J. Jones - The Third Place

Drechsler dogged each step. Finally he said, ‘If you told me what it is you’re looking for, I could be of some help.’

Gross turned to face him. ‘If I knew what I was looking for, I would.’

This shut the detective up for a few more minutes as Gross went back into the combined bedroom and sitting room. He surveyed the walls now.

‘Really, Gross. My men may not have read your books on crime scene inspection, but-’

‘Ah,’ Gross said with deep satisfaction.

On the wall hung a reproduction of Brueghel’s Hunters in the Snow , one of Gross’s personal favorites. And lodged in the lower left-hand corner of the frame was a playing card. He picked it out of the frame; it was from a Tarock deck. He nodded his head excitedly.

‘A playing card,’ Drechsler said. ‘So what?’

‘He’s talking to me,’ Gross said. ‘He stayed at my hotel. He puts a card in a reproduction of a painting I love, that I have written about. Klavan knows me. He wants me to understand that.’

‘It’s still just a playing card,’ the inspector said.

‘No. Not just any playing card. Do you know Tarock, Inspector?’

‘Don’t have much time for card games.’

‘No. I thought not. You see this is the Pagat, and this little beauty is one of twenty-two trump cards.’

‘It’s got a number one on it.’

‘Very good, Inspector. Yes. It is the lowest of the trump cards, but together with the twenty-one and the joker it has the highest point value.’

‘This is precisely why I do not play cards,’ Drechsler said, losing interest.

‘Patience, my good man. All shall be revealed. You see, this little card has a particular move. If you play it last and win the trick, or even better, tell the others you are going to play it last and do so and win – then there are extra points. But even more so, there is a certain elegance to such a play, a confidence, even a cockiness. It is called Pagat Ultimo. The ultimate move.’

‘Like checkmate in chess,’ Drechsler said.

‘Yes, Inspector. Very much like it. An apt analogy.’

‘And you’re saying this is a message from Klavan to you personally.’

Another excited nod of the head from Gross.

‘His final move,’ Drechsler said. ‘But what is it?’

Gross shook a forefinger at him. ‘That is what I need to discover. But now I know it is in this room. He has left me a message. And as I know it is directed at me specifically, I ask myself, what connection do Klavan and I have?’

His eye went back to the wardrobe, for at their last confrontation, Klavan had humiliated Gross by locking him in a wardrobe dressed rather unceremoniously.

Drechsler had been on the scene at that time as well, and knew what Gross was thinking.

‘You may be on to something, Doktor Gross.’ He tried to keep a smile off his face, remembering the scene of the eminent criminologist attired in a green silk evening gown that Klavan – going by the name of Schmidt at that time – had forced Gross to put on.

Gross wasted no time in returning to an inspection of the wardrobe. There must be something, he told himself. Something I missed the first time examining the wardrobe.

It took ten minutes, but finally he saw the corner of a piece of white paper barely peeking out of a seam in the cedar lining. Gross gingerly drew it out and unfolded it to see it was written on hotel stationery.

‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,’ he sighed as he read the hastily scrawled message.

Readers of the afternoon edition of the Neue Freie Presse may have been curious at the small notice placed in the bottom right of the front page, cutting into the space for the daily feuilleton.

‘Researchers in Vienna agree that communicable diseases may be on the rise due to increased population mobility. More on this story in later editions.’

It was hardly the sort of article or notice that a paper such as the Neue Freie Presse would print voluntarily.

Klavan, seated at a window table of the Cafe Burg, read the notice with evident glee. His teeth showed when he smiled. It was not a usual occurrence, this smile.

So Gross found my message, he thought. I declare Pagat Ultimo.

Prince Montenuovo threw the newspaper to the floor. ‘Outrageous,’ he fumed. He glared at Gross. ‘How dare you take it upon yourself to play the game of this lunatic?’

‘There was hardly time to consult the Hofburg,’ the criminologist said, exerting great effort to control his own temper. ‘The deadline for the afternoon edition was upon us. We were simply buying time …’

‘Negotiating with the enemy, more like. You’ve given him the upper hand in this ludicrous threat.’

Drechsler spoke up now. ‘It’s too early to determine how ludicrous or realistic his threat is, Prince. The researchers at the lab tell me there are two vials missing. But there is no way to know the quantity of bacilli used for each of the atomizers. Klavan may well have another vial in reserve, as his note implies.’

Montenuovo glanced down at the note on his desk, the very one Klavan had left for Gross. He read the salient part out loud once again: ‘If I do not receive the sum of one million Krone by Easter Sunday, I will turn Vienna into a charnel house. The plague shall once again stalk the House of Habsburg and its minions.’

The prince stabbed the note with an angry forefinger. ‘The man is living in cloud cuckooland.’

Werthen, who was also in attendance at this emergency conference, hoped the prince was right. However, the rhetoric rather than the monetary demand bothered him. It was the sort of inflated writing that someone very sure of himself would employ. The ‘minions’ stood out in this regard, as did the verb ‘stalk.’

‘And why go to all the bother of hiding the note?’ Montenuovo asked.

‘It was a test,’ Gross said. ‘I passed.’

‘And if you hadn’t?’

‘One assumes he would continue with his plan, whatever it is.’

‘So this is about you now?’ Montenuovo said. ‘Not the emperor?’

‘We do have a history,’ Gross allowed. ‘There is obviously a touch of personal animus in all of this.’

‘In that case,’ Prince Montenuovo pronounced in a very un-princely manner, ‘perhaps we should use you as bait.’

‘We’re getting ahead of ourselves here,’ Drechsler interrupted. ‘One assumes there will be a further communication from Klavan after he reads the notice in the newspaper. On one level, this should be handled as a straightforward case of extortion.’

‘Yes, but with all of Vienna held hostage,’ Montenuovo added. Finally he appeared to realize that his behavior was unseemly. More sensibly, he asked, ‘If he is serious about spreading the plague, how would he go about it?’

‘I’ve been over that with Professor Doktor Nothnagel of the bacteriological institute at Vienna’s General Hospital,’ Gross replied. ‘He told me that airborne transmission is the most effective for this form of pneumonic plague. A sick person coughs or sneezes and releases the bacilli from their own infection.’

‘Thus the atomizers,’ Montenuovo said.

Gross nodded. ‘But there are any number of other ways of spreading the infection, from contaminated or undercooked food to spraying the bacilli in a crowded area. Open-air markets, theaters, churches, public transportation – anywhere people gather en masse could be the staging ground for this perverse menace.’

‘In other words, our Herr Klavan could carry out his deadly threat with impunity. Who’s to stop him? The same as with these infernal anarchists and their bombs.’

The large baroque room was silent at this statement.

‘Perhaps we should take the precaution of closing public entertainments for the time being,’ Drechsler said.