Bringing up the rear, Kong and the two obligatory Herrmanns joined the meeting, and the crowd respectfully formed a corridor for them. The massive beast strutted up to the front row, settled down with the self-satisfied mien of a pasha, and smiled insolently, as if he wanted to say we didn't have the authority to start the ball rolling; only he did.
The whispering and murmuring slowly died down, and everyone sat down and looked up expectantly at Pascal and me.
"Dear friends, we thank you for accepting our invitation in such great numbers," said Pascal to open the meeting, getting up with some effort. In the wan and ghostly luminescence, the legions of brothers and sisters looked like a very soft, very hairy carpet. Blue, green, yellow, and chestnut eyes glowed here and there like phosphorescent glass marbles, gazing at us with suspense and impatience.
"Hope you really got something to tell us, gramps. Otherwise someone's going to get bloody hell for my having missed my favorite Christmas movie on TV!" sounded off Kong arrogantly, and, assisted by Herrmann and Herrmann, his comment whipped up obliging gales of laughter from the public. But Pascal was more than a match for Kong. He didn't let himself get intimidated as quickly as I, and he didn't bother to counter Kong's silly heckling with ironic repartee. Wild with rage, he went up to the idiotically grinning comic and glared at him angrily.
"Kong, you moronic rhinoceros!" he said, gruffly putting him into his place. "If you had the least sense of decency, then you would at least pretend to mourn for your Solitaire. Save your impudent wit for yourself and pay attention to the new information we have. Perhaps it could lead to the arrest of your unborn children's killer."
Kong's mocking expression turned at once into a stiff mask, alternately scornful and helpless. His eyelids twitched nervously and he made several attempts before saying anything, his mouth opening and closing like a fish hunting for food.
"I'm going to get that bastard sooner or later anyway. So I don't even need to hear your stupid information."
Pascal smiled coldly and took a few steps back so that he was once again in full view of the audience.
"You're not going to get anyone at all, you fool! Do you think this guy is going to knock on your door someday and ask for your forgiveness? Good Lord, how naïve you are. We're dealing with Satan himself here, not with an idiot of your caliber!"
The pasha now felt the reproachful glances of his minions, who by now had forgotten all loyalty, and he shifted himself uncomfortably back and forth where he sat. Seeing that their boss's authority was in danger, Herrmann and Herrmann began aggressively berating the brothers and sisters standing behind them and giving the crowd threatening looks. The big boss himself, however, was already discovering the virtue of humility.
"Surely a guy can make a joke, damn it all," he murmured finally, insulted, and let his head hang down in frustration.
"Too many jokes have already been made, Kong," replied Pascal sadly. "The problem is that our murdering friend has no sense of humor. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't even chuckle. He's parted company with laughter, having discovered a much more exciting pleasure. So let's go on to the terrible things that we have come to hear about. The most important thing you should all know about is the shocking fact that the murders in the district are no recent phenomenon. With the greatest of probability, the murderer's activities go back as far as 1982. A culprit has to be found not for seven victims, as we previously supposed, but for approximately four hundred and fifty."
A cry went up from the crowd, and then there was hysterical whispering. Many shook their heads in disbelief or groaned in shock. But little by little the murmurs faded away, yielding to a resigned and horrified silence.
Although Pascal's announcement must have sounded unrealistic to the uninitiated and given the skeptics all the more reason to question our investigation, even to dismiss it as preposterous, strangely enough nobody contradicted him. In their heart of hearts, I suspected, they all knew what had been going on the whole time. Over the course of the years, nearly everyone must have noticed at some time or other that friends, acquaintances, relations, brothers, and sisters had vanished suddenly, and for no explicable reason. They were never seen again, and never returned. That this could have happened, apparently unnoticed, had to do with the same mechanism all dictatorships use to establish themselves if they are not stopped in time. Evil always flourishes when it can count on well-meaning ignorance. In other words, things always get as bad as they are allowed to get. The love of comfort is the great evil of the world, the bane of every intelligent being, and my kind is particularly susceptible to this character weakness.
Helpless rage began to rise in me the longer I watched these hypocrites, who now acted as if they were absolutely flabbergasted, although in reality they knew perfectly well what they had put up with for such a long time. That was the ugly side of Felidae—or the true side? Never had I been closer to giving up on the whole business than I was at that moment. As far as I was concerned, they could clean up their own damned mess. The killer had had enough time to perfect his routine. Let them try to stop him by themselves!
Before I let myself be carried away by anger and did something rash, Pascal as if divining my thoughts began reading aloud from the investigation report. He described the eerie army of skeletons
