Free The Empty Mirror by J. Sydney Jones Page A

charged on with a quick discussionof the murders they were investigating. Herzl allowed that he had read of some of them in the papers.
    “I have not, however, followed the matter closely, as I have been rather pressed for time of late.”
    High or not, the voice had resonance and force. He spoke slowly, as if each word held special import, or as if he may once have stuttered and was working through his block with each utterance. The overall effect was rather hypnotic for Werthen; it made one hang on each word.
    “Indeed, I am not sure how I can help you in your inquiries, gentlemen,” Herzl said.
    Werthen glared at Gross, whose eyes were fixed on Herzl. “It is a matter of a possible Jewish connection,” Gross began. Then he described more exactly the wounds inflicted on the victims and the draining of their blood.
    “I see,” Herzl said. “Jewish ritual killings, is that it?”
    “Exactly.” Gross always enjoyed being in the company of men or women who demonstrated intuitive and intellectual abilities, for whom he did not need to spell out each word.
    “Or the appearance of such,” Werthen quickly added.
    “My esteemed colleague makes an important point. Or the appearance of such. Tell me, Herr Herzl, do you know of anyone specifically-”
    Here it comes, Werthen thought. He was about to interrupt, when Gross surprised him.
    “-who has a grudge against you? Anyone or any group that might want to discredit Zionism or the Jewish people by such a charade of bestial crimes? Anyone who may have made a threat, verbal or written, to you or your organization of late?”
    Werthen felt his scowl being replaced by an admiring glance at Gross. The criminologist smiled benignly, awaiting an answer from Herzl.
    Herzl chuckled beneath his breath. “Where should I begin, Doktor Gross? How long a list do you want?”
    “A man in your position surely comes to have a sixth sense in these matters. I assume you can discern the merely ignorant from the seriously malevolent.”
    Herzl nodded. “It is, unfortunately, a skill I have learned to hone. I will have my secretary prepare a list of those we have already noted as serious risks. Where may I send it?”
    Gross gave him his room number at the Bristol.
    As he was preparing to leave, Herzl said, “Have either of you gentlemen read my
Jewish State?’
    “I haven’t had the opportunity,” Werthen replied. “But I shall, I shall…. Tell me, Herr Herzl, how is it you came back to Judaism?”
    “You are Jewish in background,
Advokat
Werthen?”
    “I am, yes.” Werthen found a sudden pride in this admission.
    “Then you know as well as I the subterfuges one makes regarding his origins. The desperate attempts to fit in gentile society, to deny any influence that heritage might have on one. You are perhaps aware of my early career as a playwright and ambitious young dilettante. But when I covered the Dreyfus trial in Paris for the
Neue Freie Presse
, I came to realize that no matter how hard we try, we will always be outsiders in European society. Now I look upon my early life as something of a waste. I was mere refuse waiting to be transformed into something useful.”
    Herzl sat in silence for a moment, as if he had said too much.
    “Hardly a waste, Herr Herzl,” Gross said. “In my provincial outpost of Graz, I was brought into contact with a wider world by your writing. The ‘Palais Bourbon, Pictures of the Parliamentary Life of France’ series was, in particular, inspiring.”
    Herzl nodded solemnly at the compliment. Werthen, too, was amazed that the criminologist ever found time to read anything but forensic reports.
    “Still, I personally see those as wasted years,” Herzl replied, addressing them both. “In ways the Jews of Europe are the refuse of human society, just as I once viewed my own life as refuse. Itherefore see my personal transformation as a model for the collective transformation of the Jews. Read, if you have the time, my short story ‘The Inn