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42
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Mort followed the manly secretary inside the luxurious room.
"Yes?" Baroness Kessler, an elegant little white-haired old lady asked, turning her electric wheelchair to face them.
"Monsieur Corso," The secretary said.
"Oh, yes. Mr. Corso. Come in. I've heard a great deal about you," She spoke with a pronounced accent as well, but hers was German.
She approached with her left hand extended. Mort saw that her right arm had been amputated at the elbow. "Nothing good, I hope," He said, smiling at her. They shook hands.
"You hope right," She replied to Mort.
"Merci, Simone," The Baroness said to her secretary. The secretary exited the room, closing the door behind her.
"Well, I'm reassured, Baroness. Because in my trade, to be spoken well of can be professionally disastrous," Mort said, dryly. He surveyed the room. Visible through some open double doors on the right was a vast library. He focused on it. The Baroness followed the direction of his gaze. He let out a long breath. "My god."
"Yes, there it is: The Kessler Collection," The Baroness said.
"You know, I know your catalog almost by heart," Mort said, still looking at the library
"Strange we haven't met before. Your name is a byword among dealers and collectors but I imagine you know your own reputation better than I do."
Mort smiled and turned back to the Baroness. "Yes. Well, it does keep the wolf from the door, so to speak," He smiled at her and changed the subject. "I'm sorry, Baroness, were you in the middle of something?"
The Baroness beckoned him over to her desk. Mort looked at the array of books and papers.
"My latest work: 'The Devil: History and Myth' - a kind of biography. It will be published early next year," The Baroness said somewhat proudly.
"Why the Devil?" Mort asked, still finding the whole devil thing to be rather absurd.
Baroness Kessler laughed lightly at his question. "I saw him one day. I was fifteen years old, and I saw him as plain as I see you now; It was love at first sight," The Baroness explained, a smile upon her old face as she recalled the memory in her head.
Mort chuckled, doing his best to charm the old lady. "You know, three hundred years ago they'd have burned you at the stake for saying that," He said.
"Three hundred years ago I wouldn't have said it," The Baroness replied. They both laughed. "Nor would I have made a million by writing about it," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Yeah," He agreed.
But then her tone changed and the smile wiped off her face. "What is it you wish to discuss, Mr. Corso?"
Mort adjusted his glasses and tried his best to be as subtle as possible. "There's a book in your collection I'd like to examine, if possible."
The Baroness smiled at him as if it was already obvious.
"It's 'The Book of the Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows'," Mort continued.
The Baroness was unsurprised. "The Nine Gates? An interesting work. Everyone's been asking about it lately."
Mort stiffened. "Is that so?"
The Baroness eyed him for a moment. "Follow me," She finally said, swinging her wheelchair around. She steered it toward the double doors and into the library beyond them. Mort followed.
"You truly believe in the Devil, Baroness?" Mort asked.
"Enough to devote my life and my library to him, not to mention many years of work. Don't you?" The Baroness asked.
"Almost," Mort replied.
Baroness Kessler looked mildly amused. She sent her wheelchair gliding over to a bookshelf and removed the third copy of 'The Nine Gates'. "This book demands a certain amount of faith," The Baroness explained.
"My faith is in short supply," Mort replied.
They both went over to a small table in the center of the room. Baroness Kessler opened the book and turned a few pages. There were handwritten slips of paper inserted throughout. "I know this book extremely well. I studied it for years," She explained.
"Do you have any doubts about its authenticity?" Mort asked.
The Baroness threw him yet another suspicious glance. The third one that day. Strike three, he's out.
"None whatsoever," The Baroness said to him confidently.
"You're sure?" Mort persisted.
"My knowledge of this book is profound. I wrote a biography of its author," The Baroness replied.
"Yes I read it. 'Aristide Torchia - The Devil's Apprentice'. Excellent."
"A courageous man. He died for the sake of this very book in 1667. While studying the black arts in Prague, he acquired a copy of the dreaded 'Delomelanicon'. This is Torchia's adaptation of that work, which was written by Lucifer himself. After they burned him at the stake, a secret society was founded to perpetuate its memory and preserve its secrets: The Order of the Silver Serpent," The Baroness explained.
"A sect?" Mort asked, becoming confused all over again.
"Yes, a kind of witches' coven. For centuries they have met to read from this book and worship the Prince of Darkness. Today they've degenerated into a social club for bored millionaires and celebrities who use its meetings as an excuse to indulge their jaded sexual appetites. I myself belonged to the Order years ago, but time is too precious at my age. Besides, my orgy days are over." She explained.
"I told them to go to the Devil." She added, giggling at her own little joke. Mort laughed as well.
"You mean it's all about sex or...?" Mort asked, thinking that he was getting back on track now.
"Of course not. They're under the illusion that they owe their money and their success to membership of the Order," The Baroness confirmed.
"Do they still meet?"
"Every year, on the anniversary of Torchia's death. That'll be very soon now."
"And you say they read from this book?" Mort asked, staring from the book to the Baroness.
"Not this one, I took mine back when Ted Milner acquired the one in Toledo. Victor Fargas is an unbeliever - he's always refused to participate, so naturally they use the Milner copy." She paused. "Not that it has ever worked. It never does, to be honest," She added.
"So did Mr. Milner ever take part?" Mort asked.
"Milner? No, no. That creature married him for his money. She used his dollars to buy the book and renovate her chateau. Her family was a high believer of witchcraft," The Baroness explained.
It hit him like a brick wall. Mort had just talked to Amy recently. She had mentioned nothing of her marriage to Ted Milner. Or a chateau. Or fucking witchcraft. Only six months away from him and she's already married. That fucking bitch.
There was a brief silence and Mort looked stunned for a moment. "I see," He finally responded. "And what about a John Shooter? Does he attend these rituals as well?" Mort asked.
She looked at him strangely. "I'm sorry but I do not know of that name," She told him.
"But surely, Baroness, you must've heard of him at one time or another with all the research you've done concerning the Devil."
The Baroness threw him a look. "Who exactly are you working for, Mr. Corso?" She asked.
"My client's name is irrelevant, Baroness. I'm simply trying to authenticate his copy - the one Milner sold him."
The Baroness caught on. "How stupid of me! I should have guessed!" Angry now, she swung her wheelchair around to face him full on. "You've outstayed your welcome, Mr. Corso."
"I was hoping to examine your copy in detail."
"Certainly not! Tell your client to come and examine it himself - if he dares. Tell him not to send any more wolves in sheeps' clothing. Now, kindly leave," she said, pointing to the door with her stump.
He looked down sadly. "I'm sorry if I've troubled you. Thank you very much for your time."
Her wheelchair hummed as she lead Mort out through the office. He opened the door to the corridor.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Mr. Corso. Get out before it's too late," She said.
Mort looked at her sadly. "I'm afraid it already is."