The Satanist (36 page)

For the past few moments Ratnadatta had stood by in silence, watching them with a sullen scowl. Now, he demanded of the American, ‘Tell, plees, what you intend?’

The other laughed again. ‘I intend, son, to beat you to it. For the record, you may add that I rate this particular Judy too good to be shared; I’m taking her outer here.’

‘You cannot do this. It ees forbidden.’

‘Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole of the Law,’ the tall Colonel quoted back at him with a sneer.

‘But we haf understandings between ourselves. You haf yourself remark that.’

‘So what?’

‘To do as you say ees to rob this Lodge off one who was made neophyte in it. For that Abaddon make you pay heavy penalty.’

‘To hell with Abaddon. I’ve my own Lodge back in the States, and I’m as big a shot as he is.’

‘But tonight ees feast of obligation. To attend is duty to Our Lord Satan. No excuse taken.’

Mary had already wriggled into her belt and thrown her skirt over her head. As she hastily pulled it down, she saw sudden indecision appear on the ruddy hook-nosed face of the American. The appalling thought that he might change his mind and perhaps, after all, leave her in Ratnadatta’s clutches had the temporary effect on her of a paralytic stroke. Rigid with apprehension she stood, her hands still on her skirt, her eyes riveted upon him.

Meanwhile Ratnadatta was going on. ‘Also all ees ar ranged for her to become initiate. You take her from here
and you deprive the Brotherhood off a new Sister, perhaps very valuable one.’

‘She can take her initiation later. Plenty of time for that. It’s a bare two weeks since she became a neophyte.’

‘All the same, it ees ordered for tonight. Her name will haf been given to the Great Ram. He ees Abaddon’s master, your master, master off us all. When he learns that she ees missing he will ask why. Then he haf only to give one thought to know place where you haf taken her. He then put terrible curse upon you.’

The American shook his head. ‘You’ve got that one wrong, son. The Great Ram wouldn’t put a black on me just for postponing the initiation of a neophyte. I’d have to do something a mighty sight worse than that before he did me dirt. He needs the sort of help that only I can give him for a project of his own.’

‘To haf such strong position ees fortunate for you. But what off feast off obligation?’ Ratnadatta persisted. ‘For preventing a neophyte’s initiation you are excused, perhaps. But not failure to attend yourself. What can this woman give that compensate you for what follow? Why such great hurry? To risk much for something you can get otherways a little later ees height of foolishness.’

It was evident to Mary that the Indian’s argument weighed heavily with the Colonel. His ruddy, eagle features were set in a deep frown. For a moment he stood silent, a prey to indecision. Then he said:

‘Maybe you’ve got something there. Now I’ve happened on this honey, though, I’ll share her with no one. Leastways, not till she’s gone stale on me. Reckon I’ll take her outer here and park her some place, then beat it back in time to be in on the sacrifice.’

Glancing at Mary, he added, sharply, ‘What are you waiting for? Get the rest of your things on.’

Seeing himself about to lose his intended victim, Ratnadatta’s coffee-coloured face became grey with fury. Losing all control his voice rose in shrill defiance, ‘I not let you take her. I not let you. It ees whole Brotherhood off this Lodge
you rob for own selfish pleasure. I go tell. I haf them stop you and throw you into street.’

Starting forward, he ran towards the door to the sitting-room. Before he had covered half the distance, the huge American stepped in front of him and swung back a clenched fist the size of a small leg of lamb. It came up with the force of a battering ram, striking the Indian beneath the jaw.

For a second Ratnadatta’s feet actually left the carpet. He curved over backwards, came down with a crash and slithered along it to bring up with a bump against the bathroom door. There he remained, a twisted, unmoving figure. Mary wished that she had been capable of giving him that blow herself, but as she stared down at the still, crumpled body she could not help exclaiming:

‘My God; you’ve killed him!’

The colossus smiled. ‘Could be. I’ve known fellers’ necks break from being given a little jolt like that. If so, his buddies will find a way of getting rid of the body. But I’d say he’s only visiting the astral. He’ll be back in about an hour, feeling sorry more than somewhat he didn’t behave more civil.’

Quickly Mary pulled her shoes on, then snatched up her coat and bag. Her rescuer took her by the arm. Crossing the sitting-room, they went out into the passage. By this time the Brotherhood had assembled in the Temple, so there was no one about. Side by side they ran down the two flights of stairs. In the hall the two Negro footmen were standing, but their lack-lustre eyes remained expressionless, and they made no move to stop the hurrying couple. A moment later they were through the front door and out in the courtyard.

As Mary drew in the cool night air, she thought that nothing had ever felt so good. She had been in the mansion for a little over three hours, but they seemed like three weeks. That morning, when she had believed herself finished with Ratnadatta and been looking forward to enjoying an evening out with Barney, seemed half a life time away.

Her tall companion guided her over to one of the half-dozen
ears that were parked in the courtyard. As he thrust her into it she noticed that it was large and powerful. He switched on the lights, started up the engine and turned it into the alleyway. As it emerged at the far end and came out into the street, he muttered:

‘Drat this ceremony! Why must it be on the night I’ve found a honey like you? And what’ll I do with you till I can collect you in the morning? Reckon I’d best take you to your home.’

Mary’s heart bounded with delight. Ratnadatta’s attack on her had dissipated the effects of the aphrodisiac. She no longer wanted any man, and certainly not this hulking American. He too was a Satanist and, apparently, a whiteslaver into the bargain. How she could ever have thought of him as a lover she could not now imagine. He might have a fine body, but like the others his mind must be a sink of iniquity. When he had dropped her she would wait for ten minutes in the hall of the house, then go out, get a taxi and drive straight to Colonel Verney’s. She should be with him shortly after half past ten. If he was at home he would soon get things moving. If not, she would go on to Scotland Yard. One way or another, by midnight she would pull off the great coup she had visualised earlier. Ratnadatta, Abaddon, Honorius, the whole of this evil murderous crew, would be flung handcuffed into police vans.

‘Where d’you live?’ asked her companion.

She told him, and he said: ‘I’m acquainted with the Cromwell Road, but not sure how best to get to it from here. Can you guide me?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed, trying to keep the excitement she felt from being noticeable in her voice. ‘Take the next turning to the left. That will bring us to the Fulham Road. We cross it and go straight on through the Boltons.’

The car ran smoothly on. As they approached the Fulham Road he said: ‘About the morning. You’ll not take a run-out powder on me, will you?’

‘Of course not!’ In order to dispel any doubts he might have, she managed to raise a laugh and, quite unscrupulously,
went on to lie to him. ‘A fortnight ago I picked you out as just the boy-friend I’ve always wanted. I bet you are wonderful as a lover. How I wish you hadn’t got to go back there, so that it could be tonight.’

Two minutes later they were running along the right side of the oval garden on to which the houses in the Boltons faced. When they reached its far end, instead of steering the car into Gilston Road he swung it round so that it headed back down the other side of the oval.

‘Hi!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing? This isn’t the way.’

‘Sure it’s not,’ he grunted. ‘But I’ve been thinking. By, sacrificing something more acceptable than a ram, and by delivering you back to Abaddon tomorrow, I could put myself right for cutting tonight’s fiesta. And that’s the way I’ve decided to play it.’

‘Where…’ she gasped, all her fears rushing back on her. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Down to the country. I’m stationed near Cambridge, but I don’t live in camp. I’ve hired me a grand little maison with everything that opens and shuts. We’ll be there by a half after eleven, and you’ve hit the jack-pot with your wish. I mean to give you the night of your life.’

On that same Saturday, all unsuspecting of what fate had in store for Mary, Barney went to his lunch appointment with his Chief at the Army and Navy Club. The hall porter told him that he would find Colonel Verney in the smoking-room so, having parked his bag, he walked quickly up the splendid staircase. As it was a Saturday the big room, with its leather-covered sofas and scores of easy chairs, was
almost empty. Verney was sitting at a table near a window with a pink gin and a pint of Pimm’s in front of him. He made it a rule never to lunch alone, as he considered that to do so would have been wasting what often turned out to be the most valuable part of the day. On days when he had no appointment to lunch with officers in the Intelligence Departments of the Service Ministries, or senior Civil Servants, he always took one of his own young men to lunch at his Club, because doing so enabled him both to get to know them better and encouraged them to regard him as a friend as well as their master.

‘Here’s how!’ he said, picking up the pink gin as Barney sat down. Barney reached for the Pimm’s and grinned. ‘What a memory you’ve got, Sir, to have ordered my favourite tipple.’

‘It’s just part of the Austin Reed service,’ C.B. replied laconically. ‘Talking of “service”, Farnborough have fixed us up. About twice a week they send an aircraft down to Wales to facilitate the exchange of secret documents, personnel, special parts, and so on. They were sending one first thing tomorrow morning to bring back the American egg-head who is on a visit there. Instead, it is going to fly us down this afternoon and its pilot will remain there overnight. I said we’d be at Farnborough at three-thirty; so we’ve no need to hurry over lunch.’

While they ate a pleasant meal, they reviewed the extraordinary case of Otto Khune and his twin and, when they got to the cheese, rather gloomily contemplated the risk that would have to be run if Otto were allowed to hand over to Lothar the fuel formula in desolate moorland country at a spot that could be kept under observation only from a distance. But, as they rose from the table, they agreed that it was futile to attempt to assess how great the risk of Lothar getting away would be, until they were on the spot and could make a thorough reconnaissance of the proposed meeting place.

At the entrance to the Club, Verney’s car was waiting and he told his chauffeur to drive them down to the Royal
Air Force Experimental Establishment at Farnborough. There they were led out to a small six-seater passenger aircraft and, after a short delay for the usual last-minute testing of the engine, took off for Wales. For the greater part of the journey they were flying through cloud, but about five o’clock they could see below them crests in the chain of the Cambrian mountains and soon afterwards began to descend towards a stretch of rugged, desolate coast.

Along it for miles no buildings were to be seen, except those of the Rocket Experimental Station, but those were scattered over a wide area enclosed by a high lattice and barbed-wire topped, fence. The place had little resemblance to an Atomic Station as there were no great buildings housing reactors, and many were temporary structures that had been erected soon after the war when materials were still short.

As C.B. was aware, most of these had now fallen into disuse since. With the development of rockets, another Experimental Station had been established in the Hebrides, much of the personnel had been transferred to it and it was there that the great Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles were tried out. The experiments here in Wales were now confined to rocket weapons for tactical use, the development of metals having maximum heat resistance in ratio to weight and fuels with maximum power in relation to bulk.

As the landing strip was used only infrequently, its control tower was not kept permanently manned; but Farnborough had notified the Station to expect an arrival, so the staff responsible were on the look-out and, as the aircraft circled out over the sea, her pilot received the all clear signal to come in. Five minutes later, C.B. was being greeted by Forsby and introducing Barney to him.

The landing strip was some distance from the main group of buildings, so the Squadron-Leader had brought his car. In it he drove them past some abandoned hutments, a football ground and a row of hard tennis courts, to a wide quadrangle of well-kept lawn, two sides of which were flanked with modern steel and glass buildings, and a third,
facing towards the sea, occupied by one of red brick in the neo-Georgian style. Pointing to it. Forsby said:

‘That houses the H.Q., Admin., and the senior Mess; the residential quarters for single types are just behind it. The married quarters are some way away, down by the sea; quite nice little houses, each with a bit of garden.’

At the back of the red brick block there was an avenue with young trees planted on both sides in wide borders of grass, beyond which were two rows of bungalows. Near the end of the avenue an airman, wearing a security-police armlet, was standing. As the car pulled up, he saluted and Forsby said to him:

‘Harlow, here are the two gentleman you are to look after. The tall one is Mr. Smith and the short one Mr. Brown. Their bags are in the boot. They will be coming along for a wash before dinner, so you might unpack for them but, after that, I don’t think they will need you till tomorrow morning.’

‘Very good, Sir.’ Harlow saluted again, and grinned as ‘Mr. Smith’ and ‘Mr. Brown’ nodded and smiled at him. When he had got their bags out, Forsby turned the car round and said to his guests:

‘Sorry I can’t put you up under my own roof, but we always keep a few of these quarters prepared for visitors, and Harlow is a good chap; I’m sure he’ll see to it that you are comfortable.’ Then he ran the car back about three hundred yards, they all got out and he led the way into his own bungalow.