The Dream Killer of Paris

by Fabrice Bourland

  ‘Are you sure you drew it right? Maybe your memory is playing tricks on you and you’ve forgotten an essential element?’

  ‘No!’ I protested. ‘And even if that were the case, I would have done a double-take as we passed it. The truth is that it must be somewhere else.’

  ‘Arghh! So we’ll have to retrace our steps then. There’s no point continuing to Passau.’

  ‘The next stop is Linz,’ I mused, consulting the brochure. ‘Over forty miles from here. We’ll have to wait until we get there. Then we’ll take the first boat back to Vienna.’

  In good spirits despite this setback, and not having eaten all day, James encouraged me to go with him to the restaurant where we sustained ourselves with a plate of beef prepared in the local style and enormous portions of Kartoffeln. Then we wandered up and down the deck to pass the time until we reached Linz.

  It was nearly seven o’clock in the evening. The sun was about to set behind a wooded hill, blotting out the autumnal scene until the following day, when the Danube narrowed again and was squeezed between the overhanging ledges of the Bohemian Massif. The river twisted round two bends and then suddenly revealed the brooding outline of a castle with a pointed roof.

  ‘James! James!’ I cried, pointing to the stone construction which was about to disappear from sight with the last rays of the sun. ‘That’s it! That’s the castle!’

  Everything was there: the two towers, the colossal granite rock and the island that the boat was about to pass on the port side at that very moment.

  ‘You’re right! It’s exactly like your drawing!’

  We immediately hurried to find the captain to negotiate an impromptu landing. He was not easily convinced. His obstinacy was finally overcome when James produced a crisp bank note from his wallet.

  Eventually, he gave the order to switch off the engines and a sailor lowered a skiff into the water.

  Five minutes later, we landed on a bank of grey sand and the sailor and his boat returned to the Habsburg. A few minutes later the lights from the paddle steamer faded from the other side of the island.

  Behind us, night had completely enveloped the peak and its fortress, whose threatening presence we felt even more intensely.

  Above, a full moon was rising over a forest of conifers.

  After the daytime splendour of the banks of the Danube, there was a sinister atmosphere, rife with the legends of Bohemia and Moravia. At that moment we would not have been at all surprised if a raging werewolf or a vampire with incisors dripping with blood had crossed our path.

  A short walk along the shore brought us to a village. We decided to go to an inn nestling outside the village on the slope of a hill to plan our next move.

  The first thing I did was to request a telephone to call the reception desk at the Regina hotel in Vienna so that someone could inform Superintendent Fourier (who I believed would soon be in Vienna) of our new destination: W— Castle, near the village of Strelka.

  The innkeeper and the villagers we questioned about the fortress over a glass of Weisswein seemed reluctant to expand on the subject. They let it be understood that it was preferable not to say anything, especially to strangers.

  We did not press the issue and the son of the house, who was as unwilling to talk as the others, accompanied us to our respective rooms.

  The inn was right by the castle and it offered a very advantageous view. I stood and gazed for a long time at the austere silhouette illuminated by the moon. It was exactly as I had drawn it, with its ramparts and its tall square tower, from where people must have sounded the alarm against invaders in the past. The tower with the pointed roof was on the other side and so not visible but I guessed it was similar to the square one.

  After several minutes a light appeared in a window halfway up, but I only had time to make out the shape of a person before the room was in darkness again. So there was definitely someone in the Burg. As no other rooms were lit up, I concluded that the occupied part was in the other tower, away from people’s gaze.

  ‘Did you see the window?’ exclaimed my friend, charging into the room.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It wasn’t Kessling. Whoever it was looked frail, stunted …’

  ‘With luck, we’ll get there before him. We should do – we haven’t been idle since we reached Austria.’

  ‘If we’ve overtaken him, we mustn’t waste a second, Andrew. We should go to the castle tonight!’

  ‘What?’ I cried, alarmed at my friend’s eagerness. ‘Why the hurry? I’m sure Superintendent Fourier is already on his way. He’ll be with us at the latest the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘The day after tomorrow? But that’s too late! We must use our advantage and find out what’s going on in that damned castle. We must act tonight! We’ll make a start when everyone in the inn is asleep!’

  Grabbing me by the shoulders, James led me out of the room.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘To eat. We must build up our strength.’

  For my friend the decision had been made and it was a waste of time trying to change his mind. Anyway, maybe he was right. James was the archetypal action man; his brain was sharper and more agile when he was in danger. The opposite was true of me. Outside the silence and quiet of a reading room, where I was able to unravel the most convoluted plots, my mind felt confused and more often than not I got in a muddle when I felt threatened. All the same, we had not travelled halfway across Europe just to wait for the arrival of reinforcements. We should at least try to get some more information.

  It was nearly ten o’clock. Downstairs in the dining hall the regulars were gathering. My friend ordered a plate of revolting dumpling made from bread, lard and flour, washed down with a pint of light ale. As always whenever he got a whiff of adventure, James was in good spirits. As far as I was concerned, the prospect of entering the fortress had ruined my appetite and I kept my eyes on the cuckoo clock.

  Shortly after midnight, when everyone had left, we went back upstairs and waited for more than an hour in James’s room while the household nodded off.

  When all was quiet, my friend implored me not to move and disappeared without explanation. Ten minutes later he came back with a big smile on his face.

  ‘The lights are out. The manager is fast asleep. We can go!’

  ‘How do we get out of the inn without being seen?’

  ‘This way,’ he replied, opening the window. ‘My room is above a shed. If we use the gutter along the front, it couldn’t be easier to get down on to the roof and then jump to the ground. The shed wall is fairly low so we can come back the same way.’

  James didn’t give me time to reply. Without further ado, he stepped over the windowsill, landed silently on the shed roof and jumped nimbly down. Then he waved his arms to indicate that I should follow him. This was not the time to hesitate. I managed to reach the shed without too much trouble but, instead of leaping to the ground (I was nearly seven feet up after all), I grabbed a beam to slide down, which left me with scratches and a tear in my jacket, while my friend chuckled under his breath.

  At two o’clock in the morning we were on the tortuous path up to the Burg. Access by car was impossible. The only way to reach the castle was on foot.

  After a short time we came to the bottom of the ramparts. The castle, such as it was, stood on the right-hand side of the hill, directly above the Danube. It was composed of three architectural elements: the two towers which I have already mentioned and a building with a red-tiled roof which connected one to the other. Fortifications surrounded the buildings and formed a courtyard where lords of old would have gathered their troops. On both sides the walls were made of stone. There was no way of walking around the castle without risking falling down a steep drop.

  Until that day I had imagined that castles of this kind were protected by a drawbridge and a thick portcullis with a deep moat preventing access. Instead of such a gothic set-up, the entrance to the Burg was through two wooden doors. One �
� admittedly high and wide but of derisory proportions compared to the fortress – opened on to the courtyard. The second, which appeared to be a simple wicket gate, provided access to the square tower.

  James immediately climbed the stone steps. Having checked that the doors were locked, he came down and considered the walls carefully.

  ‘It’s impossible to get into the tower. The first window is sixteen or seventeen feet up and it has bars. But I think I can reach the lantern by the door opening on to the courtyard. If I pull myself up to the window there, I can then jump down into the courtyard.’

  He peered through the keyhole.

  ‘The courtyard is enormous. There must be a way to get into the castle through there. Anyway, the place seems deserted.’

  ‘What about me?’ I asked, disconcerted, not imagining for a moment that I could join him in his acrobatics.

  ‘Once inside, I’ll find a way to open the door for you. In the meantime, you can be my ladder!’

  I hesitated before giving him a hand. There was no guarantee that James would be able to get me inside; he was taking a big risk.

  ‘Come on, hurry! There’s no other option. And nothing’s going to happen to me!’

  He took a small pistol out of his pocket and removed the magazine at the bottom of the barrel to show me that it was full of bullets.

  ‘Where did you find that?’

  ‘At the inn. While everyone was asleep I went through their drawers. It’s a Mauser 1910, a semi-automatic. German soldiers used it during the war.’

  Decisively, my friend pushed me against the wall under the old unlit lantern. It took all my strength not to collapse under his weight as he climbed on to my shoulders. Just when I felt it was impossible for me to hold on for much longer, James managed to grab the lantern which, happily, was firmly attached. Then he heaved himself up. He was now hanging eight feet up and the window arch was only a few feet above him. He swung his leg up to reach the window ledge. Then, judging that he had enough support, he pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the window ledge, looking down at me mockingly.

  ‘If I’m tortured and you hear me screaming, I can count on you, can’t I, Andrew? You’ll call the police? With luck, you’ll arrive in time to save me from certain death.’

  ‘It’s madness for you to go off into the castle on your own. Let’s wait until Fourier arrives!’

  Just then I heard a muffled sound as he landed in the courtyard. Through the gaps round the doorway all I could see was moonlight.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ I murmured.

  ‘Uh, yep! I’ve fractured half a dozen bones but I’ll be all right.’

  ‘Can you open the damned door?’

  ‘Sorry! It’s definitely locked and I can’t see any way of getting it to budge. Never mind. I’ll just have a quick look round. Twenty minutes. No more, I promise!’

  I cursed myself for letting James go into the Burg alone. It was inhabited. And everything pointed to its being the place where the unknown person who had sent the telegram found at La Toison d’Or had expressly invited Öberlin to go.

  All I could do was hope that my friend came back quickly.

  I went down the steps and walked a short way towards the village. From there, I could see the window in the square tower where we had glimpsed the light earlier.

  The wait was interminable.

  Despite his promise, James was not back after twenty minutes.

  It was three o’clock in the morning and I was beside myself with anxiety. I paced up and down outside the fortress, climbing the steps at regular intervals to examine the courtyard through the keyhole, trying to spot my friend.

  I had just gone down the steps again for the umpteenth time and was standing on the path when I thought I heard muffled voices below. I immediately hid behind a shrub.

  Someone was coming up to the castle. I prayed that James wouldn’t reappear at that very moment!

  I fell to the ground and held my breath.

  At the top of the path four figures appeared, walking in single file. The first was athletically built and wore a leather jacket and cap; he was closely followed by a man of average height with greying temples who was dressed in a dark coat; about six feet behind them a young woman with a scarf stuffed into her mouth and her wrists tied was being closely guarded by a man who looked enormous.

  Despite the full moon I couldn’t make out the features of the man in the coat but I immediately had the same uneasy feeling that I had experienced every time I became aware of the Austrian’s presence. Deep down, I knew that the man who had hidden behind the mask of Andreas Eberlin, Hans-Rudolf von Öberlin and Herr Kessling was a few feet away from me.

  As the group passed me, I heard the first man speak to the second in German. I didn’t understand what was said but he called him Herr Professor twice.

  When they reached the castle, they climbed the steps and stood in front of the wicket gate. The man in the jacket took out a torch and turned it on to help the man I supposed to be Kessling open the door. Then they entered the square tower.

  As the young woman refused to follow them, the giant seized her firmly by the waist and heaved her on to his shoulder. Carrying the girl, he too entered the Burg and didn’t close the door behind him.

  I only hesitated for a few seconds. An opportunity like this wouldn’t come along again and I couldn’t possibly leave James to get out of such a tricky situation on his own.

  I dashed out of my hiding place, went up the steps and slipped into the tower.

  Their footsteps reverberated in the quiet of the night. Far away, the torchlight danced in the shadows.

  I didn’t want to risk bumping into anything, so I crawled to a kind of trunk and hid behind it.

  The group had reached a door from which electric light spilt and for a moment I could see where I was. It was an old weapons room, completely empty apart from the trunk I was leaning against. A little further away, half a dozen cases were piled up.

  After a few minutes the man in the jacket came back. The beam of his torch narrowly missed me and, luckily, he didn’t see me. He closed the door to the wicket gate, locked it and disappeared again, this time leaving me in complete darkness.

  I couldn’t go back. Now I too was locked in the castle. I had to find James, and quickly.

  I got up and struck a few matches to light my way. I put my ear up against the door at the end of the room. I couldn’t hear anything so I opened the door and poked my head round.

  I found myself in a kind of ante-room leading through an open door to a long passage. In the middle of the room was a table with a bottle of brandy, two half-empty glasses and two piles of playing cards. It appeared that the party had been interrupted by the appearance of Kessling and his accomplices.

  Including the three who had just arrived, there were now at least five people in the fortress, not counting the young female prisoner.

  What should I do now? And where was James hiding?

  The group had probably gone through the passage. Relatively wide at first, it narrowed after thirty or forty feet and became a simple corridor, nine feet wide, with a series of heavy doors with locks and peepholes. Cells!

  Right at the end, a red wooden door provided access to the tower with the pointed roof.

  I had already gone through the door and was moving into the passage when I heard moans coming from one of the furthest cells. I could have sworn it was a woman’s voice. Her groans were turning into violent cries, echoing through the old walls of the fortress.

  Abruptly, the red door opened and a small man wearing a white doctor’s coat came out, accompanied by Kessling and the man in the leather jacket.

  I only just had time to turn round and hide in a corner.

  The scraping of a bolt indicated that they were opening the cell. The cries ceased for a moment and then grew even louder before stopping again, giving way to a heavy and agonising silence.

  I was about to leave my hiding place when a noise beh
ind me made me jump. A few steps away there was a wooden door which I hadn’t noticed before, providing access to the courtyard. When it rattled again it was clear that someone was trying to open it from the outside.

  I had to react or it would all be over for me. As soon as Kessling’s accomplice opened the door I would be discovered.

  The door had already begun to open. I pressed myself up against the wall and got ready. As a sturdy-looking fellow came over the threshold, I immediately pounced. Unfortunately, I had already launched myself when I recognised the barrel of James’s semi-automatic shining in the darkness. I was about to throw myself at my faithful friend. My knee smashed into his hip while my foot struck the hand holding the pistol, pressing his finger down on the trigger.

  The shot rang out just as we fell on to the flagstones.

  We got up at the same time, imagining that our enemies would appear from all sides. Instead of the clatter of their feet, however, we heard yet more increasingly frequent and deafening cries.

  The detonation had mingled with the loud cries and seemed to have gone unnoticed.

  ‘Good heavens, Andrew! What has got into you? You almost broke one of my ribs!’

  ‘Sorry. I thought you were one of Kessling’s men. Did you know that he’s here with two of his sidekicks?’

  ‘I thought it must be him. He didn’t hang around then, the blighter!’

  ‘Have you been able to explore the castle?’

  ‘Only part of it. I couldn’t get close to the cells. Two men were watching the corridor from a distance, playing cards. But a woman is being held, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Kessling came with a prisoner. It must be her we can hear.’

  ‘No. The cries started before he arrived.’

  In the corridor the captive was screaming her head off.

  ‘It’s enough to make your blood run cold!’ I exclaimed. ‘It sounds like she’s being tortured.’

  ‘Or—’

  The screams suddenly stopped and in their place we could hear little whining sounds. Plaintive wails – like those of a newborn baby!