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5

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Mort entered his hotel room and sat down on the bed. He sighed and lay down. His dog Chico came over and began to lick the fingertips of his hand that happened to be carelessly dangling over the bed side.

All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door. A bit annoyed, Mort stood up and answered it.

Chico whimpered and made his way over to his doggy bed in the corner of the room.

Mort was surprised to see Balkan standing at his doorway.

"Balkan?" Mort asked.

Balkan walked past Mort and into the hotel room. Mort looked at him in awe, but closed the door of the room.

Balkan took a seat in a nearby chair. "Are you a religious man, Mr. Corso? I mean, do you believe in the supernatural?" Balkan asked.

Mort stared at Balkan open mouthed, studied him, wondered why the hell he was in his hotel room asking him such a strange question.

But.. he closed his mouth, gathered himself and responded as though there was nothing wrong with the situation.

"I believe in my percentage." He paused, then continued, "What the hell do you want from me, Balkan?"

"I want you to go to Europe and investigate," Balkan said, pulling his copy of 'The Nine Gates' out of his jacket pocket. He held it up so Mort could see it. "The other two copies are in Portugal and France. I want you to find some way of comparing them with mine: every page, every engraving, the binding - everything. I'm convinced that only one is authentic, I want to know which," Balkan explained.

Mort was even more confused now as to Balkan's behavior. Why was he coming to him with such a silly request? Although.. Silly requests sometimes require vast amounts of funding...

"Could be an expensive trip," Mort replied.

Balkan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded check. He handed it to Mort.

Mort took it and immediately deposited it into his own jacket pocket, not even examining it. Even though he did not know Balkan that well, he knew his wallet. And Balkan was never stingy with checks. Balkan was loaded and there was no need to see what sum was inscribed on the check. He was sure that it was well over enough.

"That's to get you started. Spend what you need," Balkan instructed.

"What if I find that your copy's a forgery?" Mort asked, nervous at the response.

Balkan stared at him coldly for a moment, then spoke, "That's quite possible."

Mort was mildly surprised. He walked over to Balkan and took the book from him. He looked at it, then he placed it up to his ear and flipped the pages, 'listening' to the quality of the paper. "Really? It doesn't appear to be. Even the paper sounds Kosher," Mort said.

"Even so. There's something wrong," Balkan said, frowning.

Mort continued to examine the book. He smiled at Balkan's comment, knowing exactly what he meant. "You mean the Devil won't show up?" Mort asked, a faint mocking sense could be picked up in his voice.

He closed the book and handed it back to Balkan.

"Don't mock what you don't know, Mr. Corso. If all three copies turn out to be bogus or incomplete, your work will be done. If, on the other hand, one of them turns out to be genuine, I'll finance you further," Balkan explained.

Mort stared at him, then he took the check out of his pocket. He unfolded it and glanced at the amount. He raised his eyebrows-- Just as he thought. A substantial sum.

"I want you to get it for me at all costs, never mind how," Balkan explained.

"Never mind how sounds illegal," Mort said, curiously.

"It wouldn't be the first time you've done something illegal."

"Not that illegal."

"Hence the size of the check. Do a good job, I'll double it," Balkan said, holding out 'The Nine Gates' out to Mort. After a moment's hesitation, Mort replaced the check in his pocket and took the book.

"Be careful, Corso," Balkan warned.

"What do you mean?" Mort asked. He held up the book, "With this?"

"Just be careful," Balkan repeated and stood up from the chair. He walked to the doorway, let himself out of Mort's hotel room, walked down the hall and then was out of sight.

Mort stood still in his spot and looked at 'The Nine Gates'. He had a bad feeling inside. And it was growing quickly.