The Sixth Key

by Adriana Koulias

  ‘Nothing intelligible; all we could ascertain was that he wanted us to find something in the church. That’s why we went there.’

  ‘And did you find anything?’ His raised brows were expectant, his wet mouth open slightly; he appeared to be hanging on Deodat’s next words.

  ‘No. I’m afraid not.’

  Rahn couldn’t tell if he saw relief or disappointment on the man’s inscrutable face. ‘I see . . . Well, I bid you a good evening.’

  And with these words the inspector walked away, leaving them alone in that miserable garden, with the shadow cast by the dormant volcano pouring its gloom over them.

  15

  Enigmas and Conundrums

  ‘The analytical power should not be confounded with simple ingenuity; for while the analyst is necessarily ingenious, the ingenious man is often remarkably incapable of analysis.’

  Edgar Allan Poe, ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’

  The drive home was silent. At the house, Madame Sabine, having heard from Rahn of the abbé’s death, kept out of the way and refrained from complaining about the late hour of their arrival. She heated their dinner without saying a word and they ate the beans and potatoes in garlic in the kitchen, without appetite. The wood crackling in the stove and the wind brushing the tangled limbs against the window were the only sounds in the stillness between them.

  For Rahn’s part, what he had not told Deodat now troubled him. He wondered about the black car at Bugarach, about the strangeness of the abbé’s demeanour before his terrible death, and about a police inspector who was supposedly here to investigate a group called La Cagoule but who just happened to know his book intimately.

  Later, in the drawing room, drinking a much-needed brandy before the fire, Rahn resolved to do the inevitable.

  ‘Look, Deodat, I’m afraid I haven’t been totally honest with you. I have to tell you something.’

  ‘What is it?’ Deodat said from behind his pipe.

  ‘It’s a rather long and sordid story and you may not like me much afterwards, but . . .’ He told Deodat everything – with the exception of those events at Wewelsburg, as he saw no reason to tarnish his own character more than he had to. Meanwhile, Deodat sat quietly through the long and painful confession, his face neutral – the mask of a wise, introspective judge. When it was over, however, he seemed unable to hold in his dismay.

  ‘What in the devil, Rahn? What were you thinking?’

  Rahn passed a hand over his hair, trying to find the right words. ‘How on Earth was I to know who would be waiting at the end of that telegram? Do you think I would have gone there? Once in that apartment, what was I to do? I had to go along with things for a while until I could get away – and here I am.’

  ‘Well, now that I’m piecing it all together it begins to make sense. It’s elementary! This elucidates what that inspector is doing at Bugarach and why he knows so much about you.’

  ‘It has something to do with Monti, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘La Cagoule, that group he mentioned, is known to recruit its members from another group called Action Francais. Action Francais is connected to Alpha Galates – the group run by Pierre Plantard, whom you saw in Paris.’

  Rahn paused. ‘And Alpha Galates is connected to Monti.’

  ‘That’s right. This La Cagoule is responsible for terrorist acts all over Europe,’ Deodat said, ‘and the Paris police have been after them for a while. If they were watching Plantard and they observed you going into his apartment they may have followed you here, suspecting that you are somehow connected to them.’

  ‘What?’ Rahn said, alarmed.

  ‘Well, that’s one conclusion!’ Deodat grew introspective once more. ‘Something bothers me though – did you notice the inspector’s gun? I haven’t seen one of those used by the police before, and did you see his shoes? Awfully shiny for a detective whose clothes look as though they’ve been slept in. Very peculiar . . . I don’t know what it means but I’m certain it will reveal itself.’ He got up to fetch a bottle of brandy. ‘I think you have stumbled onto a viper’s nest.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘In France, everywhere one turns these days, one is likely to bump into a society for this or for that.’ He refilled Rahn’s glass, sat down and stared into the fire a moment. ‘Right-wing Fascist groups, like Action Francais and Alpha Galates, want to bring back the rule of the French kings. They have strong connections to the church, which lost its power when the Catholic lineage of kings was exterminated. Opposing them are the Freemasons – the republican capitalists and industrialists – men who exercise their influence on the markets. So you see, Rahn, you have a religious power opposing an economic power. Having said that, these opposing groups do have something in common – their hatred of the Communists and the Jews. But if you dig deeper, you begin to realise that these seemingly opposing groups are thoroughly interconnected.’ He took out his pipe, filled it with tobacco and lit it.

  Rahn sat forwards, incredulous. ‘Let me see if I understand you. You are saying that the Fascists, Freemasons, Communists, Jews and the church are all intertwined? But they hate each other.’

  ‘Only outwardly. I believe there is one central authority that rules them all; one body whose goal is political, economic and spiritual supremacy; a circle composed of representatives from every group. I call it the Cénacle.’

  ‘But Pierre Plantard told me these societies are all competing with one another for secrets,’ Rahn said, rather perplexed.

  ‘Yes, that’s true on one level: they fight wars on opposite sides, they assassinate one another, steal from one another, all of that. But it’s all an illusion, a smoke screen.’ He puffed away thoughtfully. ‘Every now and again, something surfaces which points to the Cénacle, but it is in such a veiled way that only the astute observer would ever recognise it.’

  ‘This is extraordinary – a circle of men who rule Europe?’

  ‘Yes,’ Deodat said, ‘a circle funded by powerful banks; banks like Barings, the Bank of Moscow and the most powerful of them all – the bank owned by the Rothschilds. But these aren’t just any men.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean they are esotericists, but not just that, they are black esotericists. You see, in the public eye you may have the black occultists, the attention-seeking braggarts like Hitler, Stalin and Mussolini, but these men are just chess pieces. Behind them, you have the hands that move the chess pieces.’

  ‘The Cénacle?’ Rahn said.

  ‘Yes, and I fear they are grooming Hitler to become their supreme black occultist.’

  Rahn recalled the people that had come and gone from Weisthor’s office: Englishmen, Russians, clergymen, Tibetans. He remembered all the reports on different occult traditions and Himmler’s desire for the grimoire. Things were beginning to make sense. ‘They want war,’ he said. ‘And Hitler will give it to them. Is that it?’

  ‘Yes; a war will destroy Germany and give them Russia.’

  ‘I quite follow you, but the only point that I don’t understand is this business with Russia. What do they want with Russia?’

  ‘Russia is a sought-after jewel, destined to be the location of the New Jerusalem spoken of in Saint John’s Apocalypse. Those who understand this know that whoever rules Russia will, in future times, control the world.’

  ‘And Germany?’

  ‘Germany is the middle, and it was destined to be the spiritual centre of a free Europe in preparation for Russia. Now that it has fallen into the hands of the Cénacle, it will be destroyed.’

  ‘What?’ Rahn sat up.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘For what reason?’

  ‘Because the Cénacle desires no spirit, no middle that might come between it and Russia.’

  ‘You astound me, Deodat!’ Rahn had to think this through. ‘Did the Countess P know about these things?’

  ‘I shouldn’t imagine so. She
was a theosophist, as you know, and theosophy is affiliated with various groups, but she was like you. She didn’t belong to this time. She did know De Mengel, however, and I met him once at her château, that’s how I came to know about Monti.’

  ‘Why didn’t you mention earlier that you knew so much about him?’

  ‘I didn’t know how deeply you were involved in all of it. He was a dangerous man, he was watching the anthroposophists in Paris very closely, and I believe he had something to do with Rudolf Steiner’s assassination.’

  Rahn knew that Deodat’s fondness for anthroposophy had brought about the awkwardness between him and the countess, since she was a theosophist, because Rudolf Steiner, the leader of anthroposophy, had broken away from theosophy in quite a spectacular way.

  ‘Why was Monti watching the anthroposophists?’ Rahn said.

  ‘Because anthroposophists are “white” esotericists.’

  ‘So there are “white” and “black” esotericists?’

  ‘Of course, and grey ones too – those who can’t make up their minds! When Rudolf Steiner formed his own group, he made certain that it was completely independent from all the other groups and, as a result, he was hated by them all. I believe this to be the reason he was poisoned, and that Monti had a hand in it.’ Deodat leant forwards. ‘Now, let’s assume that the key to completing Le Serpent Rouge does exist, Rahn. It would be a powerful tool of magic in the hands of a black occultist like Hitler and, therefore, in the hands of those black esotericists in the Cénacle who control him.’

  Rahn looked up to the rafters, blackened by the smoke from the fire; he felt completely out of his depth. What had he got himself into?

  ‘What should we do? If we don’t try to find it they’ll only send someone else.’

  Deodat puffed on his pipe intensely and said nothing.

  Rahn was filled with a singular restlessness. ‘Is it possible that, as you said before, the abbé was a part of it somehow?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, doesn’t it strike you as interesting that Cros was investigating priests? Doesn’t it strike you as strange that after he falls ill, the very person in charge of the keys to the church commits suicide, and when they find his body there is no sign of the keys anywhere? Next, the abbé himself dies, drowned a short time after asking you to get something from the church. And as if that’s not enough, an inspector turns up, quick as a flash, looking like a dishevelled Professor Moriarty, not only knowing everything about my book but also looking for a group connected to Pierre Plantard in Paris? There are too many coincidences, Deodat!’

  ‘As I said before, I think Inspecteur Beliere was following you, Rahn.’

  ‘Perhaps, but are you telling me the abbé’s death and the missing keys mean nothing?’

  ‘Let me remind you that we must work a posteriori – that is, we must reason from observed facts.’

  ‘Well then, let’s do so. What was Cros doing spying on priests for the Vatican?’ Rahn asked.

  ‘It was probably some small matter, a misappropriation of funds or something of that sort. Things like that happen all the time in these small towns.’

  Rahn was in no way convinced. ‘I think the abbé was desperate. He wanted you to find something. What did he mean by Sator – the sower, creator or planter?’

  ‘That usually refers to Christ.’

  ‘Perhaps, usually, but in this case it sounds to me like a code.’

  ‘A code?’

  ‘Yes. Did you have something you shared apart from playing chess, some inside joke, anything?’

  Deodat sighed and rubbed his chin. ‘Well, sometimes, in the days when he was well, he was fond of puzzles. Actually, he rather liked Roman puzzles.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Latin riddles, chronograms, palindromes, that sort of thing. For instance, one time a letter arrived by mail from him and in it I found a rebus: Ego sum principium, mundi et finis, saeculorum attamen non sum Deus.’

  Rahn translated it: ‘I am the beginning of the world and the end of the ages, but I am not God. And? Did you solve it?’

  ‘It took me some time. The solution was elementary: it was M.’

  ‘M? Ah . . . yes!’ Rahn’s face brightened. ‘The letter M is the beginning of the Latin word “mundi”, which means world; and it is also at the end of the word “saeculorum”, which means ages. Very amusing!’

  ‘Yes,’ Deodat said, although he didn’t seem the least bit amused. He frowned, thinking about it.

  Rahn had a sudden thought. ‘Do you have a Latin dictionary?’

  Deodat looked at him as if he had just asked him if the Earth was round. ‘Of course.’

  ‘We need to look up “Sator”.’There was a large tome on the table in Deodat’s library. Rahn stood beside him as he pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and flicked the pages until he found it. ‘“Sator” . . . Well, well,’ he said. ‘Here it is. Apparently it forms part of a famous palindrome, that is, it reads the same up and down, backwards and forwards, and so it’s sometimes called a magic square.’ He showed Rahn.

  ‘I’ve seen something like this before,’ Rahn said, intrigued.

  ‘Here it says that it means: The sower, Arepo, holds the wheels of work.’

  ‘“Arepo”? That’s not Latin?’

  ‘No, according to this book, that word has never been deciphered.’ Deodat continued reading: ‘Magic squares have been found in Italy dating back to the first centuries, both in Rome and in Lucca.’ He looked up. ‘You know, quite a few have been found here, in the south, as well. At any rate, the book says that it was once a code used by the early Christians to denote places of sanctuary, but it must predate Christianity because one was found in the city of Pompeii, in an engraving preserved by the volcanic ash of Vesuvius. It also says here that many believe it forms a kind of esoteric puzzle.’

  ‘What have you got on ancient puzzles in your library?’ Rahn asked.

  ‘Look under A, for ancient or R for Roman or P for puzzles . . . take your pick. That damned woman!’ he murmured with exasperation.

  After some digging about, Rahn found that Madame Sabine had placed a book under the first name of the author, a certain Pitois. ‘Look, here’s a reference,’ Rahn said. ‘The Sator Square is also found in Solomon’s Keys.’

  Deodat’s ears pricked up. ‘The first grimoire ever written?’ He returned to his shelves again, tapping on his chin as he looked over them.

  Rahn smiled. ‘Don’t tell me you have a copy of it?’

  ‘Well, I’ve got two, actually,’ Deodat said over his shoulder, with a certain smugness. ‘One in French and one in English – doesn’t everybody have at least one?’ He took Les Clavicules de Rabbi Salomon from the bookshelf with particular reverence, blew the dust from it and turned the pages. ‘Here it is. What in the devil . . . !’

  ‘What is it?’ Rahn joined him by the shelf.

  ‘Look for yourself!’ He gave Rahn the book.

  ‘It’s the Sator Square, but now it’s in Hebrew.’

  ‘Yes.’ Deodat took the book back. ‘This means that the Sator Square not only has connections to the Roman and Christian mysteries but the Hebrew ones as well. Now, here in this grimoire, the Pentacle of Saturn displays the magic square, which Solomon relates to the Alpha and Omega, or Christ as He is known in Saint John’s Apocalypse.

  ‘It also says here that the magic square can be used not only for warding off adversaries, as a conjuration to repel Satan – Retro Satan; but that one can also, by making a slight variation in the words, use it as a prayer to invoke Satan – Satan, Oro Te. You see, this is the interesting thing about grimoires – they can be used for good or for evil.’

  Clearly this thought prompted another because he took himself to his bookshelves again, looking about feverishly.

  ‘What now?’ Rahn asked.

  ‘I have a book written by Éliphas Lévi, a man you could call a “grey” occultist. It’s a book on magic rituals and it’s somewhere
in this infernal disorder.’

  It took some time but he eventually found it.

  ‘Look, do you see this? Lévi speaks of the word rotas, which is sator back to front. He says it’s connected to the tarot and to cut a long story short, the tarot is connected to the Alpha and Omega and Saint John’s Apocalypse. Over and over we are seeing a connection between grimoires and the Apocalypse.’ He paused. ‘You know, Abbé Cros asked me for this book years ago. He wanted to know something about the pope card. He kept the book for many months.’

  But Rahn wasn’t listening – inside his mind two things were colliding to make a third. ‘So, Cros knew you would understand what sator meant, that is obvious to me, and he must have wanted you to find something connected to the grimoires and to the Apocalypse in the church. Now it all makes sense. The church was full of symbols: plaques depicting the Book of the Seven Seals – Saint John’s Apocalypse, on either side of the altar; the Grail over the doors; and to top it all off, a wheel of fortune in the stained-glass window, which is straight out of the tarot. The wheel is a symbol for life and death, it turns one way towards death and another towards a reversal of death.’

  Deodat nodded. ‘The one who holds the wheel of fortune is Christ, sator, the sower, or the cultivator. The crux, or tenet, “what holds”, is the middle word, and it forms a cross at the centre of the magic square. Do you see it?’ He pointed it out to Rahn.

  ‘So what in the church could be related to the transformation of life and death and also to Christ, who died on the cross?’ Rahn asked.

  ‘Don’t you know, Rahn? The dead bread and wine are brought to life magically by the priest who turns them into the living body and blood of Christ. The sacrament is the result of a transformation of matter into spirit and spirit into matter.’

  ‘Birth and death, the wheel! So, Deodat, where are the transformed bread and wine kept in a church?’

  ‘What isn’t consumed during the mass is kept in—’ He looked at Rahn. ‘Do you think he wanted us to find the tabernacle?’