Infinite Blue Heaven - A King and A Queen (38 page)

“Yes.” Henry seemed to consider the information for a moment. “Yes I have heard of these – these Warg before. Actually I don’t think of them as Warg at all but it will do as a term for now. The book of your grandfather’s is very famous you know. In fact it is very rare and very valuable. I believe only five were ever printed. Actually the author is not Edgar de Boulon. That is just an alias for a Count, whose name escapes me right now, but what really interests
me
is this reference here. He turned the book to face me, open on another marked page and pointed to a book title mentioned in the text. “This is a book I have been seeking for years and I believe it is a book you really need to get hold of too. I have heard a single leaf of this book, of which only one copy is thought to have survived, is available on the black-market – for a very high price. I wonder if perhaps you might be interested in obtaining such a thing?”

I read the title – ‘De Secretis Scientia Occultis’. “Why is it of such great interest to us?”

“Well dear boy. What I have heard is that this particular leaf has some secret information about the snake-demons, as most of us in-the-know call them. Of course the whole book is probably of huge importance to us but I only know of the one leaf that is available for now. Who knows why? Perhaps it’s a copy. Perhaps the owner of the book needs to raise cash. Perhaps its a fake. There is only one way to know for sure and that is to get a look at it. Of course it’s way out of my price-range.”

“Well how much would you need?”

“Well I think the bidding will start at perhaps 8000 Guineas.”

“Whew! For just one page?”

“Well two actually unless it is an end-leaf or we are very unlucky. There should be something on both sides!” He laughed at his little joke.

”Hm. I could raise it possibly. My antiques business is very successful now. Let me think about it.”

”Well alright. But don’t think too long. These things have a habit of vanishing just as quickly as they appear.” The wit of this comment was not lost on me. “Now is there something else you want to tell me?”

”No. I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? What about any special abilities of your own?”

I looked at him suddenly amazed. How did you know about that?”

“Ah ha! Well?”

“Well I am so used to my wife scoffing at everything lately I had begun to doubt it myself but you know during the War M.I 6 was very interested in my talents. In fact I think that is why they recruited me.”

“Did they now?”

“It seems that I can sense the approach or presence of evil. Or at least bad spirits and usually I can avoid them myself although unfortunately that doeS noT extend to my friends of close family. I wish it did. It seems pointless being the only one protected sometimes.”

“Now, now. Don’t get bitter old boy.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway that is what I thought you might say. You see I know a lot more about you than you think – or than I thought until today.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No. I am not sure either and until I am I would prefer to make a few enquiries but I can tell you one thing.”

“Yes.”

“This death in Lyon is not the first of its type recently.”

“No?”

“No. I noticed a previous one five days before in Avignon and another a few days before that in Montpellier. Are you seeing a pattern here?”

“Well apart from the fact that each is a little further North than the last, no.”

“That is it. The murderer, whatever or whoever it is, must be traveling North. Each murder victim is described as being badly mangled in a similar way to Seline.”

“Why is it travellng North then?”

“Well I don’t know. Perhaps it is looking for something?”

“Um. Maybe.”

After showing Henry the rest of my documents and a sample of the statues, including the large one of snake and wolf man fighting, he in turn showed me some manuscripts and maps that he had. They were fascinating and I took my time looking through them and taking notes. By the time we had finished it was mid-afternoon and after a sandwich, I rose to leave.

“Henry. It has been a pleasure and very enlightening to meet you. I am going to seriously consider bidding for this book and I will call you tomorrow or the next day.” Henry started to struggle to his feet. “Don’t get up. I can see myself out.”

“Such a pleasure dear boy. Such a very great pleasure for me. You are welcome any time.”

As I left the room I noticed for perhaps the third time a very large crucifix on the wall above the ornate fireplace. I became conscious now of just how strange it was. Seemingly bolted together from two very misshapen cross pieces of some hard wood like oak, burned around the edges and carved loosely into some kind of relief design which I couldn’t quite make out, because of the damage, it seemed a very odd thing to be hanging in Henry’s lounge. My instinct was to ask about it, but my intuition was that it was too early to ask such intimate questions, so I left with just a call over my shoulder. “See you soon Henry. Take care!”

I opened the door to his flat and stepped out onto the landing. Facing the stairs, I wondered how on earth he managed them. I walked down the corridor on the landing towards the back of the building and saw one of those old lifts, in a wrought-iron cage stretching from top to bottom of the building. As I walked back to the car, I had a very uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched or followed. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and for a moment I felt sick.

It didn’t take me long to reach a decision on ‘De Secretis Scientia Occultis’. I was seriously wealthy by now although most of the money was wrapped up in the antiques business but it was my business and there was no reason I should not start to enjoy what I had worked so hard to build up. Also, getting involved in the intriguing world of black-market deals for rare arcane books was too much to resist.

“Henry. I have the money and I want to bid for this page. What do we do now?”

“Excellent dear boy. How much?”

“I have 100000 Francs – just over 9000 Guineas but I don’t want to bid above 8000 to start with.”

“No. We will start at 7000 but I am sure it will end up more. Leave it with me!”

We drove towards Paris in my Citroën, and in the driving rain around Troyes, the radio reception became so bad I turned it off and listened to Henry talking, when he wasn’t rustling the map.

“Typical French car, this Citroën – strange looking, but when all in said, it is well made. He tapped the dash with the head of his stick which he insisted on keeping between his legs as we drove.”

As we took the curves in the road, Henry watched the headlights follow the track of the wheels to point out the road just to our left or right.

”Nice feature that.” He chuckled to himself.

I was feeling cramp in my legs as we had driven all morning and into the early afternoon. We hadn’t even stopped for food, Henry passing me egg and ham or cheese sandwiches as I drove.

Shortly after passing through a little village called Vatry, Henry called out, “Right at the next turning.”

“Are you sure? We are in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not nowhere dear boy, near to a beautiful rare manuscript!” His eyes shone as I glanced at him. The wipers were working overtime and I peered out into the watery gloom for the turning.

“There! I see it.” We slowed and I turned the car onto a gravel track and stopped. “The instructions said to wait here, didn’t they?”

“Um hm.”

Just at that moment through a break in the clouds, the sun burst forth and the rain slowed revealing a beautiful rainbow arching across the gentle landscape before us. France had never looked more beautiful to me. We were in the Marne region of France, East of Paris and a major wine-growing region. Many of the fields we had passed had been vineyards but the fields here were green and fallow.

A figure in raincoat and galoshes appeared ahead of us and pointed behind him. I started the car and passed him, the car steadily crunching the loose stoned beneath its wheels.

“Wind down the window Henry.”

“Do you want a lift?” I called to the man.

“No Sir. It is only one hundred metres.” The man spoke in English but with a heavy German accent, I thought.

“This looks dodgy Henry. What do you think?”

“Hm. Not what I was expecting. This dealer has a good reputation though. I wouldn’t worry too much. Probably just wants privacy.”

Roughly one hundred yards on, I saw a sky-blue caravan beside the track and since there was no other possible meeting place I stopped the car here, and helped Henry out. The clouds were already scurrying away leaving blue sky in their place and colours and smells seemed even more vivid in the afterglow of the rain.

Parked next to the caravan was a beautiful silver Rolls Royce Silver Cloud. A splash of mud on its gleaming wing was an affront, like a smudge of lipstick on a fashionably decadent model in a photo shoot.

The door to the caravan swung open and a black-jacketed arm with black leather gloves, held it open while we climbed the three mini-steps to enter.

“Velcome Gentlemen! Sit down! Sit down!” This voice also sounded German but I couldn’t yet make the shape of its owner as there were no lights on. I could make out a small, thin table supported by one spindly leg with a briefcase on it, and then, against the window behind it I started to make out the dealer. He had something like a trilby hat on and dark glasses and his pin-striped suit, although very expensive and probably Savile Row, struggled to contain any part of his massive frame, which I guessed to be all of twenty five stones. He also wore black kid-leather gloves and a white cane rested against the seat, to his right. He seemed to be blind.

“Champagne, Gentlemen?”

“That would be very nice,” said Henry, lowering himself very carefully onto the stool indicated for him in front of the table. I too sat on mine, next to him. I thought, and I guessed Henry thought too, that we must look quite comical perched on such fragile stools at such a fragile table.

“André. Pour please?” said the large man.

The black-suited and gloved André, who must really have been a bodyguard, produced a silver tray from somewhere, with three filled flutes of Champagne Bollinger, nestled beside the opened bottle on it. It was delicious. André’s piercing blue eyes looked bored but he was polite.

Suddenly the whole caravan started rocking from side to side gently and a might roar and whistle filled the air. A train rushed by somewhere nearby and I realised we must be right alongside a railway line.

“Now, Gentlemen. Let me show you something.” A mantle of thick, silver hair flowed from under the hat of our host as he opened the case. I still could not clearly see his face. “Please use the gloves.”

Two pairs of white archivist’s gloves lay on top of the document and Henry and I both put on a pair. Henry then lifted up the single, brownish leaf with cursive latin script on it. He held it close to his glasses. To my surprise it had not be torn or even carefully cut from a book but unstitched, and it consisted of four, full leaves of a book, with the stitch holes clearly showing down the middle seam. I managed to conceal my delight and surprise, and noticed that Henry did the same.

“Oh yes. It’s beautiful.”

“You read Latin Sir?”

“Yes. But the buyer does not.”

“Ah.” I think he smiled at me, judging by the curling of his lips. “Please, if you can read it, do not talk to each other from now on about the content. Once you have approved it, Monsieur de Silva, your friend will propose a price.”

I guessed he was nervous we were simply after the content and once we had deduced this we wouldn’t want to buy. I kept quiet with difficulty until, I guessed, Henry must have read at least one paragraph. “Well? Henry. Is it what we are looking for?”

“Hm.” He seemed miles away. “Oh yes. Yes dear boy. It is genuine as far as I can tell. The ink looks authentic and the vellum. It talks about what we are interested in.”

“Alright,” I said. “I am prepared to make you an offer. 7500 Guineas.”

“Well that would be fine Mr er?” Neither of us answered him. “That would be fine if I didn’t know how interested you are in this.” He was relishing this and I knew he would want to go a lot higher. I decided to try a gambit of my own.

“Well if the man who wanted to buy this was also hoping to, one day, buy the whole document, then he would be a fool to offer over what he could afford for the first sheet.”

The man laughed. “Touché!”

Henry smiled at me. He had noticed not only my ploy, but that I had already learned from him to use the word document, as a sign of respect, rather than ‘book’. A book was an object, a document was a historical record, something much more vital.

“Point taken Sir. But I do believe you are prepared to offer a little more.”

“8200.”

“Um. A serious offer. But I would have to leave now if that was your limit. André. Would you?” He pointed to the document and André took it gently from Henry, placed it back in the case and closed it. Henry looked a little flustered.

“Really, I cannot go much higher. But 8400 I think is a very fair offer.”