‘And as of now, we follow Reinhardt’s Trail of Four if we want to save the Pillars of Salzburg and return the heart to its place of rest.’
They both glanced at each other and Re noticed the spark of interest in Isabel’s eyes. He fiddled with the ‘Om’ on the chain and glanced at the clock in the hall. It was already 10.25 am. Had the police been successful in their attempts to solve the mystery of the Pillars of Salzburg?
***
Stefan replaced the receiver thoughtfully, and reclined in his chair. The first report had come in. The Fortress was being completely searched and as yet nothing had been identified as a prospective threat. It was too early to tell, of course. There were many gaps and crevices where a bomb could be hidden. They had to be careful. But by evening they would know for sure. If noon passed by without any untoward incident, he could go home peacefully, confident that the threat was a hoax.
He stared at the pale walls of the office. The entire building was of a soothing white, and even looking at the calm decor usually offered him a sense of peace. But not today. Today he had no idea how to quell his intense feeling of unease, of impending danger.
***
A figure in a black jacket leaned against the wall, casually sipping from a can of Coke. A cap was pulled low over his eyes which were further hidden behind his sunglasses.
A group of Chinese tourists marched down the street and entered Mozart’s Birthplace, as their guide brandished their tickets. The Getreidegasse was teeming with tourists as they halted at each picturesque window of the street to peep at the souvenirs on display. Just as he swallowed the last drop of Coke, the sound of heavy footsteps resounded from inside Mozart’s house. A group of policemen clattered out and headed down the street. Passersby watched, a little stunned, as the troop of policemen made their way through the crowd in the direction of St Peter’s Abbey.
The figure straightened and threw the can into the trashbin. He crossed the street and settled down on a bench. The yellow building towered across from him, and he stared at the name for a long time. Mozarts Geburtshaus. A striped red-and-white long flag hung down from the topmost window. Right below the sprawling metal signage, the second-floor windows were open. A slow smile, almost venomous, spread across the man’s face. He stretched his legs and sighed. Still time to act. He couldn’t wait to begin!
Chapter 4
hese are the flight details of all the guests. Make sure the Schloss cars leave well in time to pick up the guests from the airport,’ Dan said.
His secretary nodded. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll personally be here tomorrow to ensure that the vehicles leave on time.’
‘Are all the suites ready?’
‘Everything is set—clean sheets, flowers in the rooms, polished wood.’
‘Good. Oh, Karen, the Max Reinhardt suite medicine ball had been taken to the Meierhof. Please ensure that it is back in its place.’
‘It’s already back in the MR suite.’
‘Great! Keep me posted on the preparations, then.’
‘Right, Dan.’
Karen picked up the flight details and walked out of the room. Dan sighed and leaned against his chair. He would feel so much better once this event was over. So much better.
The landline phone rang and Dan answered it as he turned to the computer.
‘Is this Dan?’ a youngish voice asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘Dan, I know what’s happened at the Schloss. Do you wish to know who did it?’
The hotelier was alert at once. ‘Who is this?’
‘That is not necessary to know. What you need to know is that this is bigger than what I thought. If you wish to know who did it, you have to do something for me.’
‘And what do I have to do?’
‘I need the Hercules statue.’
‘You need what?’ Dan was taken aback. Of all the odd requests in the world! The giant Hercules statue which stood in the palace park?
‘You heard me. I need the Hercules statue,’ the voice repeated.
‘Listen, who is this and why do you need the statue?’
‘I can explain. Will you come to the Café Tomaselli at 11 today?’
‘Why don’t you come to my office instead?’ Dan suggested.
‘No, Café Tomaselli. 11 am. Goodbye!’
‘Wait—’ Dan shouted, but the line went dead.
***
For the second time that day, Re found himself in the library, his favourite room in the Schloss. Not just because of the lovely décor, but also because books gave him a feeling of belonging. In the entire journey of his career as an investigative journalist, there were two things he always trusted—books and his cameras. Now, as he and Isabel stood in the dimly lit wood-panelled library, he glanced at his companion. She was standing by the brass door and her fingers pressing against a thick metal mark on it.
‘This door has been put by Max Reinhardt. See these initials? “M” in the centre and a mirror reflection of the “R”. And this here, on the bottom, is the sign like the Star of David, which the Germans were unable to destroy. And you do know about the secret staircase that he put in? It leads to the upper floor of the Library and to his personal suite.’
Re nodded. ‘He was a man who loved to be dramatic, I could see.’
He opened the deceptive bookcase which was actually a door leading to the upper floor of the Library. The small brass staircase also led to the Max Reinhardt suite.
‘He was, what I call, a man in love with all art and drama, so much so that he would live that life. The staircase, the Venetian Room, the Chinese Room, the outdoor theatre he tried to create, are all examples of his artistic fantasies,’ Isabel explained. ‘Take a look at this note that he wrote to Helene Thimig, his second wife, that conveys so much of his love and distress for the Schloss.’
Isabel indicated the glass cabinet in which were displayed photos of Max Reinhardt at the Schloss, in the Library, in the gardens with his dog Tobacco, in the Marble Hall, and in his office, along with a letter from his secretary Gusti Adler. But Re stared at another letter, the handwriting familiar and so like the one in the note they had received.
‘I have lived in Leopoldskron for eighteen years, truly lived, and I have brought it to life. I have lived every room, every table, every chair, every light, and every picture. I have built, designed, decorated, planted and I have dreamt of it when I was not there. I have always loved it in a festive way, not as something ordinary. Those were my most beautiful, prolific and mature years… I have lost it without lamenting. I have lost everything that I carried into it. It was the harvest of my life’s work.’
‘Wow, that’s intense. He truly was in love with the Schloss!’ Re exclaimed.
‘I think so, too, which makes solving the Trail of Four more meaningful and important and—’ she broke off in mid-sentence, stiffening.
Re glanced in the direction of her tilted head. Dan walked in, followed by an officer in uniform. Isabel pursed her lips and an expressionless mask flipped again over her face. A cool breeze lifted a corner of Re’s mind and a light piano tinkled in his head. He sensed the air thickening.
‘Oh here they are!’ Dan said. ‘Isabel, you know Officer Stefan Weiss?’
Re moved forward but Isabel remained by the table. Stefan’s eyes widened just slightly as his gaze rested on her. ‘Hello, Isabel, surprised to find you here.’
‘Oh you two know each other well?’ Dan glanced from one to the other.
‘We went to the same high school,’ Isabel offered casually. ‘And Stefan is in charge of finding Justin.’
She pointedly returned her attention to the table and poured over Reinhardt’s letter. The officer seemed a little uncomfortable too.
‘And this is Re Parkar, an investigative journalist. He’s helping us solve this puzzle, along with Isabel,’ Dan explained.
Stefan shook hands affably enough and smiled a quick smile, displaying deep dimples, but his blue-grey eyes scoured Re’s face.
‘The police are already taking care of the situation, Dan,’ he remarked, his gaze moving from Re to Isabel.
‘I know, but believe me, Re would be an asset. Let them work on the Trail. The more brains, the better.’
‘As long as they don’t interfere with the police work.’
‘They won’t, I assure you,’ Dan said. He turned to Re. ‘Stefan has made a discovery! Tell them Stefan.’
The officer hesitated, apparently reluctant to speak before them. Before him, specifically, Re realized. He could literally see the officer debating with himself. He could also imagine his mental shrug.
‘I met Holzinger a while ago, our historian, and I showed him the note,’ the officer said.
‘And?’ Isabel glanced up from the table, her eyes filled with curiosity.
‘And he said that except for the last line, the handwriting was definitely Max Reinhardt’s!’
‘I knew it!’ she burst out, unable to contain her excitement.
Re was more controlled in his display of emotions. ‘So Max Reinhardt is indeed speaking directly to us.’
‘Yes, and we have exactly one day to find his gift,’ Dan added, a trifle ominously.
‘Have you found out about the Four Pillars referred to in the note?’ Re asked.
‘Not yet, but Salzburg’s Four Pillars have to relate to Mozart, the city’s architecture and monuments, the Archbishop and the film The Sound of Music,’ Stefan replied.
‘Which in short means almost every other structure in the old town,’ Re remarked.
‘We have to realize that these are four pillars as per Reinhardt’s vision,’ Isabel pointed out. ‘But The Sound of Music was shot much, much later, so it cannot be Reinhardt’s Pillar of Salzburg.’
‘In that case we should consider the Salzburg Festival. Wasn’t Reinhardt one of the founders?’ Re asked.
‘I thought the pillars would be physical structures,’ Stefan cut in, with a frown. ‘Anyway, don’t worry about the pillars, I’ve got it covered. We have bomb squads scouring every monument for suspicious articles. If you want to help, concentrate on the trail. We have very little time in hand.’
‘I agree,’ Dan nodded.
Stefan turned to the hotelier. ‘I have cordoned off the chapel area and I would appreciate it if no one was allowed into that part of the Schloss.’
Dan nodded again.
‘Also, when would you have the list ready for me?’
‘There aren’t many people at the hotel right now. Just about five, excluding the receptionists, the artist-in-residence and a couple of other staff.’
‘I’ll need all their names and details.’
‘Right away, if you would like to accompany me to the office.’
Stefan nodded at Re and his gaze lingered momentarily on Isabel. Something flashed in his light eyes and Re was startled. It was a look he did not much like. Did Stefan hate Isabel? He wondered fleetingly. Or was it the opposite?
As the two of them strode out of the Library, Re turned to the historian and their eyes met. A slow flush crept onto her face, as she hastily averted her gaze.
‘And now for our Trail of Four,’ he said lightly.
‘Yes, oh yes, let’s begin!’ The instant excitement in her voice was palpable.
By silent mutual consent, they seated themselves at the Library table. Re spread the sheet out and read the clue aloud.
‘Start: Where everything begins, And everything ends.
And the angels are delighted, the envious demon growls, the human wisdom vanishes and the triumphant church rejoices,
And then she wears the crown of life.’
‘The Trail of Four…If it’s what I think it is, then it’s positively thrilling,’ Isabel said, a lilt in her voice.
‘It is but I have a basic question: why four?’ Re commented.
‘Oh, that’s absolutely simple. Come on out, to the Marble Hall.’
Isabel rose and hastened out to the grand hall with the magnificent stucco ceiling and huge chandeliers and the grand spread of tables with white table-cloths and sparkling transparent cutlery.
‘This, as you know, is the Marble Hall,’ she said. ‘It was a grand place of presentation to the Archbishop, and was used as a ballroom and dining room. The floor is, of course, marble from the Untersberg. And you see this painting on the left wall, over the fireplace? It depicts the Archbishop handing over the deeds to his nephew Laktanz. And this one on the right shows Count Laktanz, Firmian and his wife Maximiliane of Lodron. And look straight overhead, that painting on the ceiling represents the marriage of Atlanta.’
Re craned his neck upwards to grasp the detailing of the painting.
‘Everything is almost exactly like it was in the time of Archbishop Firmian, in 1744. But take a look at the ceiling again. Firmian believed in the power of four and he had representations of it on the ceiling and the walls. Take a look at the four elements on either side of the paintings on the walls.’
Re studied them. There were four elaborate frescoes, enclosed within another well-defined frame of four cups—two on the left wall on either side of a huge painting. Similarly, two on the on the opposite wall. From each cup emerged a different visual: a fountain, a torch, air and some plants with flowers. The carvings were minutely detailed and the feel of sprinkling water, the flames and the air was expertly conveyed.
‘The fountain represents water, the torch of course means fire, then the air element, and finally the plants represent earth. Now, look above in each corner of the ceiling. It’s the four arts represented on the walls—painting, architecture, music and astronomy. That’s not all. Look at those paintings that you see right above the four doors in each corner, with the pictures of the lady looking young and then growing older and fatter? They were done by Andreas Rensi and actually indicate the Four Seasons of Life and also represent the seasons of the year—Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. And finally you have the continents: Asia, with the carvings of the elephant and dragons, Africa with lions and apes, Europe with the horse and finally, America with the alligator. Can you see them?’
Re followed Isabel’s indications, studying the frescoes keenly. They were distinct and etched skilfully into the milk-white ceiling. It was fascinating how all of it was still preserved despite the passage of time.
‘Merveilleux!’ he expressed spontaneously.
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? All those years ago, the Archbishop had the intelligence to put it all up on the ceiling, just imagine.’
‘Bien sûr, communication at its best. But why four?’
‘Because four dominates and rules the world. We have the four cardinal points—north, south, east and west; four seasons; four basic mathematical functions: addition, subtraction, multiplication and division; four elements: earth, wind, fire and water. Even in religion, the number four relates to the cross. Four symbolizes the principle of putting ideas into form. Four suits of playing cards: hearts, spades, clubs and diamonds. It is but natural that Firmian should adopt the principle of four in the hall.’
‘And that Max Reinhardt should pick up the cue and use it in his Trail of Four,’ Re added.
‘Precisely!’
‘So where do you suggest the first clue would take us?’ Re asked, as they headed back to the Library. ‘Also, before we analyze the clue, I think we need to decide the scope of the trail. Do you think that the trail would be set only at the Schloss?’
Isabel shook her head. ‘I think that would be too tame. We need to think like Max Reinhardt. He always thought grand—even a small play unfolded with pomp and drama—would he limit the glory of his trail to the Schloss? I doubt it. At the same time, I believe that he would give very specific clues if we had to go too far from the Schloss.’
Re nodded. ‘Sounds logical.’
‘So we have the first clue: “Start: Where everything begins. And everything ends.
And the angels are delighted, the envious demon growls, the human wisdom vanishes and the triumphant c
hurch rejoices,
And then she wears the crown of life.”’
‘It’s common knowledge that in Salzburg everything begins with Mozart and ends with Mozart,’ Isabel added.
‘So you mean that the first step in the trail would be a monument to Mozart or about Mozart?’
‘Quite likely. Or related to Mozart.’
‘So which are the monuments that have the Mozart touch to them? I know about his birthplace and residence of course. But which other?’
‘There’s a Mozartplatz, where his statue was installed on the occasion of his fiftieth death anniversary. It’s small and was unveiled in 1842. But I doubt if that’s it because the statue holds a pencil, and pencils were not invented until twenty years after his death. He would’ve written with a quill.’ She smiled.
The smile totally transformed her rather grim face as it lit up her blue-green eyes momentarily. The smell of flowers drifted through the air, but laced with a whiff of sadness. Re adjusted his ponytail distractedly and pushed back his glasses.
‘Well, that’s an important detail,’ he reciprocated the smile. ‘But we need a spot where the angels are delighted, the demon growls and the church is triumphant.’
‘Since Mozart’s music was played at St Peter’s Abbey, St Peter’s is seen as a spiritual centre of Salzburg. When Mozart was thirteen years old, he composed the Dominicus Mass for his friend. Later, he performed the Mass in C Minor for the first time here, and his wife Constanze sang the soprano part. There’s also a plaque dedicated to his sister Nannerl in St Peters.’
‘That’s a lot of Mozart at the Peter’s complex,’ Re agreed, his heart beginning to race in excitement. ‘Let’s go, shall we? I have to see this. I’ll take my car, you point the way.’
***
‘St Peter’s Abbey is at the foot of the Mönchsberg and is the oldest active monastery in Austria.’ Isabel’s voice sounded hollow and low as they stood in the huge church which was a mix of Romanesque and Baroque styles. ‘This church is referred to as the cradle of Christian Salzburg, where missionary work in Austria was begun by St Rupert in 696. It is also referred to as the spiritual centre of Salzburg because the city grew around it,’ Isabel explained. ‘The onion dome that you see was built in the middle of the eighteenth century. It’s beautiful but what I really like about this church is the alternate pattern of columns and pillars—it’s almost rhythmic.’
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