The Satanist (51 page)

In due course he bulldozed his way through the usual abundant evening meal, washing it down with copious draughts of cider laced with calvados, which seemed to
have no effect upon him. Ghastly pictures flickering about in Mary’s mind robbed her of all appetite, but she made a game pretence of eating; and his mind was obviously on other things, as he made no comment.

Afterwards, he returned to work and she put on some gramophone records. About ten o’clock he broke off to mix himself a long drink, and said: ‘You get up to bed any time you feel that way, honey. If I’m to take leave from Saturday I’ve a whole heap of things need clearing up, so I’ll be at it here for hours yet.’

Gladly she accepted the suggestion and cried herself to sleep. She woke when he came up but to her immense relief he did not disturb her, and soon after he had settled down she drifted off again.

Next morning her mind was more than ever harassed by fears, half-formed plans and nervous speculations. Somehow, while she had the chance, she must get from him a full account of Teddy’s murder, so that details about those who had taken part in it could be made to stick.

Then, what of her future? How could she find some means of escaping this loathsome initiation ceremony? And what did he intend to do with her after Saturday? Presumably he would take her to London with him; but did he mean to let her go when they got there? She had not dared to ask him. At least if it was his intention to retain her as his mistress during his leave, she would stand a better chance of escaping from him after they had left the house.

Last, but by no means least, there was this new development of the human sacrifice he intended to make. The victim was to be chosen by chance from the scores of vicious little sluts who battened like lice on the well-paid American servicemen. But however unprincipled and depraved she might be she had a right to her life. How could this unknown be saved from the awful end that menaced her?

While Wash had his shower and dressed, Mary continued to lie between the black satin sheets, but unconscious of their subtle caress as she cudgelled her wits to think of an answer to the nerve-shattering problems which faced her. In due course he went off to his duties and she lay there for another hour, but now that she was tied to the house by invisible bonds she could think of no way in which she could either help herself or prevent Wash from carrying out his ghastly plan to ensnare some wretched girl and offer her up as a sacrifice.

At length she got up, and it was while she was dressing that her glance happened to fall on the square box containing the machine with which Wash had taken a record of her screams when torturing her on the Monday afternoon. He had made no use of this ingenious toy since, and it was still where he had set it down on a chair that was half concealed by the side of the big olivewood wardrobe.

Lifting its lid she experimented cautiously with its switches, again playing back the first part of that horrifying scene, then recording and playing back a few bars of a tune that she hummed softly while standing beside it; and she found that it was quite easy to work.

The idea had come to her that if she could get Wash talking again about Teddy’s murder within sound range of the machine while it was working, it would record his own guilt and perhaps that of others. If she could succeed in that, with luck she would find a chance to remove the spool of tape and take it with her when they left for London. Even if she had to leave it in the house, once she had got free of him she might still be able to return and retrieve it later. Having adjusted the tape to ‘ready’ she put the machine under her side of the big bed, so that she had only
to reach a hand down to the switch to set it in motion.

All the same, so racked was she by thoughts of the horrors that Wash was planning to carry out that, after lunch that day she made another attempt to escape. It had occurred to her that if she bandaged her eyes that might enable her to pass the invisible barrier. Going to the door at the back of the house that led to the garden, she opened it, lowered the edge of a thick silk scarf that she had draped over her head, and willed herself to walk forward.

It was no good. She could lift each of her feet from the ground, but she positively could not thrust either of them out over the doorstep. Perhaps foolishly, but in desperation, she conceived the idea that since she could not walk out she might be able to crawl out. Removing the scarf she went down on her hands and knees. But her strivings in that position proved equally futile. To add to her distress and also fill her with confusion, while she was still crouching on the mat a voice behind her said:

‘You bin lost something, missy?’

Jerking round her head she saw that Jim had come up unheard behind her and was regarding her with a puzzled grin.

‘Yes,’ she replied, seizing on the excuse to explain being there on her knees; ‘a little pearl button off my blouse.’

For some minutes they both hunted for the button, but of course without result. Then she told Jim that it didn’t matter, and retired defeated to the sitting-room.

Wash returned at his usual hour, but at once sat down to his desk and almost ignored her until after dinner. Then he told her that he was going out and might not be back until very late, so she should not wait up for him.

Although, with a slightly sinking feeling, she already guessed, she asked him where he was going, and he said: ‘I’ll be stooging around in my car till I come on a judy that’s padding the hoof on her lonesome with no one in sight. Then, after we’ve had a short session in the bushes, I’ll offer her a lift home. Time I got her in the car she’ll have as good as had it. I’ll put her in a deep sleep, bring
her back here, lock her in the cellar and keep her there on ice till tomorrow night.’

There was nothing Mary could say or do which would have deflected him from his intention; so, maintaining the role to which she was all the time forcing herself, she begged him not to be later than he could help, and waved him away on his grim mission.

He got back at about two o’clock in the morning and, flicking all the lights on in the bedroom, strode into it in a furious temper. Mary, blinking and still half asleep, roused herself to listen to the account he gave of his venture and pretend sympathy with him over the ill-luck which had brought it to ruin.

Apparently, without being observed by anyone, he had picked up a girl who had been drinking and necking with some of his airmen. He had driven her a short distance to a wood and a little way into it, as before taking her back to the house he had wanted to make certain that she would suit his purpose. When picking her up he had realised that she had had a skinful of whisky and when they got out of the car she had been unsteady on her feet but not too tight to make sense.

The talk he had had with her had satisfied him that she could not have suited him better. She was a North-country girl who had run away to London and had worked the streets round the Elephant and Castle for a few months. Then, tempted by stories of the big money to be made in the neighbourhood of the American bases, she had come to Cambridge. But she had not been in the district long and the previous week her landlady had thrown her out for taking a man up to her room. Since then she had been sharing a caravan with an out-of-work that she had met in a pub, who was glad enough to give her sleeping space for a share of her earnings. From this it was clear that, like many more of her kind, if she was never seen again not a soul in the world was going to ask what had become of her.

As they got up from the bank on which they had been sitting, she said she must leave him for a minute, and went
off deeper in among the trees. Two minutes later he heard a cry, then silence. A dozen yards away he found her. The drink she had taken had caused her to stumble and fall while on her way back to him. She had hit her temple on a tree stump and was stone dead.

He realised at once that if he left her body there it would be found, and it was possible that another couple necking in the darkness, or perhaps a poacher, had seen them together. Both his car and himself, owing to his unusual height, might easily lead to his being identified. The only way to make sure of not being connected with her death was to dispose of her body. Putting it in the car, he had driven some miles to a ruined Abbey in which his Lodge held its meetings. There was a deep well there down which he had intended to throw it after having offered her up as a sacrifice; to his fury her unexpected death compelled him to do so twenty-four hours earlier. And by the time he had done that it was too late for him to have any hope of finding a substitute.

Harrowed as Mary was by this awful story, it at least aroused in her new hope that a merciful Providence intended sparing her the black hour with which she was threatened on the following night; and she said: ‘As you won’t be able to make a sacrifice I suppose my initiation will have to be put off.’

‘Yeah,’ he grunted, ‘I’ll have to hold the Esbbat just the same; but you’ll remain here. I’ll pick you up afterwards. Now for some shut-eye. Praise be, I’ve not got to show up at my office tomorrow morning, so I told Jim earlier to bring us up breakfast at eight o’clock.’

Immensely relieved, and much comforted by the thought that by Sunday she would be back in London, Mary drifted off to sleep.

While they were breakfasting in the morning she put into operation her plan for getting him to incriminate himself on the tape recorder. Having put a hand down beside the bed while he was not looking, and switched it on, she said:

‘I behaved very stupidly yesterday when you were telling
me about human sacrifices. If I’m to be a really good witch I ought to prepare myself to witness such ceremonies. I’d like you to tell me exactly what takes place.’

Sleep had restored Wash to his normal good humour, so he gave a chuckle and replied, ‘Good for you, honey. It’ll be a pleasure to put you wise.’ Then with the same air of detachment he might have used had he been a doctor describing a series of surgical operations, he went on.

‘You’ll have heard of Black Masses. Well, all human sacrifices take that form; only difference being that a genuine Black Mass in Christian countries has to be performed by an unfrocked priest. I don’t reckon that adds up to much, though. There’s ritual killings by the Mau Mau, and plenty other Africans, by Chinese, Indians, Patagonians, and all sorts. All of them offer up the blood to Our Lord Satan, and that’s what counts. The drill varies, though, according to the type of victim that’s being offered up. When it’s a kid, then a woman stretches herself out starko on the altar. If I’d been able to snatch one in these parts I’d have used you for that rôle.’

Mary had finished her breakfast and was lying back in bed, so she was able to shut her eyes and conceal her shudder as he continued placidly:

‘The High Priest intones the incantation, and states the intention. That’s the event the sacrifice is ante-d up to bring about: maybe for someone’s death, to get a verdict in a law case, or get elected to some post that means power or a lot of dough. Then the kid is laid on the woman, its throat is slit, and all and sundry take a drop of the blood with the middle finger of their left hand. When it’s a dame that’s to take the rap, she’s bound and laid on the altar. The High Priest says his piece, then cuts her throat.’

Mary felt that she could bear to hear no more, but in blissful ignorance of her feelings he proceeded. ‘If it’s to be curtains for a Brother or Sister who’s double-crossed the Brotherhood it’s like I told you yesterday. Assumption is they’ve relapsed to Christian; so they’re given the treatment head down – hung from an inverted cross.’

Glancing down at her he noticed how pale she was and said: ‘Bit much for you, honey? Sorry about that, but you asked for it, and you’ve got to know about these things sometime.’

Steeling herself to go through with her plan, she muttered, ‘Yes … Yes … of course I have. Go on, tell me about that police-spy that you saw sacrificed two months ago. Give me the details. I can take it.’

He told her then how Teddy had been murdered. It had been only Wash’s second visit to the Temple at Cremorne; so he had played no part in it but had been one of about a score of onlookers. Ratnadatta and three Brothers whose Satanic names were Roger Bacon, Albertus Magnus and Gilíes de Rais had trussed the victim up. Abaddon had cut his throat and Pope Honorius had caught the blood in a chalice.

At the price of searing her mind with nightmare pictures that she would never be able to forget, Mary had got what she wanted. For a few minutes she felt so sick that she dared not move, then she slid her hand down, switched off the tape recorder, and said:

‘Thanks, Wash. I’ll know now what to expect, and be better able to stand up to it. I can’t help shuddering, though, at the thought of anyone suffering such a terrible death.’

To her surprise he volunteered her a crumb of consolation.

‘Oh, it’s not all that bad as a way to die. This guy was brought out from under deep hypnosis no more than ten minutes before he was dead meat. What’s that against a medico wising you up to it that you’ve got incurable cancer, or being tortured till your heart gives out, way the Japs played it on some of our boys they captured in the Pacific war?’

When he had dressed and gone downstairs she switched on the machine again and in a low voice spoke into it. With the possibility now in mind that she might not be able to deliver it herself but might come across someone she could
trust to post it, or leave it with, she gave her name and such particulars as she could about Wash’s activities, together with a brief account of how she had become associated with him. She added that anyone into whose possession the spool came should send it to Colonel Verney, care of the Special Branch, New Scotland Yard. Then, with trembling fingers, she cut off the used portion of the tape, concealed the little roll it made in a small box that had held a bottle of nail varnish, put it in her handbag, and replaced the machine on the chair where it had been left from Monday to Friday.

It was as well she did, for later in the day Wash went up to fetch it to be packed with numerous other things he was taking on leave with him. When he said he was going up for it she almost fainted with terror. It seemed certain that he would look inside the box, notice that part of the tape had been cut off, and with his highly developed psychic sense guess what it had been used for. If that happened she knew that he would kill her – that there would after all be a human sacrifice that night, and she would be the victim.