Rex’s friends had expected that, if they did find him at the Sala de Uyuni, it would have been as a prisoner, held there against his will for some reason they could not guess, by the Satanists into whose hands he had fallen; a prey to great distress and, perhaps, dreadful thought, even mentally deranged after being exposed to the horrors that his captors could bring from the Outer Circle.
But here he was, a splendid figure of a man, wearing the easy but expensive clothes that rich Americans favour when they are at leisure, his slightly curly hair neatly brushed, exuding as ever abundant health and bonhomie. He gave them a delighted smile and said:
‘Well now, it’s certainly good to see you folks again.’
They had all come to their feet. Simon’s jaw had dropped and his short-sighted eyes were open to their maximum extent. Richard stared at his old friend with a puzzled frown. De Richleau said:
‘We have spent quite some time and considerable exertion in endeavouring to find you, Rex. Now that we have, I am much relieved to see you do not appear to have suffered from your recent experiences.’
Rex beamed at him. ‘No, I’m as fit as they make ‘em, and haven’t a worry in the world. I’m only sorry that you three should have been so concerned about me, and have come all this way to satisfy yourselves that I hadn’t got out of orbit without good reason.’
‘That we have yet to see,’ the Duke returned sharply.
The Prince smiled and said, ‘Rex will soon set your minds at rest about that. Since you would not accept the truth from me whom, I admit, you have no reason to trust, I felt that you might alter your views when you had talked with Rex, knowing as you must his complete integrity.’
‘If he can tell us that he has freely subscribed to your views, I shall be amazed.’
‘I take it you are referring to the Black Power movement?’ Rex said, sitting down in an armchair and stretching out his long legs.
‘Yes,’ the Prince told him. ‘I have explained to your friends how important it is to cure the people of the sickness that has resulted from two world wars and in that, they … or at least the Duke who, I assume, speaks for them … agrees with me. Where we are still at issue is whether Black Power would prove a remedy which would not only stop the rot but, ultimately, bring about the Brotherhood of Man.’
Rex turned to the Duke. ‘I know that on many questions you’re a real old-fashioned die-hard. You’d like to see Britishers still running a third of the world, and playing polo in their off-time, with a Two-Power Navy to back them up. But you’ve liberal views where human relations are concerned. Surely, if it lay with you, you’d not deny equal rights for all?’
‘My dear Rex,’ de Richleau gave a sad little smile, ‘amazed as I am to find you here, being used as a cat’s paw by our, er, host, I have no objection to discussing these matters with you. As you say, my views in many ways are old-fashioned but I do not regard non-white people as inferior to whites, and would like to see them enjoy a true equality with us.’
‘So you’ve admitted my point in principle.’
‘I have, but I am unshakably opposed to the Prince’s plan for bringing it about.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it would cause immense suffering to millions of people and, in the end, fail to achieve its object.’
‘Sure it will entail suffering. Riots, street-fighting, arson, murder, the lot. But you can’t make omelettes without breaking eggs and, when our omelette’s cooked, it’ll be a better world.’
‘I disagree. After your movement has brought about the deaths of thousands of people and ruined the lives of countless others, no permanent reconciliation between whites and blacks will be possible. Only a world in ruins will be left, with its inhabitants scraping a bare existence; each side blaming the other for its fate and obsessed with bitterness and hatred.’
‘Oh come!’ Rex gave a laugh. ‘You can think that only because you haven’t gotten the full picture. For a time the whites will naturally show resentment. That’s to be expected. The white governments will be stunned, nearly bankrupt and incapable of clearing up the mess. But everyone else will rise up, with both money and organised labour. They’ll move in, rebuild the gutted buildings, erect refugee camps for the homeless, and become the source from which all blessings flow. Once the whites realise that we are all really on the same level, prejudice will disappear. They’ll let bygones be bygones, and genuine friendship all over will result.’
‘You are talking through your hat,’ said Richard sharply. ‘Even if you could succeed in organising hundreds of thousands of people into labour corps to restore the status quo, where is the money coming from to feed them, let along purchase the materials needed for a world-wide rebuilding programme?’
Rex laughed again. ‘We’ll have it, old chap. Not a doubt about that. Remember, we don’t intend to blow the works for fifteen or maybe twenty years. We have already started our fund and have over a hundred thousand contributors who are each anti-ing up a few dimes a week. Nearly half the workers down on the Sala are employed in increasing the number of subscribers. In a few years’ time, we’ll number them by the million.’
‘Was it to support this fund that you stole a million from your bank?’ asked the Duke.
‘Well…’ Rex hesitated a second. ‘Yes. But we’re not relying only on contributions. Maybe you know how the Bolsheviks raised the money to organise the Russian Revolution? They made armed raids on the banks. Stalin began his career as one of the bank robbers for the Party. We’ve started that already in a small way. But our big time for that will come after the blowup, when our sabotage campaign is in full swing. With law and order gone for six, there’ll be any number of opportunities to lift cash from the banks and hold up vans carrying pay-rolls for big factories. Don’t you worry. Well have plenty of money to replace everything we have destroyed, and lots over to distribute to white people who have been rendered homeless by the upheaval.’
De Richleau shook his head. ‘Rex, my dear friend, I can only suppose that you have fallen completely under the influence of these evil people. Not consciously, of course, but by their exerting their dark power to distort your mind. They are using you as their mouthpiece. Otherwise you would never countenance this terrible plot to bring wholesale anarchy into the world. It is totally against your nature and everything you have ever stood for.’
Suddenly the Prince spoke. His handsome face had become contorted with rage. In a spate of berserk fury, he stormed at de Richleau:
‘So you refuse to be persuaded! You have the impudence to defy me! To thwart my will! I have been patient with you. Given you an opportunity to play an important role in our great crusade. To use the powers you have to further the intentions of the Old God–the True God. And you have spurned it. Very well, then. I will show you who is master here. I will break your stubborn spirit and force you to obey me. You shall spend a night that you will never forget, and in the morning you will be chastened.’
Rex had come to his feet. ‘No, Prince,’ he pleaded. ‘Have a heart. These are old friends of mine. What you have in mind might send them off their rockers. Let them have a night’s sleep and, maybe, tomorrow they’ll see how wrong they are.’
‘Silence!’ stormed the Prince. ‘They need a lesson. If they survive it, they will be eager to do my bidding for fear of the power I wield. If they have gone mad by morning, no matter. I can do without them.’ As he spoke he raised his hand and snapped his fingers twice.
In less than a minute the door was opened by an immensely fat Babu. Behind him stood two of the silent, green-clad servitors. With a sweeping gesture, the Prince indicated the. Duke, Richard and Simon, as he snapped:
‘Kaputa, take these people down to the Hall of Divination and leave them to face what I shall send them there.’
De Richleau knew it would be futile to resist. Without a glance at the Prince or Rex, he walked towards the door, Simon and Richard followed. The Babu squeezed past them and led the way along several corridors, down two flights of stone stairs and into a dimly lit, empty, circular room some forty feet in diameter.
The ceiling was low, not more than eight feet high, and the floor was an elaborate mosaic of an eight-pointed star within two circles that contained many strange hieroglyphics. The walls were of smooth, dead-black stone, undecorated except at the four corners. At these, standing out boldly in white were the reversed swastika which Hitler had taken for his emblem, the Star of David upside down, the Mohammedan Crescent with its horns pointing at the floor, and the crooked Cross. The place was dimly lit. As soon as they were inside it, Kaputa closed the door behind them.
The Duke gave a heavy sigh. ‘My friends, I am afraid we are in for a very bad time. All we can do is to pray for fortitude and hope that we may survive.’ Standing between them, he put his arms about their shoulders and drew them to him, then he went on:
‘We shall not kneel. Only slaves make supplication in that attitude of humility. In each of us resides a tiny spark of the Eternal Light, which makes us the little brothers of the Lords of Light: so we address them as children who hope one day to become their equals. After me, repeat in silence the words I am about to say.’
For the next few minutes he spoke quietly and clearly, sending his winged words out into the silent night.
When he had finished his appeal for succour, he said, ‘We must now prepare to face the evil entities the Prince will send against us. I would give half my remaining years to have here the holy water, horse-shoes, candles and other things that I collected while in Santiago and which we had to leave in the aircraft on the Sala. Then we could have made a pentacle. But at least the mosaics on which we are standing do not make a Satanic diagram. It is an Inca calendar and the two circles, together with what I have here, will at least protect us from lesser horrors endowed with little intelligence.’
As he spoke, he took from his pocket a handkerchief in which were wrapped two cone-shaped objects, an inch and a half thick and three inches in height. ‘These,’ he said, ‘are salt containers. Fearing rhat we might have to face some such ordeal as this. I managed to get away unobserved with one at dinner last night and another off my breakfast tray. Salt being essential to the well-being of man, is anathema to all entities sent by Satan to do men harm. We shall have to use it very sparingly; but I think there is just enough to sprinkle round the inner of the two circles on the floor here. A circle in itself is some protection, and this inner one must be about nine or ten feet in diameter, so there will be ample room for the three of us inside it.’
Exercising great care, he spread very thinly the grains of salt along the line that formed the circle; then, although he had nothing with which to write the letters, he traced just inside the circle, with the forefinger of his right hand, the words: IESUS + NAZARENUS + REX + IUDAEORUM +.
He had hardly completed this preparation when the dim light became still dimmer, until it had faded completely and they were plunged into total darkness. Drawing the two others to him, the Duke sat down with them in the centre of the circle and said:
‘Now, there is nothing we can do but wait. I need hardly remind you that, in no circumstances, should you allow yourselves to be lured out of the circle, or even move more than a foot or so in any direction, in case, inadvertently, your foot makes a breach in the ring of salt.’
For a while they sat in silence, back to back, their legs stretched out in front of them. The stone floor was very hard and uncomfortable. Every now and then they shifted their position to ease one buttock or the other. AU of them were conscious that it was gradually getting colder. From previous experience they knew that it was not a natural drop in the temperature, but that the place was becoming pervaded with the chill of evil which always precedes a Satanic manifestation.
The cold increased until their teeth began to chatter. A faint glow appeared near the place on the wall where they had seen the upside-down crescent. Its radiance increased until it lit the room with a reddish light. Their hearts began to beat faster as they watched it, expecting that it would take the form of a demon conjured up from Hell. Instead, black bars appeared across it. The light coalesced into flickering flames above them, and they saw that it was a glowing brazier heaped with red-hot coals. But no heat from it penetrated to the ice-cold circle.
As they stared at it, they yearned to warm their hands and limbs at its tempting glow, but they knew it to be a device to lure them outside their frail defences. Rigidly they kept their places and the fire in the iron brazier began to burn down until the big room was again in semi-darkness.
They still had their eyes on the brazier when, behind them, there came a slithering sound. Swivelling their heads, they peered in that direction. A creature was squatting outside the circle. It was as large as a medium-sized turtle, and had a body of that shape; but, instead of a shell, its humped back was covered with rough, pink skin which gave out a pale light. The thing was sitting still, but the skin on its back slowly pulsated so that little ridges rippled along it. Low down in front, it had a long slit that was obviously a mouth; from it there drooled a yellow liquid. Above the mouth there rose what, at first glance, appeared to be two nine-inch-long horns; but, when looked at again, could be seen to have beady eyes at the extremities. Slowly they swayed from side to side, obviously examining the inmates of the circle.
Suddenly the creature hunched itself and jumped. It came down with a splatter, leaving at the place where it had been a horrid oval of phosphorescent slime. Slowly it began to advance towards the circle, with the undulating movement of a worm. As the pendulant underlip of its mouth came in contact with the salt, it gave a loud hiss, began rapidly to expand until it was twice its former size, then burst into a thousand writhing fragments, leaving behind a stench like that of a charnel house.
For a time, nothing happened. The three friends continued to shiver in the pentacle, now and again glancing apprehensively from side to side. The brazier still glowed, giving them just sufficient light to make out vaguely the perverted symbols of Christianity, Islam, Judaism and the Oldest Faith painted on the walls.
It was Richard who was the first to see a thickening of the shadows under the swastika. Quickly he drew the attention of the others to it. Straining their eyes, they saw a long patch, stretching a good twelve feet across the floor. Slowly, it materialised into a great snake and began to move, circling the pentacle. Every few yards it jerked to a halt, swerved its head inwards and darted out its long, forked tongue.
Instinctively the three friends came to their feet. Shuffling round they faced each attempt by the serpent to penetrate their defence. Seven times it made the circle. They were no longer conscious of the cold. Fear had caused the sweat to break out on their foreheads. Shifting round and round to keep the great beast in full view had begun to make them giddy. Simon tripped and fell to his knees. At that moment the snake reared up on its tail, so that its head was a foot above them. Its jaws were wide open, its poison fangs glinted in the light from the brazier. Richard dragged Simon back on to his feet. As he did so, de Richleau cried in a loud voice, ‘Avaunt thee, Satan!’ The head of the snake recoiled as though it had been smashed by a giant, unseen hand. It fell writhing to the floor, and dissolved into a cloud of evil-smelling smoke.
After that they were not troubled for a long time. In spite of the cold they began to feel drowsy. At length, a slight snore from Simon told the others that he had fallen asleep. De Richleau gave him a quick shake and said:
‘Simon, you should know better than to let yourself drop off. Unless we remain alert, you may be certain that they will make some new move that will take us by surprise and we shall fall into a trap.’
‘Sorry,’ Simon muttered. ‘Seems as though we’ve been here for hours. What’s the time?’
The Duke glared at the luminous dial of his watch. ‘It is only half past eleven, so there is still a long time to go until dawn and, as it is eternal night down here, they may not cease their attacks on us even then.’
‘Half past eleven,’ muttered Richard. ‘And we’ve had no dinner. Although we had a good lunch, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.’
As he spoke, the door of the room opened and a table loaded with food rolled in. On it there were smoked salmon and lobsters, jellied eggs, a tongue, a York ham, trays of hors-d’œuvres, avocados, globe artichokes, snipe, pheasants, a duck, a baron of beef, steak and kidney and chicken pies, and a fine variety of puddings.
At this sight, the hunger they felt far exceeded anything that could normally have resulted from the fact that they had not eaten for ten hours. As they craned forward, eagerly eyeing these good things, the saliva ran hot in their mouths. Beside the table there materialised a tall, thin figure clad in impeccable evening clothes. All three of them recognised him instantly as a friend of many years. It was Vachelli, who had looked after them in the twenties at the Berkely, and long since moved to become the maître d’hôtel at the Savoy Grill. Smiling at them he said:
‘Good-evening, gentlemen. What can I order for you? Paté, or melone con prosciutto perhaps, to start with. Then, for His Grace, Canard Montmorencey for Mr Eaton two beccasine flown lightly through the flames, and for Mr Aron his favourate Omelette Arnold Bennett. To follow, some wood strawberries brought in by air from France this morning, with marraschino ice.’
Richard had risen unsteadily to his feet. Simon was about to follow. De Richleau said sharply, ‘You fools! Do you not realise that all this is illusion? And in this they have overreached themselves. To tempt us with real food would have been possible; but not to produce Vachelli. That is no more than a likeness of him. He is ten thousand miles away in London.’
Almost sobbing with frustration, the others covered their eyes with their hands and sank back on to the hard floor.
Again, for what seemed a long time, they sat back to back, staring into the semi-darkness, wondering with trepidation what new horror or temptation they would next be called on to face. It came in the form of a multitude of small spiders. To the alarm of the inmates of the circle, the insects did not attempt to cross the thin barrier of salt, but fell inside it from the roof. Within a few minutes they were crawling with them, and the little brutes had a most powerful bite.
Jumping up they slapped at their hands and faces, ran their fingers through their hair and brushed down arms and legs, in an endeavour to kill or throw off their small tormentors. The floor inside the pentacle was soon swarming with them. They ran across their victims’ shoes, up their socks and bit into their calves. Cursing, Richard stamped about, trying to shake them down. Inadvertently, he put one foot outside the pentacle.
With incredible swiftness, a monster materialised beside him. It had claws and wings like a dragon. Where its head should have been there sprouted tentacles like those of an octopus. One of them whipped round Richard’s ankle. He gave a shout of terror.
The Duke swung round. In case the circle became breached, he had kept handy the handkerchief in which he had wrapped the salt containers. It still had in it a little salt which had spilled. Pulling this handkerchief from his pocket, he threw it at the tentacles of the beast. They flared up in a sheet of blue flame. It scorched Richard’s face, but his leg was free. Simon pulled him back to safety. Almost weeping with relief, he slid to his knees, while the monster continued to burn, the smoke from it giving off the filthy smell of a cesspit. Meanwhile, the little spiders, having performed the task for which they had been sent, had vanished.
From this crisis it took them some while to recover. They were now very tired and knew that their resistance was being worn down. Now and again de Richleau looked up at the roof, fearing that some evil entity far more dangerous than the spiders might emerge from it. But the next visitation to which they were subjected was a very different one. The light increased until they could see the whole big room quite clearly. Then the door swung open and framed in it stood Miranda.
She was dressed in the black lace dress she had worn on the night that Simon had taken her out to dinner in Buenos Aires. But there was something different about her blue eyes. They no longer had the fixed, unseeing stare due to near-blindness. Instead they were clear, bright and beamed with happiness. In one hand she held a tray with three glasses, in the other she was carrying a large jug that was full of what looked like a delicious wine cup.
De Richleau drew a sharp breath. Richard gaped, and Simon cried, ‘Miranda! Your eyes! You’re no longer blind. You can see.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, darling. They flew me up here from Santiago yesterday and the Prince has restored my sight. Isn’t it wonderful? He has sent me to tell you that, as you have resisted all the horrors of the past few hours, he won’t torment you any more, but give you another chance to think things over. And I know how thirsty you must be, so I’ve brought you a lovely drink.’
During the past hour thirst had plagued them even more than hunger. Their throats were parched. Their thickened tongues felt like lumps of leather in their mouths. Beaming with delight, Simon took a step forward. The Duke grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back, gasping hoarsely:
‘No, Simon. No! That is not Miranda. It is a fiend who has taken her form. This is another trap. One step outside the pentacle and you will perish.’
Tears started to Simon’s eyes. Overcome with bitter disappointment, he collapsed. At the sight of him crouching with bowed head on the floor, Miranda’s lovely face became transformed with hate and rage. Slowly her figure faded, and once more the room dimmed to semi-darkness.
Hungry, thirsty and again shivering with cold, they huddled together in the circle, now feeling that this night of terror would never end. Filled with dread that, long before morning they must succumb, they waited for their next ordeal.
They were roused from their semi-torpor by a distant scream. It came again, this time louder. The screams continued. Suddenly the door flew open. A woman hurled herself through it. Although the light was still dim, all three of them recognised her immediately. No one who had seen Richard’s wife, the breathtakingly beautiful Marie-Lou, could easily forget her small but perfect figure and lovely, heart-shaped face. It now portrayed stark fear, and the reason was at once apparent. A huge, naked Negro was in swift pursuit of her. Him, too, they recognised. It was Lincoln B. Glasshill.
The shock of his wife’s sudden appearance and the peril she was in caused Richard to forget time, place and the danger of his own situation. Giving a loud cry, he sprang forward to intercept the Negro. Simon was still crouching on the floor; but, at the sound of the screams, he had raised his head. His mind still filled with the vision of Miranda and the snare into which he had so nearly fallen, he threw his arms round Richard’s legs and brought him crashing to the ground.
By then Glasshill had caught up with Marie-Lou. Seizing her, he swung her round and began to tear the clothes from her body. As she strove to fight him off, she began to scream again:
‘Richard! Richard! Save me! Save me!’
Still struggling with Simon, Richard gasped, ‘Let me go! Damn you, let me go!’ Kicking himself free, he staggered to his feet. But now the Duke came into action. Drawing back his fist, he hit Richard hard beneath the jaw. Richard gave a gulp, sagged at the knees and rolled over, unconscious. An instant later, the figures of Marie-Lou and the powerful Negro had vanished.
After a few minutes Richard began to moan, then came to. Once more the three friends huddled together, their nerves taut almost to breaking point, and all but exhausted. The big room was again silent, except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Many minutes passed while they knelt there, looking constantly from side to side, in grim anticipation of the next attack.
At length, the door swung open. This time they did not stir, but gazed with fear in their eyes at the tall figure that stepped through into the room. It was Rex Van Ryn.
Putting his finger to his lips, he said in a low voice, ‘Not a word. Come on. Follow me, and I’ll get you out of here.’
The Duke managed a laugh that held a sneer. ‘Is it likely? Surely your Prince must realise by now the stupidity of repeating this game since we have shown so clearly that we are not to be trapped by it.’
Rex frowned. ‘I don’t know what he’s been up to. Looks like you’ve been given a mighty bad time. But not to worry. It’s over now. Come on.’
‘You filth, get out!’ Richard shouted. ‘Get back to Hell where you belong.’
Rex swiftly raised a hand. ‘Quiet, for God’s sake, or you’ll wake some of those bloody Satanists. Then I’ll never be able to get you away.’
Simon’s words came thickly from his dried-up mouth. ‘Get us out of this circle, you mean, so your Infernal Master can set his ghouls upon us. No thanks.’
The light was just strong enough for the white, thinly-spaced grains of salt which made a trail round the inner circle of the Inca calendar to be seen. Looking down, Rex grasped their significance, and said, If this wasn’t so darn serious, it ’ud be a laugh. I guess he’s been sending ab-humans to lure you out of your fortress, and you think I’m one.’
‘You are,’ croaked the Duke, making the sign of the Croes. ‘Avaunt thee, Satan.’
To the amazement of the three, instead of wilting and disappearing under the anathema, Rex burst out, ‘You bloody fools! Can’t you tell a live man from an apparition?’ Then he stepped over the barrier of salt into the circle.