The Caves of Etretat: Part One of Four

by Matt Chatelain

  World War 1 had begun by then and I was often called away to fulfill the growing obligations of my chosen public profession. Lindon was also growing in fame but it was of a different sort, found in the court of law. I had long since moved my wife from Etretat to Paris, choosing to use the Villa only as a summer residence. I often returned there alone, to conduct more research into the caves.

  War is Declared

  It was during one of these visits that Hister attacked us. I always took the precaution of informing Lindon when I arrived in town and he would contact the Net, placing them at the highest alert.

  I was at my summer villa, sitting in the office, when I heard a knock at the door. Three large men confronted me, men I knew to be employed by Lindon. They were apologetic for the late hour but something was going on. A motorcycle had been heard in the distance. Following that, two men wearing German uniforms were seen, prowling past the homes in the north. They were staying off the main roads but had been seen nonetheless.

  I armed myself and lay down in wait with my companions. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Violence had never been my cup of tea, yet here I was, being thrust into the thick of it. I had no one else to blame, it was my own doing. At two in the morning, I heard some shots far away in the distance then, later, more shots followed by screams. Following that, I heard the faint sounds of a motorcycle leaving the area at high speed.

  Lindon was at my door the next morning, a sombre look on his face. Two of our men had been killed. The attackers had come prepared. They were skilful and had been well armed. From the description of the assailants, one had probably been Hister and the other, an unknown, taller man.

  We compensated the families monetarily but it was not enough for my conscience. My burden of guilt continued to grow. Although our country was in a state of war, there was another war going on, a hidden one, between Hister and myself. Both sides had funds, coming from the same source, the caves. Hister's funds may have been stolen but the wealth was real nonetheless.

  This first attack had likely been intended as a foray: they came, found us prepared and were repulsed. However, they had killed and escaped unharmed. They now knew we were waiting for them. They also had to know I was still alive and that Hister's attempted cover-up had failed.

  I now understood the first strike of this hidden war had been his letter. Hister always intended to take whatever it was he found, by force or treachery. He knew what he was looking for and he was not going to stop until he got it. The only problem was me, standing in his way.

  We were engaged in a war to the death, hidden in the shadows. Those who helped me believed in what they were doing, protecting their land from these invaders. Over the succeeding years, this group of people, 'The Net', took pride in this heritage. They would die protecting it, protecting me.

  With each subsequent visit, it became apparent the caves held much more than treasure. They caves had been occupied for thousands of years, used for ancient ceremonies and for ritual sacrifice. I had barely begun to plumb their depths. They went on for tremendous distances, deep into the bedrock. Each new cave we found was filled with yet more mysterious relics. They had to be protected!

  The Net Suffers a Blow

  Hister's second attack, a full year later, was nothing like the first one. He came on the sly, accompanied by the same man as before. They moved silently through the night, a stormy one, easy to hide in. They killed with knives and without conscience. They had come prepared, having identified several members of the Net, brutally killing them and their entire families. Their grisly task completed, they invaded my Villa unnoticed, made their way to my room, stabbing my sleeping body three times in the chest.

  However, it was not me. It was another member of the Net, Claude Gislain, who was of my size and appearance. I had thought the precaution excessive when Lindon suggested it. Hister left Etretat, convinced he had succeeded in his goals. They were careless only for a single moment upon exiting the Villa. A sudden lightning strike revealed them to the neighbour's watchful eye.

  A general alarm was sounded. Every road was blocked and the two murderous fiends were trapped in the Etretat Valley. Horrified by what they had done, we wanted revenge. Everyone was up and part of the chase, a large group searching the valley, house by house. Etretat was now truly at war!

  We felt sure they were trapped but our enemies had anticipated our every move. Abandoning all attempts at subtlety, using a machine gun, they mowed down several men blocking a road, making a run for the weakest part of our line. Once they were past the crest of the valley, they were gone, leaving a veritable massacre behind.

  They killed more than thirty people that night. We held a meeting with everyone involved and it was agreed, once again, to keep the event a secret, despite our sorrow and horror at the unexpected carnage of our loved ones. The bodies were buried, the deaths listed as accidents, or from natural causes. Every house was cleaned up and Etretat returned to its defensive position, licking its wounds, determined to win out in the end.

  The interlopers' attack had been too precise, too specific. They knew exactly where and who everyone was. Only Lindon's thoroughness had saved me. Hister's first foray had taught them as well as us. I'm sure his face was crestfallen when he learned I was still alive and unharmed after stabbing me three times. My heart ached for Claude Gislain, who paid the real price for Hister's treachery.

  Much time had passed between attacks. Perhaps it was difficult for Hister to get here. When the Germans made further inroads into France, dispatch riders were used to bring crucial information from command to outpost. Some of these dispatch riders travelled near here. If Hister was a German soldier, his furtive attacks might have been carried out under the cover of genuine orders.

  I became convinced this was the truth of it. After all, he had been in uniform during his forays. Hister was using the Great War as cover for his own twisted plans, trying to sneak back in here and take possession of the caves and their loot. He had enlisted a helper, as I had, but his was a most deadly helper. Whereas I employed farmers and fishermen, Hister's helper was a trained killer.

  Because of these two attacks, Etretat separated from the rest of France, becoming a country unto itself, alert for any attack, protecting its own, ever vigilant. The Net never had more meaning than during those days. Yet, on the surface, to all others, Etretat was a quiet little fishing village, with healthy tourism, a peaceful resort, the exact opposite of what lay hidden below.

  Hister's third and final foray was an equal measure of success and failure. By that point, The Net had refined its methods, using affiliations with other groups, such as the Abbey, to provide advance notice. As a result, Hister's invasion attempt was detected from the very first moment. A contingent of armed men was alerted within minutes. Before Hister and his cohort had penetrated more than a hundred metres into the valley, the Net was already closing in. Our enemies, sharp as ever, retreated immediately, knowing the game was up. Several volleys of shots followed them on their way out and at least one found its mark, wounding Hister in the leg!

  There was a celebration in Etretat that night. In the morning, we were back at our posts, waiting for the next attack.

  That attack took twenty years to come and was the most horrible thing ever perpetrated by a single man in the history of the world!

  Caves, Tunnels, and Destiny

  I continued my exploration of the caves, converting more treasure into a growing fund. A.L. was my partner more than once in these cave expeditions. The more we found, the more convinced we were the caves must remain unknown to the world at large. Some knowledge ought never be revealed.

  Despite the passage of many quiet years, I was always convinced Hister would return. I could not explain his long absence. Perhaps life had gotten in his way. Perhaps his goals had changed. However, in my heart, I knew he would return here one day, to claim what he felt was his.

  While he might have coveted the caves, they were in my possession. I h
ad hidden the way in and he was effectively locked out, thanks to the Net. It was a responsibility I took seriously. I purchased the Villa I loved so much and began construction on a concealed tunnel of my own, connecting it to the tunnel under Etretat. It was an ambitious project but some of the work had already been done long ago.

  The long tunnel connecting the two cliffs together had a branch heading east, in the general direction of my Villa. It went for a distance of almost two hundred metres before stopping. Ancient tools were found abandoned as well as several skeletons, killed in the tunnels thousands of years ago.

  Whatever the reason for the tunnel, it saved us weeks of work, allowing us to begin and finish the remaining section of the tunnel in less than three months. Once completed, I could enter the tunnel and access the caves from the safety of my villa.

  More than ever, I felt the caves were truly a burden. I was held in thrall by them as much as Hister was, though I was not motivated by selfish greed. Men of destiny are not those who go out and take what they want, riding roughshod over their victims. No, true destiny is foisted on the average man, despite what he wants. He finds himself the plaything of fate, without having had any such intent.

  The caves had chosen me. It was up to me to decide what must be done with them. The choice I ended up making altered the course of world history, as Hister marched on to his destiny, equally controlled by the caves.

  A while has passed since my last entry. Victoire and Angelique are safe. They will be cared for, no matter what happens. I have arranged it. As for me, Patrice, it is the end. I fell ill on the way to Perpignan and my old body is too tired to fight off the disease. I know I will succumb. However, I have done what I had to do and few men get that chance. My only regret is the time I never spent with you.

  The Monster is Revealed

  I settled into my new home and life regained a normality of sorts. I continued my investigation of the caves and wrote my books. In the back of my mind, I could not forget Hister. I knew this calm was but a temporary period as Hister prepared his forces for another onslaught. During the twenties, I did not learn anything more about him but in the 1930's, I saw a picture of him in the papers. His true name, Adolf Hitler was finally revealed. I read about him in horror. He had somehow convinced an entire nation to follow his insane leadership, fooling all his fellow countrymen.

  I suddenly knew, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that Hister wanted it all. He wanted the caves, Etretat, France, and the world with it. Nothing would stop him. He was working day and night to build an army to take what he felt was his. He would return here with ten thousand men, if he needed them.

  If no one did what had to be done, he would never be stopped. If he took the caves, the world would be his. I was the only one who truly understood. The only good thing was: if he wanted the caves, he would have to come here to get them.

  It gave me a chance, a single opportunity to trap him. I sent for A.L. to come and give me his advice, one final time.

  A Visit in the Night:

  It was nearing midnight when I heard the creak of the door in the garden. I had just stoked the fire in my room and it was getting cozy. He came in silently. I shook his hand, noting the weariness in his eyes. Age was encroaching on us all. I handed him a glass of cognac, as I explained my problem.

  "You see, A.L., if my enemy is truly Adolf Hitler, Chancellor of the Third Reich, as I am sure it is, I must somehow defeat him without ever getting the opportunity to meet him in person. The man is completely unapproachable! He is building a war machine, one which I am convinced he plans to use to come back here. I am the only one who knows he must be stopped, who has a chance of stopping him. I must not fail but how can I succeed, when I face the might of an entire country?" I finished.

  He looked at me in sympathy. Pointing with his cigar, he spoke quietly, as the fire snapped and crackled in the background.

  "I too, have followed Hitler's career, becoming very concerned about his politics. Things have been so unsettled in Europe since the Great War. Germany has been grumbling about the severity of its reparations payments. Hitler has stepped into power at an auspicious moment. Despite assurances to the contrary, his brownshirts, and now his blackshirts, can be seen as nothing more than the beginning of a massive army. His speeches seed unrest and attempt to place the German over everyone else. The Master Race indeed. It is a ludicrous viewpoint, without any substance, basing itself on reworked history and false myths, but it must not be taken lightly. He is intent on fomenting trouble. Big trouble."

  His words struck a chord about Hitler:

  "A. L., now that I think about it, there is something wrong with the intensity of his speeches. He is so very sure of himself, impossibly so, as if he believed the lies he was spouting."

  "You are on to something. What makes a man push himself so, as if he could get anything he wanted, willing to justify any action to achieve his goals?" A.L. wondered.

  "He is a maniac, a megalomaniac, seeking power and control by any means, believing it to be his right," I answered.

  "Yes, a megalomaniac, exactly my thinking. That is how you will catch your man, my dear Leblanc. By using his weakness against him."

  I clinked my glass with his and downed my remaining cognac in a single gulp, already planning how I was going to build my trap.

  A.L left, after a quiet good-bye. He had provided me the impetus I needed to get out of my brown study and attend to my most important task: destroying Adolf Hitler.

  Of these things, I can speak no more. Hitler is still out there and his spies may yet discover this journal.

  I have spent years readying my trap, spending much of my riches in preparation. To my sorrow, this meant I had to leave investigating the knowledge buried in the caves for another. I have hoped it would be you, Patrice. Lately, I am not so sure. I have received disturbing news about your safety, so I have made arrangements with A.L., for an alternate person to reclaim Etretat's heritage. You know of whom I speak.

  Ever since I entered those caves, I have felt a great purpose controlling my decisions and directing my every move. My personal desires and feelings have been utterly inconsequential. Everything has confirmed how little I really know about the caves, about their purpose for being here. For they have a purpose, of that there can be no doubt.

  This much I do know: I have prepared the caves for another. I can only hope it will be you, Patrice, my beloved son. So allow me to believe you will survive, that the information I have been given about you is wrong. There are so many things I have left unsaid, waiting too long to speak. Now you may be gone and I will surely be gone soon as well. There is no more time. Only this journal can speak for me.

  Allow me to apologise one final time for all the things I was not as a father and for the things I was forced to do in my life. I can only hope you see fit to forgive me and to reciprocate the love in my heart for you, outshining all that can be found there.

  Good-bye, my son, my Patrice.

  Your loving father

  Maurice Leblanc

  PS: ERGO 5-8-1, 10-8-2, 22-1-8, 27-4-4,, 40-5-1, 60-1-5, 49-2-4,, 71-9-1, 75-13-2, 33-6-2, 97-1-6,, 92-2-1, 31-1-2, 61-1-2, 73-14-4, 18-3-1,,, 100-13-2, 90-6-4, 29-1-5, 88-2-4,, 24-2-1, 66-2-2, 62-4-3,, 30-6-1, 14-5-2, 94-3-4,, 69-5-1, 31-7-9, 87-6-6, 20-1-1,, 78-2-1, 57-2-1, 48-6-6, 25-2-3, 95-2-1,,, 98-3-1, 12-1-2, 50-3-3, 91-1-2, 7-1-1,, 38-9-1, 89-1-3, 19-2-1, 41-5-1,, 54-1-4, 45-2-2, 55-1-7,, 82-6-4, 16-1-2, 53-6-3, 8-2-6, 42-1-2, 93-6-2,, 32-6-6, 23-3-2, 64-3-2, 59-9-4,,, SUM : 1P-K4,P-K4, 2 KT-KB3 KT-QB3, 3 P-Q4 KTXP, 4 KTXKT PXKT, 5 B-QB4 B-B4, 6 P-QB3 Q-K2, 7 O-O Q-K4, 8 P-KB4 PXPCH, 9 K-R1 PXP

  CHAPTER 13

  Maximillian Bauer

  "Well, that's it," I finished, accepting a glass of cold water from Raymonde. As I drank, I noticed the total silence around me. Each person here, and my friends online, had been deeply affected by the contents of the journal.

  Mrs Leblanc was crying copiously. The two Vallin Brothers each bore a different expression. Ives appeared som
ewhat bemused and Jacques looked upset. He was biting his lips, as if trying to restrain himself from bursting out.

  They were also expecting me to say something. Before I could utter a single word, however, O'Flanahan tactlessly jumped in, "I can't wait to publish this!"

  "O'Flanahan, I'm sure you will agree discretion is of extreme importance at this point. If Leblanc kept this secret for nearly one hundred years, then surely we can assume he had a valid reason for doing so. I expect everyone to respect his decision for the time being."

  "Well, I for one do not respect this Leblanc," exclaimed Jacques Vallin, his trembling voice betraying a deep anger. Mrs Leblanc burst into tears again. Vallin's face instantly mollified, realising what his harsh words had done.

  Wrestling his emotions into control, he explained why he was so upset, "All our lives, our only goal, Brother and me, has been to find what happened to our great-grandfather. My father before me and his father before him have each spent their lives trying to learn who killed Old Man Vallin and why. Now, after a century, we discover the reason is Mr Leblanc simply chose not to explain to my grandfather what had transpired. Had he spoken but once, none of our lives would have been so wasted," he finished, his tremulous voice trailing off.

  "Jacques, I recognise you feel genuinely hurt. However, imagine Leblanc's difficulty in deciding whether the reason for Old Man Vallin's murder should be revealed. He understood only too well the impact of his silence. The proof is he tried to minimise this necessary wrong by anonymously providing your family with funds when you needed them the most. It's easy to see why he wrote his journal as a confession. His choices came at such a heavy price. It can only speak more on the need to maintain silence until we comprehend what is now in our hands," I explained.