They Used Dark Forces

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They Used Dark Forces Page 6

by Dennis Wheatley


  ‘Mother of God, protect us!’ Kuporovitch suddenly burst out in French. ‘This is the Devil’s work, otherwise it would be impossible.’

  Malacou’s thick lips broke into a smile and, using poor but fluent French, he commented, ‘Instead of calling on the Holy Virgin in her remote serenity you would be well advised to speak with respect of the Lord of this World.’ Then, turning back to Gregory, he reverted to German. ‘Tell me, Herr Sallust, about this house at which you spent that night.’

  Still hardly able to credit the existence of such psychic powers, Gregory stared in bewilderment at the doctor for Khurrem had given an accurate report of the picture that had floated through his mind. Before setting out on their mission he and Kuporovitch had gone up to spend their leave with Erika and Madeleine at Gwaine Meads, Sir Pellinore’s ancient property on the Welsh Border. On their last night there, as it had been warm, the four of them had gone out after dinner and sat in the garden. Rendered more vulnerable by Khurrem’s success he could not prevent his thoughts from flickering to and fro in response to her father’s question.

  Khurrem spoke again. ‘It is a mansion. Far larger than Sassen and with many rooms. I see a spacious bedroom. In it there is a bed with a tall canopy. He shares it with the fair woman. I see her then in another room. It is downstairs and much smaller. There are many files in it and she is typing. In the more modern part of the mansion the big reception rooms now contain lines of beds. Young men lie in them and nurses move about among them; so it must be a hospital. I see another part of the garden. It is a big lawn and men in uniform are sitting about there, some with crutches. They are all officers of the British Air Force and there are no German guards to be seen, so this hospital must be in Britain.’

  Malacou’s dark eyebrows suddenly lifted. ‘Khurrem, are you quite certain of that?’

  Despite himself Gregory’s mind slipped back to that scene as he had last seen it and after a moment Khurrem replied, ‘It must be so. They cannot be prisoners of war. One of them is cleaning a shotgun.’

  ‘Donnerwetter!’ the doctor exclaimed, coming quickly to his feet and laying his pistol on the desk. Then, after making a few swift passes at Khurrem, to bring her out of her trance, he said to Gregory:

  ‘Mr. Sallust, I owe you an apology. Your accent and performance as an officer are so impeccable that my daughter was completely convinced that you were a German. I, too, am fallible in such matters until I have had an opportunity to make use of my special arts and believed you to be one. It seemed so improbable that the Allies would trust a German with such an important mission, we naturally jumped to the conclusion that the Gestapo had become aware that we had sent information about Peenemünde out of the country, and had planned to plant you on us. May the Lord be thanked that neither you nor Mr. Sabinov resisted when I held you up, for I certainly should have shot you if you had. I fear, though, that by having caused you to believe yourselves trapped I must have given both of you a most unpleasant quarter of an hour. Please accept my sincere regrets at having subjected you to such an ordeal.’

  An ordeal it had most certainly been, for Gregory had rarely been inflicted with blacker thoughts about his probable future than during those minutes while Khurrem had been taking their weapons from himself and Kuporovitch. Even while the doctor was making his apology his prisoners could scarcely realise that their fears had been groundless, but now they both felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

  As the realisation of the true situation came home to Gregory, he felt that he must be losing his grip to have allowed himself to be scared needlessly almost out of his wits twice within a few hours. Yet on consideration he decided that in both cases he had had ample grounds for his fears.

  Coming to his feet, he said with a faint smile, ‘Your mistake was understandable, Herr Doktor. When I’m posing as a German officer I always endeavour to live in that role and I’ve had quite a lot of practice at it. Thank God, though, that your methods of finding out the truth about people are so unorthodox and painless. I have often heard of thought transference, but never expected to witness such an extraordinary demonstration of that gift.’

  Malacou shook his head. ‘It is not a gift. Anyone can develop such powers, but, of course, training a medium like Khurrem here to look into other people’s minds is a long and arduous business. Direct thought transference is a much simpler matter. It was by telepathy that I told Khurrem when I was ready to receive you here tonight, and by it I can transmit orders to my servant. Be silent now for one moment.’

  While they remained still he closed his eyes, but only for a few seconds. Then he resumed, ‘I am fortunate in having a cellar here containing many fine wines. To cement our friendship we will drink a bottle of one of the great 1920 hocks. I have just ordered my servant to bring it.’

  After a moment Gregory asked, ‘Am I right in supposing that you could assist us in our mission by using your occult powers?’

  Malacou nodded. ‘Yes; and without such help I think it almost certain that you would fail. The security precautions at Peenemünde are quite exceptional. Since Khurrem learned about these rockets from Herman Hauff she has cautiously sounded out every one of her acquaintances in Grimmen, Greifswald and Wolgast, hoping to secure further information, but in every case she has drawn a blank. It is, too, her impression that they know nothing, other than the fact that the number of men working at Peenemünde has greatly increased in recent months.’

  ‘There is no lead that you can give us, then; apart from Herr Hauff?’

  ‘None. And with him you must use great caution. He is both shrewd and dangerous. I fear the only way in which you can hope to succeed is for one of you to get into the experimental station.’

  ‘It was that I had in mind,’ Gregory replied. ‘But Sassen is a long way from Peenemünde. It must be the better part of thirty miles. I had been hoping that Frau von Altern would be able to pass us on to someone who could provide us with a safe base nearer to Usedom, from which during several nights it would be possible to reconnoitre ways of getting across to the island.’

  At that moment the door opened and the hunchback came in with a dust-covered hock bottle and glasses. Gregory could now see that he had a bald head, large, limpid brown eyes and a black moustache, the ends of which turned down. As he placed the tray on a side-table his master spoke to him in a foreign tongue that Gregory took to be Turkish. The man replied in the same language, then left the room.

  Malacou blew the dust off the label and showed it to Gregory. It was a Rauenthaler Steinhausen Kabinett Edelbeeren Auslese 1920 but, in view of what had gone before, he felt no surprise at this further manifestation of an unusual power.

  While pouring the wine the doctor remarked blandly, ‘I owe you both another apology. Tarik had orders to go over to the house, as soon as he had let you in here, and search your bags. He has just reported to me that they contain nothing that might give you away except for a wireless transmitter. He brought it back with him and I am sure you will have no objection to my looking after it for as long as you remain here.’

  ‘Do you suspect, then,’ Gregory asked, ‘that someone at the Manor might also take an interest in our belongings?’

  ‘No; no-one will spy on you there. But if you used your wireless—for example to report to London that you had reached Sassen safely and made contacts here who had promised to aid you—that could bring us all into considerable danger. Our enemies have listening stations. If they picked up a strange code they would swiftly get a fix, and in no time truckloads of them would be arriving to search the neighbourhood. The fact that you are a stranger here would draw their attention to you, and if there were the least thing suspicious about your papers that would lead to disaster for all concerned.’

  Gregory felt that he could hardly blame his host for making quite certain that he made no use of his wireless while at Sassen; so as he took the glass of hock that Malacou handed him, he nodded his agreement. Then they all drank to the success of the mission.

&nb
sp; After the first mouthful Kuporovitch smacked his lips and exclaimed, ‘Herr Doktor, this is magnificent! What a treat you are giving us.’

  Holding his glass up to the light, Gregory admired the wine’s deep golden colour and added, ‘It’s nectar for the gods. I’ve not tasted a hock so fine since I dined with Hermann Goering.’

  Malacou raised his dark eyebrows. ‘To have done that must have been a most interesting experience. You must tell me about it some time. And Goering’s cellar is world-famous, so I thank you for the compliment. You are right, though, that it is something exceptional. Many of the 1921s were superb and it was a much bigger vintage, but the great wines of 1920 had more lasting power.’

  After a moment, Gregory said, ‘Since you cannot place us with a fair degree of safety nearer to Peenemünde, in what way can you help us?’

  ‘By seeking for you the protection of the stars,’ Malacou replied promptly. ‘Every one of us has his lucky and unlucky days. Many people who regard themselves as intelligent sneer at astrology and look on the daily forecasts that appear in the most widely read papers in all countries as no more than pandering to the superstition of the ignorant. Such forecasts can be no more than generalisations and so frequently liable to mislead a large number of their readers. But astrology is the most ancient of all sciences and an infallible guide to those who by prolonged study have learned how to make use of it. Naturally, to predict with accuracy the most favourable days on which to marry, or to commit a murder and get away with it, can be ascertained only by considering the case of the individual concerned. It is that which I propose to do for each of you.’

  Gregory, like most people in this modern world, was extremely sceptical about the age-old belief that the stars influenced one’s fortunes. That the doctor had hypnotised Khurrem with such surprising results still seemed to him to come within scientific acceptance; whereas he associated attempts to predict the future with charlatans who got money out of the credulous by gazing into crystals, telling the cards and suchlike dubious activities. None the less, it would obviously have been bad policy to offend his host, so he said:

  ‘For this purpose I assume you propose to cast our horoscopes. If so, we should be most grateful to you.’

  ‘Let us proceed, then.’ The doctor took some sheets of foolscap from a drawer in his desk, picked up his pen and began to ask Gregory a long series of questions, including his birth date, his age and the exact spelling of his name. Having written down the answers in a small, neat hand, he put the same questions to Kuporovitch who, with some reluctance, but on Gregory’s insistence, gave his real names. When Malacou had done he addressed both of them:

  ‘You must not expect to receive overnight the results of the information you have given me. The influence of every planet that was above the horizon at your birth dates has to be taken into consideration, and the attributes of some at times conflict with those of others. Careful judgement and prolonged thought are, therefore, necessary before one can make a final assessment of the effect each planet may have upon your fortunes when it is in the ascendant. But it will repay you well to await my advice; so do not become impatient.’

  ‘Is it likely to take more than a few days?’ Gregory enquired.

  ‘No. In the meantime you can be getting to know Herr Hauff, Willi von Altern and the more important people who live in the village, all of whom may later prove of use to you. I take it that the papers you carry are proof against any routine inspection?’

  Gregory nodded. ‘Yes, they show me to have returned from garrison duties in Norway and are good for an indefinite period.’

  ‘How is that, when leave normally extends only for a fortnight?’

  ‘Mine show me to be on sick leave, and that I am suffering from heart trouble.’

  ‘While here as our guest, unless you commit some foolish act that draws attention to you, it is most unlikely that your account of yourself will be called in question. But should such a situation arise, and the authorities order you to go before a medical board, that might prove your undoing.’

  ‘No, no!’ Gregory laughed, ‘I am too old a soldier to be caught out that way. In the First World War quite a number of men faked heart trouble by chewing cordite in order to escape from the horrors of the Western Front. It causes the heart to flutter. I have several strings of it on me and I should masticate one of them before I was examined.’

  ‘Excellent. And, of course, as your soldier servant, Mr. Kuporovitch will be able to remain here as long as you do.’

  Having refilled their glasses, Malacou went on, ‘Now we have talked enough of our business for tonight. As you must know, the accounts of the progress of the war put out by Herr Goebbels’ Ministry are very far from being accurate. By performing elaborate ceremonies my powers as an occultist enable me to learn the truth and, at times, secure glimpses of the future; so there are occasions when I know that battles reported by German propaganda as victories are, in fact, defeats. But to secure such information regularly through supernatural channels would require more time than I can give. So tell us please the latest news about the war.’

  For the hour that followed Gregory did most of the talking, while Khurrem listened in silence and the doctor put in an occasional question or shrewd comment. Then he returned their pistols to them, they shook hands with him and he let them out himself. Khurrem led them back to the Manor and, shortly after midnight, they went up to their respective rooms.

  It had been a long and anxious day for Gregory, but, with his usual resilience, he had by then recovered from the two periods of acute strain he had been through. Knowing nothing about the occult and never having even attended a spiritualistic séance for fun, he could still hardly believe that he had not been temporarily hypnotised himself and had imagined Malacou’s extraordinary performance; but at least he was now fully satisfied that he had nothing to fear from Khurrem or her father and, within a few minutes of getting into bed, in spite of the hard mattress, he was fast asleep.

  He had been asleep for about two hours when he awoke suddenly. The sixth sense that had often warned him of danger told him that there was someone in the room. Instantly he slipped his hand beneath the pillow and grasped his pistol; but a quick whisper came out of the darkness.

  ‘C’est moi, Stefan.’

  A shadowy figure advanced from the door and, as Gregory sat up, Kuporovitch seated himself on the end of the bed.

  ‘What is it?’ Gregory asked quickly. ‘Are we in danger?’

  ‘No; but I had to see you. Keep your voice low.’

  In a slightly querulous tone Gregory murmured, ‘Very well. But couldn’t you have waited until the morning?’

  ‘Dear friend, I am very worried. We must leave this house as soon as possible. There are still several hours to go before daylight, so we could get well away and find somewhere to lie up before dawn.’

  ‘But you say we are in no danger. We’ve established ourselves here most satisfactorily, so why on earth should we get out?’

  ‘I meant that we are in no immediate danger of betrayal or arrest. But if we remain here we shall imperil our immortal souls. The doctor is a wizard—a Black Magician in league with the Devil. I am certain of it.’

  ‘Oh, come!’ Gregory protested. ‘The Devil was put out of business by modern science. Since the introduction of electricity and telephones nobody has believed any more those old wives’ tales of a gentleman appearing to them in red tights, smelling of brimstone and with horns and a spiky tail.’

  ‘You are talking nonsense, my friend. The Devil was a part of the original Creation. To suppose that he could be abolished by the invention of a few scientific gadgets is absurd. People have now become so materialistic that their minds are far less open to the influence of the powers of light and darkness than used to be the case, but that is all. Say if you like that the Devil has gone underground, but he still exists and has his servants working for him here.’

  ‘There may be something in what you say,’ Gregory admitted th
oughtfully, ‘and you certainly seem to be well up in the subject. Have you ever dabbled in the occult yourself?’

  ‘Yes; in my youth many Russians did so. But I had an experience that convinced me that I was playing with fire, so I gave it up. By then, though, I had learned enough to be certain now that this man is a servant of the Evil One.’

  ‘What makes you so sure of that? I admit that the way in which he extracted from me, through Frau von Altern, those mental pictures that I could not help forming of Gwaine Meads was positively astounding. But that’s no evidence that he is a Black Magician.’

  ‘I doubt if any ordinary hypnotist could have done so. But let that pass. Did you not hear him say to me that it was useless to call upon the Holy Virgin and that one should speak with respect of the Lord of this World? Surely you know that when God commanded Michael and his angels to drive the rebellious Lucifer out of Heaven he gave him the Earth as his Principality?’

  ‘Yes, of course; still …’

  Kuporovitch leaned forward and his low voice was intensely earnest. ‘Believe me, we are in worse peril here than if we were being hunted by the Gestapo. Good cannot come out of evil. This man possesses powers that can be bought only by entering into a compact with Satan. Those powers would be withdrawn should he fail to honour his bond by doing his utmost to corrupt others. No good can possibly come to us by remaining in this house. To do so is to risk a fate that I would not wish upon my worst enemy.’

  After a moment Gregory replied, ‘Stefan, knowing your courage so well, I don’t doubt that you feel that you have good grounds for your fears. But even if you are right about Malacou being a Satanist I cannot believe that he has the power to harm us. By that I mean harm us spiritually. At least, not as long as we retain our own faith and convictions in what is right; and I foresee no difficulty in doing that. For the rest, whether he be good or evil he is on our side against the Nazis and his help may prove invaluable. Situated as we are, we cannot afford to forgo help from any quarter, so——’

 

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