From the sound of voices in the passage, the three men appeared to have left the cell and were returning to the tower with the pointed roof.
With renewed energy I got up and approached the corridor. James did the same after picking up his gun.
As I looked down the passage, the man with the cap was about to close the door. The doctor and Kessling had already gone through. In the doctor’s arms I glimpsed the naked body of a newborn baby and Kessler was smiling like someone who had just done something amazing.
The words of the telegram came back to me: ‘We have chosen new breeders. Confirmation birth 1 expected on 23rd. Awaiting your return to participate in great work.’
Today was 23 October as of four hours ago. These people were diabolically precise. That was when the terrifying truth dawned on me. Suddenly, I knew what the Marquis de Brindillac’s incredible discovery had been and the secret behind Herr Kessling’s elaborate, absurd and insane enterprise.
A shiver ran down my spine, and my fear intensified as I felt a sudden pressure against the back of my head. I was right to be alarmed. When I turned round, I found a blond man with a face covered in scars waving a pistol under my nose. Next to me, James had his hands on his head and was being threatened with a semi-automatic.
The sidekick, who had a shaved head and sharply pointed ears, barked at me savagely: ‘Hände hoch! Schnell!’
I obeyed and put my hands up.
James’s pistol was now tucked into the guard’s belt.
XVIII
THE MASTER RACE IS BATTERY-FARMED
The two men pointed to the corridor. In silence we walked past the cells to the door through which Kessling and his accomplices had disappeared.
The man with pointed ears knocked on the door.
‘Gehen Sie hinein!’ replied a voice.
The door opened. I was pushed through first.
We entered a room which was only partly furnished. An old couch and coloured leather chairs were arranged in a semicircle in front of a fireplace with a blazing fire.
On either side of the hearth were shelves filled with leather-bound books. Elsewhere, coats of arms covered the walls – probably dating from the days when the castle had been an ancestral home.
Above the couch a ceiling lamp provided dim light, barely supplemented by two antique chandeliers and a crystal lamp. On the right a stone staircase led to the upper floors. The rest of the room was in semi-darkness.
The athletic-looking man, who had put his leather jacket and cap on the back of a chair, was leaning against the mantelpiece with a glass in his hand. He watched us enter without saying a word or showing any surprise.
Opposite him, with his back to us, sat Kessling, his hair visible above a large yellow leather armchair. A thick cloud of smoke floated above his head.
The man in the white coat and the newborn baby were not there.
‘Ah! Mr Singleton, Mr Trelawney! We were expecting you. But please, do come in!’
The invitation was given in perfect English.
James and I exchanged disconcerted looks.
Our host was leaning over the arm of his chair and, for the first time, I could see him properly. He was about fifty-five with black hair streaked with silver and brushed back. He had a square face, a strong jaw and a high forehead which attested to a proud and determined temperament, but it was not a particularly remarkable face apart from the eyes! Oh, those eyes! What eyes! So dark, so black, so deep! The most intense eyes I had ever seen and, above them, a pair of eyebrows shaped like circumflexes.
And yet, the person in front of me was not a stranger. I recognised the shape of his head and the proportions of his features. Was it because I had tried to picture his face so many times over the last few days?
‘Andrew!’ murmured my friend. ‘I know this fellow!’
‘Aha!’ roared Kessling, getting up from his chair. ‘But yes, my friend! You are right, we have already met.’
He was dressed in an elegant grey wool suit and he seemed eminently respectable with his black tie and shiny shoes.
‘I had longer hair and splendid glasses with tinted lenses,’ he encouraged us, observing our confusion. ‘The theatre is my great unfulfilled passion. It is a compulsion. I have to dress up and change the way I look and speak.’
‘The musician!’ exclaimed James. ‘At the Café de la Place Blanche!’
‘Impossible!’ I cried. ‘The goatee was real. Otherwise, I would have pulled it off!’
Kessling approached us, clapping his hands. He was delighted with the effect he had had.
‘Bravo, Mr Trelawney, bravo! The secret is in the glue. The one I use was invented by an old make-up artist from the Burgtheatre in Vienna. He created it for Christian-Dietrich Meyerinck at the start of his career. The actor suffered from excessive sweating and his hairpieces had the unfortunate habit of coming unstuck in the middle of a show at the most dramatic moment. Imagine the audience’s hilarity! Happily, thanks to this very effective glue, he has been able to play all the classical roles and is internationally renowned. A mixture of lemon water and bicarbonate of soda is all that is required to remove the effects of the glue.’
He went to draw on his cigar but it had gone out. He flicked his lighter and played with the flame, studying us.
‘How did you know that we were in the castle?’ asked my friend.
‘You followed me on to the Orient Express. There was no reason to think you wouldn’t find out where I was hiding. It was a question of knowing when. I admit that you have been even faster than I expected. When Franz over there went back earlier to lock the tower, he caught a glimpse of someone in the light of his torch. Of course, he didn’t react. It was more amusing that way. But don’t stand on ceremony, gentlemen. Sit down!’
The two brutes behind us pressed the barrels of their weapons into our backs.
‘Georg! Josef! Be polite, please. Ah, my friends, please excuse their manners which are a little uncouth. But they are loyal.’
We moved forward and sat on the couch.
‘Why did you try to kill André Breton, Herr Kessling?’ I asked. ‘Or should I use another name for you?’
‘That one is fine. Or, even better, do me the pleasure of calling me Johannes.’
‘So what reason did you have to kill Breton? Despite his interest in sleep and dreams, he had not entered into contact with the spirits of nature.’
‘That is true, or at least not yet. But those Surrealists are always to be feared. By eliminating their leader, the entire movement would have been reduced to nothing in one go.’
‘In that case, why did you not repeat your attempt?’
‘Because an adversary appeared that I was not expecting, one who was a match for me, clever and perceptive.’
Kessling inclined his head in my direction as he spoke.
‘When I saw you at the Café de la Place Blanche, Mr Singleton, with your pale face and dark circles under your eyes, I understood that the gates of sleep had been opened for you. Those who cross that line wear it clearly on their faces. No one knows why!’
‘And so you thought you had to kill me? Because it was you in the Orient Express wasn’t it, that revolting creature which almost strangled me?’
‘Kill you? I never dreamt of such a thing, Mr Singleton! I just wanted to give you a good fright. On the contrary, my greatest wish was for you to join me in this obscure place so that I could present you with the fruits of my research. That is the least I could do to honour your intelligence! Then the time will come to give you the coup de grâce, you and your friend.’
‘Your research?’ enquired James, pretending not to notice the threat. ‘Can you be a little clearer?’
‘I would call it the most scandalous of enterprises,’ I said. ‘Remember, James, the book we found under the Marquis’s bed at Château B—?’
The Austrian was delighted. He listened to us placidly, blowing smoke rings up to the ceiling.
‘Le Comte de Gabalis?’
/> ‘Yes. The author reveals that amorous alliances between men and ethereal creatures can bear fruit, can create children who look human but whose mind, ingenuity and physical powers are phenomenal. If such immaterial unions were possible, the instigator of that birth would have a priceless asset at his fingertips.’
‘Are you saying,’ exclaimed James, ‘that what we heard earlier—’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘A child born of a woman and an elemental spirit.’
Kessling stubbed out his cigar and turned to me.
‘One asset? Only one? Ha! You are very shrewd, my boy, but you still lack that vital spark. Appetite, by Jove! Ambition! Singleton, believe me, it is not just one I seek to create, it is a squadron, a battalion, an entire army of true masters!’
I glanced at James. He appeared to be as stunned as I was.
‘In a few weeks’ time,’ Kessling went on, ‘I intend to inseminate a large number of female elementals. At the same time, their males will impregnate the human females I have chosen. I have had one transported to the castle. Tonight, I will summon a virile representative of the elemental people to the top of the tower and order this holy union. You shall witness the marriage. It is time to begin the reproductive programme on a vast scale!’
This man was a monster.
Franz had left the fireplace and was sprawled on one of the chairs, his legs stretched out in front of him.
Georg and Josef were still in their places, halfway between their leader’s chair and the door, making escape into the corridor impossible.
Behind us, the stairs offered a way out but what could we have done once we got up there? Kessling would have taken care to lock all the exits of the Burg. And, of course, the group was not complete. The man in the white coat and the huge man in charge of the prisoner on the path were missing. No doubt the doctor was looking after the infant but what was the other one doing? Guarding the future bride?
The best thing we could do was try to gain some time.
‘You say, Herr Kessling, that you have learnt to make these ethereal peoples submit to your ambitions. In that case, why did you not send one of them to me on the Orient Express? It would have been less dangerous than spiriting yourself into my sleep. I have read in books on magic that such psychic journeys are very risky.’
‘Oh that! You have no idea how unpredictable elementals are! They may be our equals in terms of cunning and even knowledge, but they are skittish and bossy, very often lacking in moral sense. Anyone who tries to control them must take care that the servant does not turn against his master because then it would all be over for him. That is why I only have moderate confidence in their kind. I much prefer their human offspring. By mating with our males and our females, these invisible spirits give birth to beings which, as the great magicians discovered, naturally and instinctively obey. For now, operations which require – how can I put it – a certain finesse, well, I like to do them myself!’
Kessling looked at his watch and then ordered Franz to go and find someone called Bernhard at the top of the tower.
‘Five o’clock in the morning already!’ announced Kessling, rising. ‘In a little over two hours daybreak will be here. I want the second member of my future army to be conceived tonight, the same night as the first was born. Like me, you know how important symbols are.’
After a pause, the henchman reappeared at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Sie fest schläft!’ he announced.
‘Wunderbar!’
The Austrian’s face was radiant.
‘The bride is sleeping like an angel. I will be able to proceed with the invocation. Follow me, my friends. It is time to go to the marriage bed. I’m sure you’re dying to see for yourselves.’
Kessling went up the stairs, followed by Franz who had taken the precaution of picking up an oil lamp. James and I, still at the mercy of Georg and Josef’s pistols, fell in behind them.
We followed them until they reached the top of the tower and a door guarded by the giant – Bernhard no doubt. He was slouched on a chair which threatened to break at any moment, his arms resting on a table where a candle was burning. He was even more enormous than I had thought.
The door had a peephole like the cells in the passage.
The landing was ridiculously small and we could not all feet on it at once. One of Kessling’s men, Josef or Georg, I don’t know which, was still standing on the top step.
It was a strange place for a marital bedroom. No doubt Kessling had chosen it because it was right at the top of the castle, within reach of the sky. Symbols again. The other tower was actually taller by at least thirty feet but it was also closer to the village. Here, overlooking the Danube, there was no one to hear any screams.
‘Gentlemen, I am going to enter this room and begin the invocation. It is not the only method to contact a representative of the elemental spirits. Another is to pass through the gates of sleep oneself to gain access to the invisible kingdom. There, with experience and great psychic strength, one can force a spirit to accomplish marvels. But, in the circumstances, it is better to conjure one up.’
Kessling indicated that Bernhard should open the door. He took an enormous key out of his trouser pocket and inserted it into the lock.
‘I advise you not to miss any of the ceremony,’ added Kessling, pointing to the small opening in the door before it closed behind him.
It was out of the question that I should approach the peep hole. But James, despite my exhortations, couldn’t stop himself putting his eye up to the wire mesh.
Bernhard had sat down again. The key had not been returned to his pocket but was lying on the table near Franz’s oil lamp.
Franz kept eyeing us suspiciously.
‘Kessling is standing in the middle of the room,’ murmured my friend. ‘There’s a large four-poster bed at the end. I can’t see very well, there isn’t much light, but I can see the shape of a body. It must be the prisoner.’
James was silent for a few seconds and then resumed his commentary.
‘It’s strange. Now my eyes are used to the darkness, I think I can make out a large pattern on the floor in front of Kessling. A sort of star with five points.’
‘The pentagram or Flamboyant Star,’ I replied. ‘The traditional symbol of the domination of the spirit over the elements. By drawing that star thaumaturgists enslaved creatures of the air, fire, water and earth in order to force them to submit.’
This time James remained silent for a long time, taxing my nerves.
In the end, I could take it no longer.
‘What is he doing now?’
‘He’s chanting but I can’t understand what he’s saying.’
At that moment Kessling must have moved on to a new stage of his invocation because I could suddenly hear his voice loudly reciting a prayer in Latin.
‘Now he’s really bellowing!’ exclaimed James. ‘But the sleeping woman is still not waking up.’
‘She is imprisoned in her sleep under the control of the incubus.’
My friend turned from the peephole to look at me.
‘We can’t let him do this, Andrew!’
Bernhard was still sitting on his chair. On my left Franz was looking us up and down with a sly smile. Behind us Josef and Georg were standing on the edge of the landing, their pistols at the ready.
Suddenly hurried footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Whoever it was must have important news to impart. Before he appeared at the top of the tower I heard him wheezing and he had to stop several times to get his breath back. At last, the man in the white coat made his way past Georg and Josef and stood in front of Franz, hands on hips, gasping.
‘Polizei! Polizei! Überall um die Burg!’
‘Polizei? Was erzählst du denn da?’
The police! They had surrounded the castle! So good old Fourier had got my message and hurried to find us.
Franz took the doctor by the shoulder and, after ordering the other two to stay where they were, ushered
him towards the stairs. Clearly, he wanted to judge the situation for himself before warning his boss and risking interrupting the rite.
After they had disappeared Georg and Josef wavered slightly. They didn’t know what to do now and only one (the one with the pockmarked skin) continued to point his pistol in our direction.
That was the moment my friend chose to act. He suddenly rushed at them. Unable to avoid his charge, they fell backwards and tumbled down the stairs with a terrible crash. While he recovered his pistol from the belt of one of the crooks, James shouted at me to take care of Bernhard.
Take care of Bernhard! And how was I supposed to do that? The man, who was three times my size, had not been slow to react. Luckily, flexibility was not his strong point. As he went to grab me by the throat, I rolled between his legs and hit the table.
I grabbed the lamp and the metal key in one move and hurried into the bedroom where my friend joined me after giving Bernhard a fatal blow to the head. I locked the door behind him.
Kessling turned round as we entered, his eyes full of violence and rage. He took up his position again in front of the pentagram and fixed his attention on the four-poster bed where the young woman, unclothed, lay sleeping.
‘There’s no more an infernal creature in here than at Piccadilly Circus at midday!’ mocked James.
‘Be quiet, you imbecile!’ thundered Kessling without shifting his gaze from the sleeping woman. ‘We can’t see it, that’s all. But the spirit is here, moving around above her. And I can confirm that the bride is to his taste!’
James seized the oil lamp I was holding and moved towards the bed. Kessling grabbed my friend by the arm and forced him back.
‘I order you not to enter the area beyond the sacred star. It alone protects us from demons and their unpredictable reactions.’
My friend stopped immediately.
‘The spirit cannot do anything to us, James! He can only act through sleep. We have nothing to fear.’
‘Here he is!’ cried Kessling. ‘The holy union is finally going to begin! A second master will be born from this magical night!’
The Dream Killer of Paris Page 17
