The Sixth Key(136)

‘Oh shut up, La Dame! Quoting Sancho won’t get you out of this one. Trust you? You?’ Rahn said, glowing with rage. ‘You’re nothing but a great scoundrel, dunderhead, and thief all in one! Why should I ever trust you again?’

La Dame frowned, obviously hurt. ‘Now, Rahn, don’t say things you’ll regret. Remember, I saved your life!’

‘You’re a dirty, doublecrossing rat! You wanted the job at Oxford!’ he spat, relishing his anger now.

‘That’s offensive! That was just an added bonus,’ La Dame said, with indignation.

‘Let me be precise. You’re a cowardly, suppurating, dirty, doublecrossing rat – and a bastard!’

‘Now you’ve gone too far, Rahn. You’ve wounded my pride.’

Rahn almost expected him to shout, ‘Pistols at dawn!’

Instead, La Dame sighed, and his voice suddenly sounded full of remorse. ‘You’re just anxious – I understand.’

‘Anxious? Why should I be anxious?’ Rahn said, sarcastically. ‘There are secret societies on our tail: some trying to burn us alive in car trunks; others trying burn us alive in cellars; some have a preference for shooting us to pieces; and others find it more amusing to drown us in crypts. I’ve been manipulated, lied to, messed about! I’ve got cuts and bruises everywhere. I haven’t slept in days, there’s a bee flying about in my head and the Eiffel Tower is snowed under! And what has all of it achieved? I’ve managed to lead evil-minded madmen to a secret that was elaborately safeguarded and hidden for centuries and now, to exonerate myself, I have to walk into the middle of a conventicle of black magicians to stop them from conjuring the evil spirit Sorat – who makes Satan look like a retarded demi-god – where I will most likely end up suffering moral and spiritual ruination. Or at best a grievous, agonising, living death for all eternity. Anxious? Yes, I’ll admit I’m a little anxious. But I’d say no more anxious than this insane story demands!’ Rahn finished, loudly.

‘That’s because, my dear Rahn,’ La Dame countered, meekly, ‘you’re the hero of the script, I realise that now. The one prepared to march into Hell for Heaven’s sake! And I’m, well, I told you, I’m a coward, I have no ribs to bear Hell and I freely admit it! Even when I’m holding a gun, the truth is, the gun is holding me. I couldn’t even load the damned thing for fear it might go off and shoot something unintended. I’d be no good to you at all, you see? Better to be rid of me.’ He sat forward. ‘When all this is over we’ll break open that numbered bottle I’ve kept hidden away for a special occasion and we’ll have a jolly laugh.’

‘You know where you can shove your numbered bottle and your jolly laugh, La Dame,’ he said testily, ‘where it’s dark and the temperature’s stable!’

‘Rahn! There’s a lady present!’ La Dame cried, shocked.

Rahn gave him a sidewise glance. ‘Shut up before I punch you again and break your nose twice.’

La Dame winced. Deflated and consumed by guilt, he said nothing more.

When they came to the little hamlet, Eva stopped in a small lay-by to let La Dame out.

As they sped off, Rahn caught sight of La Dame’s pathetic form in the rear-view mirror. He stood by the side of the road like an abandoned dog looking for a good home. Rahn felt a sudden remorse. His temper had ebbed and he was already missing La Dame. He realised once again that he was no different to his friend and moreover he was at fault: La Dame was right, had he not mentioned the skeleton key in his book, had he not gone to that apartment in Berlin, none of this would have happened. He sighed, fighting a desire to tell Eva to turn back to get him. La Dame was better off staying away from all this. He had wounds to nurse and a life to live. He was right. Rahn was the one who had to walk into Hell.

‘I don’t know . . .’ Deodat said, wrenching him from his painful thoughts.

‘What is it?’

‘At that moment in the church, when La Dame called out with the revolver in his hands, something occurred to me. Cros was a good chess player. He always found a way to create weaknesses in his opponent’s position in two directions. He said it took at least two weaknesses to win a chess game, because an opponent couldn’t be in two places at the same time.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Rahn said.

‘Two places, Rahn. The clever player creates a diversion to allow something else to go unnoticed. He even risks losing a valued piece to secure victory. Cros sent us in search of rotas but did we only find what he intended us to find?’