The Sixth Key (14 page)

The drive home was silent. At the house,
Madame Sabine, having heard from Rahn of the abbé’s death, kept out of the way
and refrained from complaining about the late hour of their arrival. She heated
their dinner without saying a word and they ate the beans and potatoes in
garlic in the kitchen, without appetite. The wood crackling in the stove and
the wind brushing the tangled limbs against the window were the only sounds in
the stillness between them.

For Rahn’s part, what he had not told Deodat
now troubled him. He wondered about the black car at Bugarach, about the
strangeness of the abbé’s demeanour before his terrible death, and about a
police inspector who was supposedly here to investigate a group called La
Cagoule but who just happened to know his book intimately.

Later, in the drawing room, drinking a
much-needed brandy before the fire, Rahn resolved to do the inevitable.

‘Look, Deodat, I’m afraid I haven’t been
totally honest with you. I have to tell you something.’

‘What is it?’ Deodat said from behind his
pipe.

‘It’s a rather long and sordid story and you
may not like me much afterwards, but . . .’ He told Deodat everything –
with the exception of those events at Wewelsburg, as he saw no reason to tarnish
his own character more than he had to. Meanwhile, Deodat sat quietly through
the long and painful confession, his face neutral – the mask of a wise,
introspective judge. When it was over, however, he seemed unable to hold in his
dismay.

‘What in the devil, Rahn? What were you
thinking?’

Rahn passed a hand over his hair, trying to
find the right words. ‘How on Earth was I to know who would be waiting at the
end of that telegram? Do you think I would have gone there? Once in that
apartment, what was I to do? I had to go along with things for a while until I
could get away – and here I am.’

‘Well, now that I’m piecing it all together it
begins to make sense. It’s elementary! This elucidates what that inspector is
doing at Bugarach and why he knows so much about you.’

‘It has something to do with Monti, doesn’t
it?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘How?’

‘La Cagoule, that group he mentioned, is known
to recruit its members from another group called Action Francais. Action
Francais is connected to Alpha Galates – the group run by Pierre
Plantard,
whom you saw in Paris.’

Rahn paused. ‘And Alpha Galates is connected
to Monti.’

‘That’s right. This La Cagoule is responsible
for terrorist acts all over Europe,’ Deodat said, ‘and the Paris police have
been after them for a while. If they were watching Plantard and they observed
you going into his apartment they may have followed you here, suspecting that
you are somehow connected to them.’

‘What?’ Rahn said, alarmed.

‘Well, that’s one conclusion!’ Deodat grew
introspective once more. ‘Something bothers me though – did you notice
the inspector’s gun? I haven’t seen one of those used by the police before, and
did you see his shoes? Awfully shiny for a detective whose clothes look as
though they’ve been slept in. Very peculiar . . . I don’t know what it means
but I’m certain it will reveal itself.’ He got up to fetch a bottle of brandy.
‘I think you have stumbled onto a viper’s nest.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘In France, everywhere one turns these days,
one is likely to bump into a society for this or for that.’ He refilled Rahn’s
glass, sat down and stared into the fire a moment. ‘Right-wing Fascist groups,
like Action Francais and Alpha Galates, want to bring back the rule of the
French kings. They have strong connections to the church, which lost its power
when the Catholic lineage of kings was exterminated. Opposing them are the
Freemasons – the republican capitalists and industrialists – men
who exercise their influence on the markets. So you see, Rahn, you have a
religious power opposing an economic power. Having said that, these opposing
groups do have something in common – their hatred of the Communists and
the Jews. But if you dig deeper, you begin to realise that these seemingly
opposing groups are thoroughly interconnected.’ He took out his pipe, filled it
with tobacco and lit it.

Rahn sat forwards, incredulous. ‘Let me see if
I understand you. You are saying that the Fascists, Freemasons, Communists,
Jews and the church are all intertwined? But they hate each other.’

‘Only outwardly. I believe there is one
central authority that rules them all; one body whose goal is political,
economic and spiritual supremacy; a circle composed of representatives from
every group. I call it the Cénacle.’

‘But Pierre Plantard told me these societies
are all competing with one another for secrets,’ Rahn said, rather perplexed.

‘Yes, that’s true on one level: they fight
wars on opposite sides, they assassinate one another, steal from one another,
all of that. But it’s all an illusion, a smoke screen.’ He puffed away
thoughtfully. ‘Every now and again, something surfaces which points to the
Cénacle, but it is in such a veiled way that only the astute observer would
ever recognise it.’

‘This is extraordinary – a circle of men
who rule Europe?’

‘Yes,’ Deodat said, ‘a circle funded by
powerful banks; banks like Barings, the Bank of Moscow and the most powerful of
them all – the bank owned by the Rothschilds. But these aren’t just any
men.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean they are esotericists, but not just
that, they are black esotericists. You see, in the public eye you may have the
black occultists, the attention-seeking braggarts like Hitler, Stalin and
Mussolini, but these men are just chess pieces. Behind them, you have the hands
that move the chess pieces.’

‘The Cénacle?’ Rahn said.

‘Yes, and I fear they are grooming Hitler to
become their supreme black occultist.’

Rahn recalled the people that had come and
gone from Weisthor’s office: Englishmen, Russians, clergymen, Tibetans. He
remembered all the reports on different occult traditions and Himmler’s desire
for the grimoire. Things were beginning to make sense. ‘They want war,’ he
said. ‘And Hitler will give it to them. Is that it?’

‘Yes; a war will destroy Germany and give them
Russia.’

‘I quite follow you, but the only point that I
don’t understand is this business with Russia. What do they want with Russia?’

‘Russia is a sought-after jewel, destined to
be the location of the New Jerusalem spoken of in Saint John’s Apocalypse.
Those who understand this know that whoever rules Russia will, in future times,
control the world.’

‘And Germany?’

‘Germany is the middle, and it was destined to
be the spiritual centre of a free Europe in preparation for Russia. Now that it
has fallen into the hands of the Cénacle, it will be destroyed.’

‘What?’ Rahn sat up.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘For what reason?’

‘Because the Cénacle desires no spirit, no
middle that might come between it and Russia.’

‘You astound me, Deodat!’ Rahn had to think
this through. ‘Did the Countess P know about these things?’

‘I shouldn’t imagine so. She was a
theosophist, as you know, and theosophy is affiliated with various groups, but
she was like you. She didn’t belong to this time. She did know De Mengel,
however, and I met him once at her château, that’s how I came to know about
Monti.’

‘Why didn’t you mention earlier that you knew
so much about him?’

‘I didn’t know how deeply you were involved in
all of it. He was a dangerous man, he was watching the anthroposophists in
Paris very closely, and I believe he had something to do with Rudolf Steiner’s
assassination.’

Rahn knew that Deodat’s fondness for
anthroposophy had brought about the awkwardness between him and the countess,
since she was a theosophist, because Rudolf Steiner, the leader of anthroposophy,
had broken away from theosophy in quite a spectacular way.

‘Why was Monti watching the anthroposophists?’
Rahn said.

‘Because anthroposophists are “white”
esotericists.’

‘So there are “white” and “black”
esotericists?’

‘Of course, and grey ones too – those
who can’t make up their minds! When Rudolf Steiner formed his own group, he
made certain that it was completely independent from all the other groups and,
as a result, he was hated by them all. I believe this to be the reason he was
poisoned, and that Monti had a hand in it.’ Deodat leant forwards. ‘Now, let’s
assume that the key to completing Le Serpent Rouge does exist, Rahn. It would
be a powerful tool of magic in the hands of a black occultist like Hitler and,
therefore, in the hands of those black esotericists in the Cénacle who control
him.’

Rahn looked up to the rafters, blackened by
the smoke from the fire; he felt completely out of his depth. What had he got
himself into?

‘What should we do? If we don’t try to find it
they’ll only send someone else.’

Deodat puffed on his pipe intensely and said
nothing.

Rahn was filled with a singular restlessness.
‘Is it possible that, as you said before, the abbé was a part of it somehow?’

‘What?’

‘Well, doesn’t it strike you as interesting
that Cros was investigating priests? Doesn’t it strike you as strange that
after he falls ill, the very person in charge of the keys to the church commits
suicide, and when they find his body there is no sign of the keys anywhere?
Next, the abbé himself dies, drowned a short time after asking you to get
something from the church. And as if that’s not enough, an inspector turns up,
quick as a flash, looking like a dishevelled Professor Moriarty, not only
knowing everything about my book but also looking for a group connected to
Pierre Plantard in Paris? There are too many coincidences, Deodat!’

‘As I said before, I think Inspecteur Beliere
was following you, Rahn.’

‘Perhaps, but are you telling me the abbé’s
death and the missing keys mean nothing?’

‘Let me remind you that we must work a
posteriori – that is, we must reason from observed facts.’

‘Well then, let’s do so. What was Cros doing
spying on priests for the Vatican?’ Rahn asked.

‘It was probably some small matter, a
misappropriation of funds or something of that sort. Things like that happen
all the time in these small towns.’

Rahn was in no way convinced. ‘I think the
abbé was desperate. He wanted you to find something. What did he mean by Sator
– the sower, creator or planter?’

‘That usually refers to Christ.’

‘Perhaps, usually, but in this case it sounds
to me like a code.’

‘A code?’

‘Yes. Did you have something you shared apart
from playing chess, some inside joke, anything?’

Deodat sighed and rubbed his chin. ‘Well,
sometimes, in the days when he was well, he was fond of puzzles. Actually, he
rather liked Roman puzzles.’

‘What are they?’

‘Latin riddles, chronograms, palindromes, that
sort of thing. For instance, one time a letter arrived by mail from him and in
it I found a rebus: Ego sum principium, mundi et finis, saeculorum attamen non
sum Deus.’

Rahn translated it: ‘I am the beginning of the
world and the end of the ages, but I am not God. And? Did you solve it?’

‘It took me some time. The solution was
elementary: it was M.’

‘M? Ah . . . yes!’ Rahn’s face brightened.
‘The letter M is the beginning of the Latin word “mundi”, which means world;
and it is also at the end of the word “saeculorum”, which means ages. Very
amusing!’

‘Yes,’ Deodat said, although he didn’t seem
the least bit amused. He frowned, thinking about it.

Rahn had a sudden thought. ‘Do you have a
Latin dictionary?’

Deodat looked at him as if he had just asked
him if the Earth was round. ‘Of course.’

‘We need to look up “Sator”.’There was a large
tome on the table in Deodat’s library. Rahn stood beside him as he pushed his
glasses onto the bridge of his nose and flicked the pages until he found it.
‘“Sator” . . . Well, well,’ he said. ‘Here it is. Apparently it forms part of a
famous palindrome, that is, it reads the same up and down, backwards and
forwards, and so it’s sometimes called a magic square.’ He showed Rahn.