by Alex Beer
“Faszfej,” he sneered, spitting on the ground. The steady stream of curses from the driver of the cart, who evidently understood the Hungarian curse word, rang in their ears until they reached a run-down building at the end of the street. Here Tamás stopped and opened the door. “Bienvenido,” he said. “That’s Spanish for welcome.”
“But they speak Portuguese in Brazil,” Winter whispered to Emmerich.
“Then we are definitely in the right place.”
They followed their escort down a set of stairs into a poorly-lit basement. “The boss doesn’t want to waste his clients’ money on expensive overhead,” he explained, opening the door to a little office.
Just as in the resettlement company’s offices, the walls here, too, were covered with posters and photos depicting happy people and beautiful locations. Happiness is just a ship ride away, said a banner hanging above the makeshift desk made of plywood. There was no friendly, buxom woman behind the desk, rather a chunky bald man with muscular arms that seemed to be testing the strength of his shirtsleeves. He smiled and spread his bundles of muscles into a gesture meant to be a welcoming.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“Brazil,” said Tamás, bowing and then saying goodbye. “Good luck.”
The bald man nodded to him and then turned his attention back to Emmerich and Winter. “The land of the future.” He leaned back. “A tropical paradise full of oranges, grapes, meat, and chocolate. And, of course, luscious women. Good choice. I am Dr. Farkas, by the way.”
“We heard that you’re supposed to be cheaper than the others.”
Emmerich looked around. Against the back wall stood a file cabinet and a stack of boxes that, according to their labels, contained imported goods. On one side wall was a shelf displaying taxidermied exotic animals.
“I’m here to help, not to get rich.” Farkas pulled a thick cigar out of an ivory case that was sitting in front of him on the desk and lit it. “The situation that has befallen our poor Vaterland is hard to bear. Luckily Brazil, a rich and fertile country, has too few residents and greets colonists with open arms.” He stood up and went to the file cabinet. Emmerich stared at him with his mouth open. Farkas was a walking mountain of a man who made even the bouncer at the Chatham Bar look like a fragile choirboy. He pulled out two emigration contracts and set them down in front of Emmerich and Winter. “For only five thousand crowns per person, I can take care of the voyage and all the paperwork. And not only that. I’ll make sure there’s a place to stay and a job waiting for you there, and represent you in any affairs that may arise after your departure from Vienna. All you have to do is sign your name here, here, and here.” He handed Emmerich a fountain pen.
“There’s just one small problem,” said Emmerich, pulling the Nil he’d gotten from Tamás out from behind his ear and looking at the fat cigar in Farkas’s hand.
Farkas handed him matches. “The money?”
Emmerich lit his cigarette and nodded. “Tamás said you could get us work. Lucrative work.”
Farkas looked at the two of them. “Do you know how to box? I set up boxing matches at Port Freudenau.”
“I was at the Apollo yesterday and saw a fight,” Winter said. “Hörl showed me a few tricks afterward.”
“So the answer is no.” Farkas thought for a moment. “What about math? I need a new bookie.”
Emmerich resisted asking what happened to the old one. “There’s one other thing,” he said. “There’s actually three of us.”
Farkas’s face brightened and he pulled another contract out of the file cabinet. “All are welcome.”
“Our friend is shell-shocked. Other companies have refused to take him.”
Farkas sighed. “That’s inhuman. These people need a ray of hope more than anyone.” He rubbed his paws together. “Thank god I am here. I’ll find something for him, too.”
Emmerich smiled. They were in the right place. He could practically smell it. “Many thanks,” he said, folding the contract and putting it in his pocket. “We’ll think it over.”
Farkas was visibly shocked at the abrupt end to the conversation. “But, gentlemen . . . ” he began.
Emmerich ignored him and went to the door. “We know where to find you.”
As they left the building, Winter asked: “Did you see how big he was?”
“It was impossible not to notice.”
It had begun to drizzle, and Winter hunched beneath the collar of his jacket. “An umbrella would have come in handy after all.”
Emmerich didn’t answer. He remained standing in the entryway and insisted Winter hold the door handle. “Make sure that it doesn’t close.”
Winter did as he was told while Emmerich ran down the street to a pile of rubble. He fished around in it and returned with a bit of wire and a few thin wood slats.
“Stand in front of me,” he told Winter, pushing the latch in and wedging it in with pieces of wood. When he was finished he closed the door and nodded contentedly when it didn’t lock.
“Now what?” Winter suspected the worst.
“Now we wait again.” Emmerich motioned to the entrance to a courtyard across the street that was blocked by garbage containers.
“My God, what is in these things?” Winter could barely breathe when they got into position.
“It’s not a body, anyway. They smell different. So it doesn’t matter to us.” Emmerich squatted down so he could keep an eye on the entrance to Farkas’s office through a gap between the containers while Winter pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose and breathed quietly through his mouth.
They spent a good half hour in this position before the door finally opened and Farkas walked out into the street. He had on a long, warm coat and an elegant hat and marched in long steps toward the city center.
“Mealtime,” whispered Emmerich, waiting until the massive man was out of view. “He must be going to lunch. That should give us enough time.”
“How are we going to get in?” Winter felt uncomfortable with the idea of breaking in. “I’m sure he didn’t leave his office unlocked.”
Emmerich didn’t answer. He just held up the wire he’d fished from the rubble. “We can get in anywhere with the right tool.”
“Is that what you learn as a detective?”
Winter watched Emmerich with fascination as he worked on the lock to the file cabinet. Just as with the office door, it didn’t take long before another quiet click confirmed his proficiency as a safecracker.
“It’s something you learn in life.” Emmerich grabbed a stack of filled-out emigration contracts and other papers from the cabinet and sat down at Farkas’s desk. Winter sat opposite him and together they began to look through the documents. “No sign of any contact with foreign countries or shipping companies. The guy’s clearly a fraud,” Emmerich determined quickly.
“What a rotten piece of—” Winter suddenly paused and waved a contract in the air. “Look what I have here. Dietrich Jost.”
Emmerich gave a thumbs-up and went through the rest of the stack. “Nothing else here. Zeiner could still be in your stack.”
Winter answered no, and they began again. But they didn’t find a contract for Zeiner the second time through either. Emmerich looked in the cabinet again but found only blank forms. “Strange.” He looked in the crates of imported goods while Winter examined the shelf of taxidermied animals.
“Nothing else here. Maybe we should beat it. What if he comes back?” He looked at the door.
“Big men have big appetites,” Emmerich brushed aside his concern and began to go through the papers a third time. “You make me nervous with your fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” Winter protested, and then stopped short.
“Shh! Did you hear that?” He went to the door. “Someone’s coming.”
Emmerich wouldn’t be disturbed. �
��Just a second,” he said, feeling beneath the desk.
Winter was getting more nervous. “The windows have bars and there’s no place to hide in here. Let’s get out of here.” He opened the door a crack, peered out, and turned with shock to Emmerich. “He’s coming. Farkas is coming.”
Before Emmerich could react, the door was thrown open and Farkas entered his realm. “What the hell is going on? What are you doing in here?” he yelled so loudly that even Emmerich cringed.
“Police. We’ve come to confiscate your files.”
“You’re not taking anything.” Farkas sent Winter to the floor with a single blow as if he weighed nothing at all.
“Go get backup,” yelled Emmerich as Farkas shoved the desk aside and squared up to him—Emmerich barely came up to his collarbone. “Go on!”
Winter gathered himself with a groan and tumbled out of the office.
Emmerich turned in a flash and reached into one of the crates hoping to find something he could use as a weapon. Farkas started to laugh loudly when the inspector threw a chocolate bar at him.
“I’m going to send you to paradise now, ass-face,” he sneered. “And I don’t mean Brazil.” He made a fist and started to swing.
Emmerich ducked and made as if he was going to run to the right but then jumped to the left. His opponent anticipated the feint, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him up against the wall. Emmerich tried to pull away but Farkas’s grip was too strong. The fraudster’s fingers closed around his throat like a vise and choked him.
“Let me go, for god’s sake. I can’t breathe,” he rasped.
Farkas was unmoved. “Nobody breaks into my place without being punished,” he said, pressing harder on his throat.
Emmerich could feel the blood stopping in his head and kicked at his attacker, flailed about, scratched, and punched, but none of it affected Farkas. He just continued to choke him.
That’s it, thought Emmerich, closing his eyes. This time I should have listened to the kid.
He felt sick to his stomach and dizzy. The pain in his throat was unbearable. He’d survived his horrible childhood and the war only to be iced by this wretched scam artist . . . He felt his strength fading, he was losing consciousness. Luise, he thought, as his mind faded. Ach, Luise . . .
A bloodcurdling scream suddenly filled the room, and Emmerich opened his eyes a crack. The scenario that played out in front of him couldn’t possibly be real. Winter was standing behind Farkas on the desk; he had his arms up in the air and was screaming as if he were being flayed alive. Farkas turned and Winter threw a handful of sand in his face. Then he kicked him in the crotch. The brawny bald man howled and buckled.
This gave Emmerich the chance to break free. Reflexively he reached for the nearest object—a cigar box made out of wood—and smashed it over Farkas’s head as hard as he could. Farkas fell to the ground like a wet sack.
“What the hell was that?” asked Emmerich, gasping, while he removed the shoelaces from the unconscious Farkas and tied up his arms and legs.
“Hörl really did teach me a few things yesterday.” Winter stared at his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably. “Step one: frighten,” he counted. “Animals achieve this goal by making themselves as big as they can and roaring. Step two: surprise. Step three: strike. Preferably the ears, the larynx, or the crotch. I never thought I’d have to put it to use today.”
Emmerich nearly betrayed his appreciation, but then Farkas came to.
“Piece of shit,” he groaned. “You goddamn dogs!”
Emmerich held Jost’s contract up to his face. “Why did he have to die?”
“He’s dead? Shit.” Farkas tried to blink the sand from his eyes. “I didn’t bump the poor bastard off. I’d have to be an idiot. He was going to bring the money this week. I guess I can forget that.”
“Did you get him a job?”
Farkas shook his head and yanked at the shoelaces. “I can’t feel my hands.”
“I asked you something.” Emmerich kicked him.
“I sent him off to beg, but nobody has any money these days, and even less sympathy. He had to find another way to drum up the money.”
“How?”
“He didn’t say. He just said he’d come by this week to pay me.”
“What about these two?” From his pocket Emmerich pulled the photo of Zeiner and the sketch of the unidentified man. “Were they here, too?”
“What did you put in my eyes? I can barely see.” Farkas blinked.
“Sand from the rubble pile.”
Emmerich smiled inside. Who would have thought the pile of rubble would prove so useful, he thought. He held the photo and sketch closer to Farkas’s face.
“Never seen them.”
“You sure?” Emmerich took a handkerchief from Farkas’s chest pocket and wiped his eyes.
“Never seen them,” he repeated. “And now let me go. I’m no murderer.”
Emmerich ignored him, sat down at the desk, and thought for a moment. If Farkas was telling the truth, this was not the place they needed to be. “How was Jost going to get the money?” he asked, picking up the chocolate bar and breaking off a piece. “Mmmm.” It hadn’t worked as a weapon, but it was unsurpassed as a nutritional delivery system and a luxury food.
“I already said that I have no idea.”
“But you know how people make money quick in this town. Spit it out. I wouldn’t want to kick you again.”
“Moving stolen goods,” the tied-up man began. “Prostitution, rigged betting, black market, robbery, extortion, breaking and entering . . . I don’t know. You’re the experts.”
“Anything that required endurance, strength, or dexterity was out of the question for Jost. That leaves only extortion and rigged betting. What about the boxing matches you set up? Are they rigged?”
“No, I’m just sports crazy, and anyway . . . If he bet on anything it would be the ponies. He said that he’d been a zookeeper at the Schönbrunn menagerie before the war.”
Emmerich pricked up his ears. “This could be something for us,” he said, standing up. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He bowed and pointed to the contracts that were still on the desk. “I’ve written down all the names and information. If they don’t find themselves happy and content overseas within one month, you will find yourself in trouble. Big trouble. This little episode today will be nothing by comparison. Got it?” Farkas grunted his assent. “Great, we’re in agreement.” Emmerich grabbed the cigar box and headed for the door.
“You can’t just leave me here like this!” The huge man wriggled like a stranded worm in the rain.
“Why not? Register a complaint against us.”
“I’ll get you,” he yelled after them as they left the building.
“Not if we get you first.” Emmerich straightened his cap. “You okay?” he asked his assistant, who was standing on the street next to him breathing deeply.
“That’s the second guy this week I knocked out.” Winter wavered between pride and amazement.
“Thanks. You saved my skin.” Emmerich handed him the cigar box. “Here, you earned it.”
“But I don’t smoke.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. And now off to Schönbrunn.” Emmerich lit a cigar and put the chocolate bar in Winter’s pocket, which made him visibly happy.
In times like these, it was rare to see two men walking down the street looking so satisfied.
24.
One thousand five hundred rooms, and still nothing more than a summer residence for the Kaiser,” said Emmerich when they arrived in front of Schönbrunn palace. “If that’s not decadent, don’t ask me what is.”
The magnificent baroque structure, the façade of which had lent its name to a color—Schönbrunn yellow—rose as proudly into the sky as if the monarchy were still in full flower.
“Get out of here, they got eighty-four rooms. Eighty-four out of a thousand five hundred! The rest were snatched by top politicians, government-friendly companies, and the army. Sure, it’s called a republic now, not a monarchy, but I don’t think it makes much difference to the simple Volk.”
“Give things a chance.” Winter, hopeful as always, put a piece of chocolate in his mouth and turned into the gravel path that ran diagonally through the park surrounding the palace and into the menagerie, as the zoo was called. Low, well-manicured hedges and tall chestnut trees lined the path on both sides and gave the impression that time had stood still. “It’s nice here,” Winter decided. “Just like it used to be. As if the war never happened.”
Before Emmerich could answer they passed a pond where a swarm of small fish were fighting over a few mosquito larvae. He gazed at the frenzy.
“The palace ponds are being used as fish farms now. Heard about it recently. These look like trench fish.”
“Leave the fish alone!” A woman with scraggly white hair emerged from a hedge and held a fist in the air.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going to steal anything.” Emmerich started to go but the old lady stepped in front of him and stuck out her hand.
“Spare some change.”
“Sorry, but I don’t have so much as a heller.” He tried to slip past her but she wouldn’t let him.
“And there went out another horse that was red,” she recited from the Book of Revelation. “And power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that at this point.” Emmerich peered at Winter, who was watching this exchange from a safe distance.
“Spare some change,” she repeated. “Please . . . ”