‘A little of both,’ he replied honestly, for he could see that subterfuge was not the appropriate tack to take with this man.
‘And you must know Olbrich,’ Sitte said, looking over Werthen’s shoulder. Turning, Werthen saw the ruddy-faced young man he had earlier noticed.
‘Olbrich,’ Sitte said, catching his attention. ‘Meet AdvokatWerthen.’
Olbrich approached and extended his hand. ‘Herr Werthen.’
Werthen was pleased by the man’s grip; neither too limp nor bone-crushing. Josef Maria Olbrich was the architect of the Secession gallery. They had briefly met when Werthen was employed on his first case involving Klimt, leader of the Secession.
‘We have been introduced before,’ Werthen said. ‘Though you may not remember me.’
‘Why of course he does,’ Sitte said.
Olbrich smiled at Werthen. ‘Of course I do. Klimt still speaks most kindly of you. Though I see little of him these days. I shall have to return to Germany tomorrow.’
Werthen now remembered that Olbrich had recently been wooed away from Vienna by Grand Duke Ernst Ludwig of Hesse-Darmstadt, where he had been commissioned to build an artists’ colony for the duke. Before that, the young architect had been allied with Otto Wagner in the building of the Stadtbahn. Olbrich had, in fact, been responsible for many of the design flourishes of the stations of the railway which those not in the know credited Wagner with.
‘I am rather surprised you two know one another,’ Werthen now said, meaning Sitte and Olbrich, for they would seemingly be on opposite sides of the great artistic-architectural divide in Vienna.
‘Easily explained,’ Sitte said. ‘Olbrich here was my student not long after I assumed the directorship of the school. A most promising young boy he was. I believe I gave you an “excellent” for your final grade.’ He clapped Olbrich on the back. ‘I do not hold it against you that you later studied under the esteemed Otto Wagner at the Academy of Fine Arts, nor that you went to work for that urban despoiler.’
‘Hardly a despoiler, Herr Sitte,’ Olbrich protested. ‘Let us not go down that cul-de-sac again.’
Werthen smiled at Olbrich’s witticism, for it was Sitte who actually coined the phrase and developed the concept of a cul-de-sac or dead end street.
‘Herr Sitte,’ Werthen interrupted, ‘you mentioned in your talk rumors of the Vienna Woods being in danger.’
Olbrich rolled his eyes at this, and Werthen assumed that he had once again stumbled into controversial territory.
‘Most dire,’ Sitte said, sounding like a doctor at a deathbed.
‘Do you actually know of plans under way to sell the Woods?’ Werthen asked.
‘Herr Sitte sees conspirators behind every door at City Hall,’ Olbrich said archly. ‘But if you will both forgive me,’ he said, ‘I really must be going. Splendid lecture, Camillo.’
‘Many thanks for coming to hear this old man prattle on.’
Olbrich smiled at this, again shaking Werthen’s hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you once again.’
After he departed, Werthen asked Sitte about Councilman Steinwitz and their meetings.
‘Why the curiosity? Do you suspect foul play?’
The man’s eyes lit up at the use of this dramatic term.
Werthen sidestepped the question. ‘What were you consulting him about?’
‘A most stubborn Advokat you are. Very well, your question first. Councilman Steinwitz had me in to offer a different view to the Rathaus on urban development. The councilman had been swayed, it seems, by my little book about city planning. We met three times in all. Not an overly intelligent man, I must confess, but one, once he had a bit of leather between his teeth, not to let it go. Steinwitz felt that our mayor, Herr Lueger, was rather too much under the artistic sway of Otto Wagner. He wished to change that situation.’
‘Did he tell you of a scheme to sell off the Vienna Woods?’
‘Yes.’
‘What I don’t understand is the legality of it. I thought that was all settled decades ago.’
‘With Josef Schoffel, you mean? One would have hoped so. That man almost single-handedly took on a Salzburg consortium ready to buy the woods. You may remember that our great empire was in dire straits in the early 1870s. We had lost wars to the Italians in 1859 and to the Prussians in 1866. The economy was at breaking point. And then a group of corrupt officials decided they would sell off the lovely forest and meadowland of the Vienna Woods to speculators, men who would cut down the magnificent beech trees for mere lucre. Schoffel, a retired military man, banded together with the journalist Ferdinand Kurnberger to expose those knaves. Yes, they saved the woods. But that was almost thirty years ago. A motion was propagated, not an ordnance. There is no official law protecting the Vienna Woods.’
‘What did Steinwitz have to say about it?’
‘He mentioned that he was considering making public the fact that members of City Hall were planning to sell off a vast tract of land in the midst of the Vienna Woods.’
‘Did you know he was talking with a journalist about the Woods scheme?’
‘No. I rather thought he was looking for arguments initially to present to our most noble mayor to make the man change his mind.’
‘Did he mention Lueger directly?’
Sitte thought about this. ‘No. I do not believe he did. The implication, however, was clear.’
‘The journalist was later murdered.’
‘Come now,’ Sitte said. ‘We are all civilized people here. We do not go about murdering those who disagree with us.’
Werthen wondered if he should inform Sitte of the obvious. Indeed people did kill those they disagreed with and who could ruin a lucrative business deal. Sitte was in fact lucky to still be alive.
But the town planner was no naif.
‘In other words, I could be next.’
‘Doubtful now. Too many know of the scheme.’
Sitte considered for a moment. Then, ‘You should speak with Taylor Remington.’
‘The American impresario?’ Werthen remembered that Fraulein Metzinger had mentioned interest in seeing the man’s Wild West Show with Huck. ‘Whatever for?’
‘Steinwitz was convinced Remington was the one buying the Woods parcel. I assume he would have the most to lose if the deal collapsed for some reason.’
They were dining together, the better to review the day’s happenings. Doktor and Frau Gross sat on one side of the Biedermeier table, the von Werthens on the other, and Berthe and Werthen at either end.
There were no complaints from Frau Blatschky, despite the extra work these added guests at table made for her. In fact, she seemed in absolute bliss, bustling about ‘her’ kitchen with real delight. Tonight she had outdone herself, bringing compliments even from Frau von Werthen. It had begun with a Wiener Suppentopf with bits of beef, sausage, noodles, and turnips in a clear bouillon. This was followed by a Lungenbraten, a tenderloin filet floured and cooked in butter with onions, mushrooms, and parsley, accompanied by a green bean salad in oil and vinegar with just the right amount of dill and diced onion. Now they were lingering at the table over coffee and Kaiserschmarren, a sugared crepe with raisins.
Over the soup daily pleasantries were passed — Frieda had missed one of her naps, suffering from an acute case of hiccoughs; Frau and Herr von Werthen had spent much of the day at the Imperial Natural History Museum indulging one of Emile von Werthen’s few hobbies: lepidoptera. In particular, they had examined a new addition to the collection, a birdwing, or Ornithoptera alexandrae, the largest known butterfly. Discussion of this specimen took them on into the meat course, by which time Werthen had begun to detail their interviews with Wagner and later with Sitte.
‘Sounds like an odd duck to me,’ Herr von Werthen said following his son’s description of Camillo Sitte.