Free The Sixth Key by Adriana Koulias Page A

called Gaston De Mengel.’
    ‘So,’ Rahn said, ‘that’s the connection.’
    ‘What connection?’
    ‘I’m here at De Mengel’s suggestion.’
    ‘Really? And you didn’t know that he and
another man called Monti ran that group?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well, the group behind Alpha Galates is
called Groupe Occidental D’etudes Esoteriques. They are highly secretive and
dedicated to bringing peace to the world . . . and the Eiffel Tower is also
made from Meccano! Whatever the case, this Monti was apparently Péladan’s
pupil. You know Joséphin Péladan – the Rosicrucian?’
    ‘Yes, I know of him, I acknowledged him in my
book. You know – the book you never read?’
    La Dame ignored Rahn’s sarcasm and said
happily, ‘The plot thickens, Rahn! Some months ago, the Masonic Grand Lodge
published an article denouncing Monti. It said he was a fraud and a supposed Jesuit
agent and soon after he winds up dead.’
    ‘Dead?’
    ‘Dead as a doornail, dear Rahn! And his close
associate, a certain Dr Camille Savoire, apparently rushes to his side,
examines him and claims that he has been poisoned – his body was
apparently covered in black spots.’
    ‘Let me see if I have the gist,’ Rahn said.
‘Alpha Galates is a front for another society started by De Mengel and Monti,
Groupe Occidental D’etudes Esoteriques. Some months ago Monti was murdered
because he was a fraud and a spy.’ Rahn tried to think through the brandy fog.
‘Could it be more complicated?’
    ‘Yes, indeed, it could – I told you it
was bloody marvellous! This Dr Savoire supposedly took up the vacated chair
left by Monti and he runs the society now, along with this De Mengel fellow. So
Plantard, or Vincent Varas, or whatever you want to call him, must be working
for them. But the word is, there is a little friction between De Mengel and
Savoire.’
    ‘And Plantard is caught in the middle? That’s
good to know.’ Rahn raised his glass. ‘You’ve done well. I think you’ve missed
your calling – you should have been a private eye or journalist, not a
minor professor of science!’
    La Dame shook his head dismissively. ‘Too
uncomfortable, Rahn. All those nights standing in the rain, waiting for something
to happen. Not my style.’
    ‘Alright, but how did you find out so much?’
    ‘I have one or two friends in the
periodicals.’ La Dame took a long puff of his cigar. ‘So, are you going to tell
me what this is about and why you need to see this Pierre Plantard?’
    Rahn heard La Dame but he was distracted by
that feeling again – that they were being watched – and found
himself scanning the room. ‘I don’t quite know how to start,’ he said, with a
strange laugh that sounded nervous to his ears. ‘It’s all rather a long story
really. But to cut it short, I have a new publisher.’
    ‘A new publisher?’ La Dame puffed away.
‘Congratulations, that’s wonderful. This calls for a celebration!’ He poured
two more glasses and regarded Rahn with an admiring eye. ‘That explains why
you’re dressed like Clark Gable. You’re clearly not the man who left
Ussat-les-Bains hounded by creditors! So, who in God’s name is it?’
    Rahn looked at La Dame; his smile behind that
gold beard was all eagerness. The last thing Rahn wanted to do was drag his
friend into this messy business. He drank down his brandy before tackling an
unpleasant abridged confession, which now seemed to him, all things considered,
to be unavoidable.
    ‘When I saw you in Munich, do you remember me
telling you that I had an appointment in Berlin?’
    ‘Yes, a mysterious telegram – and money
if I remember correctly?’
    ‘Well, who do you think sent it?’
    ‘I don’t know, Marlene Dietrich?’
    ‘Cold, La Dame,’ he said. ‘Take another
guess.’
    ‘Well, I’ll look for an antithesis then. Was
it the pope?’
    ‘Close. Hitler’s Black Pope.’ He leant
forwards and whispered, ‘It was the Reichsführer, Himmler.’
    When La Dame’s disbelief