The professor removed his pince-nez and cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief.
“I take it that you haven’t spoken to Inspector Rheinhardt about your most recent speculations?” He licked his fingertip and turned some pages. “Yesterday’s entry in particular.” He put his pince-nez back on and stuffed the handkerchief into his frock coat pocket. “I’m afraid you really were getting far too close to the truth, Herr Doctor. Far too close.” The professor tore out the page he was reading, crumpled it up, and threw it onto the floor. Then, perusing another section, he added, “I’ll make the ink run in a few places. Tears, you see? A little touch to emphasize your deteriorating mental state. What with the von Kortig affair and this pitiful preoccupation with the young Englishwoman…” His sentence trailed off. He was thinking aloud rather than addressing his prisoner.
Liebermann understood now why Priel had wrapped his, Liebermann’s, wrists in muslin. It was to protect his skin! There would be no marks, no impressions left by the cords to show that he had been tied up! A flare of outrage, bracing and astringent, dissipated his stupor. He felt obliged to do everything in his power to spoil Priel’s carefully constructed plan. He was still very weak from concussion, but, summoning what little reserves of strength he possessed, he pulled his hands hard apart and began to rotate his wrists. Perhaps, if he generated enough friction, he could produce a small amount of grazing, sufficient to give Rheinhardt cause for suspicion. It would be difficult to accomplish as, in order to avoid detection, he would have to keep the rest of his body still, and the task would take time. It was essential, therefore, to keep the professor talking.
“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
