purloined, one assumes.’

Werthen was a realist; there seemed little chance of finding the letter after several days had transpired, let alone a week.

‘Why us?’ Gross inquired, interrupting Werthen’s thoughts.

Prince Montenuovo looked surprised. ‘Well, because you have proven yourself in the past to be of service to the royal house.’

‘Why not the emperor’s own security detail. Or the police?’

‘The emperor is fearful that such a delicate matter will get out. The more who know of the missing letter, the greater the likelihood that it will become known. Loose lips.’

Werthen was about to say that there was a greater likelihood of the letter being made public by whomever stole it, but Prince Montenuovo explained further.

‘Also, quite frankly, I believe that he does not want to lose face with his inner circle. He is their father figure, the old emperor. He has no desire to display to them feet of clay.’

Gross nodded at this, but seemed unconvinced.

‘And there has been no letter to the court to extort money for the return of the letter?’ Werthen asked.

‘None. Truth be told, we would be willing to pay far more than any newspaper. Thus …’

‘The supposition is,’ Gross said, finishing the prince’s thought, ‘that whoever stole the letter is not after money, but mischief. He or she wishes to inflict pain and embarrassment on the emperor.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Was there any sign of a break-in at Frau Schratt’s residence?’ Werthen asked.

‘ That we leave for you gentlemen to discover,’ Montenuovo responded. ‘The good frau is expecting you at her Gloriettegasse residence this very morning. You can ascertain such information as you require. You will accept the commission?’