Chapter Text
The wind was cold against his face, so Oskar tucked at the collar of his coat. It was not doing much to shield his face form the icy wind of this dark night in January. Winters in Vienna never failed to impress. There was snow covering the roofs of all the houses and the steam rising from people’s faces and horse´s nostrils filled the streets, dancing in the lights of lit shop windows.
Turning right at the Theatre on his way home, Oskar noticed a shadow behind him. He saw it for a second, in the corner of his eye but as he turned around, there wasn´t a single soul in the ally. He shook his head at his own paranoia and turned to continue down the small street. Only to find himself nose to chest with an exceptionally large figure dressed in all black. “Oh, pardon me, I didn´t see...” his sentence was cut short as a big right fist met his jaw, sending a loud crashing sound through his skull.
He stumbled backwards, barely keeping his feet on the ground. For a moment, the thought about fighting back, but made up his mind quickly, as he saw the bear-like person charge at him from only a few feet away. Oskar ducked just in time to avoid a second blow to the face and tried to make a run for it fearing, he would not come out of this fight alive.
“What do you want?” he shouted at the man following him around the corner into the next alleyway, hoping he wouldn´t reach him before Oskar could reach the main road. “Be a man and fight!” the other shouted behind him “You arrested my brother! He was hanged but he was innocent! I know it! Stop and fight me now!” His assailant was clearly out of breath but still gaining ground to the inspector. “I am sure…” He now had to take talking breaks himself while running, his lungs burning from the effort he was not used to “…that there was pressing evidence against…..your brother…we don´t….we don´t hang people for fun!” The conversation was a bit ridiculous, Oskar thought to himself.
“I will kill you for saying that! Von Bulow you will die tonight!” the other man jumped at the inspector from behind, his chest hitting the snow-covered ground hard, knocking all air out of his lungs. A knee in his back, his head was being pulled upwards by the hair. “I am not von Bulow! Stop please” he managed to say in a hoarse voice. “Anyone would say that now!” he heard the man ontop of him say. “No! please! My back pocket there…there is my license it has my name please!” He usually wasn´t one to beg but there was no hope of getting out from under this giant and it frustrated him much more than it scared him.
A few weeks ago, death would have been welcomed by him. His daughter gone, his wife no longer by his side, it hurt, and it was not a life worth living. But he had met a brilliant man and he would very much like to see how far their new friendship could go, how many murderers they could get off the streets of Vienna. Death was not an option anymore.
Oskar felt a hand fumble his wallet out of his back pocket. “You´re not him!” An exclamation of surprise form behind reached his ears and he sighed a small sigh of relief. “I told you, you have the wrong…” a loud thud, darkness.
“Sir? Hello? Sir!” through the darkness, sounding a mile away, he heard a voice and opened his eyes slowly. A boy with a big red scarf was crouching next to him, shaking him firmly.
An hour later the inspector found himself limping into the police station. It was night time so there were not many people around. He had swapped shifts with von Bulow, but he was not in his office.
“Where is von Bulow?” He took one of the remaining policemen by the collar. “I…I don´t know. He was here a few minutes ago I am sure of that!” The young man said in a scared tone of voice. Oskar let go of him. “Von Bulow!!!!” He shouted through the station, his own voice erupting in a sharp pain in his head. Down the hallway, the door of the men´s opened an von Bulow emerged from it. “What is this fuss about, Reinhardt!?” He asked, still drying his hands off with a handkerchief. “Look at the state of you man. I know you said this is not a beauty contest, but you could at least come in with dry clothes and a clean, non-bloody face for once.” He smirked.
“Look, I could have just gone straight home after being almost killed in your stead. BUT! I wanted to warn you. There must have been some arrest you made in the last few weeks that resulted in a man being hung. His giant of a brother just tried to kill me because he thought I was you! So, look out, is all I wanted, good night!” Oskar turned around and limped back out of the station steadying himself on the walls, leaving a puzzled von Bulow behind.
“Meier!?” von Bulow asked into the now empty hallway. “Yes! Yes sir!” The young man stumbled out of one of the offices straightening his uniform. “Get me the files of my last cases where the murderer was hung in the end, no one goes home until we have found who is after my life!” von Bulow instructed and left for his own office, slamming the door shut behind him.
Max was woken by the sound of the telephone ringing loudly in the hallway. He put on his dressing gown and headed to the door. “Liebermann?” Max´s father had apparently picked up the phone “Yes, he is home.” A pause “No, he is asleep at the moment why? Who are you again?” Mr. Liebermann had an annoyed tone to his answers. “Who is it father?” Max asked from the top of the staircase just quiet enough to not wake anyone else in the house. “It is the police, they are asking for you” Mr. Liebermann held out the receiver of the telephone to his son, who hurried down the stairs, gown swaying behind him. He took the receiver out of his fathers’ hand. “Yes, Dr. Liebermann speaking?”
On the other end, inspector von Bulow spoke quietly, as to not lose his face in front of his colleagues, who might be listening in through the thin walls of the police station. “It is von Bulow, I just saw Reinhardt he was attacked, and he is not looking well. I think he is on his way home now. Be a good doctor and make sure we don´t lose and inspector, will you?” He hung up without awaiting a reply.
Max stared at the device in his hand in disbelieve. Had von Bulow just asked for help? But soon the worry took over. He hung the receiver back on top of the phone. And without another word to his father hurried back up the stairs to get dressed. “Max?” he heard his father from downstairs “What is it what´s wrong?”. “I´ll explain later father I must hurry I am sorry” Max closed the door of his room behind him. Heart racing in his chest he got dressed quickly, took his bag, which always sat at the ready, off his desk and headed out. His father was still standing in the hallway mouth agape.
A good half hour later he arrived at the inspectors’ house. There was no light in the windows and there were no footsteps in front of the main door. Snow was still falling, but it was not enough to have covered up footsteps from the past hour. He knocked loudly “Inspector! It´s me Max. Please open the door!” He shoutet, but nothing happened. No noise inside, no lights.
Max turned around to go back to where he had left the carriage. “M…ma…max?” he heard an incredibly quiet voice close by. Behind a small shed, in front of the house the Inspector sat, hidden from sight by a big pile of firewood. “Oy vey, Oskar!” He took the older man by the arm to pull him up, at which he winced. “Come on, we need to get you warm and dry and looked at” Finally Max could hoist the inspector to his feet. “The keys? Where are your keys?” he asked the almost limb form next to him and Oskar produced two keys on a small black piece of rope from his coat pocket.