Death and the Devil

Some of the warehouses by Three Kings Gate had a courtyard in front and a surrounding wall, often with a rotting but heavy wooden gate almost impossible for one man to open on his own. Kuno decided to investigate the other buildings first. There were more than he had thought and the very first he came to turned out to be locked. He tried to look in through the windows, but they were too high and he had to climb. The walls were greasy from the rain and he slipped several times before he managed to get up to one. All he could see inside was impenetrable darkness.

“Anyone there?”

His echoing voice and the howling of the storm combined in a ghostly chorale. He pulled himself up through the opening, dropped down into the warehouse, and lit the torch he carried in his belt. He looked around. A few rats scattered in panic, but otherwise there was no sign of life.

The idea of climbing back up through the window did not appeal to him. The door was barred on the inside by a beam, but he pushed it aside and came out into Bayenstraße. Miserably he contemplated the row of mute, black facades. The rain sweeping across was so heavy he could not even see Bayen Tower. He still had them all to check and already he was soaked to the skin.

What if Daniel had been lying? He was probably sitting in the warmth, enjoying a glass of wine, and laughing himself silly.

If, if…

Head down, he ran to the next warehouse. It was easier getting in this time since there was no door, just some rusty hinges hanging down. But there was no one there either.

By the time he reached the first of the buildings with a wall and courtyard he had no idea how long he had been searching. He’d have to climb again. His fingers were aching, but there was nothing for it, the gate was shut tight. Finding a reasonable handhold, he clambered up another wall, but there was no one in the yard or the building. A ladder led to the upper floor. The rungs creaked ominously as he mounted it. The first thing he saw was more rats, but it was lighter there as the room had five wide windows looking out over the Rhine. At some point it must have been an office. All that was left were a few planks lying around. The water was dripping in through a hole in the roof. He pushed his sopping-wet hair out of his eyes and looked down at the river. It seemed like some gray, shaggy beast, swirling and writhing in its attempt to escape from its narrow bed, kept there by the force of Divine Providence alone.

If it kept raining like this, they’d have to hang him out to dry in the morning.

Back on the ground floor, he noticed the narrow door in the back wall leading to the riverbank. It, too, was barred on the inside. He opened it and went out onto the wharves. The wind whipped his coat around his legs. He saw the cargo ships, tugging at their moorings, bringing stone from the Drachenfels for the new cathedral. Between there and Three Kings Gate he could just make out two more entrances in the wall, but they were bound to be barred. Cursing, he went back in and climbed out of the yard in the same laborious manner he had come in. In Bayenstraße, panting and wheezing, he was close to giving up.

He looked around. The night watchmen patrolled here every hour. Their lantern was not to be seen. On to the next, then.

A pleasant surprise at last. Two worm-eaten planks were all that was left of the gate to the next yard. One wall less to climb over. Quickly he went in. Seeing nothing in the yard, he went to the door and pushed at it. It wasn’t barred and opened much more easily than he expected, so that he almost lost his balance and fell over. Steadying himself, he took out his torch as the door swung silently shut behind him. Once the tar was burning well he took a few steps forward.

In front of him was a large handcart. It didn’t look as if it belonged in this abandoned ruin and there were blankets strewn all over the floor. It made such a bizarre sight that he stood staring and it was a while before he sensed another noise apart from the howling of the wind. A faint whimpering, like a child or an injured animal. Hesitantly, he raised his torch higher and went around the cart. In the flickering light he saw a massive pillar. And another. And another.

The fourth pillar had eyes staring at him.

The girl had been tied to the stone with a large number of leather straps. She certainly wouldn’t be able to move a muscle. She had been gagged but not blindfolded. A mass of dark hair fell down over her forehead and onto her shoulders.

Despite the picture of misery she presented, Kuno let out a laugh of triumph. He rammed the torch firmly between the planks of the handcart, hurried back to the pillar, and untied the piece of cloth around her mouth. She spat out the gag herself.

“Oh, God!” she panted, then filled her lungs with air and coughed. “I thought I was going to suffocate.”

“What are you called?” Kuno asked in excitement.

“What?” She shook her head as if to clear it.