The baby made no sound. Evidently it had been doped before the party started, and had since lain in a drugged sleep in the basket under the table. Von Thumm held the offering to Satan aloft. Before he did so it had been difficult to see it clearly. Now, Richard suddenly realised that it was not a child, but a young ape.
Von Thumm began a long incantation in Latin. At intervals the evil congregation shouted a loud response. These shouts roused the ape, and it began to chatter. His incantation finished, the Baron lowered the ape into the crook of his right fore-leg. At one side of the silver phallus there hung a glittering, curved black-hilted knife. He took it in his hoof-covered left hand. Silvia held the phallus out by its two great testicles. Von Thumm drew the knife sharply across the ape’s throat. Its one wailing cry was cut short, and its blood poured into the vessel that Silvia was holding ready to receive it.
A great cry went up from the congregation. When all but a few drops of the ape’s blood had drained from its body, the Priest of Evil threw it from him. The nearest members of the congregation seized upon it and tore it limb from limb. Meanwhile, the Baron had transferred the knife to his right hand, and plunged his hoof-covered left hand into the hollow phallus Withdrawing it, dripping with blood, he made the sign of the Left-Hand Swastika on Silvia’s stomach. Again the members of this unholy crew formed a procession and filed past the throne. As they did so, the goat sprinkled each of them with a few drops of the sacrificial blood.
All this time, Simon had been lying with his face buried in his hands, praying fervently for the Lords of Light to destroy these gruesome followers of the Left-Hand Path. Richard had witnessed everything, because he had been half hoping, half fearing, to identify Rex among the assembled Satanists. But none of the grotesque, animal-like figures was tall enough to be his friend. When the last in the procession had been anointed with the ape’s blood, he said gently:
‘It wasn’t a child but an ape, Simon. And even though we’ve failed to find Rex, we can thank God he is not among that awful crew.’
As Simon looked up, the Satanic anointing with blood had just finished, but the procession did not break up. Instead, with the black panther-man heading them, the others, each clutching the one before him, entered on a strange, follow-my-leader dance, copying the leader’s lewd gestures and contortions and winding about like a huge centipede. The drums had begun to beat again. As the tempo increased into a throbbing, compulsive rhythm, the procession broke up and the people began to dance singly or in couples: a big, spotted dog with a hyena, a jaguar with a baboon, a wolf with a bear, and many other unnatural combinations. For a few minutes they jigged about, then merged into circles, each of thirteen, on the broad lawn, facing outward and back to back as they pranced round and round, some of them staggering drunkenly.
Another ten minutes passed; then the circles dissolved. Most of the assembly appeared to have already selected partners for this new phase of the Sabbat. Avidly they seized upon one another, ripping down the zip fasteners that held their animal costumes in place in front. Beneath the costumes most of them were naked. Their arms were clasped round their partners, who either subsided willingly or were thrown to the ground. A babel of shouts, grunts and cries ensued as two score of fiercely-embraced couples began to copulate. From the positions that several of them took up, with one man discarding his garment altogether, it could be seen that a number of them were sodomites; in other cases the form of lust displayed was obviously lesbian.
After a while, Richard said. There’s no point in our staying longer. We now know what we came to find out, and Rex isn’t here. But now we can have Silvia and von Thumm kept under observation and I’m sure one of them will lead us to him.’
‘Yes,’ Simon agreed. ‘Sight of all this makes me want to vomit. Let’s get back to the car.’
It was at that moment that a woman dressed as a black cat, who had just staggered to her feet after being bestrode by a man dressed as a bull, was seized upon by another wearing a cobra head-dress. But she broke away from him and ran, screaming, towards the place where Richard and Simon were hiding.
Von Thumm and Sylvia had not participated in the orgy. For the past ten minutes, while it had been in progress, they had remained seated on their thrones, the living representatives of Satanic power, calling out to applaud acts of special obscenity and encouraging to new efforts those whose lechery seemed to be weakening.
On seeing the cat-woman detach herself from the writhing mob and go racing across the open lawn, the Baron jumped to his cloven-hoof-covered feet and yelled in Spanish, ‘Guards! Guards! Stop that cat! She must not be allowed to get away.’
8
The Victim
Richard and Simon had come to their feet just inside the screen of trees. The cat-woman could not see them. Her head-dress had fallen back, revealing her face. It was that of a girl in her twenties, and disordered by terror. Her eyes were bulging, her mouth gaped open and her dark hair streamed out behind her. With all the speed she could muster, she was blindly heading for the nearest cover.
That happened to be within fifteen feet of where Simon was standing. Swiftly he moved sideways towards the spot where she would enter the trees. Richard followed him. As he did so, he glanced over his shoulder. In all but a few cases the violent writhing among the tangle of bodies had ceased. Most of them had released their partners, or broken away from the lascivious groups of which they had formed members. More than half of them now nude, they were staring in consternation at the running woman. Their animal cries and screams provoked by sadistic acts no longer made the night hideous. A tense, stunned silence was broken only by von Thumm’s continuing to shout for the guards.
They had not been slow to answer his summons. Richard saw that two of them had emerged from the trees on the far side of the lawn. With their Sten guns at the ready, they were giving chase.
As the cat-woman dashed in among the trees, Simon grabbed her arm, intending to guide her to the place in the wire fence beyond which the car was waiting. Scratching at his face with her free hand, she resisted furiously, and gasped in English:
‘No morel Let… let me go! I won’t submit again. I won’t. I won’t!’
Simon gave her a quick shake. As her teeth snapped together, he said hurriedly, ‘For God’s sake don’t struggle. Trust me! We’ll help you to escape.’
Doubtless it was because he had spoken to her in English that she relaxed, and allowed him to pull her, still panting for breath, in the direction of the spot from which he and Richard had been watching the orgy. Seeing that Simon had the girl, Richard ran on ahead, pulled on the rubber gloves and held the strands of wire apart, so that they could get her through the fence. The two gunmen had just reached the place where their quarry had entered the belt of trees, a third could be heard crashing through the trees to the right. They were not far off. Richard feared that, at any moment, they would hear the sounds made by himself and his companions. To hold the wires apart, he had to drop his cudgel, so he had not even that with which to attempt to defend himself.
The thought of the gunmen made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. They were somewhere behind him. The Sten guns they were carrying would not be only to scare people. He had not a doubt that their orders were to shoot at anyone they found spying on the doings of their employer and his guests. They certainly would at anyone helping an unwilling participant to escape. Simon, too, was seized by the awful fear that, at any moment, bullets would come smashing into his back and that, choking up blood, he would die there.
Somehow they got the girl through the fence. As Simon followed her, she slumped to the ground and lay there inert. She had fainted. Richard swore under his breath. The odds against their getting away were now a hundred to one, unless they abandoned the woman. Before they could carry her, unconscious, to the car, it seemed certain that the gunmen would be upon them.
In desperate haste Richard tore off the rubber gloves and thrust them at Simon. It took only a moment for him to pull them on, grab two wires and
hold them wide apart so that his friend could get through, but every second was precious. The sound of trampling feet was now loud. One of the gunmen, if not two, must be within a dozen yards of them; and they were screened from sight only by the trunks of the trees and the tall patches of undergrowth.
Stooping over the woman, Richard saw that the cat costume she was wearing zipped down the front. The two sides had fallen open. Beneath it she had on only underclothes that were torn and bloodstained. It was imperative to bring her out of her faint, so that she could take at least part of her weight on her own feet. Without compunction he slapped her hard across the face. She moaned and opened her eyes. Between them, they dragged her to her feet. To their utter consternation, not yet having fully regained consciousness, she failed to realise that they were trying to save her. Desperately she endeavoured to break away and again began to shout: ‘Let me go! Let me go! I won’t let you! I won’t! I won’t!’
Answering shouts came through the trees. The woman’s pursuers were no longer in doubt about the direction she had taken. To silence her, Richard jabbed his elbow hard in her ribs. Grasping her arms, they thrust her forward. Another minute and the three of them were out in the lane. But they had misjudged the place where the car had put them down. In the bright moonlight they could see it clearly; it was a good fifty yards away in the direction of the main road. Puzzled by the shouts, Philo McTavish had just got out of the car and was standing beside it.
The girl had now realised that they were helping her to get away. She no longer resisted, nor used her weight to hamper them. Fear of capture lent her new strength. With the two men still holding her arms, she began to run with them towards the car.
Richard threw a glance over his shoulder. The sound of their feet pounding on the earth could not fail to be heard by their pursuers. It needed only one of the two, or perhaps by now any of the four they had seen earlier, to reach the road, and the game would be up. The fence would prove no obstacle to them, because it would cause them no concern if they set alarm bells ringing.
Simon was not used to exerting himself. He had broken out into a sweat and was gasping for breath. As he ran he shut his eyes in an agony of apprehension. He felt certain that before they were halfway to the car they would all be riddled with bullets.
They would have been, had not the Lords of Light intervened to save them. Unnoticed by them during the past few minutes of intense activity and excitement, a dense black cloud had been approaching the moon. Almost as suddenly as though an electric light switch had been pressed down, the cloud blotted out the moon. At one minute the light was so bright that one could easily have read by it. The next they were plunged in stygian blackness.
Philo had switched out the lights of the car, to save the batteries. Now he switched them on again. The glow of the rear lights made two red spots ahead in the all-pervading gloom. It was at once a beacon of hope and a new danger: a perfect target for the gunmen to aim at. Richard yelled:
‘Put out those lights! For God’s sake, switch your lights off!’
It was at that moment there came a blinding flash behind them. It was followed by a scream of agony. The wires of the fence had been electrified, but not, as they had thought, only to operate an alarm bell if they were cut. They were fully charged, to inflict grievous injury on anyone who, without being insulated, touched them. In the darkness, one of the gunmen had blundered into the fence; and, as he would have been holding his Sten gun in front of him, the metal coming into contact with the wire must have caused the explosion.
Their lungs nearly bursting from the strain put upon them, the three fugitives reached the car. Philo had ignored Richard’s shout, but opened all four doors. As he slipped into the driver’s seat, the other two men pushed the girl into the back of the car, and Simon scrambled in after her. Richard ran round to the front. The second he slammed the door, Philo pressed the starter of the engine. He let it rev up for a moment, then threw in the clutch. The car moved forward along the bumpy track. At that moment, one of the gunmen opened fire.
All other sounds were drowned by the furious clatter of his Sten gun. Then came the thud and clang of bullets as they smashed into the metal of the boot. The rear lights were shot out. But again the Lords of Light gave their protection. No bullet hit a tyre, and the car was within yards of a bend in the lane. Only seconds later, they were round it and out of danger.
As they turned into the main road, Philo asked angrily, ‘What the heck has been going on? I didna’ bargain to get meself shot at.’
It was Richard, having got his breath back quicker than Simon, who answered him. ‘As we thought possible, it was a wild party. So wild that Lincoln B. Glasshill thinks it worth while to employ gunmen as a protection against snoopers. We were darned lucky to get away.’
‘You certainly were. How come the dame?’
‘She wasn’t enjoying the party. I suppose it was wilder than she had expected. Anyhow, she broke away and made a bolt for it. We could hardly sit tight in the bushes and watch her being dragged back to be raped again.’
Simon spoke from behind him. ‘What are we going to do with her?’
‘We’ll drop her off wherever she is living.’ Philo volunteered.
‘No, we can’t do that,’ said Richard promptly. Those people would get hold of her again. God alone knows what they might do to stop her talking.’
‘Take her to some small hotel, then.’
‘How can we, dressed in this fur cat’s thing?’ Simon protested. ‘And if she takes it off, she’s next to naked.’
‘Yes,’ Richard agreed. ‘Somehow we’ve got to get her some clothes.’ After a moment, he added. There’s only one thing for it. We must take her to Don Caesar’s.’
‘The boss will be pleased,’ Philo observed sarcastically. ‘I’d not like to haul him an’ his lady oot o’ bed at gettin’ on fer one in the morning. Aye, and them off to Europe first thing tomorrow.’
‘It can’t be helped. That is, unless you’ve got a wife or mother who would lend the young woman some clothes.’
Philo shook his head. ‘Nay, Señor. Taking Don Caesar’s orders is ma bread an’ butter. But I don’t like the smell of this party at all, at all. The less I ha’ to do with it, the better I’ll be pleased.’
Ten minutes later, he pulled the car up before the front door of the house in the Avenida Amerigo Vespucci. It was in darkness. Richard said to Simon, ‘We don’t want any of the servants to see her. You’d better get out and take her into the shrubbery until I’ve had a talk with Don Caesar.’
‘Ummm,’ Simon agreed. ‘Tell you what. If you remember, there’s a summer house behind the shrubbery. We’ll wait in it till you join us.’
The girl, evidently exhausted after her ordeal, had not spoken since they had got her into the car, but had Iain back with closed eyes. Now she took the hand Simon extended to help her out, and obediently accompanied him along a path leading to the back garden.
Philo had also got out, and was ruefully regarding the line of holes made by the bullets from the Sten gun in the boot of his car.
‘Don’t worry,’ Richard told him. ‘I’ll pay for the damage, and the hire of a car for you while yours is being repaired.’
Then, Simon and the girl now being out of sight along the path through the shrubbery, he walked up to the front door of the house and rang the bell. He had to ring a second time, and some minutes elapsed before a sleepy manservant in a dressing gown answered the door. Recognising Richard from having seen him the night before at the dinner party, he went up to get Don Caesar.
Meanwhile, Simon had escorted his charge to the summer house and settled her on the verandah, in a wicker chair with comfortable cushions. Some while back the moon had come out again from behind the big, black cloud and for the first time he had a chance to take a really good look at her. Patting her on the arm, he said kindly:
‘Now listen. You’ve nothing to be afraid of. We want to help you. To do that, we must know a bit about you. What’
s your name?’
‘Nella Nathan,’ she replied in a low voice.
‘D’you live here in Santiago?’
‘No. I’m here… here on a holiday.’
‘Umm. Where do you live, then? You’re an American, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. I come from Beaufort, South Carolina. But it’s four months since I left there. I’ve been living up on the Sala de Uyuni.’
‘Where in the world’s that?’
‘It’s a vast plateau high up in the Andes, just over the border from Chile, in Bolivia.’
‘And what were you doing there?’
‘Working… working for … for the Cause.’
Simon stared at her, then said angrily, ‘For the Devil’s cause. Then you weren’t drawn into this hellish business through some stupidity of your own. You willingly became a Satanist.’
‘No!’ she protested quickly. ‘No. I mean the cause of Equal Rights.’
‘Equal rights for whom?’
‘Why, the Negro people, of course.’ To explain herself, she suddenly burst into a torrent of words. ‘I’m a school-teacher. At least I was. I became a Freedom Marcher. The suffering that white people have inflicted on their brothers is terrible—just terrible. You are Jewish, aren’t you? The sufferings of our people were simply nothing to theirs. When they were brought over to America as slaves, they were treated worse than cattle. They died in agony by the tens of thousands, from thirst, disease and the most brutal flogging. It should be on the conscience of every white person to do what he can to make it up to them. Although technically they’ve been free for a long time now, they’re still despised and rejected. Not one per cent of them are given the chance of a good education. Not one in ten thousand succeeds in fighting the prejudice which bars them from getting top jobs. The vast majority still live in squalor and misery, deprived of everything that makes life worth living. They’re just made use of to do all the dirtiest, meanest jobs for a bare subsistence. Even justice is denied them if their case is opposed in the courts by a white man.’
Gateway to Hell Page 10