Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (32 page)

           
“
Ist
for you?” the man asked with a heavy accent.

           
“Yes, do you have it?”

           
“Arrive today.” The man pried up a loose floorboard and pulled out an envelope,
which he handed to Gresham quickly.

           
“Is it real?”

           
“Was?”

           
“Is it genuine? Did he seal it?”

           
“I not understand.
Was ist
?”

 “Thank you,” Gresham said. He tucked the
envelope into his boiler-suit and went to the door. He opened it slowly and looked
out carefully. The hallway was clear. He went back down the steps and reached
the street quickly and quietly. Suddenly, he saw that, although Colonel von
Stumm was no longer watching authors Kelly and Kruger very closely, he was
regularly watching the
Mannerheim
. Two men in military uniforms stood in
the doorway of the China manufactory. They saw Gresham come out of the
Mannerheim
in the middle of the night and decided anyone going out at that hour was worth
checking. Of course, Gresham would not even understand their questions, so
there was no way he could bluff his way out. He started to walk quickly down
the block and turned south when he reached the corner. The two uniforms were
following close behind, their suspicions aroused.

As soon as Gresham was out of their direct line
of sight, he bolted. Running as fast as he could, he went down several streets,
turned and doubled back, doing his best to elude the uniformed men. He found
himself in front of the general hospital and walked inside. He passed through
the hallway towards the back, down the stairs to the boiler room, and then up
to the staff entrance in the back of the hospital. Outside, two military sedans
sped past the hospital. It seemed the uniforms had called in for assistance
searching the neighborhood. Gresham would have preferred to hide in the
hospital until the route was clear, but he absolutely had to return to the
Grand
before daylight. He exited the hospital carefully and continued his walk south,
hiding in doorways and stairwells whenever he saw a sedan. He passed a theater,
and as he turned the corner, he walked right into a very tall Austrian soldier.
Gresham’s cap fell back, and the soldier’s face displayed the shock of
recognition as he realized it was “Herr Kelly” standing right before him, out
in the wrong neighborhood in the middle of the night.

 “
Was machst du, kleine ratte
?” he
said angrily, as he reached out and grabbed at Gresham’s left shoulder with one
massive hand and squeezed. Gresham gasped in pain, but the pain turned his
shock and fear into a black rage. His eyes grew wide, and the Austrian laughed:
“
Die kleine ratte möchten beißen
?”

Gresham growled and threw out his right fist,
hitting the Austrian right between the eyes. For a moment, the Austrian didn’t
realize what had happened. He blinked twice, and then his face flushed red. “
Ich
werde dich töten
!” The Austrian screamed and launched himself at Gresham.
Gresham expected the attack and quickly dodged to the side. The Austrian had
long arms, and Gresham knew he had to stay out of the man’s reach. Gresham was
lighter on his feet, but it would be difficult for him to keep from being
cornered eventually. Now that he had been recognized, he could not run. He had
to kill the soldier.

Back and forth they padded on the slippery
walkway, and Gresham got in a few hard shots to the Austrian’s sides. Without
warning, the Austrian’s heavy black boot suddenly came up across Gresham’s
thigh in a place where he had once been knifed in Manchester, and the pain
fueled his rage still further. He dotted the Austrian’s face with his right
until the soldier’s mouth and nose were streaming with blood. The Austrian was
furious, and screamed at Gresham in perfect English: “I am going to kill you.”
He rushed at Gresham in mindless hate, but again Gresham’s lighter size aided
him, as he dodged out of the way and threw all his weight into propelling the
Austrian into the brick wall head first. There was a loud crack, and the
Austrian instantly slumped to the ground like a heavy sack. Gresham checked to
see that the man was truly dead, scooped snow down over the soldier’s corpse to
hide it from plain sight, and ran down the street as fast as he could.

Gresham soon found himself again in front of the
Palais Auersperg, dark and quiet after the enormous party had ended. He dashed
through the park in front of the Palais, across the Ringstrasse, and safely
into the city center. It was easier to walk unnoticed here - there were many
men and women now on their way to their daily work. Gresham joined the shuffle
of men until he reached the back of the
Grand
. He quickly recovered his
coat from the staff room bin, put it on over the boiler-suit, and ran up the
stairs. He removed and left the boiler-suit in a corner at the very top of the
dark stairwell, and then went back down to his suite, just as the sun was
beginning to rise.

A meal for two, untouched, sat on the table.
“What happened, David? You were gone for hours!” Wilkins asked. He had been
sitting in their salon awaiting Gresham’s return.

           
“I was chased. Von Stumm’s men had staked out the
Mannerheim
.”

“Did they see you?”

“No, I ran and they didn’t see my face, so
there shouldn’t be any trouble.” He pulled the bottle of Champagne from the ice
bucket and plunged his bruised and swollen right hand into the ice water.

Wilkins looked skeptical. “Just tell me you got
it.”

           
“Yes, I think so.” Gresham took the envelope from inside his shirt and
carefully laid it on the table. Wilkins took up the envelope gently and with a
nod from Gresham tore it open.  Inside was another envelope, one with a
red wax seal embossed on the flap with the motif of a man in a boat.

           
“Is it genuine?”

           
“He didn’t know. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. So tell me why you aren’t at Edle
von Weben’s as I instructed you?”

           
“It’s simply not my custom to attend to women at their homes in the middle of
the night, David,” said Wilkins defensively.

           
“That’s all right, my friend. I know the right one will come along. No word
about the Archduke yet?”

           
“No, but it’s very early. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll go out this afternoon
to continue the show.”

           
“What shall we do with this?” Gresham asked, holding up the sealed envelope.

           
“Keep it with you. If that doesn’t get one out of a hangman’s noose, I can’t
imagine what would.”

           
The telephone awoke them later in the morning. It was Prince Xavier calling to
invite Wilkins to tea that afternoon at
Café Sacher
.

           
Wilkins went to the hotel
Sacher
that afternoon uncertain what to
expect. As he left the
Grand
, he checked carefully to see if von Stumm’s
men were following him, but to his surprise saw no one. Even if Gresham had not
been identified outside the
Mannerheim
, Wilkins expected a certain
general increase in security that would likely include himself and Gresham.
Instead, the city seemed to bustle as usual. At the
Sacher
, he went to
the famous cafe and was met promptly by the
maître d’hôtel
. The café was
a Vienna institution, a brightly lit red and white room of fine china and
charming white marble tabletops, crystal chandeliers and fine portraits on the
walls. Wilkins said he was to meet Prince Xavier and was led to a table in a
back corner at which sat Xavier, another gentleman who looked a great deal like
Xavier only older and more sophisticated, and a cat-like young lady with thick,
luxurious black hair and wide oval eyes.

           
“James, please take a seat,” said Xavier quickly. Wilkins sat and said hello to
the gentleman and lady.

           
“James Wilkins, may I introduce you to my brother, Prince Sixtus and my sister,
Princess Zita,” said Xavier.

Wilkins was terribly flustered. He clumsily
attempted to stand and bow but the heavy table had pinned him to the wall as he
stammered out “it’s a great honor to meet you both, a great honor, Your
Majesty.”

“Please, sit down, James,” said Xavier. “Let’s
not put on a show; this is an informal meeting.”

“Yes, of course, as you wish,” said Wilkins,
regaining his composure and his seat.

“You must excuse my brother revealing your
identity, Mister Wilkins,” said Sixtus. “I pressed him to explain how he knows
Mister Kelly and yourself, and he divulged your name, but only to me. My
brother, my sister and I give you our word we will tell no one else, not even
Charles.”

“That is perfectly understandable, certainly,
and I appreciate your discretion. I should add, that if I were here on behalf of
Great Britain, I would have come under my own name rather than under an alias.”

“That is precisely what we concluded,” said
Sixtus, who had a far more serious demeanor than his younger brother Xavier.

 “I may be escorting Mister Kelly – that
is also an alias, incidentally – but I am not at liberty to say whom Mister
Kelly represents. Not Irish rebels, of course.”

“Mister Wilkins,” interrupted Princess Zita,
“my husband was quite curious about the coin he received from Mister Kelly last
night, and he has been asking questions, and those questions have raised
concerns among those whose duty it is to protect the Archduke, especially as
there are men running wild in the streets of Vienna. A great many people are
now investigating you. You must tell me the real reason you have come to
Austria. Please, does Mister Kelly indeed have more to say to my husband, as my
brother has indicated?”

“Yes, Ma’am. All Mister Kelly wishes is to have
an opportunity to speak privately with the Archduke for a few minutes. We have
come to Austria under the guise of book writers in the hope that a brief
interview could have been arranged and easily explained. Then, to be frank,
Mister Kelly and I will leave Austria as fast as we possibly can do so.”

“I am inclined to trust you, Mister Wilkins,
because your family is so highly respected, and if you will vouch for Mister
Kelly and assure me that he means no harm to Charles, I am willing to make the
necessary arrangements for an interview.”

           
“I can absolutely assure you that Mister Kelly only wishes to speak to Charles.
I know Mister Kelly very well, and can attest to his honorable character.”

           
“I am satisfied,” said Xavier. “There’s no reason why an interview should be of
any concern. Do you agree, Sixtus?”

           
“Yes, it sounds fine. We are all in a difficult place with this war, and
communication is one thing we should never oppose. It will be up to Charles to
decide what it all means. That will be his business soon enough, and he must start
somewhere.”

           
“Very well, we are agreed” said Zita. “Mister Wilkins (or Kruger, I suppose we
will say), my husband and I are returning to our country estate in Laxenburg
tonight. I invite you and Mister Kelly to come for an interview tomorrow. A
sedan will pick you up at the
Grand
at noon and bring you both to the
New Castle in Laxenburg. Charles will probably want to show you through
Franzensburg
as well, and you had best plan to remain our guests until it is time for you to
depart Austria.”

           
“I am honored, Ma’am. Thank you. If you will allow me, I will leave you so that
Mister Kelly and I can prepare for the interview.”

           
Wilkins made his farewells and almost ran from the
Sacher
back to his
suite at the
Grand
.

           
A luxurious black
Gräf & Stift
sedan brought Gresham, Wilkins and
Xavier to the village of Laxenburg, a mere ten miles to the south of Vienna,
the next afternoon. A light snow was falling. Gresham and Wilkins, anxious as
they were to complete their mission, found that just leaving the city behind
greatly relieved the fear of being unmasked that had hung over them for the
previous two weeks, and each mile from the city put them more at ease.

Over the years, the village Laxenburg had been
expanded and built up several times until it had finally become the perfect
simulation of a rural idyll, that is, the sort of charming, affluent rural
village that has never truly existed anywhere. The village was surrounded by
woodlands used only for hunting, ponds used only for swimming and boating, and
modern houses with running water, electricity and telephones lived in only by
the Hapsburg family and its servants. It was a rural retreat for the Archduke
and his family, as it had been for the Hapsburg family since the Fourteenth
Century. This was where the Archduke Charles preferred to live and where he had
mainly stayed with his wife and children since a minor wound had led to his
withdrawal from his post at Teschen and his unnecessarily extended
convalescence during the past year.

           
Gresham, Wilkins and Xavier were met at the New Castle by the head servant. The
castle, which Charles and Zita preferred and where they stayed when they could
escape the day-to-day demands of Vienna, was actually over 150 years old. It
had been built for Holy Roman Emperor Franz I and Empress Maria Theresa and was
more akin to a large, comfortable country estate house than what Gresham would
consider a castle. Inside, the house was an explosion of Rococo creams and
pastel colors and curves and ornamentation, every surface plastered with gilded
stucco scrolls and pink-cheeked cherubs and mirrors and paintings in bright
colors. It was bewildering to the eye and slightly nauseating. To Gresham, it
was incredible that Charles would prefer this sickly and effeminate house. The
head servant, however, showed the men to their more austere rooms located in
what Wilkins said was the servant’s wing. The Archduke, they were told, wished
to walk them about the grounds. Gresham and Wilkins (as Xavier had been on the
tour many times) changed into clothes more appropriate for a tramp in the snow
and then waited in the library. The library, at least, was a slightly more
masculine domain with shelves constructed in dark hard woods and a dark parquet
floor, but containing the same noisome stuccowork and paintings found elsewhere
in the castle. The room smelled slightly of tobacco, and on that gently snowing
day, a fire crackled lustily in the hearth.