A section of one of the bookcases had slid open to reveal a short corridor leading to what appeared to be a large chamber.
Light from the secret chamber was pouring out into the storefront and splashing onto the street. I quickly rose from the chair and went through the opening.
I'd been worried about getting the door shut, and I realized too late that I'd confused my priorities. The heavy steel door sighed shut as I passed through the opening. It came up flush against the wall with a very solid and ominous click. I looked for some way to get the door open and couldn't find it. It was a double-security system, primarily designed to keep intruders out but, failing that, designed to insure that they stayed in. Since there seemed to be no way out, I went in.
The setup inside was impressive. The interior of the warehouse behind Borrn's store-front had been gutted and reconstructed to form a huge, circular chamber. The walls and ceiling were solid and soundproofed; the floor was concrete. I estimated the construction costs to be in excess of a half million dollars. Borrn didn't get that kind of money from doing mystical manicures.
The job wasn't completed yet. There was a gaping hole high on the north wall, with ropes and scaffolding hanging down from it. That would be the conduit for the building supplies.
There was a large crater in the middle of the floor, about twenty feet in diameter. I walked over and looked in. It was perhaps six feet deep, covered at the bottom with large gas jets. The ceiling above was blackened, and there were air vents placed at strategic points around the chamber to allow for circulation. The whole thing reminded me of a crematorium.
There were twelve cubicles built around the perimeter of the chamber, and I could see from where I was standing that they were living quarters of sorts, complete with cots, small libraries and black-draped, candle- covered altars; but it was the thirteenth cubicle built into the north wall in which I was interested. It was at least twice as large as the others, and was draped in red: that would be Borrn's. I walked in.
I was a slow learner. The cubicle was rigged in the same manner as the store-front; I had no sooner stepped over the threshold than a steel door dropped from a hidden receptacle in the ceiling. Obviously, arrangements for walking out had to be made before walking in. I decided that didn't bode well for my immediate future.
I began a systematic search of the room. It didn't take me long to strike pay dirt. This time there were personal notes and correspondence written in a language I could understand.
Two things became very clear: Borrn was not the leader of the coven, and Harley Davidson had, indeed, had a 'secret enemy.'
The door sighed open an hour or so later. Sandor Peth stood in the doorway, staring down at me where I sat on the bed. Borrn and the rest of the coven stood slightly behind him. All were dressed in crimson, hooded robes adorned with mystic symbols. The lights had been turned out in the large chamber, and there was a loud hissing sound; firelight flickered and danced like heat lightning.
I looked at Peth. 'Dr. Livingstone, I presume?'
Peth's milky blue eyes didn't change. 'You are a very persistent man, Dr. Frederickson,' he said evenly. 'And fast. I'm afraid I seriously underestimated you.'
I motioned to the firelight behind him. 'Rather newfangled, isn't it?'
'One of the exigencies of living in New York City.'
'You want to tell me what this is all about?'
'Like in the movies?'
'Like in the movies.'
Peth motioned to Borrn, who came forward and searched me. I didn't put up any resistance. It wasn't the time. I wanted to find out what Peth had to say-if anything. Also, I thought resistance might be offensive to the thirteen of them.
'All right,' Peth said when Borrn had finished with me and stepped back into the group. He entered the room and sat down on a chair across from me. 'First, why don't you tell me what you've surmised so far?'
'You killed Davidson, and you were trying to cover your tracks.'
'The second part of your statement is correct. But I-or we-did not kill Davidson; we caused him to die.'
'An interesting legal point.'
'Yes. I suppose it is.'
'How'd you do it?'
Peth motioned to himself and the others, as though the answer were obvious. There was a faint ringing in my ears.
'You're telling me you put a spell on him?' I decided he was crazy, and I told him so.
Peth shrugged. 'You asked me what this was all about, and I am trying to tell you. Of course, the fact that we caused Harley to take his own life is unprovable. However, the papers in this room, which I'm sure you've seen, do prove intent to do harm, and could prove embarrassing in a courtroom. I'm truly sorry you proved to be so conscientious.'
'Why did Davidson have to die?'
'We depend on people-you would probably call them 'victims'-for our financial resources. All of us, in one way or another, are involved with people, and these people unwittingly provide financial support for our activities.'
'What activities?'
'Simply put, the accumulation of power that will enable us to control even more people. As you know, fame and fortune in the rock-music business is ephemeral. Harley was at the peak of his earning powers. The power which you scoffed at had enabled me to secure Harley's power of attorney and convince him to sign a will leaving all of his rather large list of investments to me. Also, I had managed to buy a million dollars' worth of insurance, without a suicide clause, on Harley's life. Very expensive, but I knew I wouldn't have that many premiums to pay. At that point Harley became more valuable to us dead than alive.'
'And that's when Borrn went to work on his head?'
'We all participated in the process. We knew that Harley would eventually kill himself, but we did not know when or how. If I had known he would do it the way he did-by swallowing pills inside a locked house, as reported on the radio-I would not have proceeded the way I did. However, I knew that I, as the beneficiary of very large sums of money, would come under a great deal of suspicion. That's why I went to your brother. I anticipated his reaction and thought that would be the end of it, with my innocence established in his mind. However, when he suggested that I come to you, I felt I had to take the suggestion.'
'You did some pretty thorough research on me first.'
Peth looked surprised. 'No. As a matter of fact, I didn't. I should have. If I had, Borrn would have been prepared for your visit, and you would not be in the position you find yourself. As it was, Borrn did not know you were a dwarf-I hadn't had a chance to tell him-and you gave him a false name.'
'You're lying. Why? It's a small point.'
Again, Peth looked surprised. Suddenly he laughed. 'Borrn gave you a reading, didn't he?'
Something was stirring deep inside my mind; it was blind, soft and furry, with sharp teeth. I ran away from it. 'You took Davidson into your coven, right?'
'Borrn made Davidson think he was a part of the coven-in which I, obviously, was the missing member. Of course he was never really a part. All of the ceremonies he took part in were actually part of a magical attack on his deep mind.'
I'd heard enough to convince me that some kind of legal case could be made against Peth, Borrn and the others, and the papers I'd hidden inside my shirt would give me a shot at proving it. At the least, New York City would be rid of one particular supercoven composed of thirteen megalomaniac cranks. There remained only the slight difficulty of finding a way to get past thirteen men, and out of a sealed room. I tried not to let that depress me.
'What happens now?'
'Must I state the obvious?'
'You'd be a fool to kill me.'
'Really? Why is that? I think we would be fools not to kill you. The fire is very hot. It will leave no trace of you. You will simply have disappeared.'
'My brother knows I'm investigating Borrn. He'll find this place.'
'Oh, I don't think so.'
