The Sixth Key (32 page)

Rahn felt an excitement rising to his throat.
Things were coming together. He was intoxicated by the complexity of the
puzzle. He was tense and alert.

The old woman noted his eagerness. She smiled
and continued, ‘Saunière visited with a certain Boulle, leader of the
penitents, and showed him what he had found. Boulle was immediately excited
because, you see, the penitents were in the possession of a book . . .’

‘Le Serpent Rouge, the Grimoire of Pope
Honorius?’ Rahn blurted out.

‘Yes, not the original but a copy of it that
they had acquired through the murderous priest, Jean-Louis Verger.’

‘So, did Association Angelica also have a copy
of it? Is that what you meant when you said they were also in possession of a
secret?’

‘Very well surmised. They held the original.’

‘And Saunière knew about the grimoire?’

‘No, he wanted the Cathar treasure, or what he
imagined it might be: gold coins, precious jewels.’ She half smiled, nodding
mysteriously. ‘Saunière was playing a dangerous game. He was a very audacious,
if not a stupid man. Now, this Boulle offered Saunière money to continue his
search, having by now heard that Association Angelica were also involved.’

‘So now there are two orders that know about
the treasure,’ Rahn said, ‘Association Angelica and the penitents. Both were in
possession of Pope Honorius’s grimoire, Le Serpent Rouge, one the original and
the other a copy, and now they suspected that Saunière had found the key to
completing it.’

‘Yes! You catch on fast, Monsieur Rahn.
Saunière began travelling to Paris and Lyon and Toulouse regularly, courting
the good favours of a number of groups – who were all vying for the
treasure. He soon became a celebrity, giving parties here at the villa and
drawing to himself the attention of the most illustrious people; people like
the opera singer Emma Calve, the Countess of Chambord and any number of
disaffected members of the Austrian Hapsburg family.’

‘Was he party to some intrigue to bring France
into the Austrian empire?’

‘Yes, better the empire than the government!
At any rate, his entertaining drew the attention of his friend from the nearby
village of Coustassa, Abbé Antoine Gélis, who became suspicious of Saunière’s
newfound wealth and celebrity. When he asked Saunière about it, the braggart,
thinking himself invulnerable, could not resist. He told him, “I have found
something of great value, and so far I have made it work for me – and I
will hold on to it! Do you want to know what it is?”

‘Thus was Antoine Gélis added to the ring of
priests who now knew about the treasure, and a lot of good it did him, as you
no doubt already know. At the same time, through the renewed influence of the
penitents, Saunière became interested in the “Cult of the Dead”, saying more
and more masses – since he needed money to continue his search. In the
meantime Saunière’s confidante, Bishop Billard, died of a stroke. A new bishop,
a man called De Beauséjour, was appointed to Carcassonne, a man who was
dedicated to the Church’s reconciliation with the government of France; in
other words, a Freemason. Having heard rumours of Saunière’s renovations and
his parties with movie stars, singers and royalty, De Beauséjour sent his
right-hand man, the Abbé Cros, to investigate. Subsequently, Abbé Cros and his
underlings arranged a meeting with Saunière, Boudet and Gélis at Coustassa. I
remember the night quite well because on his return home, Saunière was laughing
at how frustrated Abbé Cros had been that they wouldn’t tell him anything. As
it turned out, they were to suffer at the bishop’s hands. Saunière was sued and
Boudet was hounded. Perhaps Cros, knowing Abbé Gélis’s weakness for money and
desire for the grand life, offered him a large sum to divulge what he knew.
Perhaps that is why he was killed so brutally? Did you hear how they found him?
The killers took pains to place his limbs in a certain pattern, both hands on
his chest and one leg bent behind him. What in the tarot reminds you of that,
Monsieur Rahn?’

‘The hanged man!’ Rahn said, suddenly
illuminated.

‘Yes, the betrayer of secrets!’ she hissed
with glee. Her eyes twinkled. ‘You see, none of them, not Saunière, nor the
Bishop of Carcassonne or even Cros understood the dangerous game they were
playing. They did not realise it until Gélis was killed. The hanged man was
Association Angelica’s calling card; they also left their catchcry, “Viva
Angelina”, on a packet of Russian cigarette papers at the murder scene.’

‘So Saunière and Gélis were not members of
AA?’

‘What? Do you think they would allow men like
that to enter their fold? Of course not! After that, Cros fell silent and
Bishop Beauséjour let things die down. But Saunière did not stop. Sometime
later he went to Abbé Grassaud at Saint-Paulde-Fenouillet because he had a good
library. He told Grassaud that he was interested in the Blancheforts and the
man gave him access to his files. That is when he discovered records pertaining
to the transfer of a painting, a Poussin – Les Bergers d’Arcadie
–
the Shepherds of Arcadia, perhaps you have heard of it? It was transferred from
the family of Perillos to the Blancheforts. When he returned to the village he
searched the old castle of the Hautpouls but he found nothing. On his next
visit to Paris he bought a reproduction and it sits now in the study. Perhaps
you saw it yesterday?’

Rahn was struck then – two things
colliding! Yes, he had seen it and now he remembered that Abbé Cros also had
the same painting in his study! Why?

‘What has that painting to do with anything?’
he asked.

‘Perhaps something.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps
nothing.’ She snapped the bible shut and looked at Rahn. ‘Now, if you want my
advice, you had best watch yourself. You have entered into a field of war and
you are in no-man’s-land. I asked you yesterday if you were prepared to enter
Hell and you answered in the affirmative. That is how I knew you were the one
to whom I could tell these things. I hope you are ready for the consequences.’
She said this and her face changed before his eyes: the hardness softened, the
eyes became vague and the mouth drooped. Once again the master of deception
adopted the mien of a fragile, arthritic old woman. ‘I am tired, I must rest,’
she said, settling herself into the role of old Madame Dénarnaud.

Rahn was not about to be dismissed. ‘Not so
fast, madame! You weren’t just Saunière’s housekeeper! You were watching
Saunière for someone else – who was it? Who was paying you to watch him?
Was it Boudet? Was it Association Angelica? Or was it the penitents?’

‘Paying me?’ she said and her eyes became
pinpoints without a speck of humour or humanity. ‘I am not for sale, to any
order, or to any man, Monsieur Rahn! Our time is now over. I have nothing more
to say to you.’ She turned her attention to Eva with a certain removed
amusement. ‘So, you say you’re Cros’s niece? But who are you really,
mademoiselle?’

The two women glared at one another. A
momentary flash of recognition passed over the old woman, occasioning a strange
battle of wills between the two of them: one old and a space from death, and
the other replete in youthful vitality. Rahn observed it helplessly, without
understanding, having been left quite out of the loop created by that silent
battle.

When it was over the old woman broke off
first, a little breathless. She gave Rahn a wisp of a glance.

‘If I were you, Monsieur Rahn, it is to this
young lady that I would be directing my questions.’ But she could say no more
because a voice disturbed them.

‘Well, burn my beard, there you are!’

Rahn couldn’t believe his ears until he turned
around and looked to the doorway and saw La Dame’s dishevelled shape.

‘La Dame, what on Earth—?’

‘Never mind that! The police are right behind
me!’ La Dame shrieked.

The sound of distant sirens reached them at
that very moment. Feeling wretched, tired, frustrated and confused, Rahn turned
to the old woman. ‘Is there another way out of this tower?’

‘At the bottom of those.’ The madame pointed
to steps that led in a spiral downwards into darkness. ‘There is a room below
that leads out in the direction of the old water tower; once you reach it, you
can circle the town.’

Rahn got up to go but the old woman stopped
him with a gnarled hand. ‘Don’t forget this.’ She gave him Bigou’s parchment,
and in a moment she was a memory.

Following Madame Dénarnaud’s instructions,
they skirted Saunière’s garden and picked their way down side lanes. Luckily
for them, most of the citizens had gathered at the church and, taking advantage
of the chaos, they kept out of sight and slipped out of the town. They found La
Dame’s Peugeot and were soon leaving Rennes-le-Château behind them. They drove
in silence to Couiza, watching for police cars. Rahn had too much to think
about and now he wasn’t certain he could trust Eva. Just as Deodat had written:
trust no one!

It was only later, as they sat in the shabby
interior of a boulangerie that Rahn began to relax a little. Eva had gone to
freshen up and La Dame was dunking his croissant into his coffee and eating
with relish, dribbling it over his blond beard.

‘Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted
croissant like this?’ he said, as happy as a child.

Now they were alone, Rahn asked La Dame the
burning question, ‘What are you doing here, La Dame?’

‘Firstly,’ he said, wiping his mouth with a
napkin and leaning forward, ‘before she comes back, you simply have to tell me.
Are you and she . . . you know . . . ?’

‘What do you mean?’ Rahn said.

‘Are you and the mademoiselle . . . amoureux .
. . perhaps even intimately involved?’ He smiled.

‘Eva and I?’

‘Is that her name? But of course! It suits
her. Eva, the temptress from the garden of good and evil, with the eyes of an
angel. I have to say, dear Rahn, she’s terribly like an actress. I’m trying to
place her . . . dark, large eyes, slender . . .’

‘Louise Brooks,’ Rahn said, tapping his
fingers nervously on the table.

‘That’s it! Louise Brooks exactly, in that
Pabst film. What was it called?’ He bit at his croissant as if both the idea of
the actress and the reality of the croissant were closely matched, in his
estimation.

‘Pandora’s Box,’ Rahn said, about to lose his
temper.

‘Yes!’ La Dame said cheerfully, oblivious to
Rahn’s escalating vexation. ‘That’s it! Pandora’s Box! So, if you’re not, you
know . . . do you mind . . . if I . . . um . . . partake of the apples of
Hesperides?’

‘If you what?’

‘If I were to . . . take a bite from that
apple, so to speak!’

Rahn lost his temper and thumped the table.
‘La Dame! Will you get your mind out of those London Cut pants and concentrate
on what matters, for God’s sake! What are you doing here?’

‘I came looking for you,’ he said, a little
taken aback, ‘and you might treat me with a little kindness considering I have
that information you wanted. I couldn’t get a hold of you on the number you
gave me, so I came here. You told me you were at Rennes-le-Château. Besides, I
really had no choice in the matter . . . because of an unfortunate event.’

The boulangerie was quiet. There were only two
other patrons. La Dame called the waiter over and ordered another pot of
coffee.

Rahn leant in. ‘What unfortunate event?’

La Dame bit into his last mouthful of
croissant, licked his fingers and rubbed his hands together before saying,
between chews, ‘I spent most of yesterday looking up Masonic emblems at the
university library and when I returned to my dormitory I found something rather
distasteful.’

‘I dread to think,’ Rahn said, sarcastically.

‘Well, your mind is in the gutter, Rahn! No, I
found that a colleague had been murdered in my absence.’

Rahn blinked these words in. ‘Murdered?’

La Dame nodded, satisfied, as if the mere act
of speaking had released the genie from the bottle and had made him someone
else’s concern.

‘Murdered, by whom?’

‘I don’t know but whoever did it they
certainly know how to slice a throat from ear to ear.’ He grimaced.
‘Disconcerting – not to mention messy. But the point is, dear Rahn, it
could have been me. So much for my comfortable life!’ he said. ‘Please remind
me not to help you again.’

The waiter brought a new pot of coffee. La
Dame took a silver flask from his pocket and poured some brandy into his cup.
‘I can kiss my life goodbye now,’ he said sourly, offering the flask to Rahn,
who nodded in commiseration and poured two nips into his own cup.

‘I am now, as they say, a hunted man!’ La Dame
said theatrically.

‘Sorry, La Dame,’ Rahn said, dejected,
worried. ‘I wonder if I could have made a bigger mess of things if I’d tried.’

‘I’ll drink to that!’ La Dame replied and the
two of them clinked cups.

Rahn had a thought. ‘Wait a minute, how do you
know the murder is related to me?’

‘Well, it’s like this, Rahn.’ La Dame paused
for effect. ‘The poor wretch couldn’t stand the noise of the music master’s
snoring – which, like a discordant instrument, comes right through the
walls – so he asked me if I would swap rooms with him. As you know, I
sleep like a log.’ La Dame took a good sip of his brandied coffee and gave a
silent ahh! before continuing: ‘Charity does have its advantages. Luckily for
me I didn’t have time to change our names in the register before they had
closed for the night.’ He looked at Rahn with bleary eyes and croissant crumbs
on his moustache and beard, more crumbs on his suit. ‘Are you going to tell me
what’s going on?’

Rahn swirled the brandy and coffee grounds
around and around, hoping to mine some wisdom from them. He saw only coffee grounds.
‘Well, corpses are piling up, La Dame. Four in total if you count Monti, and
who in Heaven knows what they’re doing to Deodat right now, as we speak.’

‘Who do you think has him?’

‘I haven’t a clue,’ Rahn sighed. ‘There are
several who are after this treasure, I think, whatever it is.’

‘Treasure? You mean the grimoire, don’t you?’
La Dame said, his mouth full again.

‘A great deal of water has flowed under that
bridge since we last spoke.’ Rahn poured another coffee from the pot, applying
the last contents of the flask liberally before taking a good sip. Everything
went a little out of focus and the world seemed a better place. ‘I suppose I
should fill you in.’

‘What?’ La Dame said.

Rahn realised by the look of him that he had
been more focused on the contents of the flask than in what Rahn was telling
him. ‘Will you pay attention, for God’s sake!’

By the time he’d finished giving La Dame an
update on current events, Eva had returned. She had changed her blouse, and was
wearing a red sweater that left little to a man’s imagination. She had also
applied lipstick and was wearing a hat over her short hair. She looked rather à
la mode. She ordered a tea and sat down, ignoring La Dame.

‘So, let me see if I have it,’ La Dame said,
giving her a smile. ‘You are in possession of a list of priests who were being
investigated by this Cros fellow, you think in connection with the treasure of
the Cathars – am I right so far?’

Rahn nodded, gesturing for the waiter to bring
another pot.

La Dame added contemplatively, ‘And this
treasure of the Cathars, you and Deodat have ascertained, contains something
you call a key, which makes this Le Serpent Rouge or Grimoire of Pope Honorius
III more potent. But you don’t know what it is.’

‘You’ve got it in a nutshell.’

The pot arrived and was set down on the table.

‘This sounds completely absurd, you know,’ La
Dame said, filling his cup again, plunging three teaspoons of sugar into it and
taking the time to extract any last drops from his flask before taking an
audible gulp. ‘Surprisingly good! Amazing how danger amplifies the senses. You
know, Rahn, nothing makes one feel more alive than having a close shave with
death!’ He threw an appreciative glance at Eva. Rahn rolled his eyes.

‘Now, as I was saying,’ La Dame went on, ‘a
clue to the whereabouts of this key or treasure, had fallen into the hands of a
priest at Rennes-le-Château, a certain Bigou. It was an encrypted parchment
which no one has been able to decipher because the master word has been lost,
right?’

‘So far so good.’

‘So who was it that made the parchment in the
first place?’

‘It looks like it was the lords of Perillos,
the most recent guardians of the Cathar treasure.’

‘And the parchment was then inherited by the
Blancheforts and that is how it came into the hands of this Marie
Hautpoul-Blanchefort?’

‘That’s right. By the look of it, the
Hautpoul-Blancheforts were never able to decipher it.’

La Dame paused to light a Cuban, taking the
time to smile again at Eva, who behaved as if the chair he was sitting in was
empty. ‘My apologies, mademoiselle, but in all the commotion my friend has
quite forgotten his manners. My name is Alexis La Dame . . . lovely to
meet—’

‘Not now, La Dame!’

‘All right, dear Rahn, keep your shirt on! I
was just being polite. So, you think the police are after you because of
Deodat’s disappearance and the dead man in the barn?’

‘I don’t know if the inspector heading the
investigation into Abbé Cros’s death is what he seems.’

‘You think he’s one of them?’

‘I’m suspicious of him and the police.’ He sighed,
passing a hand over his face. ‘What did you find out about the snake and the
anchor?’

La Dame’s smile was wide. ‘This is where I
come in, thank you for reminding me of the most important part! Apparently that
sign is often used on graves, so it has something to do with death and
resurrection. It also has some connection with the Masonic thirty-third degree,
which ties in with this hanged man business
– something about
traitors. Anyway, that sign was also used as a watermark to denote the work of
a printer from Venice, a certain Aldo Manutius. Sometimes he made the snake
look like a dolphin, but most of the time it looked like a sea dragon, or a
serpent from the sea. Now, if one digs down deep enough, one finds that
Manutius was also member of a guild that used that same sign as its emblem and
its members had that sign tattooed onto their right wrist, which would explain
that man in the barn and his affiliations. I dug around a little and found a
rare book entitled AA
Cléricale
– its history, its statutes, its mysteries. In it I learned that AA
stands for Association Angelica and that supposedly they were the custodian
angels, or one could say, the guardian angels of a big secret . . . this was
the order behind the guild to which Manutius belonged.’

‘Yes, Madame Dénarnaud mentioned them, a
circle of royalists. Their big secret is that they have a copy of
Le Serpent Rouge
– the Grimoire of
Pope Honorius III.’

‘Well then, there is another more obscure and
highly secret group called AGLA that is related to them. Did you know that?’

Rahn sat back. ‘The symbol in the church!’

‘What?’

‘In the church – along with the raven
there was a sign drawn in blood. I forgot to mention that it spelt out AGLA.’

‘But here’s where your theory falls down,’ La
Dame said, smugly.

‘What theory?’

‘You told me just now in your account of
events that you thought the young Abbé Lucien was a part of the desecration of
that church. If he was, he doesn’t belong to this group AGLA. You see, members
of this order are like a Catholic mafia: they go right to the top. They are
strictly forbidden to do anything to bring attention to themselves – on
pain of death. So whoever made that sign in the church you described, could not
have belonged to AGLA.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Rahn said. ‘Perhaps that young
abbé was warning us about AGLA – now it makes sense! He might be a member
of the penitents and that’s what Madame Dénarnaud was trying to tell me the
night of the storm. Penitence, penitence ... watch out for that raven! But then
how did I work out the way into the crypt by using that clue – was it
just a coincidence?’

‘Everything is connected, Rahn, as they say.’
La Dame shrugged, grinning at Eva. ‘Interestingly,’ he continued with emphasis,
‘Association Angelica allowed the admission of women and laymen into its ranks
and that’s how that printer Manutius got to be a member without being a
Jesuit.’

Rahn took out the list and put it on the table
for La Dame.

‘See here? Abbé Bigou and Abbé Boudet of
Rennes-les-Bains were members of Association Angelica.’ He wrote the order’s
initials beside their names. ‘The same order that safeguarded the Grimoire of
Pope Honorius III, or Le Serpent Rouge, the book I was sent here to find and
the same one Monti was looking for.
Saunière wasn’t a member and
neither was Gélis. But the man in the barn had the tattoo of the anchor and the
snake on his wrist so he was also a member. Jean-Louis Verger, on the other
hand, belonged to the penitents.’

Jean-Louis Verger – Paris 1857 — Penitents

Antoine
Bigou – Rennes-le-Château — 1781 AA

~

A J
Grassaud – Saint-Paul-de-Fenouillet 1886