‘That reminds me of Etienne – have you seen her lately? Are you and she, still . . . you know?’
‘We were never an affaire de coeur,’ Rahn said, ‘but I keep expecting her to turn up wearing a suit like the old days, carrying a bottle of absinthe in one hand and a gun in the other.’
‘I’ll take the absinthe . . . She was rather odd.’
La Dame had a fashion of calling everything ‘odd’ and seemed to live amid a legion of oddities.
‘A Marxist with good taste is a rare species,’ he continued. ‘Speaking of Marxists, you certainly did send me on a chase! And exceedingly odd it was too!’
Rahn sat up. ‘What did you find out?’
‘Actually—’ He warmed his words with another swallow of brandy. ‘There was a bit of hole-and-corner work involved. This Vincent Varas is an alias for a man called Pierre de Plantard who works for a group called Alpha Galates, which has some connections to the French union . They have a nasty periodical called Vaincre, which they use to disseminate their anti-Freemason, anti-Marxist, anti-Jew, anti-everybody diatribe. Alpha Galates purports that its secrets come from ancient Atlantis. Moreover, they’re more Catholic than the pope and are expecting the so-called Apocalypse sooner rather than later, after which there will be the creation of a New Jerusalem – where, incidentally, there are no Jews but only good Roman Catholics.’
Rahn sighed. ‘How big are they?’
‘As far as I can gather, there are only a handful of members and this Plantard is only a boy really, no older than nineteen, but there are others. The interesting thing is that behind Alpha Galates there is another group run by a man called Gaston De Mengel.’
‘So,’ Rahn said, ‘that’s the connection.’
‘What connection?’
‘I’m here at De Mengel’s suggestion.’
‘Really? And you didn’t know that he and another man called Monti ran that group?’
‘No.’
‘Well, the group behind Alpha Galates is called Groupe Occidental D’etudes Esoteriques. They are highly secretive and dedicated to bringing peace to the world . . . and the Eiffel Tower is also made from Meccano! Whatever the case, this Monti was apparently Péladan’s pupil. You know Joséphin Péladan – the Rosicrucian?’
‘Yes, I know of him, I acknowledged him in my book. You know – the book you never read?’
La Dame ignored Rahn’s sarcasm and said happily, ‘The plot thickens, Rahn! Some months ago, the Masonic Grand Lodge published an article denouncing Monti. It said he was a fraud and a supposed Jesuit agent and soon after he winds up dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘Dead as a doornail, dear Rahn! And his close associate, a certain Dr Camille Savoire, apparently rushes to his side, examines him and claims that he has been poisoned – his body was apparently covered in black spots.’
‘Let me see if I have the gist,’ Rahn said. ‘Alpha Galates is a front for another society started by De Mengel and Monti, Groupe Occidental D’etudes Esoteriques. Some months ago Monti was murdered because he was a fraud and a spy.’ Rahn tried to think through the brandy fog. ‘Could it be more complicated?’
‘Yes, indeed, it could – I told you it was bloody marvellous! This Dr Savoire supposedly took up the vacated chair left by Monti and he runs the society now, along with this De Mengel fellow. So Plantard, or Vincent Varas, or whatever you want to call him, must be working for them. But the word is, there is a little friction between De Mengel and Savoire.’
‘And Plantard is caught in the middle? That’s good to know.’ Rahn raised his glass. ‘You’ve done well. I think you’ve missed your calling – you should have been a private eye or journalist, not a minor professor of science!’
La Dame shook his head dismissively. ‘Too uncomfortable, Rahn. All those nights standing in the rain, waiting for something to happen. Not my style.’
‘Alright, but how did you find out so much?’
‘I have one or two friends in the periodicals.’ La Dame took a long puff of his cigar. ‘So, are you going to tell me what this is about and why you need to see this Pierre Plantard?’
Rahn heard La Dame but he was distracted by that feeling again – that they were being watched – and found himself scanning the room. ‘I don’t quite know how to start,’ he said, with a strange laugh that sounded nervous to his ears. ‘It’s all rather a long story really. But to cut it short, I have a new publisher.’
‘A new publisher?’ La Dame puffed away. ‘Congratulations, that’s wonderful. This calls for a celebration!’ He poured two more glasses and regarded Rahn with an admiring eye. ‘That explains why you’re dressed like Clark Gable. You’re clearly not the man who left Ussat-les-Bains hounded by creditors! So, who in God’s name is it?’