An Interpreter in Vienna is a response to Graham Greene's The Third Man and a psychological thriller serialized on The Matterhorn each Saturday. This prose is a continuation of a letter written by Marie to her (official) employers in anticipation of Josef’s arrival at her door.
∞ Table of Contents | Blurb
∞ Podcasts about Layering Fiction
Acrophobia
noun: extreme or irrational fear of heights
- I had to quit.
- Why?
- Because of this fear of heights I have, this acrophobia. I wake up at night seeing that man fall from the roof...
...and I try to reach out to him and...
- It wasn't your fault.
- That's what everybody tells me.
Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
Chapter 15
January in Vienna was rather depressing. Things were gray and cold with little snow and little life. Many people were in the mountains, at least on the weekend, and all the lights and colors of Christmas were gone. The darkness enveloped my mind.
Akihiro had a welcome suggestion to join the UN ski club that weekend for a trip to Schladming. Penelope was also going and a few others I had briefly encountered. We met Friday after work with our bags of warm clothing and snacks. It felt like a school trip; everyone jostled for the best seats and I imagined a lot of hooking up usually took place on these trips.
I sat next to Akihiro and the two girls across the aisle started talking to us. There was a Serbian and a Brazilian; neither had ever skied before but an instructor was accompanying the group. After sharing their five-minute life stories, they returned to their private conversation. Akihiro had a book and I plugged into the latest Foals album: Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost. The double album kept me going until the rest stop.
We stopped for dinner. The rest stops in Austria were impressive. I had a sausage and the salad bar. All was very fresh. Some people even had steaks or Cordon Bleu, things like this, from the hot line, but I wasn’t very hungry. The group formed the kind of long table I couldn’t stand, but I grabbed a seat toward the end and dove into the food. People started talking about skiing. Although I had only been maybe a dozen or so times over the years, I realized that I was more advanced than many in the group. It was an opportunity to ski alone. Akihiro was an expert having grown up near Nagano; he said he would do a few runs with me. Penelope would be with the beginners. The instructor on the bus tried to convince me and Akihiro to take lessons and implied we were being egotistical. If he had called us loners, we wouldn’t have taken offense.
When we finally arrived, I was happy to have paid the single surplus for my own room and quickly snuck away to read a little before bed. I had the book from Finn with me. I was beginning to see how easy it could be to become a little like the Underground Man.
After stuffing ourselves to ward off the cold at breakfast and getting our rental gear, we were finally on the mountain. Akihiro and I quickly jumped in a different direction, letting the others know we would meet them for lunch but ‘not to worry or wait for us if we didn’t show up.’
We progressed to a second chair to reach the top of Planai fairly quickly. It was a bluebell day. I was lucky to be with someone who already knew the mountain, more or less, so we didn’t spend loads of time pouring over maps: ‘Come this way, it’s really beautiful.’
We skied down a narrow intermediate trail with lots of fun turns. Then, we went back up and took a different trail to zig-zag over to a gondola leading us to the Hauser Kaibling peak.
‘There’s nobody here in the mornings. Shall we check it out?’
‘Sure, but go ahead when you’re bored. You’re a lot faster than me.’
‘No, you’re great, really. But don’t worry, after a few runs, I’ll head to some of the off-piste stuff here. There aren’t loads of expert trails. You’ll be fine on anything that’s marked.’
‘Ok, thanks a lot. I’ll follow you!’
Akihiro was a kind leader, always stopping or slowing to look for me when the trail bifurcated.
The motion and nature took me completely out of my worries. I wasn’t completely sure what my worries were at that point. I just knew that maybe the ball, the trip to Hungary, the strange encounters in Vienna…they were all telling me something. Like I was in the middle of something evil and in danger of moving into that kind of dark energy.
Here, these thoughts felt like nonsense. Clearly, I was just experiencing a foreignness I had to get used to. There were surely spies around, but what was I doing? Visiting museums and balls? Interpreting for people who barely needed translations? This idea of evil was likely just to make myself feel relevant.
On the third or fourth trip up, the gondola stopped as we reached the highest elevation of the lift. It shouldn’t have been a big deal as this had happened to me countless times while skiing. But the wind was strong that day. Looking ahead, I could see empty cabins swaying at frightening angles. Ours moved less so with our weight holding it down, but a small gap in the doors beckoned my imagination to consider what would happen if our little plastic box moved completely ninety degrees. I felt dizzy and disoriented. Akihiro’s gaze floated toward the horizon. Just as I was about to grab his knees out of desperation, the cable began moving again. I was saved from embarrassment and awkwardness.
After getting off, we separated with the idea of meeting at a nearby lodge for a late lunch. I stayed mostly on the Quatralpina gondola while Akihiro went to the more adventurous Gipfelbahn, where he promised to find me some nice routes to follow him after lunch.
I barely noticed anyone around me besides a couple of snowboarders moving at about the same pace and cadenced into a rhythm of down and up that felt timeless. After a few runs like this, I allowed myself to float all the way to the bottom and found a smaller gondola to take up. These closed lifts were welcome on such a cold day. My fingers were becoming numb and the wind was picking up.
I moved into the next empty one, happy to have some space to myself. But then the two snowboarders ran to get in at the last minute. I felt a little unnerved when the doors clicked shut and the speed became quick. Their mirrored goggles reflected my slightly disturbed visage.
Only when we took off our helmets did I realize who it was.
‘Fred? Roger? Hi!’
‘Oh wow, Marie. Funny seeing you here! Have you come with that UN group?’
‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘Oh, we did that a couple of times. It’s a nice way to get around Austria. We like the flexibility with our car though. We’re still on the mailing list so I was on the lookout for a few people we know there…like yourself!’
‘Cool. So you came here to see friends?’
‘Oh, not exactly. A gondola is a perfect place to talk, don’t you think?’
‘Um…sure. Yeah, I mean it has nice scenery and no distractions.’
‘And no bugging!’ Fred glanced at Roger who gave him the go-ahead sign, ‘Honestly, Marie, we wanted to talk to you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, partly because we like you.’
‘Ok…’
‘I mean, we like you completely!’ Roger chimed in with a laugh, ‘But we also have some business to discuss.’
‘I see. Sure, go ahead.’ Although I felt nervous, I was curious and probably felt more worried about saying no to them.
Fred took over again: ‘We will keep this brief, so you can get on with your day. There are discussions on the wires about a long-lost Klimt painting. I mean, there were several from the war that either the Nazis seized from the Jews or that people put into hiding places, perhaps never to recover. Have you heard about this?’
‘Only a little. After I went to the Belvedere I was reading about it online. I was surprised there was nothing written in the museum about it.’
‘Well, they’re not exactly proud of it here.’
’What’s going on?’
‘I mean, it could even be related to the government. I’m sure you’ve heard about some of the recent corruption. Strache and Gudenus meeting with the Russians about media representation…and more. Who knows what the FPO is up to now? They make it sound like organized Fascist politics, which some people want to vote for — who knows why, but it’s always just power and money at the top. And this could be a lot of money.’
‘Wow, I see. What does it have to do with me? I don’t speak Russian and my German is only ok.’
He looked for acceptance from Roger again, ‘Well, you see, the things we’ve heard are maybe coming from people you are working for. We can’t say who exactly. Anyway, this particular Klimt is not only valuable itself but has a secret message behind it. We think there is a score written with musical cryptography, which not only makes it even more valuable due to the rarity but also may tell us where some of the hidden Jewish gold is stored as well as that of several gay performers from the cabaret. This has never been recovered, as far as we know, and somebody may be trying to take it for themselves. Have you heard about the Viennese Cabaret?’
I tried to hide my shock. I was afraid to say too much for fear that these men could be after Frau Grüber’s work. I thought they seemed trustworthy, but I was beginning to doubt everyone. All I said was, ‘Sure, somebody mentioned this to me’ and figured I could do some investigating myself.
‘It was a huge thing before the war, but it was all closed down in fear of the Nazi hatred for anything queer. Probably a smart choice.’
‘So how can I help you guys with the painting?’
‘Well, basically just keep your ears open, ok? You know you can trust us. If you hear anything related to a lost or stolen Klimt, please please come see us first. If you don’t, the money and art will probably fall into the wrong hands. Find us at the shop. It might be bugged so just say I heard it’s foggy in London today and we’ll find a way to talk to you. One of us will come outside the shop.’
‘Sure, I’ll do it.’ They were easier to trust than Marija or Josef, and I assumed they were talking about Marija, although the story from Frau Grüber had me confused. I felt I better investigate that angle a little more before telling them about it.
‘Good. Now Marie, don’t be afraid, but this could get dangerous if you’re not careful. Be sure to come see us, ok?’
‘Yes, ok.’
‘You’re all alone, which makes it easier to do your work but also easier as a target. We work as a single unit in these tasks to stay safer. We always have each other. Think about that for the future. We’ll help if we can.’
The gondola was approaching the end and we all put our goggles and gloves back on to face the cold. They could have had recording devices in their helmets. I was happy I hadn’t said much at all. They invited me to do a run with them, but I said I had to meet my friend. In truth, there was over an hour before meeting Akihiro. They told me they were off to Obertauern the following day, so they would see me back in Vienna. I let them go down faster and took the right turn when they went left. Even if they were the good guys, one conversation like that was enough for today.
The day ended well. After a traditional Tirol Gröstl of potato, eggs, and bacon pieces and a large glass of wine, Akihiro kept his promise and showed me a few back routes on the mountain that were still easy enough for me to handle. We met the others at the bar near the bus for a schnapps where the ski instructor was back in a good mood and asked us about the joys of our day.
Later at dinner, the Serbian woman started talking about news of the new coronavirus out of China. I had read a couple of weeks before about some cases in Wuhan, but it just sounded like weird China stuff, like pig flu and other things. Sad for them, but nothing to do with us. But now she said it had spread to Thailand and that the WHO was sending people there for an emergency mission. Apparently, she worked in communications for them. She didn’t know anything about this virus other than the media briefing. Paranoia was in the air.
‘I heard they are considering locking people in.’
‘What do you mean? That’s crazy!’ the Brazilian chimed in.
‘Well, they sort of did it during SARS. I mean, this isn’t totally new.’
‘China has so many problems. I’m so happy we live in Europe!’
Everyone quietly ate their tiramisu and Apfelstrudel. Outside, a thick snow was falling, covering the tracks made from today, quietly pushing everyone into the same interiors that would soon breed the virus out into Europe, especially down the road in Ischgl. The government would then control our movements and monitor whom we were with, not allowing us to have the company of those outside our homes. And for most of us on that trip, it would mean we were completely isolated.
But while we weren’t quarantined to our own little apartments, we drank together in the little bar across the street, mixing with locals and other skiers from out of town. Akihiro was dancing with the Brazilian. Maybe they hooked up; I never asked and didn’t care. Anyway, he was shy about these things.
I retreated long before the others to spend a little time with my book unaware that I would soon be craving this kind of togetherness.
To be continued…
Find all the published chapters in the Table of Contents.
Here's to togetherness!
Nice chapter, Kate! It reminded me of my ski trips to Kitzbühel long ago. I loved that place. In any event, the plot thickens here: Marie can't escape these machinations even on the slopes! Are the two guys really a safe party in this whole thing? I'm starting to doubt it. Great work.