Gateway to Hell

by Dennis Wheatley

  Tears came into her eyes. ‘You’re very, very kind.’

  ‘Not really.’ He looked a little embarrassed. ‘Enjoy helping people out, that’s all.’

  ‘May I take it that you’ll tell us all you can?’ Richard asked.

  As she stood up, she nodded. ‘Yes. I’m only just beginning to realise how stupid I’ve been. And thank you both. Thank you for everything.’

  Picking up the suitcase, Simon said, ‘You’re on the fourth floor, aren’t you? I’ll see you down to your room.’

  Ten minutes later, when he returned, Richard had already gone into his bedroom. Calling out ‘Good night’, Simon put out the light and went into his. He now felt terribly tired and, contrary to his custom, simply got out of his clothes and flung them higgledy-piggledy on the armchair. Crawling into bed, he stretched out luxuriously, gave a great yawn, switched off the light and, within five minutes, was sound asleep.

  But he was not destined to sleep as long as he would have wished. A little over three hours later he was twisting, turning and moaning, in the grip of a nightmare. He was standing naked on the edge of a smoking pit. Nella was with him, and with his right hand he was grasping her wrist. Beyond her, rearing up from the depths of the pit, there was a great serpent. Its head lay pressed against Nella’s terrified face, its upper part was twisted round her neck and body. It was striving to drag her from him, down into the unseen depths of the pit.

  Simon awoke, his body drenched in sweat. For a moment he lay weak and spellbound. With an effort he sat up and switched on the light. He saw from his bedside clock that it was just on six o’clock. Picking up the telephone he dialled the number of Nella’s room 421. He could hear the ‘phone ringing, but there was no reply. Thinking it possible that he might have fumbled the dial and rung the wrong number, he put the receiver down, then dialled again. There was still no answer.

  Slipping out of bed, he pulled on his dressing gown and shuffled into his slippers, then hurried through the sitting room to Richard’s bedroom. Richard was lying on his side, snoring gently. Simon put a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. Richard raised himself on one elbow, stared with sleepy eyes at his friend, and muttered:

  ‘What the hell? Not time to get up yet, is it? I haven’t overslept, have I?’

  ‘Ner, but you’ve got to get up and come with me,’ Simon said in an urgent voice. ‘Nella’s in danger.’

  ‘Nella? Oh, the little schoolmarm do-gooder who got herself taken for a ride.’

  ‘Yes. The girl we rescued last night. Just had a dream about her. In colour. It was a true dream, I’m sure. I must have been up on the Astral. She’s threatened in some way. I rang her room, but could get no reply. Only pray to God she was in too deep a sleep for it to rouse her. But we’ve got to find out.’

  Still half asleep, Richard slid from his bed and wriggled into the dressing gown that Simon held out for him. Together they left the suite and hurried along the corridor to the lift. When they reached the fourth floor, Simon led the way to the room at the door of which he had left Nella some three hours earlier. He knocked, but there was no reply. He knocked much louder: still no response. Grasping the handle of the door, he tried it. The door was not locked, and opened easily. He switched on the light, and Richard followed him into the room.

  Nella lay on the bed. She had on the nightdress she had been lent, but the bedclothes had been pulled halfway down. Her head was twisted back grotesquely. There was blood all over her, and one glance showed that she was dead. Black marks on her throat showed that she had been strangled. Her mouth gaped open and her tongue had been cut out. It had been carefully placed in the valley between her naked breasts.

  9

  The Great Gamble

  ‘Oh God, how awful!’ His birdlike head thrust forward, Simon peered at the figure on the blood-soaked bed.

  ‘Poor little devil,’ murmured Richard. ‘But we are partly to blame. We should have foreseen this.’

  ‘How could we?’

  ‘You should know well enough, after your past experience of the occult. People with power have no difficulty in over-looking others, by means of a crystal or dark glass. After we got Nella away, the first thing von Thumm and Co. would have done would be to find out where we took her. Then, an hour or two later, one or more of them got into her room somehow and did her in. Look at that bootlace laid across her neck. She wasn’t strangled with it. Greyeyes told me once that Satanists always leave that symbol when they’ve bumped off someone who’s betrayed them.’

  ‘That’s about it. Ought to have kept her with us.’ As Simon spoke, he took a step towards the bed

  Richard’s hand shot out and caught his arm. ‘Stay where you are! You mustn’t touch her!’

  ‘Why not? Can’t bear the sight of the poor girl’s face. Only going to cover it with the bedclothes.’

  ‘You bloody fool! Don’t you realise that murder has been done? Within a few hours the police will be here. They mustn’t find our fingerprints.’

  ‘Suppose you’re right. But oughtn’t we to tell the management and ask them to send for the police?’

  For a moment Richard did not reply, then he said, ‘I don’t think so. Heaven knows, the fact that we brought this woman here is going to be difficult enough to explain. If they know it was us who discovered her body, we’ll be in it right up to our necks. The sooner we get out of here, the better.’

  As he moved towards the door, he lifted the skirt of his silk dressing gown and put it over the light switch, as he turned out the light. When they were both out in the corridor, he again used the silk to shut the door, then gave the handle a good rub to remove the fingerprints Simon had left there when he opened it.

  Side by side, they walked quietly along the passage. As they turned the corner into the broad main corridor, both of them halted, and drew back. They had seen a cleaner, a woman carrying a bucket, walking towards the lift. Although she had been facing their way, they did not think she had caught sight of them; but they could not be certain. Tense and silent, they waited for a good two minutes, then Richard took a quick look round the corner.

  ‘She’s gone,’ he whispered. ‘Come on. But we’d better take the stairs. Less likely to run into anyone than coming out of the lift.’

  It was a long haul from the fourth floor up to their suite. They reached it without incident, but very short of breath. As Simon closed the door behind him, he burst out:

  ‘The bastards! How can men perpetrate such horrifying deeds? God knows, murder is bad enough. But to have mutilated the poor girl like that after she was dead, by cutting out her tongue.’

  Richard was at the drink table, pouring neat brandy into a glass. Over his shoulder, he said, ‘The reason they did that is clear enough. They’d know that even if we didn’t see what they’d done, we were certain to be told about it. Nella’s tongue was a message to us. “If you want to stay alive, you’d better not talk.”’

  ‘Damned if I’ll let them get away with this. Best not to let anyone know we found Nella’s body. I agree about that. But when someone else finds it, we’re certain to be questioned. Nothing to stop us giving the police a full account of what happened tonight, and why we brought Nella here.’

  ‘No good, old chap. They’d never believe us. You can bet your bottom dollar that, within minutes of Nella’s getting away, those filthy swine would have scrapped all thought of further fun and games. They would have been frantically clearing up, getting into their ordinary clothes and disappearing. If the police went out to Glasshill’s place, even at this moment, I doubt if they’d find a scrap of evidence to show that a Sabbat had been held there. No. Later we may find some way of getting back at them. At the moment, our first concern is to think of some plausible reason to explain why we brought Nella here.’

  ‘It’s important if we’re going to let ourselves be questioned by the police; but if we’re not going to come clean with them, hadn’t we better try to get out?’

  ‘That would start a hue and c
ry after us.’

  ‘Doesn’t follow that they’d catch us. Not if we acted quickly.’

  ‘There’s something in the idea,’ Richard said thoughtfully. After taking a second swig of brandy, he went on, ‘Having brought Nella here in the middle of the night has got us in damn’ deep. It’s pretty certain that it will mean our being detained here for questioning, perhaps for weeks.’

  ‘Ummm. And put a stopper on our hunt for Rex.’

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid recent events had made me forget that for the moment. But the one good thing that has come out of this night’s work is that we now know where he is. Or, at least, where he was a fortnight or so ago, before Nella left the Sala. In the normal course of events, today would see us on our way up there.’

  ‘Then why shouldn’t we skip while the going is good? Don’t suppose a chambermaid will get sufficiently impatient to do Nella’s room to barge in there before eleven o’clock. By that time we could be on an aircraft. Nella said the Sala is just over the border in Bolivia. With luck, there may be a ‘plane flying up to the capital, La Paz.’

  Richard nodded. ‘If only there is, we’d be out of trouble. It’s hardly likely that the Chilean Government could secure an extradition order just to get us back and ask us what we knew about Nella. Even if they could, by the time the Bolivian police started to look for us, we’d have left La Paz days before. There’s one thing, though. We ought to make our leaving look as natural as possible. We could say we’ve been invited to stay up-country for a few days, so we’re keeping on the suite; and leave most of our baggage here.’

  ‘We’ll need to do a bit of play-acting then. Carry on as usual till we actually leave the hotel.’ Simon glanced at the clock. ‘It’s getting on for seven. Bit early for breakfast, but if we were catching a ‘plane the odds are we’d be getting up by now. Shall I ring down for breakfast?’

  ‘Yes. But don’t order our usual Continental. People who are about to travel generally fortify themselves with something more solid. I’ll have ham and eggs with mushrooms, and a “fruit plate” to follow.’

  ‘Feel too sick to eat anything, but I’ll try to manage an omelette,’ Simon muttered unhappily.

  Breakfast having been ordered, they went to their respective rooms and began to sort out the things they could cram into overnight bags. Richard had just switched on the radio when the floorwaiter wheeled in the trolley. Raising a cheerful grin, he told the man that they were leaving that morning, but would be returning in a few days, then gave him an extra large tip. Their attempts at conversation during the meal lapsed into silence. Neither could keep his mind off Nella’s blood-soaked body in the bedroom down on the fourth floor, and wondering how soon it would be discovered. When they had finished, Richard rang the reception desk, asked for their bill to be ready by nine o’clock, and told an under-manager that, although they would be leaving that morning, he wished to keep on the suite.

  After they had bathed, shaved and dressed, Richard said, ‘It’s a quarter to nine. L.A.N., the Chilean Airlines office, is only just round the corner. I expect it opens at nine o’clock. I’ll go there now and see if there’s any chance of getting up to La Paz.’

  ‘While you’re out, I’ll go along and see Miranda.’ Simon paused, then added, ‘How much d’you think I ought to tell her?’

  ‘As little as possible. The less she knows, the better, as there is a chance that the hotel people will tell the police that they’ve seen her up in the restaurant with us; then they’d question her. You told her only that we thought the party we were going to investigate last night might be a Sabbat, so there is no need to admit that it was.’

  ‘True. And she brushed the idea of Satanism aside. The odds are she’ll accept that it was simply a wild party, and be hoping that it gave us a line on Rex.’

  ‘Good. Then you can tell her that it did, and we’re losing no time in following it up. It would only worry her to know that her uncle is mixed up with a bunch of Satanists.’

  Although Miranda could not see the sights or scenery, she enjoyed the fresh air when being driven in a car, and Simon had promised to take her for a drive that morning. When he told her that he couldn’t, after all, she was very disappointed and, when he went on to say that he and Richard were leaving Santiago within an hour or two, she did not seek to hide her distress. But she cheered up when she learned that they now had a clue to Rex’s whereabouts, and resigned herself to Simon’s leaving her.

  During the past few days they had had little chance to be alone together, because Pinney was nearly always with her. But they had made the most of the few occasions when Pinney had not been present; and now Miranda temporarily got rid of her by sending her down to the lobby to buy a magazine.

  No sooner had the door closed behind the companion, than Simon moved over to the sofa on which Miranda was sitting, and took her in his arms. For some minutes they kissed passionately. Simon could not tell her that it would be impossible for him to return to Santiago in the foreseeable future, or give her an address where she could get in touch with him; so he told her that, as soon as he possibly could, he would write to her and they would then make arrangements that would bring them together again. On Pinney’s return, they parted with great reluctance.

  Back in his own room, Simon finished his packing, then waited with as much patience as he could muster for Richard’s return. When Richard did get back, he was looking far from cheerful. There was a flight up to La Paz only once a week, leaving on Saturday, and no other aircraft by which they could leave the country until the following day.

  To have remained in Santiago overnight meant that, for certain, they would be questioned by the police; and the possibility of being detained for a considerable time as material witnesses. In consequence, he had booked two seats on the flight to Valparaiso, which left daily at midday. That, at least, would get them out of the capital and, with luck, before the police caught up with them, they might find, in the big harbour, a ship about to sail for Callao, or some other port further north.

  ‘Might be worse,’ Simon commented. ‘Must drive out to the airport. Can’t prevent the police from learning we’ve gone there, and the name of the place for which we’ve taken off. If it was La Paz, they’d tumble to it at once that we were skipping. Perhaps they’d even have the aircraft radioed to return. As it’s Valparaiso, they’ll probably think that we’ve only gone off to spend a few nights at Viña del Mar, and not burst their guts coming after us.’

  ‘That’s true. It will certainly look less as though we had something to hide. As you say, it will need only a ‘phone call to the airport for them to find out where we are heading; so we might give our departure an even greater air of innocence by telling the hotel people that we’re going to get a breath of sea air at Viña del Mar. We’ll do that when we pay the bill.’

  For the next twenty minutes they hung about uneasily, fearful of appearing to be in too great a hurry to get to the airport; but it was a forty-minute drive so, at half past ten, they had their overnight bags taken down. While Simon was settling the account, the hall porter came up to Richard and asked him for a forwarding address for letters. Momentarily taken aback, Richard stared at the man and then said, We’ll be back here on Friday, so there’s no point in forwarding anything.’

  At last they were in the car. When it had reached the outskirts of the city, Simon glanced at his watch. It was exactly eleven o’clock, the deadline after which they could expect a chambermaid to enter Nella’s room at any moment, and come upon her dead body.

  With luck, at the horrid sight of that gaping, tongueless mouth, the woman might faint, gaining them ten minutes before she revived or, in turn, was found and the management informed. Another ten minutes, or perhaps twenty, would elapse before the police arrived on the scene. Porters, floor waiters and other employees would be questioned. Of these the night clerk was the key man, because it was he who had seen Nella arrive with Richard and Simon, and go up with them in the lift. But the odds were that he was now
in bed, and asleep. If so and, better still, he did not live in the hotel, well over an hour might pass between the discovery of Nella’s body and a connection between her and them established. But those delays would bring their zero hour to midday, and none of them could be counted on.

  It was eleven-twenty-five when they checked in at the airport. They spent half an hour of almost unbearable suspense, walking up and down the hall. Then, when they joined the little queue at the exit gate, a loudspeaker blared in Spanish. Simon swallowed hard, then said to Richard, ‘Something wrong with the bloody ’plane. That announcement. Slight delay before take-off.’

  Richard gave a sigh. ‘I’m afraid it’s not the ’plane. More likely that the police have just telephoned from the Hilton, ordering it to be held until they come out and pick us up.’

  Grimly, they continued waiting in the queue, their eyes anxiously roving about the hall. Whenever they spotted a policeman in the crowd, coming in their direction, they felt certain that he was looking for them. But the minutes ticked by. At ten past twelve the flight was called again. They went out to the ’plane. The next five minutes seemed to them an eternity. Every moment they expected an official to come aboard and call out their names. But the brief routine of the captain’s announcement and fastening safety belts passed without interruption. At twelve-fifteen the aircraft took off for Valparaiso.

  Yet their ordeal was far from over. The flight would take the best part of half an hour. By this time it seemed certain that Nella’s body would have been found, and the police have begun their enquiries. At any moment they might telephone the Santiago airport, to ask the destination of the ’plane by which Richard and Simon had left, then they would only have to telephone Valparaiso for them to be arrested on landing.

  In an agony of apprehension they sat through the brief journey, refusing the coffee and biscuits that the air hostess offered them, but accepting American magazines and toying with, but not reading, them.