Part One  


The Breaking of the Vessels  


Liebermann stepped down from the cab.  

Two constables wearing long coats and spiked helmets were standing in the middle of the street, ready to block the passage of traffic. One of them came forward.  

"Herr Dr. Liebermann?"  

"Yes."  

"This way, please."  

The sun had barely risen, and the morning air was cold and dank. Ahead, four black lacquered carriages were parked: one of them was a windowless mortuary van. A flash of bright light unsettled the horses, signaling the presence of a police photographer. As Liebermann and his companion advanced, a cobbled concourse came into view, dominated by a white church with a convex baroque façade.  

"Maria Treue Kirche," said the constable. 

  Liebermann had often passed the church on his way to the Josefstadt theatre, but he had never paused to appreciate its size. He had to tilt his head back to see it all. Two spires, each decorated with a girdle of globes, flanked a classical columned pediment. A gilt inscription declared Virgo Fidelis Ave Coelestis Mater Amoris, and below this was a clock face showing the early hour: six o'clock. Winged figures peered over the gable. They were disporting themselves beneath a gold crucifix, enhanced with radial spokes to represent rays of divine light.  

On both sides of the concourse were identical three-story buildings. They were plain, functional structures, with roughcast walls. Liebermann saw the word "gymnasium" carved beneath a stone escutcheon.  

In front of the church were two gas lamp...