Gateway to Hell

by Dennis Wheatley

  So far south it was still broad daylight when they drove out again to Silvia Sinegiest’s retreat. Booboo was with her and again barked furiously, but evidently without animosity. His small black eyes gleaming between the hair of his long fringe, he ran round them in circles to work off his excitement.

  Besides themselves, the party consisted only of the American Consul and his wife, and a member of the Grau-Miraflores’ family. They were not surprised to find that, in such a distant outpost, where commercial activities were limited, the Consul was no ball of fire, and that his wife’s conversation consisted largely of nostalgic references to the much pleasanter life she had led in her own small home town. But Señor Pepe Grau-Miraflores proved interesting.

  His family was a large one. For several generations they had owned a good part of Punta Arenas and vast sheep farms in Patagonia. They had also developed many other interests in the Argentine and Chile. He was a cheerful man and showed no pessimism about the future prospects of his own family, who were in a position to increase their wealth from industry; but he spoke with deep concern of the smaller sheep farmers, for whom he foresaw a time when, although few of them yet realised it, the new synthetic fabrics, such as nylon, would make wool a drug on the market.

  Silvia proved an admirable hostess, She drew her American compatriots out to talk about their children and hopes of a more congenial post, surprised Simon by showing a shrewd knowledge of stocks and shares, reminisced with Richard about Ascot and Goodwood, exchanged witticisms with Grau-Miraflores, laughed a lot and saw to it that their glasses were never empty.

  At about a quarter to eleven, the party began to break up and Grau-Miraflores offered Richard and Simon a lift back into Punta Arenas; but they told him that they had a car coming for them.

  When the others had gone, Silvia ordered her houseman to bring another bottle of champagne. While he was fetching it, she said, ‘I hope you weren’t too bored with the Consul and his dreary wife; but I’ve deliberately discouraged the advances of the majority of the locals and they were the best I could produce at such short notice.’

  Her guests politely murmured their understanding, while both of them waited with concealed impatience to learn whether she had decided to tell them about Rex. She had been chain-smoking all the evening. As the houseman left the room, she lit another cigarette and said:

  ‘Well, I’ve thought things over and it has occurred to me that if I don’t tell you why Rex left Buenos Aires, you will continue your efforts to find him; and that could bring him into grave danger. In a way I am responsible for the trouble he is in, so I feel badly about it; although, of course, I had no idea that our quarrel would have the results it did.’

  She paused and sat staring down into her glass for so long that Richard decided to prompt her, and asked gently, ‘What was the cause of your quarrel?’

  Still looking down she replied, ‘I found out that he was having an affair with another woman. I wouldn’t have minded in the ordinary way, provided I remained first in his affections. After all, men are made like that. It’s quite natural that they should want to get in the sack with any pretty girl who shows willing and, thank God, I’ve never been cursed with jealousy. But this woman was a Negress, and the idea of having him in my bed after he had been in hers revolted me. I told him that either he must give her up, or I’d have no more to do with him.’

  ‘How did he react to that?’

  ‘He swore he loved only me, and promised not to see her again. But he didn’t keep his promise. She must have had some hold over him. What it was, I have no idea, but he freed himself of it in the most terrible fashion.’

  ‘In what way terrible?’ Richard enquired anxiously.

  ‘He murdered her.’

  Simon’s eyes widened, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to suppress an exclamation of horror. Richard caught his breath; then, with an effort, keeping his voice to the same low tone, he asked: ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. He told me so on that Friday night, the last time I saw him. He said he could not bear to give me up, so he had gone to see her and told her that he had finished with her. She threatened him. They had a most ghastly row. He hit her. You know how strong he is. His fist caught her beneath the chin and jerked her head back so violently that it broke her neck.’

  ‘So that is why he left Buenos Aires. Are the police after him? Did they come and question you?’

  ‘No. But they may. I have reason to believe that I am being watched. It is quite possible that they are hoping that I will lead them to him.’

  ‘I see. And that is why you are anxious that Aron and I should not try to find him?’

  ‘Yes. Since you have been making enquiries about him in B.A., they may have learned of that. If so, they will have put a tail on you too.’

  ‘If they know that he killed this woman, or suspect him of having done so, it’s strange that they’ve not set on foot a public enquiry, published his photograph in the papers and that sort of thing.’

  ‘Their line may be to lure him into a false sense of security, hoping that he will return and that they can then pounce on him.’

  ‘That’s possible. Do you think anyone other than you knows that he committed this crime—members of the woman’s family, for instance?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘If they do, that could account for Rex’s having taken such a huge sum from his bank. He could dole instalments to them, to buy their continued silence.’

  ‘Before he left me, I asked him if he had any money, and offered him my jewels. He said he could get all the money he needed; but I did not know that he meant to take a specially large sum. Perhaps he felt that his only chance of remaining free permanently would be to change his identity. If he did that to live in any comfort he would need capital.’

  ‘I hope that is the explanation, and not that he expected to have to pay blackmailers.’

  As Richard was speaking, a telephone began to shrill somewhere in the house. After a moment he said to Silvia, ‘We can only pray that by this time Rex is out of the country. Is it really true that you have no idea where he meant to head for?’

  She nodded. ‘Our talk on that awful night was very hurried, and he told me only that he must get out as soon as he had collected some money.’

  At that moment there came a quick knock at the door, and it was opened by the manservant, who said, ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Señora. You are wanted on the telephone. It is the Baron von Thumm calling you from Buenos Aires.’

  Coming to her feet, Silvia stubbed out her cigarette, looked first at Richard then at Simon and said, ‘I’m sorry. This is a private call. Please excuse me if I take it up in my bedroom.’

  As the door closed behind her, Simon said in a low voice, ‘Don’t believe it. Don’t believe a word of it. Never known Rex to lose his head. He’s well aware of his great strength. If he did hit that Negress, he’d never have bashed her with a pile-driver like that. Not in his character either to go off the deep end and commit unpremeditated murder.’

  Richard nodded. ‘I agree. Of course, like us, he has killed before, when it has been a matter of necessity. But even if he was berserk about our charming hostess he would not have done in the other woman. However big her price, he could have afforded to buy her off. And there is more to it than that. Rex’s family come from the deep South. In the old days his ancestors would have taken Negresses as their concubines; but not in these days. Like most Southern whites, he’d have his prejudices.’

  These exchanges had taken no more than a minute. Smiling at Richard, Simon said, ‘Now going to behave like a cad. But where helping one’s friends is concerned, end justifies the means.’ Walking over to the telephone, he picked up the receiver.

  Silvia and the Baron had just greeted each other, and the Baron asked her, ‘How go things with you down there?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better,’ she replied. ‘But I wish you hadn’t called me until tomorrow. Both of them are still here. They came this morning be
fore lunch. I led them to suppose that I knew where Van Ryn was, but refused to tell, then invited them to dinner with the bait that I might be persuaded to change my mind.’ She gave a quick laugh and went on, ‘I had no trouble selling them our story, that Van Ryn was on the run because he committed murder. I made it very clear, too, that, if they continued to try to find him and succeeded, it was likely they would lead the police to him, and so put him on the spot. They’ll not dare risk doing that, so we’ve no need to fear they will give us any further trouble.’

  ‘Well done,’ the Baron chuckled. ‘Well done. The Prince, he will be most pleased with you.’

  ‘Will he attend the barbecue at Santiago?’ she asked.

  ‘I think not,’ came the reply. ‘If not, for him I shall deputise. I look forward to see you there, this night next week.

  They said good-bye, then Silvia rang off. Simon replaced his receiver, looked across at Richard and said earnestly:

  ‘Whole affair now stinks of conspiracy. Our charming hostess lied in her lovely teeth. Von Thumm concocted with her a pretty little plot. Could have pulled the wool over our eyes. But now we’ve found them out, advantage lies with us. They know where Rex is. Bet my shirt on that. And she’s going to lead us to him.’

  6

  The Search for the Barbecue

  When Silvia returned to the room, she again apologised for leaving them. ‘I’m so sorry. That was von Thumm. He was ringing up to know whether you had been here and if I had been able to tell you anything about Rex; because, apparently, he too would like to get in touch with him. I could quite well have taken the call here, but I just didn’t think. I’m so used to nattering over the ‘phone up in my bedroom.’

  Richard and Simon had both stood up as she came in. The former said, ‘Oh, don’t mention it. But while you were on the telephone, I heard our car drive up; so I think we ought to be going.’

  Her perfect teeth flashed in a smile, and she held out her hand. ‘It was a pleasure to have you both. You must come again.’

  ‘We should love to, if we were held up for a few days before we can get a flight back to Buenos Aires. But you were our last chance of tracing Rex. After what you’ve told us, it seems that there is no alternative to abandoning our quest. Apart from your delightful retreat here, I can’t say I find this part of the world attractive. Such time as Aron and I can continue to give away from England I feel we should devote to visiting some of the Argentine’s real beauty spots.’

  ‘Then don’t miss the Iguazu Falls,’ she advised them. ‘They are the biggest in the world, and in the middle of a jungle that abounds in wild life, orchids and birds with the most lovely plumage.’

  Having thanked her for a most pleasant evening, they took their leave. While their car drove off, they turned to wave to her as she stood framed in the lighted doorway of the house, a tall, elegant figure, crowned by a mass of bright hair.

  On the way back, as their driver understood a little English, they refrained from discussing what had transpired. Shortly before midnight they reached the Cabo de Hornos, to find that, in keeping with Spanish hours, a number of people were still sitting about the lounge, chatting and drinking. Ordering brandies and soda, they sat down in a quiet corner.

  ‘Now,’ said Richard, ‘I can’t wait to hear what you found out about the tie-up between Silvia and the Baron.’

  Simon told him what they had said to each other over the telephone, and added, ‘What a break, eh? Knew she was lying; but what a lovely liar. Don’t wonder old Rex fell for her.’

  ‘Nor I,’ Richard agreed. ‘Apart from that marvellous figure, she’s not a beauty; but she has tremendous personality and No one would credit that she is a day over thirty. It would be difficult to imagine a more delightful companion to spend carefree hours with.’

  ‘She’s on the other side, though, and covering up for someone. What d’you make of it?”

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine. This story that Rex has disappeared because he was afraid that he might be arrested for murder is no more real than a red herring designed to induce us to give up the search for him.’

  ‘Ummm. It’s clear that they’re anxious to put an end to our snooping. But not so certain that Rex hasn’t done someone in. Story about his having an affaire with a Negress is a phoney. I’d take a big gamble on that. Couldn’t have a better reason for quitting B.A. in a hurry than having committed murder, though.’

  ‘True. And if there are people who could fix it on him, that would account for his having absconded with so much money.’

  ‘Doesn’t quite add up,’ Simon remarked thoughtfully. ‘As he was rich enough to silence blackmailers, why shouldn’t he have stayed put in Buenos Aires?’

  ‘He might not have been able to buy off the police if they were after him, and he may have believed they were.’

  ‘D’you believe that?’

  ‘No, I don’t. If they were, it’s certain that Pinkerton’s people would have known. They would have reported it to that bank manager feller, Haag; and he had received orders to conceal nothing from us. So, cagey as he was, he would not have dared keep us in the dark about Rex’s being suspected of murder.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Simon gave a quick nod. ‘So there’s no fear of our leading the police to him.’

  ‘To my mind, not the least. So in the morning I think we should make enquiries about an aircraft to get us up to Santiago. God knows what sort of service, if any, there is from this benighted spot. But, fortunately, Silvia’s date with the Baron is not for another seven days. So, if the worst comes to the worst, there should still be time for us to fly back to B.A., then across the Andes to Santiago. There must be a regular service between the two capitals.’

  On the Wednesday morning, Simon made enquiries at the hotel desk. He learned that, as was the case between Buenos Aires and Punta Arenas, there was, given sufficient bookings, a weekly service up to Santiago, but it flew only on Mondays. The information perturbed him considerably, since it not only meant that they would have to kick their heels in bleak Punta Arenas for another five days, but it would give them only a single day in Santiago to try to find out where the barbecue was that Silvia and the Baron were to attend. He was just wondering if it would be possible to hire a private aircraft to take them up, when a voice behind him said:

  ‘Good morning, Mr Aron. I gather you are going up to Santiago. Have you urgent business there?’

  Turning, Simon found Pepe Grau-Miraflores at his elbow. Giving a mock shiver, he replied, ‘Ner, constant wind here makes this a place to stay in no longer than one has to though. Richard Eaton and I want to leave for the north as soon as we can, to get some sunshine.’

  Grau-Miraflores smiled. ‘Then, may I suggest that you fly up with me in my private aircraft? It would take a couple of days, as I have an engagement in Puerto Montt tomorrow, and intend to spend the following night at my fonda on the river Laja. But at least I’ll get you to Santiago by Friday; three days before you could get there by the weekly service.’

  Simon eagerly accepted this kind offer and agreed to be ready to leave the hotel by eleven o’clock. But when he told Richard of the arrangement, his friend said with a slight frown:

  ‘I wonder if this is altogether wise? Grau-Miraflores is a close friend of the Sinegiest woman, and she is an enemy. Our going with him could keep her informed of our movements. There is also just a chance that if we spend a night at this fonda of his, he might stage an “accident” that would put us out of the game for good.’

  ‘Ummm. You’re right. Hadn’t thought of that. Best perhaps to back out.’

  ‘No. I don’t think we’ll do that. Such situations cut both ways, and he can’t know that we are wise to the lady’s having attempted to double-cross us. If he is in cahoots with her, we may be able to jolly him into unwittingly giving us some useful information. In any case, we’re going to have our work cut out to learn whereabouts in Santiago this barbecue is to be held. We’ll need more than a day to do that; so we’d better ri
sk it.’

  Simon then endeavoured to telephone Miranda; but, on learning that there would be a delay of at least three hours in getting through to Buenos Aires, he sent her a telegram, letting her know that he and Richard were going to Santiago, where they would be staying at the new Carrera Hilton Hotel. He sent another telegram to the Hilton, booking a suite as from the coming Friday.

  On their drive out to the airstrip, they learned considerably more about their host. His family was one of the richest in southern South America. Not only were they the potentates of Punta Arenas, but they owned great estates on both coasts, and the interior of the peninsular, which they had acquired before the boundary between Argentina and Chile had been settled.

  The aircraft, an ex-fighter bomber from the war, had been converted into a comfortable four-seater, and its German pilot was an ex-officer of the Luftwaffe. At midday they started on their flight up the lower part of Chile, a country made unique by its geographical situation and isolation from the rest of the world.

  Chile is as long as from northern Norway to southern Spain. Yet, in one place it is only twenty miles in breadth. The Andes—that vast range of eternally snow-crowned mountains with, apart from the Himalayas, some of the loftiest peaks in the world—cut the country off from its neighbours to the east. Trackless, and still largely unexplored, few men and no commerce could possibly cross the barrier and reach Chile from Europe or Africa until the coming of the recent age of air travel. For many centuries, Chile’s ports on the Pacific formed almost her sole contact with civilisation.

  Yet Chile, alone of all the countries of the world, has everything that is both bad and good. In the far south the land is broken up into innumerable islands, snow-covered for the greater part of the year: barren, inhospitable, a prey to terrible storms and a thousand swift, dangerous currents. In the far north, there are vast areas of uninhabitable desert, bitterly cold at night and scorched by unbearable heat during the day. But the greater part of central Chile provides everything men could wish for. From the mild climate and green fields of an English spring, it progresses through warmer regions with Mediterranean beaches and sunny vineyards to a land of palms and tropical fruit, an abundance of flowers and trees garlanded with orchids. The many lakes and rivers abound in fish, fine herds of cattle graze on the undulating downs, birds with gorgeous plumage flit through the twilit forests and, from every township, the mountains with their snow-covered slopes offering the pleasures of winter sports could be seen in the distance against a bright blue sky.