The Ludwig Conspiracy(55)
“Ah, our American journalist,” she called cheerfully. “I almost failed to recognize you with that mask on. Are you enjoying my birthday party?”
“It’s . . . more than spectacular,” Steven replied hesitantly. “I thought only movie stars threw parties like this.”
Smiling, Luise Manstein came a few steps closer to him. “Parties are always theatrical performances as well, don’t you agree? Think of Ludwig—I’m sure he’d have enjoyed this one. After all, his whole life was nothing but an ostentatious spectacle.”
“I admit I’ve never thought of it like that.”
“Well, you should. That explains much of his bizarre behavior, interpreted by posterity as derangement. It’s all a question of perspective.” The industrialist looked attentively at Steven. “Have we already met somewhere? You seem familiar to me somehow.”
“Sorry, no.” Steven shook his head, hoping desperately that she didn’t read the local papers. “Not that I know of.”
“Well, be that as it may—if you’ll excuse me now, I have a couple of important guests to welcome.”
Luise Manstein turned away with something like a wink, and Sara audibly spat out her prosecco. “More than spectacular! Wow, you certainly buttered her up. If you ask me, the old trout wants to get you into bed.” She went on in a falsetto. “‘Have we already met somewheeeere?’ What a laugh!”
“That’s nonsense. It’s known as civility, Frau Lengfeld. A word that obviously isn’t part of your vocabulary.” Steven bit grimly into his smoked salmon canapé. He would have liked a little more conversation with Luise Manstein. Her brusque way of leaving just now annoyed him more than he wanted to show Sara.
Suddenly applause came from their right, where the magician had just taken two white doves out of his top hat. In his black tailcoat and with his face painted white, he looked like a music hall artiste from an earlier century. Steven caught himself thinking again, how he would have liked to live at that time. A time without laptops, cell phones, PowerPoint presentations. A world where the gentlemen still wore top hats and tailcoats, like that magician with his white face.
The magician . . .
Something about him intrigued Steven, and he looked again, more closely. At that very moment the stranger with the top hat turned his head, and their eyes met. The magician’s face was white with makeup; his eyebrows, eyelids, and lips gleamed moist and black. This, together with his tailcoat and hat, gave him the uncanny appearance of a human being who had turned into a scarecrow.
Steven started with surprise. He knew the man.
He didn’t know where, but he was sure that he had seen him before.
“Sara,” he whispered in a dry voice. “The magician over there. I think I’ve met him already.”
Sara, looking bored, shrugged. “At the circus, maybe?”
“No, no. Somewhere different. I think he’s watching us.”
“Are you sure?”
Steven nodded and went on looking at the thin, heavily made-up stranger, who was now bringing a long red scarf out of his hat. “Just about sure.”
“Then we’d better find out what he wants as quickly as possible,” Sara whispered. “I tell you what, we’ll go walking in the park and see if he follows us. Maybe then we’ll find out more about what he wants.”
She took Steven’s sleeve, and together they strolled toward the fountain from which a huge jet of water shot up at regular intervals. There were not many people here now. Steven looked around, but the magician had disappeared behind the marquee. The sound of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons drifted softly down to them.
“Maybe I was wrong,” said Steven thoughtfully, taking a deep breath. “I’m getting paranoid.”
“Don’t let it bother you,” Sara said. “That sometimes happens with advancing age.”
“Very funny, Frau Lengfeld. Very funny indeed. He was staring at me, though. I’m sure of it.”
“Herr Lukas, if I took everyone who stared at me for a potential criminal, all I’d think about would be running away. Maybe he just thinks you look cute in your Silver Surfer mask, hmm?”
“For God’s sake, can’t you keep your big mouth shut for once?”
Angrily, Steven tore his mask off and marched through the park toward the Temple of Venus. He wanted to be alone. The whole situation was too much for him; he wasn’t used to this kind of life. Three days ago his greatest adventure had been getting his hands on a complete Grimms’ Fairy Tales, and now he was being menaced at every turn by Cowled Men and magicians with their faces painted white. If he didn’t take care, he’d end up as crazy as Ludwig himself, rocking on the water in a shell-shaped boat and breakfasting in the treetops.