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CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE ROAD was rising very steeply now； a 1：4 gradient。 The Peugeot's engine stuttered； picked up again。 Pieter Daunay's hand rested on the gear lever； ready to change down to bottom。
'How much further？' he grunted； the first time either of them had spoken since the suburbs of Lucerne had fallen away behind them； its lights shielded by the dark mountain forests； just a faint orange glow in the night sky behind。
'Not far。' There was a sudden eagerness about Sabat's voice。' Somewhere on the left after this next bend。 Slow down or you'll miss it。 It's only a gap in the trees but there's a track leading up from it。 We'd better pull off the road there and go the rest of the way on foot； otherwise they'll hear the engine and see the lights。'
The only sign that Daunay had heard was that he braked； slowed down to 20 k。p。h；； head turned to the left； searching for the concealed track amidst the trees。
'There it is。'
The Frenchman swung the wheel over； the tyres sinking into the soft grass； starting to spin。 The Peugeot slewed； nearly struck a tree。 Reversing； almost getting stuck； a narrow angle but eventually the car finished up pointing back the way it had e。 Engine and lights died； plunging everywhere into a sudden eerie black silence。
'It is best to caterfor all eventualities；' PieterDaunay said； easing open the door。 'Just in case we have to make a quick getaway； Sabat。'
Sabat hesitated； let his eyesight bee accustomed to the darkness of the forest。 A half moon and scudding clouds cast patches of faint silvery light； the shadows impenetrable as though they hid a thousand evils。 The silence hung heavy； not so much as a rustling of a tiny nocturnal creature。 Tonight everything was afraid to venture forth；
'Lead the way；' Daunay's whisper was terse。 'I am right behind you。*
Sabat moved； his SAS training taking over； a shadow that glided and merged with the other shadows。 The flesh on the back of his neck prickled for a multitude of reasons。 Daunay was as dangerous as he was himself and he would have preferred to have his panion where he could see him。 However； to have suggested that the Frenchman lead the way would have been ridiculous and aroused suspicion。 This was truly a game of cat and mouse。
Daunay must be eliminated！ Quentin's reminder of his mission had Sabat's stomach tightening like it was being crushed in a bout of colic。 He would kill Daunay… but what then？ Just him and Madeleine and that awful corpse which had already begun to repair its guillotine mutilation。 Madeleine claimed Louis Nevillon would rise on Walpurgisnacht； that his body would not be eaten； that he would join them in an unholy； obscene； nauseating banquet。 Whose body would they eat then？
'How far？' Pieter Daunay was impatient。 Their feet had to be forcibly dragged from the treacly mud。 'Could we not walk through the forest？'
'I only know this way；' Sabat replied。 'We cannot risk being lost It should not be far now。'
They seemed to have been walking for hours but in reality it had probably been no more than twenty minutes； progress that was slow； pausing every few yards to listen…but there was only an unbroken silence。 As though these whole mountains were waiting for something to happen。
A bend in the track where a large pool of muddy rainwater had formed。 They skirted it； clutching at some overhanging prickly larch branches as they trod a precarious route along the grassy sides of the path。 Sabat's breathing was shallow； the clearing in which the old chapel stood was only a matter of twenty yards ahead of them。 He pulled up abruptly and Daunay bumped into him； almost slipped into the mud； cursed beneath his breath。 'What have you stopped for； Sabat？' 'We are almost there。 Another few yards and we shall see the chapel。' Sabat turned but Daunay was just an outline against the trees； his face bathed in shadow that hid his expression。
'Move on then。 Let us get it over and done with！' 'Pieter； we have not planned this far。 They may well know of our ing for their powers are extraordinary。 We could be walking into a trap。'
'A trap set by you； Sabat？ An evil associate sent to lure me to their den of evil？' Daunay laughed grimly。
Sabat tensed； the accusation piercing him like a sword thrust。 He was at a disadvantage； his enemy behind him and alerted。 'No； of course not。 I。。。'
Sabat caught his breath as something hard and round dug painfully into the small of his back。 He recognised it instantly； knew that he had left it too late。 The hunted had bee the hunter。 A faint metallic click as the safety catch on Pieter Daunay's automatic was pushed forward。
'I would not hesitate to shoot you； Sabat； and I think you know that。 A game of scheme and counter…scheme but I think I have outwitted you。 Now that you have brought me to this place I have no further use for you。 However； if there is a trap prepared inside that chapel； then it is you who will walk into it。 Walk slowly and keep your hands where I can see them！' Sabat took a step forward。 He thought about the ？38 in its holster but knew he had no chance of drawing it； not against a man like Pieter Daunay； this Witchfmder who might have stepped out of the middle ages was not blurring。
The pressure of the gun on Sabat's spine was pushing him forward； moving him like some electronically controlled automaton。 He forced his brain to work； trying desperately to formulate some kind of plan…but there wasn't any。 He was a puppet being controlled。
He stared ahead； saw the dim shape of the tiny chapel。 Faint streaks of light shafted out of the cracks in the ill…fitting door。 The black candles still burned。 Obviously Madeleine was still in there； Sabat had taken the van and unless Schmid and his followers had been and fetched her away she still had to be there。 Alone with the ghastly remains of the Beast of France。
Sabat's mind was reeling。 He wondered if anything had transpired during his absence。 The way the severed head appeared to have knitted back on to the shoulders was something that defied explanation； did not bear thinking about。 Instinctively he pulled up； found himself wanting to flee this place； but Daunay's gun ground into him maliciously。 'Keep going or I'll shoot you down here！'
Ten yards from the door。 Five。 Listening。 There was no sound to be heard。 The automatic prodded him again。 Daunay was wasting no time on a reconnaissance； he was going straight in there！
Sabat's fingers found the latch； lifted it silently。 Then in one movement he flung the door wide open。
He did not know what he had been expecting； had tried not to think about it。 Madeleine Gaufridi certainly。 Possibly naked； the coffin lid wide open； the girl raising herself up in shocked surprise from where she had been engaged in an awful kiss with the dead。 Or else she might have been fully clothed； reclining on the blankets。
Instead the interior of the chapel was empty； no sign of Madeleine。 An anticlimax that had Sabat's brain numbed； not understanding。 The girl should have been there but she wasn't。 Perhaps she was hiding； there were only two possible places。 The oven which served as an altar； and that lead coffin。
'Where are they？' there was anger in Daunay's hiss； the gun still jabbed hard into Sabat。 'Is this some kind of trick； Sabat？'
'No。' Sabat glanced about him； had that unnerving feeling that they were being watched from 。。。 somewhere。 'The girl should be around。 She couldn't have gone far。'
'Then we must look。' Daunay moved lithely； walking sideways around Sabat so that not for one second was the automatic veered from its target。 'We will start with this！'
Daunay worked with his left hand； transferring the candles to a shelf then tugging the black tapestries free； flinging them into a heap on the floor。 He jerked open the door of the cooker； wrinkled his nose in disgust。 'Ugh； the ultimate in revulsion。 Doubtless this spilled fat is all that remains of the mongol boy now that his bones have been cast out for the foxes and rats。 Nothing here； so that leaves only one place to look！'
Sabat wanted to scream 'For God's sake； no' as he saw Pieter Daunay attempting to lift the coffin lid one…handed； beads of perspiration standing out on the Frenchman's forehead。
Sabat closed his eyes。 He didn't want to see； never again wanted to gaze upon those terrible features。 He heard the lid go back on its hinges； vibrate。 A cry came from Daunay's lips that was probably the nearest the investigator ever got to terror。 'Mother of God！ It cannot be but it is。 The head is rejoined to the body as though it had never been parted！'
Pieter Daunay's attention was now focused on Sabat again； stepping nearer as though he wanted to be away from that hideous corpse。
'Well； the girl is not here。 Nobody is here。 In which case； Sabat； we shall have to be patient and await their return。
Neither you nor I are leaving here。'
Sabat nodded dumbly and； at the other's gesture； lowered himself slowly down into one of the straight…backed chairs by the trestle table。 Daunay hitched himself on to the table； one leg swinging； his features harsh and unrelenting。 Suddenly he smiled； an expression that seemed to be forced； motivating himself； having to fight off a deep inner fear。
'The end of the road for the Cannibal Cult； Sabat！' he laughed； a hollow sound。 'And for you？
They waited in silence； eyes that met and burned hatred； both of them listening but hearing nothing。
The night hours passed slowly。 Sabat watched the candles burning lower； spluttering in their own spilled wax。 Daybreak could not be far off。 What would Daunay do when nobody came？ But somebody had to e sometime because they would not leave Nevillon's body unguarded for long。 Walpurgisnacht was now just over forty…eight hours away。 The cult would not risk their ultimate triumph。
He saw Daunay shiver； shuddered himself。 It had gone very cold。 Those candles were now down to a mere stub； flickering as though caught in a sudden draught And in that instant Sabat realised！
'Look out！' his shout had the Frenchman jerking to his feet； finger curling around the trigger of his pistol。 'Daunay for God's sake run！ Run before it's too late。 Get outsider
'Stay where you are！' Pieter Daunay jumped to bar the other's way to the door。 'Don't try it； Sabat！'
A waft of icy wind from somewhere extinguished both candles and at the height of his terror Sabat flung himself sideways and down。 A vivid stab of flame momentarily lit up the room as Daunay fired； and that split second was enough for Sabat to see and understand。
A thing so grotesque that it defied mortal logic was outlined in the flash。 Human in shape； its features mercifully bathed in shadow otherwise Sabat's brain would have snapped。 Animal…like grunts and a stench that was a mixture of putrefaction and excreta。 And death！
Sabat rolled over； tried to pray but that was something that Quentin could not do。 Utter blackness in a freezing atmosphere。 He covered his face； resigned himself to some unthinkable fate； heard Daunay screaming。 Yells of terror that died away to an imbecilic babble。
Then total silence。 Sabat did not try to hold on to consciousness。 He wanted neither to see nor hear。
He wanted to die。 Quickly。
CHAPTER TWELVE
SABAT COULD not believe that he was still alive。 Neither could he accept that he still had the use of his brain； that he was able to recognise his surroundings in the harsh light of a new day。
He didn't want to look but he had to； a fearful glance that took in the whole of the interior of the chapel。 Those burned…out candles lying on the floor。 The lead coffin； its lid now shut！
And Pieter Daunay also still lived！ The French investigator was sitting in the furthest cornerof the room； a bowed； broken figure staring vacantly around him。 Glazed eyes that saw but did not understand； a slack mouth th