men, to bend them to her will. And from what she could see of the expressions on the faces of the men watching her, she had them all in the palm of her hand. Especially Heydrich…
His eyes never left her. It might have been that he was entranced by her ephemeral costume – all the other men seemed to be – or by the salacious moves she was making, but it was more than that. It was as though Heydrich was trying to remember something. It was as if he recognised her, almost as though he remembered her from their meeting at Fort Jackson. But that was impossible. Well, she hoped that was impossible.
She let out a wail to signal that her soul was in torment and spun on her heels, turning her back on him, taking a moment to settle herself. She gave her ass a wiggle hoping that would distract him. The bastard certainly hadn’t seen that before.
The dance she had choreographed was difficult as it necessitated the pretence that she had an invisible partner, that she was dancing with the Great Lord Bondye. For five long minutes she danced, imbuing her body with ever more suggestive, ever more lascivious moves, drawing her audience’s eyes to her, demanding that they watch her and her alone.
And as she danced something remarkable seemed to happen. It was as though the Spirit of Lilith began to take hold of her. Now she wasn’t just dressed as Lilith: she actually was Lilith. She revelled in the power that her beauty and her eroticism gave her over her audience. She delighted in making her moves and her twists ever more wanton. She tantalised by snaking nearer to the limelights to let the light wash over her, revealing, for just a provocative instant, all the secrets of her body. She swayed and undulated across the floor allowing her figure to flicker and shimmer in and out of sight under her flimsy costume. She screamed and she moaned, she sang and she wailed.
And as she danced and ululated, so she edged closer and closer to Norma Williams who lay on the hounfo’s altar.
It was the first time Ella had seen Norma Williams in the flesh, though of course her picture had adorned the front covers of lots of gossip magazines. She didn’t disappoint. She was the epitome of the teenage rebel, all dyed hair, tattoos, piercings and an expression that seemed to suggest that she went through life with a bad smell under her nose. Even the bruise that covered half her face was a perfect complement to her whole demeanour.
Without for one moment pausing in her undulating, Ella began to circle the altar, wailing and screaming as though locked in a struggle with the Spirit who had come to possess her. Suddenly she collapsed to the floor, shaking and moaning.
That was Vanka’s cue. He made the sign to Burlesque, who was standing in the wings. Immediately the limelights were dimmed; now only the flickering candelabras illuminated the room, giving it a fragile, uncertain ambience.
Once again Vanka addressed the audience. ‘Comrade Leader… Comrade Vice-Leader… Your Holiness… comrades and ladies… this edifice’ – he waved his hands to indicate the tall walls of the hounfo – ‘is designed and constructed to confine and to concentrate the psychic waves which emanate when that most powerful of mediums the mambo Laveau communes with her subject. So powerful is the energy to be contained in this hounfo that, if the Spirits are willing, the mambo Laveau will merge with the Daemon and together they will journey to the Spirit World. This moment of merging will be signalled by a thunderclap and it will appear that the Daemon and the mambo Laveau have vanished. But, please, do not be alarmed: it is only that their physical presence in this realm of the flesh is cloaked by waves of psychic energy.’ Vanka turned towards Burlesque. ‘If you will close the gates to the hounfo.’
Ella watched as Alf and Sid shuffled across and pushed the gates of the hounfo shut, sealing Norma Williams, Vanka and herself inside. But though the gates were closed she knew that the three of them could still be seen through the bars. She waited until Vanka had come to stand behind her and the drumming from the trio in the minstrels’ gallery was as loud as it ever would be, then, confident that she wouldn’t be overheard, she leant forward and whispered to Norma. ‘Norma’ – the girl’s eyes started at the sound of her name – ‘my name is Ella Thomas, I’ve been sent here from the Real World to help you escape.’
She pulled the gag away from the girl’s mouth.
‘Escape? How?’ spluttered Norma.
‘In a few moments there will be a terrifically loud bang. As soon as you hear the explosion, I want you to get up and walk through the wall behind you.’
‘Walk through the wall?’
‘There’s a secret panel,’ advised Ella. ‘Once through the wall, you’ll see the window at the back of the ballroom. It’s been unlocked. We must climb through that and then make our way across the Manor’s grounds.’
‘That’s impossible. This place is crawling with soldiers.’
‘I’m sorry, Norma, but that’s the best we can do.’
Norma was quiet for a moment and then smiled a triumphant little smile. ‘I think I can do a little better than that.’
Ella stretched out her arms, began to make a loud keening noise and screamed out, ‘Lord Bondye has come!’ It was the signal to Burlesque to start the countdown.
Five.
Burlesque lit the fuse to the fireworks hidden in the walls of the hounfo.
Four.
Vanka released the catch securing the hidden door.
Three.
Sid and Alf took a firmer grip on the levers controlling the mirrors set in the bars of the gates.
Two.
Ella nodded to Norma to ready herself to move.
One.
BANG!
The fireworks exploded, sheathing the front of the hounfo in thick, cloying smoke. Immediately Burlesque’s men threw the levers and the mirrors hidden in each of the wooden bars of the gates snapped across. Now, she knew, all the audience would see when the smoke cleared was a reflection of the outside walls: to the audience it would appear that those inside had vanished. Confident now that they couldn’t be seen, Ella leapt to her feet, grabbed Norma by the arm, cut the girl’s bindings, and waited while Vanka scrabbled the concealed door open. As soon as he was through the door, Ella shoved Norma after him. Almost blinded by the acrid smoke from the fireworks, she was only just able to spot Vanka as he rushed to the back windows and threw one of them open.
‘Quickly, quickly, get out,’ he whispered, seizing Norma by the waist and almost tossing her out through the open window. A second later Ella found herself sprawling on top of the President’s daughter. She had a moment to appreciate that a chiffon costume wasn’t an ideal outfit to wear during a DemiMondian Winter before there was a grunt to her right and Vanka landed in a heap by her side. He ripped off his mask and gestured to the drive that snaked out into the night, disappearing in the direction of the main gate. ‘Come on, you two… this way… keep to the shadows by the wall…’
‘No!’ said Norma emphatically as she desperately tried to staunch the blood seeping from a cut on her arm. ‘Follow me,’ she ordered, and to Ella’s amazement, started to walk towards the front of the house.
‘What the fuck…’ whispered Vanka but before he could do anything to stop her, the girl had turned the corner, and, making no effort to hide herself from the guards patrolling the Manor’s grounds, sauntered up – hiding her limp as best she could – to the steam-limo parked puffing and panting at the bottom of the steps of the Manor.
‘You,’ she called out in an imperious voice to the steam-limo driver who was lounging against one of the columns enjoying a sly cigarette. ‘You. Come here.’
The man nearly passed out. He threw his cigarette away and scuttled over to the girl. ‘Why, yes, m’lady.’
Norma gave a contemptuous wave of her hand in the direction of the Leader’s steam-limo. ‘My father wishes me to return home early. I am to use his steam-limo.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that, my Lady Aaliz. My orders…’
Trixie stood to the side of the Manor, shrouded by shadows and thickly falling snow, and guarded by the bulky presence of Captain Dabrowski’s sergeant. It was so cold that Trixie was shivering under her thick woollen
