Read Deadly Communion Online

Authors: Frank Tallis

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Detective and mystery stories, #Police Procedural, #Police, #Psychoanalysts, #Liebermann; Max (Fictitious Character), #Rheinhardt; Oskar (Fictitious Character)

Deadly Communion

Deadly
Communion

Frank Tallis

Contents

Cover

Title

Copyright

Part One

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Part Two

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Part Three

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Part Four

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Also by Frank Tallis

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781409069966

www.randomhouse.co.uk

Published by Century 2010

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Copyright © Frank Tallis 2010

Frank Tallis has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Century

Random House, 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London SWIV 2SA

www.randomhouse.co.uk

Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk

The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Hardback ISBN 9781846053580 Trade Paperback ISBN 9781846053597

The Random House Group Limited supports The Forest Stewardship Council (FSC), the leading international forest certification organisation. All our titles that are printed on Greenpeace approved FSC certified paper carry the FSC logo. Our paper procurement policy can be found at www.rbooks.co.uk/environment

Typeset in Kaatskill Regular by Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Grangemouth, Stirlingshire

Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Mackays, Chatham ME5 8TD

Part One
The Theseus Temple
1

L
IEBERMANN WAS SEATED ON
a wooden chair at the head of the rest bed. He had adopted an attitude which he found conducive to listening: legs crossed, his right fist against his cheek, the tip of his index finger resting gently on his temple. His supine patient — Herr Norbert Erstweiler — could not see the young doctor. In fact, Herr Erstweiler could see very little apart from the white ceiling and, if he dropped his gaze, a plain door in which a panel of opaque glass had been mounted. Herr Erstweiler’s eyes were restless. Their agitated movements suggested unease, apprehension. It was as if — Liebermann thought — Herr Erstweiler was worried that someone might intrude.

‘I am not expecting anybody,’ said Liebermann.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘We shan’t be interrupted. No one will come in.’

‘Good … I wouldn’t want that.’

‘You were saying that your sleep is disturbed.’

‘That’s right. I can’t get to sleep any more. I get into bed, extinguish the lamp, and I am immediately overcome by terror. It’s the darkness … something about the darkness.’

‘Something
in
the darkness?’

‘No, I wouldn’t say that. I would say it was the
quality
of the darkness itself … its emptiness. I haven’t been eating, either. My appetite has completely gone and my stools are loose.’

Liebermann noticed that Herr Erstweiler’s hands were trembling slightly.

‘Do you have difficulty breathing, Herr Erstweiler?’

‘Yes — my chest feels tight … and my heart, I can feel it pounding all the time. There’s something wrong with it. I know there is.’

Liebermann consulted the notes on his lap.

‘No, Herr Erstweiler. There is nothing wrong with your heart.’

‘I’m not sure the cardiologist I saw conducted a thorough examination.’

‘Professor Schulde is an expert.’

Erstweiler glanced at the door.

‘Well, that may be so … but even experts are wrong sometimes.’

Liebermann scrutinised his patient: early thirties, dark hair infiltrated with grey, a thin, drawn face, tired, bloodshot eyes, finger marks on his spectacles. Erstweiler’s brow was scored by three lines: short, long and short. Their depth suggested indelibility. He had neglected his toilet and his chin was scabrous.

Erstweiler placed a palliative hand over his frantic heart.

The young doctor realised that discussing symptoms was making Erstweiler more anxious. He decided to distract him by adopting a different line of inquiry.

‘I understand that you have only recently arrived in Vienna,’ said Liebermann.

‘Yes. I settled here just before Christmas.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Tulln — do you know it, Herr doctor?’

Erstweiler’s voice was hopeful.

‘I know
of
it,’ said Liebermann. ‘Were you born there?’

‘No, Eggenburg — but my family moved to Tulln when I was very young. Just a quiet provincial town,’ said Erstweiler, ‘but I’m a simple fellow and easily satisfied. Walking, fishing … a little rowing in the
summer.’ Erstweiler blinked and a faint smile softened his features. ‘I was very happy in Tulln.’

‘Why did you leave?’

‘I was made redundant when my employer died. I was personal secretary to one of the councillors — Councillor Meternich — and worked in the Town Hall. It wasn’t a very demanding situation — some correspondence, diary keeping, that sort of thing. Meternich died in the autumn of last year. His illness was quite protracted. He knew …’ Erstweiler hesitated and stuttered. ‘He knew he was g-going to d-die …’ It was obvious to Liebermann that the poor man was struggling to overcome some private horror. Erstweiler took a deep breath and continued: ‘… And he wrote to a friend — recommending me for a clerical post. He was a kindly old man — Meternich — and knew that I would have difficulty finding alternative employment in Tulln. Meternich’s friend was Herr Winkler, a businessman who imports furniture and
objets d’art
from Japan. I now work at his warehouse in Simmering. The job doesn’t pay very well, but I’ve been told I could be promoted shortly.’

Lieberman made some notes and asked: ‘Do you live on your own?’

‘Yes … no. What I mean is … I have taken a room — lodgings — in the house of a Czech gentleman and his wife.’

‘In Simmering?’

‘A short distance from Winkler’s warehouse.’

‘Do you have any family or friends in Vienna?’

‘No.’

‘What about back in Tulln? Did you leave anyone behind?’

‘Both of my parents are deceased. I have an older brother … but we haven’t spoken in years. He went to live in Salzburg. He’s a railway official, of high rank. He wears a uniform like a general! We were never very close. He considers me …’ Erstweiler grimaced, ‘unambitious.’

Liebermann tapped his index finger against his temple, then wrote
down the words
anxiety neurosis
and
anxiety hysteria.
But he was not satisfied with his putative diagnoses. Once again, he observed his patient glancing towards the door and added in parentheses:
dementia paranoides?
Liebermann decided to raise the subject of symptoms again.

‘When did you first become unwell, Herr Erstweiler?’

‘About a week ago. It came on quite suddenly.’

‘Have you ever suffered from similar episodes in the past? Difficulty in breathing? Accelerated heart rate?’

‘No, never. I’ve always been very healthy.’

‘Then has anything happened to upset you?’

Erstweiler did not answer.

Liebermann persevered: ‘Have you received any bad news? Witnessed an accident? Ended a relationship?’

‘No … nothing like that.’

‘But
something
has happened …’

Erstweiler closed his eyes. The mere thought of disclosure made him want to shut out the world.

‘What do you think is the matter?’ asked Liebermann softly. ‘What do you suppose these symptoms mean?’

The patient opened his eyes again. They were glassy, unfocused, and the tone of his voice was nuanced correspondingly: ‘They mean I am going to die.’

‘But there really is nothing wrong with you, Herr Erstweiler. All the investigations and tests have demonstrated that you are in perfect health. Now.’ Liebermann tapped his pen on the chair arm to capture the man’s attention. ‘There can be no doubt that you are currently troubled by anxiety — hyperventilation, tachycardia, insomnia, and loss of appetite — but these symptoms are relatively benign.’

Erstweiler ignored Liebermann’s plea.

‘My fate is sealed,’ he whispered. ‘I am going to die. And there is nothing that you or any of your colleagues can do to save me. When death knocks on the door, you cannot deny him.’

Liebermann made another note.

‘Herr Erstweiler?’

The patient seemed to rouse from his abstracted state. His eyes engaged with the material world again — the ceiling, the door.

‘Yes?’

‘Something happened to you.’ Liebermann modulated his voice to counter the directness of his request. ‘It is important that you tell me everything, if I am to help you.’

‘I should never have agreed to this hospital admission. It was my general practitioner’s idea — Vitzhum. He persuaded me … persuaded me that I was suffering from nerves and that I’d see things differently after a few weeks’ rest. I was eager to believe him — of course — given the alternative. At the time I thought he was right, I thought I might be going mad — but I’m not. Oh, if only I were! Dear God! If you declared me insane today — and could prove it — I would be greatly relieved.’

‘What are you frightened of, Herr Erstweiler?’

‘Dying. I don’t want to die.’

Liebermann drew two lines under
thanatophobia.

‘Once again, Herr Erstweiler, I must ask you to consider the evidence.’

Other books

Evolution by Toye, Cody
I Am Max Lamm by Raphael Brous
The Brute & The Blogger by Gaines, Olivia
Out to Canaan by Jan Karon
The Pleasure Seekers by Tishani Doshi
Behind the Locked Door by Procter, Lisa
WORTHY, Part 2 by Lexie Ray
A Heart Decision by Laurie Kellogg
Justice Incarnate by Regan Black