Over it, owing to Forsby's insistence, Verney talked about the Black Art and gave them an account of a most desperate affair in which, a few years before, he had found himself up against a most powerful Black Magician in the South of France.[3] However, he declared that he really knew very little about the subject, apart from the principles on which it worked; but he assured them that the occasions on which his job had brought him up against Satanic groups had given him ample proof that it did work if operated by a really knowledgeable occultist who was well-versed in its mysteries. He added that, in his opinion, most cases of reported Black Magic were nothing of the kind, but clever trickery skilfully put over by highly intelligent gangs of crooks who, by such measures, got wealthy credulous people who were interested in the occult into their clutches for the purpose of blackmail; but he left them in no doubt that he believed Lothar Khune to be a genuine member of the Devil's fraternity.
When the table had been cleared, Forsby produced the tape recorder and, as they settled down in the easy chairs, he said; 'You will appreciate that for the greater part of each night the tapes recorded nothing. They have been cut to retain only the parts which will play back sound. Much of the stuff you'll find quite unintelligible; at least, I have. But now and then there occur conversations which it is easy to follow. I don't pretend to understand it, but during these nightmares, or whatever they are, Otto Khune speaks with two different voices: his own and, presumably, Lothar's. One can only assume that they carry on a sort of argument, in which Lothar uses Otto's vocal chords to express his views alternately with Otto voicing protests in his own. I should warn you that it will be a pretty long session, as there is an awful lot about the state the world is in and what could be done to better it.'
'I take it you mean by that,' Verney remarked, 'Lothar producing all the old arguments about how much better it would be for the masses if every country accepted Communism?'
'No,' Forsby replied, and on his face there was a puzzled frown. 'That is what one would expect, but somehow the line he takes does not strike me in that way. He says more than once that he is fed up with the Communists and regards their impetus as burnt out. That may be bluff, of course, with the idea of inclining Otto more readily to do the swap of data on secret fuels with him. But he insists that he wants the results of the work done by Otto's team only to carry out some experiment of his own, which will bring about a new state of things and relieve people on both sides of the Iron Curtain from their fears of being blown to blazes by H-bombs. Anyhow, you can judge for yourself. Here goes.'
He switched on the machine, refilled their glasses with a pleasant Tawny Port, and sat down in his own chair. Then, for the next hour and a half, while he changed the tapes from time to time, they listened, almost without comment. The recordings all began with grunts, shouts, curses and protests, often followed by an unintelligible rigmarole, but then settled down into arguments during which two different voices were clearly perceptible - Otto's in English, as spontaneous and unaccented as though he had spoken no other tongue since his birth; Lothar's, also speaking fluent English, but with a faintly nasal twang. Otto's was almost always angry; Lothar's persuasive and sweetly reasonable, except for occasional outbursts in the later recordings when he resorted to violent threats.
At length the recordings were over, and Forsby mixed his guests and himself whiskies and sodas before they got down to discussing them.
Verney said: 'You are right, Dick, about Lothar giving the impression that he is fed up with Moscow. If one can believe what he says it seems that he hoped the Russians would launch a war against the N.A.T.O. Powers and establish a New Order, more or less on Nazi lines, in Western Europe and later in the United States. But he has come to the conclusion that the Kremlin is not prepared to play it that way and prefers a policy aimed at bringing the democracies to ruin by gradually gaining control of the whole of Asia and Africa and closing all the markets in them to the nations of the West.'
'To me, Lothar sounded like a megalomaniac,' Barney remarked. 'My guess is that personal power is what he is after. He wants to see some sort of drastic upheaval before he is too old to play a part in it.'
'I don't altogether agree,' Forsby countered. 'You may be right to the extent that he no longer sees eye to eye with his Russian masters because he thinks that he'll be dead before their policy of peaceful penetration begins to pay really big dividends; but to me his aim seems to be to bring about a completely new world order. When I was in Spain during the Civil War there, I talked with quite a number of anarchists, and some of the things he says tally with the views they expressed. It's a topsy-turvy sort of doctrine based on the old idea that out of evil cometh good. They want to destroy all forms of government and start again from scratch.'
'He is a destroyer, all right,' said C.B. grimly. 'But I think we must regard all this "good of mankind - brotherhood of nations" stuff as eye-wash. Whatever he may say, there's not much question about his being a Soviet agent.'
'I suppose so,' Forsby agreed, a shade doubtfully. 'Although, in one passage, he did say that having left Russia he did not mean ever to go back there.'
'Come, come, Dick. If he is not a secret agent, what reason could he have for wanting to get hold of this fuel formula? And if he is a secret agent, knowing his background as we do, what country would he be working for other than Russia?'
'It's a hundred to one you're right, Sir,' Barney put in. 'But, as he is a scientist and worked first in the States, then in Germany, then in Russia, there is just a possibility that he's got some box of tricks of his own and wants our fuel to try it out with - a flying saucer, or something.'
'You're off the mark there, young feller. Such formulae are extraordinarily complicated things, and no private person could get one of them made up.'
Forsby shook his head. 'I don't agree with you there, C.B. The ingredients are all procurable from any big manufacturer of chemicals. The only secret is in the combination and proportions. It would be expensive, of course; but I'm pretty sure he could get the job done without being brought to book for having illegal possession of the formula in any of several countries outside the N.A.T.O. group - Sweden, Switzerland or Spain, for example. And if he has the money, there would be nothing to stop him from having built to his own designs some revolutionary type of aircraft as Sullivan suggests.
Verney offered round his case of long cigarettes, took one himself, and said: 'Maybe you're right; but we're wasting our time with these academical speculations. Let's get back to earth. Whatever Lothar's future intentions may be, he is endeavouring to secure a top-secret document, and coming here tomorrow to receive it from his brother. As their arrangements have all been made by telepathic communication, we have not got a scrap of evidence against either of them. The tape recordings would justify our holding Otto in preventative arrest, but what a man says in his nightmares cuts no ice in a court of law, except in support of something much more definite. So unless the document is actually handed over, Lothar will be able to cock a snook at us, walk off, and plan a further attempt to get hold of it which we may not be fortunate enough to find out about. As against that, if we do let Otto hand it over and Lothar manages to get away with it, quite apart from having let down our side, it will be bowler hats for all of us. Now, any suggestions?'
Barney held up his hand. 'Yes, Sir. Otto has had a lousy deal all through. He's resisted Lothar's demands until he has been driven off his chump, and he seems a very decent sort of chap. If you let the show go on you'll have to pinch him as well as Lothar and, whatever we may say afterwards about extenuating circumstances, he'll have committed a treasonable act, so he'll get a prison sentence. That strikes me as damnably unfair.'
'I agree,' Verney nodded, 'and I couldn't be sorrier for the poor devil. But, if we are to get the goods on Lothar, I see no way of letting Otto out. Still, if you've had a brainwave, let's hear it.'
'It is that you should see Otto tomorrow morning, tell him we know what is going on and offer him the cha
nce both to keep in the clear himself and get his own back on his brother. If he agreed to play, instead of taking the real formula to the meeting he would hand over a dud one. If Lothar gets away, there would be no harm done; but, if we catch him, you'll have a clear case to put him away for a good long stretch.'
C.B. shook his head. 'You are forgetting the psychic angle. Lothar checked up on Otto last night. That's how he learnt that the meeting they had arranged for today was off. He may check up again tonight and again tomorrow, to make certain that Otto isn't slipping and likely to let him down at the last moment. How far he can see into Otto's mind, we don't know. It's not far enough, thank God, to register scientific experiments or he wouldn't need to go to so much trouble to secure a written formula; but he must be highly sensitive to Otto's vibrations. If he sensed a change of mind, suggesting that Otto was helping to lay a trap for him, he would not turn up and, if we miss this chance to catch him, we may never get another.'
'All the same,' said Forsby, 'I agree with Sullivan that we ought to try to think of some way to protect Otto from himself.'
'I only wish we could, Dick. But wait!' C.B. suddenly sat forward and put his first finger alongside his big nose. 'I believe I've got it, boys. Why shouldn't we detain Otto just before he's due to leave the Station, borrow the old raincoat and beret that Otto has been told to use as signs of his identity, dress up in them whichever of the Air Force police we have selected earlier as having a figure most like his, and send this chap to the rendezvous with a dud formula?'
The other two considered his suggestion for a moment, then Forsby objected. 'When Lothar got near enough to see that it was not his brother he would realize that he was walking into a trap and turn and bolt for it. Remember, we couldn't pinch him unless he had actually accepted the document.'
'If he as much as touches it, that, backed up by the fact that he came to the rendezvous agreed on in the recordings, for a felonious purpose, will be all I need to cook his goose; and I believe that, with a little titivating, my idea might be made to work. There must be a path up to the top of the hill. Our phoney Otto could sit with his back to it and his head in his hands, as though feeling frightful at the thought of the treachery he is about to commit. He'd pretend not to hear Lothar approach until he was only a few feet off, then suddenly break into muttered curses and throw the envelope at him.'
'That's it, C.B.!' Barney exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'Sorry, Sir, I mean. If only the Squadron-Leader can produce an Air Force police type with hair the same colour as Otto's, and long enough so that we can trim it to make it look like his and . . .'
He got no further. The electric front-door bell shrilled through the bungalow, cutting him short.
As Forsby got up he shook his head. 'It's pretty wild, C.B. My chaps aren't trained actors, you know. I'm afraid Lothar would smell a rat. Still, all's fair in love and war, and I'd have no scruples in swearing that from a hideout I'd seen him pick up the document. Excuse me a minute while I answer the door and get rid of my caller. I expect it is someone who's been at the dinner then had the idea of taking a nightcap off me.'
On going out to the hall he left the sitting-room door ajar, so when he opened his front door the others heard an agitated voice lay, 'Forsby . . . Squadron-Leader . . . I'm in trouble . . . serious trouble. I want to talk to you about it. May I come in?'
'Please do,' came Forsby's reply. After a slight shuffling of feet, the sitting-room door swung back and there stood framed in it a tall, slim, fair-haired man of about forty. He had a fine head, heavy-lidded black eyes, a thin high nose, indrawn lips, a heavy jowl and forceful chin that was cleft in the centre.
At seeing other people there he became rigid, and he did not attempt to conceal his surprise and annoyance. But Forsby, who was behind him, blocking his retreat, said: 'Mr. Khune, I'd like to introduce you to two friends of mine. Both of them are officers of the Security Service.'
Verney and Barney had risen from their chairs. The Colonel said: 'Mr. Khune, I'm very glad to have this opportunity of a talk with you. Anything that you intended to say to Squadron-Leader Forsby you may also say to my colleague and myself; although, actually, I don't think you can tell us much that we don't already know. You may regard it as unethical but there are times when, for the safety of the Realm, we have to adopt unorthodox measures. A copy was taken of the long statement you wrote and we have read it with understanding and deep sympathy. Also, recordings have been taken of your conscious or unconscious nightly - er, arguments, over the past ten days with your brother Lothar. So we know about your proposed meeting with him on Lone Tree Hill tomorrow. It is to prevent your needlessly incriminating yourself, and to prevent him from securing information the use of which would be contrary to this country's interests, that we have come down from London.'
After a moment a nervous smile twitched at Otto Khune's thin lips. 'If that is the situation, gentlemen, it looks as if I'm to be saved a lot of talking. And, to be truthful, I was a little afraid that the Squadron-Leader here might not take what I had to say seriously; or, rather, might get the idea that I was well on the way to becoming a candidate for a straight-jacket.'
'No,' Forsby assured him, pulling out a chair. 'We have been worrying about you for quite a time; but not with any thought that we might have to send you to a loony bin. Learning about the strange relationship which exists between you and your brother, and the use he hopes to make of it, have been much nearer driving me in that direction.'
'I'm sorry.' Otto gave another nervous smile. 'But the thought that I can now speak freely about these things is a great relief to me.'
'Whisky and soda?' Forsby asked.
'Thanks,' the scientist replied.
As the Squadron-Leader mixed one he asked, 'When you arrived here just now, what had you in mind to say to me?'
Khune took a gulp of his whisky, and shrugged. 'I meant to tell you what, apparently, you already know.'
'And then?' prompted Verney.
'See if we couldn't devise some means of trapping this villainous brother of mine.'
'Good for you.' C.B.'s thin face showed his pleasure and relief at this offer of co-operation.
Forsby touched the scientist gently on the shoulder, and asked, 'Tell me, Khune, why did you wait until almost the last minute before coming to me like this? You could have saved yourself hours of mental torture if you had confided in me soon after the trouble started.'
Khune put a hand over his blue eyes for a moment, then gave himself a little shake. 'Of course I ought to have. But it meant disclosing the past; telling you about Lothar's visit to London in 1950. He had entered this country illegally and was acting as a Soviet agent then. It was my duty to have reported him to the police at once, but I didn't. I was afraid that if that went on my record I'd be graded at the Ministry as unreliable and transferred to non-secret work. That may not mean very much to you people, but to a scientist like myself, who has spent years on a special type of research, it would have been heart-breaking.'
Verney stretched out his long legs. 'Yes, I understand that; but later, when Lothar began to really plague you, surely . . .'
'It was my battle,' Khune broke in impatiently. 'After what Lothar did to me last time, he hadn't a hope in hell of persuading me to believe that his intentions were anything but evil; and I never even contemplated giving way to him. I'm not a traitor! And you've no right to infer that I am just because I didn't come to Forsby earlier.'
'I didn't infer that.' C.B.'s voice was as quiet as ever. 'But you did give way to him, didn't you? If it hadn't been for the visit of this American you would have met him in London today.'
'Yes, the pressure he was exerting on me was too great. By Thursday night things had reached a point where I knew that I had to do something about it or I'd no longer be responsible for my actions. But I had no intention of taking the formula to London with me. I intended only to see Lothar at a house in Cremorne and have a show-down with him.'
'Why should you have supposed that
you would have a better chance of making him agree to leave you alone when face to face than during these arguments you have with him on the astral?'
Khune gave a faint smile. 'Our psychic bond cuts both ways. There are times when I can overlook him and, when his mind is occupied with something else, he doesn't know that I am doing so. He has become a Satanist. I'm convinced of that. I've seen him in a Satanic Temple with a lot of naked women crowding round him. He was seated on a throne dressed in black and wearing a big horned mask; and he had a small black imp standing at his side.'
'Bejasus!' Barney exclaimed. 'Then he is the Great Ram!'
The others looked at him enquiringly. 'You remember, Sir?' He turned towards C.B. 'Ratnadatta's circle is a Lodge of theBrotherhood of the Ram, and Mrs. M. described the Great Ram to me after her first visit to the place. This means that Lothar is the big shot of the whole outfit.'
'That doesn't surprise me,' Khune remarked. 'From his boyhood on he put an immense amount of effort into developing his occult powers, and he has a tremendously strong personality.'
Verney nodded. 'Knowing what we do about him, I'm not surprised either. But please go on with what you were saying. Why did you feel that you would stand a better chance of overcoming him by going up to London?'
'I felt almost certain that the Satanic Temple was in the house at Cremorne, but Lothar had given me a vision only of its outside; so I couldn't be certain without making a check up. The sight of its front hall would have been enough and, if I'd been right, that would have given me the card I wanted. I could have told Lothar that to rid myself of him I would no longer have to admit to the police that I had been in communication with a Russian agent. I could give them his description, lay an information that he was running a brothel there, and have it raided. I could have said that unless he agreed to let me alone that's what I meant to do; then, instead of being a High Priest with a harem, he would find himself a wanted criminal on the run.'
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