‘Well, you could say the British are learning to be more European,’ I said. ‘No,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘You are building a Channel Tube but I do not think you will ever understand the Europe on the other end of it. Here we have been through everything. We understand how it is, and remember how it was.’ ‘So I see,’ I said. ‘We have a respect for those for whom life has been difficult. Those who are older than us have lived in terrible times. Perhaps you do not know what it is like to be in a world where history changes all the time, where to have an idea or a side is one day right and the next day wrong, where every choice, every thought, is a gamble that maybe you win or maybe lose, where what is patriotic now is treachery then.’ ‘Perhaps I can’t,’ I said, ‘But you can?’ ‘Of course,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘In my country we have led many lives. We have been Austrian, German, Russian, American, French and British. People have had to learn how to live in many different ways. Do you know what a strange place Vienna was in 1947?’ ‘1947,’ I said, ‘That was the time when Criminale came here from Eastern Europe.’

Gerstenbacker stared at me. ‘But he did not come here from Eastern Europe,’ he said. ‘I thought he did,’ I said, ‘You said so.’ ‘No, he did not, because Vienna itself was part of Eastern Europe, don’t you remember?’ ‘No, I don’t, I wasn’t even born,’ I said. ‘If you were here you would remember,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘He could come here easily because it was still in the East.’ ‘But it was also the border with the West,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘For example, in the first district, where is the university, the occupation changed every month. When it was the Russian turn, many people moved into hotels in the other zones. You know the Russians, how they liked to pick people up.’ ‘So you could move from zone to zone,’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘You could go in the front door of a building and still be in Russia. But if you had a key to the back door you could walk out and now be in America.’ ‘So perhaps Criminale found the key to the back door,’ I said, ‘In fact he could have been on both sides.’ ‘Many people were on both the sides,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘As I told you, In Vienna we learned from experience it is wise to live in many different ways. Now you see why perhaps we are not so pleased with your questions. We have learned how to remember but also how to forget.’

‘And what about Professor Codicil? Does he also know what to remember and what to forget?’ Gerstenbacker peered at me owlishly through his spectacles. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, ‘Professor Codicil also had some sympathies of a different kind he likes to be forgotten. I think he understands these difficulties very well.’ ‘Good God,’ I said, ‘Codicil too.’ ‘He lived in the Hitler time,’ said Gerstenbacker. ‘I see,’ I said, ‘So forgetfulness becomes a habit. There are certain things that are just better not found out.’ ‘Ah, do you think so?’ asked Gerstenbacker, staring at me in what looked like relief. ‘No, I don’t actually think so, but I see I do come from an innocent country,’ I said, ‘Do you think so?’ ‘Well, Professor Codicil thinks so,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘And naturally I am his assistant.’ ‘Using his approach and his methods,’ I said. ‘Yes, exactly,’ said Gerstenbacker. ‘But what do you actually think yourself?’ I asked. ‘What do I think?’ asked Gerstenbacker, looking at me in surprise, ‘Well, I think . . . I think you must be very tired. Also these peasants are getting far too noisy, don’t you say?’ ‘Oh, come on, Gerstenbacker,’ I said, ‘We’re the ones who should be asking questions. Or we’ll never be free of those problems.’ ‘Excuse me,’ said Gerstenbacker I will pay the check and call a taxi to take you back to your hotel. Then in the morning I will come and show you some more Vienna. You have not even seen the palace of Schönbrunn.’

Later that night I somehow found myself high up in the Alps. The good Herr Professor Doktor Codicil, wearing a great green loden coat, was chasing me through the boulders and the stunted trees and down into a deep and wooded ravine. He had a hunting rifle over his shoulder and a pack of staghounds ran at his heels. Despite his great bulk he was getting nearer, cutting off corners with his superior knowledge of the terrain. His dogs were close behind me and a rifle shot clipped a branch off a tree. I halted and saw his heated angry face, glaring at me. Then, with James-Bond-like bravura, I jumped into the rushing, frothing river that swept down the mountain beside me. It flowed at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and quickly began carrying me away. Codicil had halted on the bank; I looked back and saw him angrily waving his fists at me. The rushing river was freezing cold, and began to buffet me violently from rock to rock. Nonetheless I had a magical conviction of survival. Suddenly I was swept over a massive waterfall, and down into its whirlpool below. I struggled to swim, cried for help, and then was suddenly lifted from below by the surge and taken into calmer waters. Shivering and sweating at once, I swam in desperation towards the bank.

A branch hung above me, and I was able to pull myself onto the sandy rim and lay exhausted. ‘Welcome, would you like a cake?’ asked Gerstenbacker, who for some reason was standing over me, looking down at me politely over his high winged collar. ‘Professor Codicil’s after me,’ I said. Gerstenbacker bent down, took off my coat, and somehow managed to shake it completely dry. Then he handed it back to me and said, ‘That is better, now I will take you to Berggasse 19.’ ‘Why are we going to Berggasse 19?’ I asked. ‘Because Professor Doktor Sigmund Freud is ready to see you,’ said Gerstenbacker. ‘I don’t want to see Professor Doktor Sigmund Freud,’ I said. ‘This is not so polite,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘Professor Doktor Freud has cancelled his appointments with Dora and the Wolfman for you. He has arranged a special visit in the pristine quiet of his home, to give you his best help.’ ‘What help?’ I asked. ‘He can help you remember what you have forgotten,’ said Gerstenbacker. ‘No, I’m sorry, but I do not want to see Professor Doktor Sigmund Freud,’ I shouted at Gerstenbacker.

‘No, I’m sorry, I do not want to see Professor Doktor Sigmund Freud,’ I found I was shouting in nightbound darkness in some hot and airless room. A great glow of orange light as from some nearby city shone through the panes of the window. Where was I? Of course: I was in Vienna, city of the waltz and the Sachertorte, pink rabbits and the Blue Danube, where one day almost a hundred years ago the secret of dreams had revealed itself to Doktor Sigm. Freud. I was shivering and sweating under my twisted duvet in my high lonely eyrie at the Hotel Von Trapp. I knew immediately what I must do. I would ask the fireman for help when he passed by the window. And I would not evacuate in the lift. In the city of Professor Doktor Sigmund Freud, such things are all too easily misunderstood.

Morning light came at last; I rose, showered, dressed, and went down to the basement breakfast-room. As I gathered up from the buffet a plate of fruit, ham and salad, I noticed that out in the hallway someone was sitting on a chair, very quietly, as if he had been waiting patiently there for some long time. I saw it was young Herr Gerstenbacker, his collar again neat, his bow tie smart. ‘You’re waiting for me?’ I asked, going across to him. He looked up. ‘I have been here quite a little time but I do not like to disturb you so very early,’ he said. ‘Come and have some coffee,’ I said. ‘No, I must go now,’ he said. ‘I came only to tell you that unfortunately I may not accompany you today. I should like to show you more Vienna, but Professor Codicil demands my helps with a very urgent matter.’ ‘Surely he’d allow you one cup of coffee,’ I said. ‘He also sends with me a message I am compelled to give you,’ said Gerstenbacker, ‘He says he forbids you strictly to proceed any further with this Criminale project.’ ‘Heforbids me?’ I asked. ‘He has examined the project carefully and considers it not suitable,’ said Gerstenbacker, looking at me very nervously.