An Interpreter in Vienna | Chapter 29

Part V: Claustrophobia

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
∞ Author’s Foreword

Chapter 29

It’s now the next day. I am writing to conclude before going into hiding.

I am alive, obviously. But terrified. You won’t see me after you read this letter. I’ll be gone, hopefully undercover and not underground.

I heard a knock at the door. He didn’t use the bell. He tried to see if the door was open but didn’t push too hard or try to break in. Instead, he called out: ‘Marie? Marie! It’s Josef.’ I thought it was strange he didn’t try to stay anonymous, but I guess this made fewer pay attention. 

I didn’t answer the door. I stayed completely silent. 

Ishmael was barking at the door, something I had trained him not to do.

He called out again and his voice sounded disappointed, even sad. 

I was afraid he might quickly bang the door in, and then silently sneak in. I wouldn’t have the courage to scream. But instead, I heard a shuffling as if he were organizing papers. My breath was heavy enough that I was sure he could hear it. 

I knew he wouldn’t stay long and make a scene. That was the last thing he would want in his line of work. Finally, his shoes clicked back to the elevator that was still waiting for him at the top. I held my breath until I heard it descend and the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed up the stair chamber. 

Ishmael came back to lick my cheeks.

I called out for my mother but, of course, she wasn’t there. She never will be.

I heard my phone vibrate but left it. He must’ve been asking where I was or telling me something. I thought about throwing the dog out the window. Instead, I threw my cell phone without looking at what Josef may have said. 

Maybe he would be back. I would wait until morning to emerge.

Now that it is a fresh day, I feel quite lost. Who have I become? What did I get myself involved in? 

I don’t think I have the strength to start again. I’ve done it so many times. Each country, ultimately a failed experience. Lost relationships an no impact on the politics or initiatives I had been interpreting for others. 

I don’t know if I want to make that effort anymore. 

So now I must leave the country. And I guess this is my reluctant resignation letter as well, Grégoire. Although maybe I’ll be dead when you read this. I just don’t know. 

Please stay out of it all but tell my story. I’m counting on you both. You’ve been my only family here. Thank you for that more than anything else.

Cordialement,

Marie

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But that’s not all! Are things really what they seem?

To be continued with the epilogue next week…

Find all the published chapters in the Table of Contents.