I Was Jack Mortimer (Pushkin Collection) (10 page)

“Of course!” the man shouted. “The whole cape’s dirty!”

A second bellboy came up, and the man and the boys examined the cape and confirmed that it was dirty, the woman trying all the while to turn her head sufficiently to see for herself.

“It’s quite obvious it came from where you were sitting,” the man shouted. “That’s where the dirt stains are!” He opened the car door again and shouted to Haintl, “Turn the light on!” Haintl switched on the rear compartment light, got out of his seat, opened the door and all five of them looked in the back.

“There you are!” the man shouted, and pulled back the upholstery of the backrest. “It’s all wet and dirty! The whole car’s soaking wet! I noticed it as we were driving along!”

“But it’s raining!” Haintl shouted.

“Yes, water, not shit!” the man shouted. “And the inside of the car’s absolutely filthy!”

“From your shoes!” Haintl retorted.

By now a porter had also arrived on the scene, asked what the matter was and looked at the woman’s back; the woman took off her cape and screamed that it was ruined. They all continued fingering the cape and the upholstery until they had all got their fingers dirty, and even Haintl had to admit that everything was dirty.

“What sort of dog cart is this?” the man shouted. “Whom does it belong to? We demand compensation! What is this filth! Everything’s covered in it!”

They all walked into the light of the hotel entrance and examined their fingers. “It’s all red!” one of the boys said. “Yes, reddish brown,” the porter added; and the woman, who was still clutching her cape and trying to scrape the dirt off, suddenly clicked her fingers and exclaimed, “Ugh! Looks just like blood.”

All at once they all fell silent. The man, wishing to lend support to his wife, said it really did look like blood,
whereupon
the bellboys turned pale, and the porter, now that the others agreed it was blood, added his voice, too, “Yes, yes, it’s definitely blood.” Haintl was absolutely horrified.

“How could it be?” the man shouted.

“I honestly don’t know,” Haintl stuttered, adding that he certainly wasn’t responsible and so on. By now the manager
had appeared, and a couple of passers-by had stopped and were staring. Haintl stammered that he himself had just taken over the car a quarter of an hour ago, and that the blood must already have been there.

“Who had the car before you?” the manager asked.

“Another driver,” stammered Haintl, and thought of Sponer.

“Who?” the man shouted, and Haintl mentioned Sponer’s name.

In the end, Haintl had to go to the police station. The man and the woman also drove the short distance in another car; and so it was that Jack Mortimer’s blood, which Sponer had only partially succeeded in washing off in the dark, had come to be in Bräunerstrasse for the second time.

There it was established that the blood was not, as the porter at the Ambassador had first imagined, from a quarried deer, a goose or chicken whose throat had been slit and which someone had been transporting in the taxi, but the blood of someone shot just a few hours previously; they also found the two bullets that had gone through Mortimer’s body and penetrated the car’s bodywork; and Haintl, having been told to leave the car at the police station, was driven, accompanied by two detectives, first to the Brandeis garage and, since the only person there was the car washer, on to Sponer’s flat. In the meantime the Brandeis family were alarmed, but of
course knew nothing. One of the detectives rang the front doorbell; the door was opened and, accompanied by the
startled
porter, they mounted the stairs, woke up the Oxenbauers, and entered Sponer’s room. What with the examination of the blood-stained interior of the car at the police station and everything else, it was, by then, gone two in the morning.

Of course, they hardly expected to find Sponer in his room, though it was possible he could still turn up. The manner in which he had handed the car over to Haintl gave the impression he thought he had got rid of all traces of blood. He was evidently convinced he had. After a short session with Oxenbauer and his daughter, neither of whom had anything material to say because they had both gone to bed at about half past ten and were therefore not aware of Sponer having returned to his flat twice, they were released, but told to keep to their rooms, as was the porter, though the couple did not go back to bed, but started discussing the night’s unprecedented events. In the meantime the detectives continued interrogating Haintl and began a thorough search of Sponer’s room. They noted the two French newspapers, and also broke into the wardrobe and found the wet suit.

Having got that far, however, no one had as yet thought of the table drawer (the table was covered over with a blanket), when Marie Fiala appeared. She had found the front door downstairs, which had an old-fashioned lock, closed, of course, but not locked, which the porter in his confusion and panic had forgotten to do. Her heart began to beat.
Although it was dark, being on familiar territory, she rushed up the stairs confidently. The door to the flat was not fully locked, and she entered by turning the key slightly. By now she was almost convinced something was the matter, though she didn’t know what, for Sponer had said virtually nothing to her. The detectives and Haintl, as well as the Oxenbauers and the porter in the other rooms, heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock. The light was immediately switched off in Sponer’s room, and those waiting in the other rooms fell silent. Marie entered and noticed the strip of light showing under the door of the Oxenbauers’ room. For a moment she hesitated. If it had been just up to her, she’d have immediately left the place, rushed back to Sponer, and said this, that and the other had happened. The fact that she saw a strip of light under the door could, of course, have an innocent explanation. However, why couldn’t she hear anyone talking or moving about? She stood stock-still for a full two or three minutes, and listened.

But all she heard was her own heart pounding, like it had pounded the whole way there, like it had pounded when Sponer had turned up, like it had pounded all those long years when she had heard nothing else. And she followed that heart of hers, and Sponer’s urgent request to fetch his things, and entered the room.

She had hardly stepped over the threshold, when she was grabbed and held fast. She let out a cry. At the same time someone turned the light on. She saw the two detectives
and Haintl, and the next moment the Oxenbauers and the porter also rushed in.

They were evidently expecting Sponer himself, because Haintl cried out the moment the light was switched on that it was only Marie.

“Who?” asked one of the detectives, a dark-haired, stocky man.

“Marie Fiala,” Haintl said. “Sponer’s girlfriend.”

“Yes, that’s right, his girlfriend,” the Oxenbauer girl added immediately.

But Haintl turned to Marie and shouted, “For God’s sake, how could he have done such a thing!”

“Done what?” Marie asked, as white as a sheet.

The other detective, a tall, blond, slightly thick-set man, immediately motioned to Haintl to keep quiet.

“What has he done?” Marie repeated.

“What are you looking for here?” the blond detective asked.

“What has he done?” Marie screamed.

Haintl shrugged his shoulders.

“I want to know what brought you here!” the detective shouted. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she stammered.

“So, what are you looking for here?”

“I’m looking for…” she stuttered. “I wanted…”

“What did you want?”

“I wanted to see… Ferdinand,” she finally said.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“And where have you been up to now?” the other detective enquired.

At the precise moment she didn’t know what to say, for she was still completely confused; the only thing she knew was that she mustn’t betray Sponer. She mustn’t tell them that she’d come from her house and that Sponer was still there. It was obvious something dreadful must have happened, but she had not a moment’s hesitation in her resolve not to betray him.

“Now, are you going to tell us?” the detective shouted.

She finally said she’d been at her friend’s place where they’d been darning sheets.

“All this time?”

“Yes.”

“And where did you get the key from?” the blond detective asked.

“Which key?”

“The front-door key!”

“The front door,” she said, “was already open.”

They all looked at the housekeeper.

“What?” the housekeeper stammered. “Open? That means I must have…”

“And the key to the flat?” the stocky detective asked.

“The key to the flat?”

“Yes, the key to the flat!”

“The door to the flat, too, was open.”

“But you still can’t open it without a key,” the stocky man said.

She no longer knew what to say. The detective in the meantime put his hand into her coat pocket and brought out the key. “So, where did you get it?”

She was silent.

“Where did you get it?” the man repeated.

She clenched her teeth.

“You don’t want to say?”

“No.”

“It’s hardly necessary,” the blond detective said. “It’s obvious you must have got it from Sponer. Where did he give it to you? Where is he?”

She remained silent.

“If you won’t answer,” the blond detective said, “I’ll do it for you. You must have got the key just a short time ago, otherwise you’d have come earlier. And where were you till now? Darning sheets? A likely story! You were at home. Sponer could have given you the key only when you were at home. He stayed at your place and sent you here with the key. Obviously he wants you to get something for him. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes,” she said. She realized that she had made a terrible mistake in not answering the questions. Her silence had revealed more than answers would have done, for it enabled the others to draw the obvious conclusion. Now that they’d caught her out, they’d also search her flat. They’d do it in any case, because she was Sponer’s girlfriend. Unless she managed to distract the detectives, they would find Sponer.

“And what was it that he wanted you to bring him?” the blond detective asked.

“Money,” she answered. “But for Heaven’s sake, tell me what he has…”

“What does he need money for? Is he planning to escape?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “He just wanted it. But if you don’t want to tell me…”

“Where is the money?” the other one asked.

They didn’t disclose what had happened. She looked at Haintl, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

“Where is the money?” the stocky one repeated.

“In the drawer,” she said after a moment’s pause. The blond one removed the cover from the desk, but couldn’t pull the drawer out.

“You’ve got the key,” she suddenly added, “It’s with the other ones.”

The stocky detective gave the blond one the key.

“It’s on the left at the back,” she said.

They took out the envelope.

“Is this it?” the stocky one asked.

“Yes.”

They looked inside. All the others also stared with curiosity. The envelope contained just a few notes. “Is that all?” the stocky one asked.

“Yes,” she said.

They had evidently expected to find more, obviously all the money that Sponer had taken from the murdered
person, whoever he was. If it hadn’t been for the fact that they also wanted to investigate the robbery, they wouldn’t have remained there a moment longer, but would have left immediately to apprehend Sponer. Now, however, they were disappointed to find only Sponer’s meagre savings. The stocky one threw the envelope on the table.

“And where,” he asked, “is the rest of the money?”

It had not yet dawned on the two detectives why it was that Marie was suddenly so willing to answer their questions. Now that the main object of her mission was lying there on the table, she could take it to Sponer.

Quick as a flash she grabbed the money, made a dash for the door, ran out and slammed the door of the flat. Before the amazed company had realized what was happening, she had slammed the door behind her and was standing in the dark; then she ran not down the stairs, but up without a moment’s hesitation. A woman almost always does the right thing instinctively.

She was already on the landing and round the bend before the others stormed out of the flat. They naturally all ran down the stairs, continually stumbling, cursing and striking matches. The detectives were more astute, however; instead of running, they slid down the banister. They were also the first to reach the front door, which they tore open, and ran out into the street. A few moments later the others were also at the bottom of the stairs and likewise ran out into the street.

A
S SOON AS THE COAST WAS CLEAR
, Marie also ran down. The front door was open; she carefully peered out into the street and saw that it was deserted. However, at the very moment when she stepped out of the house, one of the detectives—the tall one—and Haintl, were already on their way back. Finding the neighbouring streets deserted, they had no doubt surmised that Marie was probably still in the house. That it hadn’t occurred to them why they hadn’t heard her running down the stairs when they were following her could probably be best explained by the fact that they themselves were making so much noise in the pursuit.

As soon as they turned the corner, the two of them
immediately
saw Marie and broke into a run. She started in the other direction, towards Mariahilfer Strasse. At that very moment the Oxenbauers, the housekeeper and the second detective came round the corner ahead of her. The first lot shouted to the second to stop Marie. She therefore ran as quickly as she could diagonally across the street, ducking and weaving to evade the first two, and ran on with all six of them in hot pursuit.

She didn’t run towards her house, but in the opposite
direction. She thought that in this way she’d be able to prevent them finding Sponer, for as long as she managed to keep running, the detectives would be much too preoccupied with catching her to bother about Sponer.

The detectives and Haintl ran in front, while the Oxenbauers and the housekeeper brought up the rear. Everyone, including those who in actual fact were not at all involved in the matter, seemed hell-bent on not letting Marie and Sponer get away with it. All through the chase the detectives would issue shrill whistling sounds.

Marie, of course, immediately realized that very soon she’d be out of breath and wouldn’t be able to maintain the pace, and that they’d catch up with her even if she ran like mad. Also, a policeman on the beat, attracted by the detectives’ whistles, dived out in front of her.

The pursuers shouted to him to stop Marie, but he failed to grasp their meaning simply because she threw herself straight in his arms and gasped, “They’re chasing me!” Thereupon she staggered behind him and stood there panting for a second.

“Stop!” the policeman shouted at the officials who, being in plain clothes, he failed to identify as fellow guardians of the law, bearing down upon him at full pelt. They, of course, took no notice of his command. “Stop!” he shouted once more, and as they were by now very close and were clearly intent on grabbing hold of Marie, without any hesitation he socked them over the head with his rubber truncheon.
One of them went down instantly, while the other began to reel; Haintl, too, ran up now, helped one of the injured detectives to his feet, and while confusion reigned and the ill-treated detective took pains to explain to the policeman that he was an idiot, Marie was once more able to continue her getaway.

Now, however, the pursuers were no longer able to keep up the pace and, in addition, Haintl had his work cut out helping the seriously hurt detective to stay in the chase. The Oxenbauers were far behind by now, and when Marie reached the corner of the street and looked round, she could no longer see any of them.

In two or three minutes she came to Mariahilfer Strasse, the section that runs from Westbahnhof to Schönbrunn Palace. She ran directly towards the city centre, but after a few steps realized this was a mistake. It would have been better to have run in the opposite direction, since there among the houses and in the dim side streets she stood more of a chance to shake them off her track. However, it was too late to turn back. Moreover, some of the passers-by who were still about even at that late hour would notice the chase, for the pursuers were shouting and whistling, though Marie still had such a good lead over them that she would always be somewhat ahead of them before the passers-by took any notice. She finally decided to jump into a taxi and headed for a line of three or four waiting cabs, but then ran past the astonished drivers after she realized she couldn’t
in the time available tell any of the drivers to drive off just like that, immediately; and besides, the engine might well not start straight away, or the driver himself would have noticed the pursuers in the meantime and simply refused to drive off. After she had run past the taxis, however, it struck her that she no longer heard the whistling and shouting of her pursuers; she stopped, gasping for breath, and saw that they had commandeered one of the taxis in order to drive after her.

For a moment she thought that her luck had run out. Then she staggered towards an approaching tram.

It was, of course, not a regular tram at this time of night, but a service vehicle with a high superstructure, used nightly to inspect and maintain the overhead electric cables. A second car, a type of trailer carrying the necessary equipment, was coupled to the first. The two tramcars were travelling quite fast. The headlights dazzled her; she tried to grab hold of the first car and jump on board, but was plunged into darkness after the lights had passed, and she missed her chance. The second tramcar then followed, but she soon saw there was no way she could jump on; only when the rear end of the car came up level did she see a pair of handles, or rather a type of iron clamps forming some steps. She grabbed hold of one of them and, due to the speed of the car, was immediately thrown off balance since, in her confused and exhausted state, she had not thought of running in the same direction as the car after she had grabbed hold of the step.
Nevertheless, being dragged along, holding on for dear life, she managed to reach the handle with her second hand and pull herself up, whereupon she then felt herself being carried along. What’s more, she finally managed to find a foothold. For a second or two she just hung on, completely exhausted.

In the meantime the motorcar was in hard pursuit and catching up. They had seen Marie’s manoeuvre and were calling to the driver of the tram to stop. However, this tram wasn’t stopping anywhere, except for maintenance, and moreover the driver had no idea what was going on, perhaps he didn’t even hear anything. In any case, he just let them carry on shouting and drove on.

Marie in the meantime had clambered up the iron steps and tumbled over the railing into the trailer. There was no one there, for the crew were all in the front car. For a few seconds she lay panting on the floor, then she stood up and looked over the top of the railing.

The car with her pursuers was closing the gap fast, but at this point the tram turned left into the ring road. Before the tram turned, the pursuers had tried to come up level, they had opened the car door, and the blond detective was standing on the running board, ready to jump onto the trailer. The car was already alongside when the tram veered left. The gap between the tram rails and the boarding step narrowed so quickly that the car was forced to brake suddenly. It was too late, however. The off-side front wheel caught the edge of the boarding step and was jerked sideways; the car went
out of control, and the detective on the running board was thrown onto the road.

He lay there, apparently injured. The others ignored him, however, jumped out of the car, and ran after the tram.

The tram gathered speed along the ring road. Haintl and the remaining detective, realizing they could no longer keep up, screamed and bellowed at the top of their voices. Meanwhile, in the front tramcar they were by now aware of what had happened, but the driver, because he either still hadn’t noticed anything, or else had a guilty conscience, as maybe he thought he was responsible for the accident, drove on regardless. The others, however, drew his attention to the pursuers. There was a brief exchange of words, the tram finally came to a halt, and Marie, who had still not been noticed by the people in the front tramcar, jumped down from the trailer.

In front of her was a narrow side road flanked by trees and some bushes. She ran into the cover it afforded. In the meantime the detective and Haintl came running up, completely out of breath. They must have noticed Marie leap from the trailer, and without bothering to explain anything to the people on the tram also dashed into the cover of the side road.

On the far side stood a large sprawling building, still brightly lit. Between the side road and the building was a lane on either side of which there was a long line of parked taxis and private cars.

The building was a suburban hotel, the ground floor accommodating a coffee house and a large, popular
entertainment
complex.

Marie ran across the road and along the line of parked cabs. However, as she approached the entrance to the complex, she became increasingly conspicuous on account of all the bright lights, and on the spur of the moment she jumped into one of the cabs.

Its driver, like the majority of the drivers, was not standing by his cab. However, Marie’s pursuers hadn’t overlooked the possibility that she might jump into one of the cabs and drive off, and they wanted to forestall her manoeuvre. What they evidently didn’t know was which car she had got into. So they began to search the nearest cars by opening the doors and looking inside. They could no longer summon the strength to shout and draw attention, for they were completely out of breath.

They simply opened and closed the cab doors, with the result that one of the drivers approached them and asked them where they wanted to go. Needless to say, they didn’t reply.

In the meantime Marie tried to make herself inconspicuous in the back of the cab she had jumped into. She couldn’t ask the driver to take her anywhere for the simple reason that there was no driver about. However, presently the driver appeared with a group of people who were prepared to get into the taxi and gave him an address.

Five people were about to get in and soon noticed there was already someone crouching in the back. Normally one would, of course, have assumed that the taxi had already been taken, but Marie remained silent for so long, cowering in a corner, that it was not until someone had sat on her lap—the driver had switched on the light in the back only a couple of seconds after he had got into his seat—that it suddenly dawned on those getting into the taxi that
something
was not in order, and they immediately asked what the person was doing in the back. There was therefore nothing left for Marie but to jump out of the taxi onto the road, skirt round the vehicle and dash through the gates of the entertainment complex.

Her pursuers, who were by now quite close as they went through the cars, saw what she’d done and ran after her.

It must have been a private function, or rather the tail end of one—this was no longer the season for public ones. In the cloakroom, as Marie dashed through, people were already in the process of collecting their overcoats. Tickets at the entrance to the reception rooms were no longer being checked with the result that she was able to enter
unchallenged
. Here there was still a fairly large crowd of people among whom she could disappear. She tore off her coat and dived into the crowd. There were hundreds of women there, all looking much like one another and, indeed, no better dressed than she was.

Having burst into the hotel, it was while Haintl and the
detective began accosting all the womenfolk in search of Marie, which naturally created the impression that both of them were drunk, and the staff were about to apprehend and eject them, that Marie managed to dash across the floor of the next reception room and reach the passageway between the private rooms and the coffee house, for she was familiar with the general layout, having already been there two or three times previously with Sponer. She hurried through the coffee house, back into the street and, half-running, half-walking, and set off in the direction of her house. She unlocked the front door, rushed up the stairs and entered her flat, completely exhausted.

However, Sponer was no longer there.

He had waited in the living room, nervously smoking and staring vacantly before him, and at first had thought for a few moments about Marie, but then his thoughts drifted to Mortimer and Mortimer’s murderer, and to the underworld from which they had both emerged and to which they had both returned—one living, the other dead.

Since the beginning of the world there was the upper world and the nether world—the underworld. Not just one, but two worlds—that then was the world. Since the beginning of mankind there were the
obermenschen
and the
untermenschen
, not just one mankind as such, but two—that then was mankind. As a consequence there were the high
and the low, the noble and the ignoble, the saints and the sinners, the gods and the demons—that was mankind. But also, since the beginning of mankind it was not a question of noble or ignoble, upper or lower, evil or good; but rather noble, ignoble, upper, lower, evil and good, all rolled into one—that then was man.

Since time immemorial there were gods and demons, virtue and vice, saints and sinners, angels and beasts, lords and knaves. Oft were the lords the knaves, and the knaves the lords. Never were the lords and the knaves one and the same. But each had a touch of the lord and a touch of the knave in him, a touch of the reigning and a touch of the slaving, the conscientious and the ruthless, the animal and the spiritual, the loving and the hating, the shining and the darkening in him.

The underworld had again and again broken through the Earth’s ridiculously thin crust, and since time immemorial the demon would rear up in men’s hearts.

One believed it was possible to drive crime under the asphalt and the concrete of cities, under multi-storey buildings, roadways and churches. It could be confined, so it was thought, in canals, under bridges, in abandoned cellars… But that was not true at all. It rose, it penetrated into houses, stations, offices. It penetrated into Mortimer’s bank, settled at his writing desk; it travelled with him to Europe, followed him invisibly, like Satan followed Judas Iscariot, and dragged him down again into the underworld,
without a sound, without a trace, without leaving a single clue. He had sat there dead, as dead as a doornail, in the taxi, with three bullet holes in him—that was all. No sound, no shadow, no sign of the murderer; the dead man had just sat there as though not dead at all, his eyes fixed in a sidelong indifferent stare, and it was only when Sponer shook him that he slumped forward and lay between the suitcase and the seat, and Sponer then realized that the man was in cahoots with the Devil, and that Mortimer was now trying to drag him, too, down into hell. How was he allowed to do so, who gave him the right, why had the guilty one gone free, why hadn’t Mortimer clung to the real murderer?…