quiet and at the same time kill me. As you probably know, I’m not very popular in Berlin.”
“But they didn’t kill you when they got you.”
“More cheese. Erika suspected I’d be watching the castle that night. It was she I saw in the cloak. I hate to admit I walked right into the trap,” he said. “Once I was in, I was the lure to bring in other members of the Justice, Inc., crew.”
“Which is exactly what happened.”
The Avenger said, “I was kept alive, and unconscious, so they could kill me after the others arrived. My death was going to look like another vampire murder.”
“I see,” said Elizabeth. “And meanwhile Erika and Mrs. Andrade were subtly—if you can call things like smearing blood on my clothes subtle—trying to make me believe I was doing those killings.”
“From what you’ve told me, I imagine Erika may have been using hypnosis on you, once your drugged milk or coffee had put you under,” he said. “She could plant the suggestion in your mind, suggest images of killing, details supplied by Mrs. Andrade, possibly. When I was killed, you’d have been blamed. Framed, actually. They might even have considered having you commit suicide in remorse over your crimes.”
The girl shivered. “Thoughtful Erika and nice cozy Mrs. Andrade. It’s horrible . . . the things plain, ordinary people can do.”
“In this case, we stopped some of it.”
“What about the murder of Mr. Rodney? He was working for them, too, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, for extra money.”
“Then, why was he killed?”
“Apparently Mrs. Andrade didn’t trust him,” the Avenger said. “Once they knew I was walking into their trap it was decided, mostly by the old woman, that Rodney was more of a liability than an asset.”
Nodding, the girl said, “I can understand that, but what about the earlier murders? They seem completely senseless.”
“The victims were picked at random, another idea of Mrs. Andrade’s. To establish the fact that there was a crazed killer around, you must kill more than once.”
“Picked at random,” said the girl. Her grip on his hand tightened. “What was she . . . Mrs. Andrade? That night, before Cole Wilson came to my rescue . . . she talked as though she were really a vampire.”
“I’m sure she believed she was,” Benson said. “Mrs. Andrade had been insane for quite some time, but insane in a way that made her useful to the cause. Even some of those who worked for her were afraid of her.”
“Yes, I know about that sort,” said the girl. “They work in the camps, belong to the Gestapo . . . there are a great many of them. Sadists, compulsive killers . . . all glorying in having an official okay to kill and torture.”
“It will end,” the Avenger said, “soon.”
“But that it could have started at all, Dick, that’s what’s so frightening and unsettling,” the girl said. “I don’t know . . . it seems such a different world from what it was only a few years ago. All those autumn afternoons and walking across that safe and secure campus. The world will never be like that again.”
“Not for us, no.”
She sighed. “I remember now, everything they tried to make me forget,” she said. “They’ve set up several escape routes, one of which involves Panazuela. For all their ranting and boasting, there are a great many in Germany today who don’t believe they’ll win this war. The things they’ve done . . . they know that when trials are held, they will be convicted and executed. For some of them, like poor Erika, suicide is the surest escape. A good many others want to live, to make use of the loot they’ve accumulated. That means new identities, new papers and passports. In all the dislocations and resettlements that will follow the end of the war, it will be difficult to check and recheck every document.” She paused and took a deep breath. “They have a counterfeiting plant in Germany, near Munich. It’s been turning out very acceptable
“But they didn’t kill you when they got you.”
“More cheese. Erika suspected I’d be watching the castle that night. It was she I saw in the cloak. I hate to admit I walked right into the trap,” he said. “Once I was in, I was the lure to bring in other members of the Justice, Inc., crew.”
“Which is exactly what happened.”
The Avenger said, “I was kept alive, and unconscious, so they could kill me after the others arrived. My death was going to look like another vampire murder.”
“I see,” said Elizabeth. “And meanwhile Erika and Mrs. Andrade were subtly—if you can call things like smearing blood on my clothes subtle—trying to make me believe I was doing those killings.”
“From what you’ve told me, I imagine Erika may have been using hypnosis on you, once your drugged milk or coffee had put you under,” he said. “She could plant the suggestion in your mind, suggest images of killing, details supplied by Mrs. Andrade, possibly. When I was killed, you’d have been blamed. Framed, actually. They might even have considered having you commit suicide in remorse over your crimes.”
The girl shivered. “Thoughtful Erika and nice cozy Mrs. Andrade. It’s horrible . . . the things plain, ordinary people can do.”
“In this case, we stopped some of it.”
“What about the murder of Mr. Rodney? He was working for them, too, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, for extra money.”
“Then, why was he killed?”
“Apparently Mrs. Andrade didn’t trust him,” the Avenger said. “Once they knew I was walking into their trap it was decided, mostly by the old woman, that Rodney was more of a liability than an asset.”
Nodding, the girl said, “I can understand that, but what about the earlier murders? They seem completely senseless.”
“The victims were picked at random, another idea of Mrs. Andrade’s. To establish the fact that there was a crazed killer around, you must kill more than once.”
“Picked at random,” said the girl. Her grip on his hand tightened. “What was she . . . Mrs. Andrade? That night, before Cole Wilson came to my rescue . . . she talked as though she were really a vampire.”
“I’m sure she believed she was,” Benson said. “Mrs. Andrade had been insane for quite some time, but insane in a way that made her useful to the cause. Even some of those who worked for her were afraid of her.”
“Yes, I know about that sort,” said the girl. “They work in the camps, belong to the Gestapo . . . there are a great many of them. Sadists, compulsive killers . . . all glorying in having an official okay to kill and torture.”
“It will end,” the Avenger said, “soon.”
“But that it could have started at all, Dick, that’s what’s so frightening and unsettling,” the girl said. “I don’t know . . . it seems such a different world from what it was only a few years ago. All those autumn afternoons and walking across that safe and secure campus. The world will never be like that again.”
“Not for us, no.”
She sighed. “I remember now, everything they tried to make me forget,” she said. “They’ve set up several escape routes, one of which involves Panazuela. For all their ranting and boasting, there are a great many in Germany today who don’t believe they’ll win this war. The things they’ve done . . . they know that when trials are held, they will be convicted and executed. For some of them, like poor Erika, suicide is the surest escape. A good many others want to live, to make use of the loot they’ve accumulated. That means new identities, new papers and passports. In all the dislocations and resettlements that will follow the end of the war, it will be difficult to check and recheck every document.” She paused and took a deep breath. “They have a counterfeiting plant in Germany, near Munich. It’s been turning out very acceptable
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