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4
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The elevator reached its destination and the doors opened. Mort and Balkan walked out into the room. It was a library, shelves lining the walls all filled with priceless antique books.
Balkan gestured to his collection. "Well?" He asked eagerly, waiting for Mort to utter some excited cry of astonishment or at least something along those lines.
But Mort did not react in the way that Balkan had imagined, he simply replied, "Yup."
Balkan frowned. "You know, you're extremely privileged, Mr. Corso. Very few people have ever set foot in here. This is my private collection. Some bibliophiles specialize in Gothic novels, others in Books of Hours. All my own rare editions have the same protagonist: the Devil."
Mort actually was very impressed but did his best not to show it. "May I take a look?" He asked.
"Yes. That's why I brought you here," Balkan replied, a small smile on his face.
Mort nodded gratefully and made his way over to one of the shelves of books. He scanned the antiques thoughtfully, roaming along the spines of the books.
Balkan walked over to him and stood beside. "Beautiful, aren't they? The soft sheen, the superb gilding... Not to mention the centuries of wisdom they contain -- centuries of erudition, of delving into the secrets of the universe and the hearts of men... I know people who would kill for a collection like this. The Ars Diavoli. You'll never see as many books on the subject anywhere else in the world. They're the rarest editions in existence. It has taken me a lifetime to assemble them. Only the supreme masterpiece was missing. Come..." He gestured for Mort to come along with him.
Balkan lead him over to a podium. A black book adorned with a gold pentacle rested upon it. Mort opened the book to the title page. "'The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows'..." Mort read aloud, surprised, not taking his eyes off the book.
"You're familiar with it?" Balkan asked.
"Yes. Venice, 1623. The author and printer was Aristide Torchia, burned by the Holy Inquisition, together with all his works. Only three copies survived," Mort explained.
"One," Balkan corrected.
"The catalogs list three copies surviving in private ownership : The Fargas, The Kessler, and the Milner," Mort argued.
Balkan smiled at him. "That's true. You know your business, but you're mistaken nonetheless. According my own research, only one is authentic."
"Well, three are known," Mort continued to argue.
"That's the trouble."
Mort studied the book further. "Where did you get it?" he asked.
Balkan hesitated for a moment before saying, "I bought it from Milner."
"Milner?" Mort asked. He had never heard of a Milner before.
"Yes... He uh... Sold it to me," Balkan explained.
"Why would he sell it to you? You're not exactly..," Mort trailed off, thinking that he was going too far.
"Not exactly what, Mr. Corso?" Balkan asked.
Mort did not reply.
"It doesn't matter what I am or am not; Money talks," Balkan continued.
Mort looked back to the book on the podium and turned the pages with care. He stopped on a page that featured an engraving of a knight in armor riding toward a castle with a finger to his lips as though enjoining the reader to silence. Below was a caption.
Balkan moved closer and read aloud what it said over Mort's shoulder. "Sivm et av vm."
"Silence is golden?" Mort asked, a bit confused by what the line meant.
"Precisely. Ever heard of the 'Delomelanicon'?" Balkan asked.
"Heard of it, yes. It's a myth, isn't it? A book reputed to have been written by Satan himself," Mort said.
"No myth. That book existed. Torchia actually acquired it," Balkan explained. "The engravings you're now admiring were adapted by Torchia from the 'Delomelanicon'. They a form of satanic riddle. Correctly interpreted with the aid of the original text and sufficient inside information, they're reputed to conjure up the Prince of Darkness in person."
Mort looked down at the book thoughtfully, "You don't say," he said and turned the pages of the book some more. Suddenly he shut the book. "I think I should be going. You know where to find me if you need me," He said, and walked over to the elevator. Mort pushed the button.
The elevator's doors opened in some moments and Mort went inside. He pressed a button on the keypad and the doors began to close.
"Goodbye, Mr. Corso," Balkan said, still standing at the podium.
The doors closed and the elevator began to descend.