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After a couple of minutes on the ground floor, the camera led the spectator upstairs. On reaching the landing, the camera travelled along the hallway until it came to the door at the end – the door to the bedroom occupied by Irina until her accident. The door opened and the camera entered, scanning the dark, empty room before stopping in front of the wardrobe.
A few seconds went by and nothing happened: the camera didn’t register any movement in the room. Suddenly the door of the wardrobe sprung open and hit the wall, swinging on its hinges. Max tried to make out what was inside. A hand in a white glove appeared from the shadows holding a shining object that hung from a chain. Max guessed what was coming next: Dr Cain emerged from the wardrobe and smiled at the camera.
Max felt cold dread grip his stomach as he recognised the round object the Prince of Mist was holding in his hand. It was the pocket watch his father had given him, which he’d lost inside Jacob Fleischmann’s tomb. Now it was in the hands of the magician, who had somehow taken his most prized possession back into the ghostly dimension of these black and white images.
The camera closed in on the watch and Max could clearly see that the hands were turning backwards at an incredible speed, going faster and faster until he could no longer focus on them. After a while, the watch began to give off smoke and sparks until finally it caught fire. Max watched the scene, spellbound, unable to take his eyes off the burning watch. A moment later, the camera jumped to the bedroom wall, zooming in on an old dressing table with a mirror. The camera drew closer to the mirror and then stopped, revealing the identity of the person who was holding it.
Max gulped; he was finally face to face with the person who had made these films years ago, in that same house. He recognised the childish grin of the boy who was filming himself. He was a few years younger, but the features and the eyes were the same as the ones he had got to know in the course of the last few days. It was Roland.
The film got stuck inside the projector and the still caught in front of the lens slowly began to melt on the screen. Max turned off the machine and clenched his fists to stop them shaking. Jacob Fleischmann and Roland were one and the same person.
A flash of lightning invaded the darkened room and Max suddenly noticed a figure on the other side of the window, rapping on the glass. Max turned on the light in the living room and recognised the pale face of Victor Kray. From his terrified expression, it looked as though he’d just witnessed an apparition. Max went over to the door and let the old man in. They had a lot to talk about.
15
MAX HANDED THE OLD LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER A cup of hot tea and waited for him to warm up.
Victor Kray was shaking and Max didn’t know whether this was because of the cold wind raised by the storm or the fear the old man clearly could not hide.
‘What were you doing out there, Mr Kray?’ asked Max.
‘I’ve been to the walled garden,’ the old man answered, trying to compose himself. Victor Kray sipped some tea, then placed his cup on the table. ‘Where’s Roland, Max?’ he asked nervously.
‘Why do you want to know?’ In view of his latest discovery, Max didn’t even bother to conceal his suspicion.
The lighthouse keeper seemed to sense Max’s distrust and gestured with his hands as if he wanted to explain but couldn’t find the words.
‘Max, something terrible is going to happen tonight if we don’t stop it,’ Victor Kray said at last, aware that his words sounded far from convincing. ‘I need to know where Roland is. His life is in great danger.’
Max examined the old man’s face carefully. He felt he couldn’t believe a word the lighthouse keeper said.
‘Which life is that, Mr Kray, Roland’s or Jacob Fleischmann’s?’
The old man gave a weary sigh. ‘I don’t think I understand you, Max,’ he murmured.
‘I think you do. I know you lied to me, Mr Kray,’ Max said accusingly. ‘And I know who Roland really is. You’ve been lying to us all along. What I want to know is why?’
Victor Kray stood up and walked over to one of the windows, glancing outside as if he were expecting a visit. A rumble of thunder shook the house. The storm was drawing closer by the minute and Max could hear the sound of huge breakers crashing against the beach.
‘Tell me where Roland is, Max,’ the old man insisted, his eyes still glued to the window. ‘There’s no time to lose.’
‘I’m not sure I can trust you. If you want me to help you, you’ll have to tell me the truth,’ Max demanded. He wasn’t going to let Victor Kray keep him in the dark again.
The old man turned and looked at him severely, but Max held his gaze to show that he was not intimidated. The lighthouse keeper seemed to understand the situation and collapsed into an armchair, defeated.
‘All right, Max. I’ll tell you the truth, if that’s what you want.’
Max sat in front of him and nodded, ready to listen.
‘Almost everything I told you the other day in the lighthouse is true,’ the old man began. ‘My friend Fleischmann had promised Dr Cain that he would give him his firstborn son in exchange for Eva Gray’s love. A year after the wedding, when I’d already lost touch with both of them, Fleischmann began to receive visits from Dr Cain, who reminded him of their pact. Fleischmann tried everything to avoid having a child, to the point of destroying his own marriage. After the wreck of the Orpheus, I felt it was my duty to write to them and tell them they were free of the sentence that had made them unhappy for so many years. I thought that the threat posed by Dr Ca
in had been buried forever beneath the sea. Or I was stupid enough to convince myself of that. Fleischmann felt guilty that he was indebted to me, and he wanted all three of us – Eva, himself and me – to be together again, as we had been during our years at university. That was absurd, of course. Too much had happened. Even so, Fleischmann went ahead with his plans to build the house by the beach, and soon afterwards their son Jacob was born. The little boy was a blessing from heaven and made them happy to be alive once more. Or at least that’s how it seemed, but from the night of his birth I knew that something wasn’t right because that night, in the early hours before dawn, I dreamed once more about Dr Cain.
‘As the boy grew, Fleischmann and Eva were so blinded by their happiness they couldn’t perceive the threat that still hung over them. They were both completely devoted to the boy and they gave in to him too easily. Never was a child so indulged as Jacob Fleischmann. But, little by little, the signs of Cain’s presence became more evident. One day, when Jacob was five years old, he got lost while playing behind the house. Fleischmann and Eva desperately looked for him for hours, but there was no sign of the boy. When night fell, Fleischmann took a torch and went into the forest, fearing that the child might have got lost among the undergrowth or had an accident. Then he remembered that when they were building the house, six years earlier, there had been a small empty enclosure near the entrance to the forest. Apparently, it had once been a kind of pound, a place where animals were kept before they were put down, until it was demolished at the turn of the century. That night a gut feeling told Fleischmann that perhaps the boy had ventured inside the enclosure and become trapped. He was partly correct, but his son wasn’t the only thing he discovered.
‘The walled enclosure, which had been deserted, was now peopled with statues. Jacob was playing among the figures when his father found him and led him away. A couple of days later Fleischmann paid me a visit at the lighthouse and told me what had happened. He made me swear that, if anything should happen to him, I would take care of his child. That was just the beginning. Fleischmann didn’t tell his wife about the mysterious incidents that were occurring around his son, but in his heart he knew there would be no escape and that sooner or later Cain would return to claim what belonged to him.’
‘What happened the night Jacob drowned?’ Max interrupted, guessing the reply, but hoping that the old man’s words might prove him wrong.
