The Sixth Key by Adriana Koulias

on
humanity? Rahn felt a crawling shiver and left quickly.
    He returned to his hotel with Pierre
Plantard’s words weighing on his mind. He packed his bags, paid his bill and
left by the back entrance to take a taxi to the station where he was due to
meet La Dame. As the taxi passed the front of the hotel, Rahn saw a man
standing on the pavement smoking a cigarette and looking out at the street. He
couldn’t tell if he was the same man he had seen at the café the day before,
but something about him looked familiar: he was just an average man, average
height, average build.
    He found La Dame waiting for him in Le Train
Bleu restaurant at Gare de Lyon station, wearing a bored expression. After a
moment’s complaint for the lateness of the hour he ordered Rahn a drink and sat
back smoking his Cuban cigar with a tense impassivity.
    ‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ La
Dame said finally.
    Rahn realised that La Dame knew almost
everything now. What would it hurt for him to know a little more? ‘Apparently
Monti was a broker of secrets and he was working to find out something about Le
Serpent Rouge for a man called Aleister Crowley—’
    ‘The beast himself? Surely you know who he
is?’ He smiled from ear to ear. ‘He is the notorious magician! A terrible
dresser but charismatic – they say he signs all his correspondence with
the numbers six-six-six!’
    Rahn took a sip. ‘Well, apparently Monti
wasn’t getting anywhere in his search for the grimoire and so he decided to
mention it discreetly, here and there, hoping to flush out anyone who knew
anything about it.’
    ‘Not discreetly enough, by the sound of it.’
    ‘So it seems. Anyway, this Pierre Plantard
says that Monti made a visit to a town in Languedoc to hunt around and while he
was there he met with an abbé. Whatever the abbé told him, it must have caused him
to draw the conclusion that the grimoire was incomplete.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Apparently there is a key missing.’
    ‘A key?’
    ‘A formula.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘Apparently Monti thought this key could be
found in Languedoc.’
    ‘Where did he get that idea?’
    ‘From me, so it seems.’
    ‘You?’
    ‘Yes, from Crusade Against the Grail. Did you
ever read it?’
    ‘Of course!’ La Dame said, seemingly indignant
at the accusatory tone in Rahn’s voice.
    Rahn put down the brandy to look at him.
    A hangdog grin spread over La Dame’s bearded
face. ‘To be honest, I only managed the acknowledgements. I wanted to see if
you’d mentioned my name – you can’t imagine my disappointment!’
    ‘I was mindful of your reputation,’ Rahn said.
    ‘But I haven’t got one.’
    ‘You illustrate my point quite exactly, dear
La Dame!’
    La Dame gave him a laconic eye. ‘And what
would you say if I told you you’re an opportunist?’
    ‘I rarely give anyone the opportunity to say
such things, except for you, of course, and now that you have, I will respond
by saying that I find myself in esteemed and august company!’ He raised his
glass.
    There was a nod from La Dame, to acknowledge
the acknowledgement.
    ‘So, what happened, did Monti find anything?’
he said.
    ‘No. After returning from Languedoc he grew
afraid. Not long after that he was found dead, and you know the rest, but
Plantard isn’t certain who is responsible: rivals; the owner of the manuscript;
or perhaps some metaphysical force.’
    ‘Metaphysical! You mean like a curse?’
    ‘I don’t know exactly.’
    ‘What else did he say?’
    ‘He said De Mengel is working for the English
Lodges.’
    ‘English Masons! A nasty lot! Watch out for
them, Rahn.’ He grew thoughtful. ‘So, that is why De Mengel wants you to find
this Le Serpent Rouge – so he can deliver it to the English? The
scoundrel!’
    ‘Perhaps, perhaps not.’
    ‘And what does Plantard say?’
    ‘Plantard is the one who told De Mengel about
me. It seems he is a fan of Hitler and used De Mengel to get me here so I could
find it for him. The thing