“Yes, sir. You have two.” Roger achieved a polite expression that did
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not presume to be a smile. “I will prepare another, if you wish.”
“No,” Blau said, abandoning the scent for the present. “I will have the dispatcher take you back to where your .. . master is.” With that he rang the bell by his elbow and gave his instructions to the dispatcher as soon as he appeared.
“Thank you, sir,” said Roger to Blau, and prepared to follow the dispatcher. “We will await your summons.”
Since the point of keeping Ragoczy waiting was to keep him isolated, Blau relented. “You may both come here in ten minutes. I am certain that Duke Nagoyev and I will have concluded our business by then.” “Very good. In ten minutes,” said Roger, and left the office in the wake of the dispatcher. He did not look around him, or pay the least attention to the corridor; he betrayed no sign of apprehension or of bravado; his curiosity was minimal. As the dispatcher reported to Blau a few minutes later, Roger was a middle-aged man walking down a corridor—no more and no less.
Ragoczy was sitting where he had been when Blau left, but his demeanor was intent and his countenance set in lines of concentration. He looked up abruptly as the door opened, and in an instant, his expression changed to one of bonhomie. “Roger. How good to see you.” “My master,” said Roger, coming into the room and permitting the dispatcher to close it behind him. “Duke Nagoyev is delivering a declaration of immunity to Inspector Blau at this very moment. You are—”
“—recalled to Russia by Nicholas,” Ragoczy finished for him with a gesture of impatience. “Why could he have not delayed for a while longer? I hoped we would have a few more days here.”
“But why?” Roger asked, anticipating the answer.
“Because we might be able to find Nadezna’s murderer in three days, if we have the opportunity.” He made a short gesture of frustration. “The killer must be convicted of his crime, beyond any question.” His mouth twitched with ironic humor. “That is what I want to happen.” “You want to stop the rumors,” said Roger.
“And the investigation,” Ragoczy said, adding in Chinese, “There are things I do not want them stumbling onto in the process.”
“You have left troublesome situations before,” Roger reminded him in the same language.
“That was centuries ago. Trouble could be headed off with quick action. Now that trouble travels on telegraph wires, we can no longer get ahead of it. Ergo, we must confront it.” He made a sign with his hand, reminding Roger they were probably being overheard, and changed
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back to German. “The only thing I can do, under the circumstances, is to clear my name. If I do not, I will have to go into Asia or the remote Andes once more until this is over and forgotten. Since I do not wish to hide, all that is left is for me to bring the killer to the bar, and let the court deal with him.”
Roger also spoke in German. “I fear that will not be easy once you return to Saint Petersburg.”
“No, it will not,” said Ragoczy. He started toward the door. “Since it is Nicholas’ pleasure that I do so, I had better be about it.”
“I have already begun packing,” said Roger as he followed his master out of the interview room and down the dingy hall to where Duke Nagoyev waited.
Text of a letter delivered by messenger from Tancred Sisak in Cairo to Baron Klemens Manfred von Wolgast in Berlin.
Grand Hotel, Cairo November 16,1910
My dear Baron;
Such sad news about Nadezna. I was shocked to learn that the police suspect her patron. For all 1 could discover, the man is not much more than a eunuch with a fortune. Why should he have her murdered, and in so hideous a way? If he was tired of supporting her school, or thought she had cheated him, there are many other ways he might have exacted vengeance without destroying so remarkable a woman. It would seem to me that those who had something to conceal might well be more likely to kill her, since her living was a risk to them in a way it was not to Ragoczy. Now that the man is being called back to Russia, we may never know beyond doubt that he was the killer. Still, it is convenient that Ragoczy is not German. It makes him so much easier to suspect.
Business is going well here, in fact better than I expected, which means I will probably remain here through the end of the year. I am certain that as the Ottoman Empire breathes its last the British hegemony in and around Egypt and Palestine will not remain unchallenged. I anticipate orders for those armored automobiles of yours that might well exceed the orders I have already placed. In such an event, I would think you would want to give some consideration to the price you charge me, for with large orders, a certain discount would not be unreasonable, don’t you think?
You may look for me in Berlin in February or March. Lhiring that
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time, I am confident you will arrange a suitable discount for me. I will be bringing you an order that will warrant such consideration. I give you my word.
As I think of visiting Berlin again, it saddens me that I will not have the opportunity to see Nadezna again. I always enjoyed our little evenings together. She had so very many talents, did she not? In our own ways no doubt we will miss her. We must plan to drink to her memory, and to the apprehension of her killer, if that is appropriate.
Yours, etc.
Tancred Sisak
PART III
Rowena Saxon
Te
ext of a letter from Julian Sinclair-Howard in London to Ludwig Kessel-mann in Berlin.
#2, St. Dunstan-the-West Close London, England December 8, 1910
Ludwig Kesselmann Ministry of Foreign Affairs Berlin, Germany
My dear Herr Kesselmann;
You may rest assured that His Majesty’s government is not interested in any proposal put forth by the Czar in regard to arms or such matters that might be seen to be detrimental to the balance of powers in Europe. Any apprehension to the contrary is flummery. It is the general opinion of the government that no conflagration is likely to occur so long as Germany and Austro-Hungary hold the reins, and we know it would be imprudent to do anything that would shift the military and political equilibrium of the region. We are convinced it would be folly to intervene in what is clearly a minor dispute between hostile factions. We have the Entente Cordiale to keep the French from cutting up rough, and we have been instructed to put our energies to other matters than arms being produced by your admirable munitions industry.
We have therefore prevailed upon the Prime Minister and the King
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himself to rebuff all advances from the envoys of the Czar, no matter how innocent their stated purpose may seem. Nicholas seems bent on dragging his cousins into an ill-conceived private pact to stop the spread of arms in Europe; we had long supposed it must be something of that nature, but most of us did not reckon that the Czar was so naive. I have already been privy to one such attempt, in Belgium, and you have my word that all but one of those attending share my view of the situation. Ragoczy officiated at that debacle, and I must tell you that his determination to coerce such an agreement struck me as questionable, and I am proud to say I led the resistance to his efforts. The notion that such an agreement is possible, let alone desirable is ludicrous, and I and those around me will continue to encourage the King to keep well-clear of any notion the Czar may have of coming to some private accommodation.
It is our understanding here in England that the greatest buildup of arms is in the eastern part of Europe, which would understandably dismay the Czar, who has such a long border to defend, reaching as it does from the Black Sea along the Carpathians and the Ukraine, up through the Slavs and the Poles to the Baltic Sea. Were we in his position, we might also want such an agreement as the one he has been proposing. It was represented to us: the Czars concern that any regional fighting might well expand into Europe and through Russia has been evaluated and rejecte
d as alarmist. It is not the work of England and Europe to come to the aid of Slavs and Serbs.
You may rest assured that this position will remain unaltered. Your development of arms, and their sale, can only insure the continued stability of Europe, and we will help to maintain this as best we may without actual participation. His Majesty is not one to be caught up in the brawls of envious peasants, or of age-old hatreds that are the staff of life of those barbarians in the Balkans. King George has i ndicated that he regards such squabbles as European intrigue and without any real implication where England is concerned: in fact, it is the view of most of the government that it is prudent of Germany to build up her arms at this time, to remind those less circumspect leaders in the east that they will not be permitted to run wild as they have done in the past. If history has taught nothing else, it has taught that Eastern Europe is a quagmire, whose feuding occupants should be left alone to kill one another off without any burden to the more civilized nations. As long as German and Austro-Hungarian guns are pointed east, you may rely on George V to support your efforts.
Thank you for your kind words, which I value most highly. It would be correct for me to claim I did nothing, but it would be untrue. So, if
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you will forgive my immodesty, yes, I am very proud that my efforts have helped to bring this desirable conclusion about. It was no small matter on my part to keep Ragoczyfrom reaching King George. I was unable to stop him speaking to Edward VII, but at least that association was of short duration and the impact was minimal. It is humbling to realize that upon such little acts as mine the fate of great nations may rest.
To you and yours, the best of Christmas tidings, and may we all enjoy a New Year of progress, prosperity, and mutual beneficence.
Most sincerely, Julian Sinclair-Howard
P. S. Is it true that the police have discontinued their investigation of that ballerinas death now that Ragoczy has be summoned to Saint Petersburg? Quite a damning decision. The man will probably never gets what he deserves, not with the Czar protecting him.
Champagne foamed down his arm, wetting the satin cuff of his hunter-green quilted smoking jacket, but von Wolgast did not care; it was the fifth bottle he had opened in the last half hour and he had ceased to concern himself with appearances. The green-and-oak drawing room was already showing signs of disorder, and the celebration had only begun at eleven. Now that it was 1911—by twenty-six minutes—he felt his optimism fizz as merrily as the sparkling wine he poured out for his guests: Vaclav Persuic, in parade uniform, who was drunk enough to have to lean on the voluptuous woman he had brought with him, although she was not much more sober than he; Egmont von Rosenwiese, in full evening dress, who was as morose as von Wolgast was joyful; and Paul von Nordlingen, his dinner jacket open and his deep-blue waistcoat unbuttoned, looking tremendously pleased with himself, although von Wolgast could see no good reason for it.
“To a glorious year!” exclaimed Persuic, lifting his glass so energetically that a little of the champagne sloshed out. “To every wish fulfilled!”
The rest echoed his sentiments with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
“And to our host! May his enterprises flourish!” von Nordlingen cried, sipping his wine before the rest could second his toast. He did not look drunk, but there was a shine in his eyes and a wildness of gesture that belied his crisp speech. The woman he had brought with him was draped on the settee, snoring gently, her lavish taffeta gown in disarray from von Nordlingen s pawing.
“And may my guests have every good thing: good fortune, good wine, good family, good reputation, good standing, and good—” He held the champagne bottle at his crotch and shook it so that more of the spume rushed out as he laughed; his face was flushed and half his shirt studs had been removed; he wanted to think this was intimate attire, not slovenly. He wanted the night to be filled with carousing to justify his own satisfaction at the end of the police investigation into Nadeznas murder.
“This next year will be wonderful,” Persuic announced, doing his best to come to attention. “I keep my duty here in Berlin, on behalf of the Emperor, of course, and so the Baron and I can continue—”
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Von Wolgast was not so inebriated that he would permit such loose talk. “We will have other occasions,” he warned, wagging a finger at the Croat as he went to fill the rest of the glasses. “When we have less reason to be festive.”
“Our business is reason to celebrate,” Persuic said mulishly.
“And we will have many opportunities to do so,” von Wolgast promised him.
“So we will, so we will, so we will,” said Persuic, as if the words had caught in his teeth. He drank down the contents of his glass rapidly and grabbed the neck of the bottle for more. “You have a case, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Two.” Von Wolgast signaled to von Rosenwiese, indicating he should take over as their wine steward. He enjoyed watching the unhappy man drag himself to the copper tub of ice and champagne bottles von Wolgast had had brought to his drawing room at the beginning of their evening. “See that the glasses stay full, Egmont. Including your own.”
Von Rosenwiese shot him a look that might have been disgust had he not been afraid and not drunk enough to ignore it. He pulled one of the green bottles from the ice, removed the foil and the guard, and began to ease the cork out with his thumbs. He jumped visibly when the cork popped. “There,” he said, holding out the bottle. “Who wants it?”
Persuics companion held out her glass, her smile tenuous.
The woman on the settee stirred, but not enough to wake up, which made von Nordlingen howl with mirth. “Look at her. What a sot she is.” He bent over the back of the settee and slipped his hands into the bodice of her elaborate gown, pinching her breasts, and grinning as she made an ineffective swipe at him with one arm. “Might as well have a sheep to fuck as this one. She’d sleep right through it,” he said, suddenly tiring of his amusement. He straightened up and looked at Persuic. “Your company is more to my liking.”
“Too bad,” said Persuic, unimpressed by von Nordlingen.
“I said, she is more to my liking.” There was a belligerence in von Nordlingen now that made him shed all appearances of playfulness.
“And I said—too bad,” Persuic reminded him, deliberately dismissing him with a single gesture. “You were the one who gave your friend too much champagne.”
Von Nordlingen took a step nearer, one hand coming up to shove Persuic. “Let me have a turn with her.”
Unsteady as he was, Persuic fell into a pugilistic stance, his slight
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crouch and weaving motion as much the result of champagne as boxing practice. “You will not.” He elbowed the woman on his arm out of the way, nearly stumbling in the process.
By now von Wolgast had realized the two men were not playing, and he made haste to intervene. “Come, come, come. None of that. We are friends here. Friends. You know that fighting at the New Year brings acrimony.” He had, in fact, made that up on the spur of the moment, but it did the job.
Muttering a few words that might have been an apology, von Nordlin-gen retreated, the bellicose light leaving his slightly bloodshot eyes. He stared down at the carpet, sulking. “Its no good with... Grettas drunk.”
“No matter; so are you,” said von Rosenwiese gloomily as he handed von Nordlingen a full glass of champagne. “A little more of this, and it won’t bother you or her.”
Von Nordlingen accepted the wine grudgingly, but drank it down quickly enough, and held it out for more.
“That’s it,” said von Wolgast, trying to encourage more festivity. “Let us all drink again to the Kaiser.”
Obediently they did, although Persuic added, “The Emperor, and the Austro-Hungarian Alliance,” immediately afterward, and giggled as the rest joined him in the toast. “Franz Ferdinand will be a grand-father before he sits on the throne, the way Fra
nz Josef is going.” He had trouble getting the words out between slurs and sniggers.
“Franz Ferdinand is a pig,” said von Nordlingen conversationally. “He hunts for slaughter.”
Sensing that tempers were about to ignite again, von Wolgast said, “More a butcher, from the look of him. Tie an apron around his waist and put a cleaver in his hand and who would know the difference?”
This brought a bellow of laughter from Persuic and a snide chuckle from von Nordlingen; von Wolgast thought the worst was over. He indicated that von Rosenwiese should open another bottle and rang for Schmidt. “We will have supper now,” he announced to his butler. “Is it ready?”
“As you instructed,” said Schmidt, so expressionless that his condemnation was obvious. “Ham, three kinds of schnitzel, baked eel, game birds, capon, chopped goose liver, rack of lamb, pickles, butter, whipped cream, mustard, cheeses, breads, and pastries.” He recited the menu in case von Wolgast had forgot what he had ordered and would criticize what he found laid out.
“Yes. Yes, yes. Very good,” said von Wolgast, his hunger suddenly immense. “Come, it is almost one,” he enjoined his guests. “Supper is wait-
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ing, and if you are not ready for it, I am.” He swung around to his butler. “Schmidt. Have the champagne brought to us—at once.”
Von Nordlingen hitched his shoulder in the direction of Gretta. “What about her?”
After a moments consideration, von Wolgast said, “Leave her for now. I will have the servants carry her in a bit later.”
Hearing this, Schmidt gave a sour smile. “I will bring the wine first.” “You surely will,” said von Wolgast, and raised his hand to signal the advance.
It took them longer than usual to make their way down the corridor to the rose-and-blue parlor; von Nordlingen walked as if he were on the canted deck of a ship, and Persuic careened from side to side as if trying to keep up with an energetic foik dance, dragging his female companion along with him. Von Rosenwiese toddled as automatically as a toy, and he no longer pretended any delight in the evening.
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