John Sinclair: Demon Hunter Volume 8 (English Edition)

By Jason Dark and NAMCOOo

In the darkest corners of Paris, shadows have begun to stir. Peculiar creatures have arrived to take back Belphegor’s land! When John Sinclair wakes in the basement of the Louvre, he must fight for his life or meet a traumatising fate — to be shrunk and trapped for the entertainment of his greatest nemesis! If only his friends could save him...

Will Mallmann, meanwhile, takes a well-deserved break in the Bavarian Forest, but not even the dead will let him rest. The team had better be prepared for one hell of a ride — be it involving walking skeletons, a joyous wedding, or a terrible tragedy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J-Novel Pulp
• Release date: Nov 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781718351349

Book preview

Table of Contents

Cover

The Compilation

About the Author

Episode 29: The Witcher of Paris

Episode 30: Trapped in Miniworld

Episode 31: Bone Seed

Episode 32: The Reaper at the Wedding

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

The Compilation

Episode 29: The Witcher of Paris

They met in an eerie world of nightmares. Never before had a human seen this land. It was the forecourt of the realm of demons and absolute evil, or Hell, as it was known to many. Here, their adversaries were prepared for eternal damnation, but the place was off-limits to black-blooded beings. Demons only met here to form pacts; they were anything but friends.

One of them came from Earth, where he had recently won a battle. His name was Belphégor.

The other ruled over numerous demon worlds with cruel harshness and severity. He called himself the Black Death. It was then that both demons formed their own terrible pact...

Episode 30: Trapped in Miniworld

We had shrunk!

A devilish poison had shrunk us to half our normal size.

Suko’s girlfriend Shao had also been transformed by the mysterious poison and was now an unrecognisable creature: a lost soul. She was no longer on our side and was in league with the demon Belphégor, who had banished us to the miniworld.

Episode 31: Bone Seed

The old gravedigger saw it first. The skeleton rose.

Commissioner Mallmann had been looking forward to his holiday but was suddenly swept into a murderous adventure. For the people of the small holiday resort in the Bavarian Forest, the calamity came like a bolt from the blue. They were taken out in a matter of seconds.

Only one remained: me, John Sinclair.

But I was on the losing side, for the bone seed that had been laid centuries before had sprouted to become a harvest of horror...

Episode 32: The Reaper at the Wedding

I’ve spent a long time thinking about whether I should write this story down at all. It’s so horrible and cruel that I often couldn’t find the right words before now.

Then I told myself that I owed it to my loyal readers to tell them everything that happened. And I felt obliged to share it with my friends.

This story is one of murder, cruelty, and death... but also of steadfast love.

About the Author

Jason Dark (real name: Helmut Rellergerd) was raised in Dortmund and wrote his first story in 1966, a mystery in the Cliff Corner series. Seven years later, he left his day job as a chemical engineer to join the editorial team at Bastei Verlag, writing and editing for various crime series including Jerry Cotton, Kommissar X and John Cameron before creating John Sinclair. Since Sinclair’s debut in 1973, Jason Dark has written over 1,500 adventures for the Demon Hunter, and his stories have been adapted for comics, audio dramas and a TV series.

Episode 29: The Witcher of Paris

They met in an eerie world of nightmares. Never before had a human seen this land. It was the forecourt of the realm of demons and absolute evil, or Hell, as it was known to many. Here, their adversaries were prepared for eternal damnation, but the place was off-limits to black-blooded beings. Demons only met here to form pacts; they were anything but friends.

One of them came from Earth, where he had recently won a battle. His name was Belphégor.

The other ruled over numerous demon worlds with cruel harshness and severity. He called himself the Black Death. It was then that both demons formed their own terrible pact...

***

The ugly, white-eyed skull grinned when Belphégor explained his plan.

‘You want to attack Paris?’ the Black Death asked.

Belphégor nodded. He was the demon with the coldest eyes imaginable. Anyone who saw him would immediately begin to shake. Belphégor’s eyes promised but one thing: death!

Belphégor himself attended the meeting in human form and looked barely different from an ordinary citizen of Earth. Any stranger would be impressed by Belphégor’s politeness. However, if said stranger were to listen more closely, they would hear the cold, cruel undertone in his voice and would abruptly know what to make of the man.

The Black Death was already aware. He had concocted a master plan to destroy his enemies. Many of which existed amongst his own kind. And Myxin, the magician, was at the top of that list.

Belphégor was the right man for the job. He wanted power, and the Black Death had promised him just that if he showed himself to be loyal. But first came the negotiations, which was why the two demons had met.

Mist shrouded them.

It rose in spirals from an unfathomable depth, twisting itself into colourful veils around the bodies of the two demons. Occasionally, a gust of wind swept through, swirling the sombre-coloured wisps.

Belphégor began his proposal. ‘I will strike at last,’ he said in his cold voice. ‘I have waited long enough.’

The Black Death looked at him. His dull, dark frame was covered by a long coat, and his skeletal fingers were clenched into fists. He tried to read his companion’s thoughts, but Belphégor had erected a magical barrier.

The Black Death considered for a while. Could he really trust this middle-ranked demon? Or would Belphégor betray him? Since his war against Myxin, the Black Death had grown distrustful. He had already suffered defeats enough that even Asmodis, the absolute ruler of Hell, had taken notice.

The Black Death was no longer pleased with the situation. By earthly measurements of time, too much had happened in the last few years. Demonic groups were fragmented. Some frantically sought unity, but too many were chasing their own agendas to form a solid union.

In the past, the Black Death had ruled supreme. As Asmodis’s representative, he had been able to do as he pleased, but now even their union was crumbling. It was a difficult matter to stabilise that union.

Of course, the opponents of darkness profited greatly from the infighting. People like John Sinclair and Professor Zamorra wanted nothing more than to see the world of evil fall apart. Lately, both had been exceedingly lucky.

It was difficult to get back at their enemies, but Belphégor had finally succeeded. He had done what the Black Death could only dream of. He’d managed to get hold of Shao, the girlfriend of John Sinclair’s partner.

The stage was set!

‘Well? Out with it. Have you thought it over?’ Belphégor asked the Black Death. His voice was demanding — it reminded the Black Death of times past when no one would have dared to speak to him this way. But things had changed. Unfortunately...

‘Yes, I’ve thought it over.’

‘And?’

They measured one another up. It was a silent duel that neither would give in to.

‘Remember, I have them. The lost souls are ready, and the process can be sped up. That is, I can make them much smaller. Microscopic, if I must.’

‘You’re quite something,’ the Black Death responded.

Belphégor heard the mocking tone and fired back: ‘I know you’re afraid of me. But don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know. All I want is Paris. It was once mine; I used to pull the strings. Now I wish to take it back.’

‘Tell me your plan,’ the Black Death challenged.

Belphégor spread his arms and turned his palms outward. ‘The lost souls will descend upon the land and take possession of it. France will be a base for evil where I alone shall reign.’

‘And John Sinclair and Professor Zamorra? You know Zamorra lives in France.’

Belphégor snorted. ‘They’re of no concern to me. You saw how quickly I was able to take hold of that Shao. There will be no difficulties with the others.’

The Black Death rocked his bony skull. ‘Do not assume this matter is a simple one. We have spent years trying to eliminate our enemies and are still yet to succeed.’

‘I am not you,’ Belphégor retorted, very sure of himself.

Fury blazed like a flame through the Black Death. In moments like these, he tended to react much like a human would. ‘You’re forgetting that Sinclair has already bested you once. That Mystery School was nothing but a flop.’

Belphégor waved it off. ‘That’s yesterday’s news!’

‘Not for me, it isn’t.’

‘Shall I list all the times Sinclair has beaten you?’ he sneered.

At that, the Black Death fell silent.

‘So, what is your decision?’ asked Belphégor. It was time to find out where he stood.

‘You can have Paris.’

‘Good, that’s all I wanted.’

‘But I shall be watching you and shall intervene if things don’t go the way I prefer.’

Belphégor was so full of himself that he agreed jovially. ‘Do what you need to do. I’m not afraid of you.’

‘Then the best of luck,’ said the Black Death.

Belphégor smiled coldly. A blink of an eye later, he turned and disappeared into the depths of the dimensions.

The Black Death remained behind, alone. He thought back on the conversation and was far from satisfied. Belphégor made too strong of an impression, and the Black Death saw his existence as Asmodis’s right hand endangered — if Belphégor managed to eradicate Sinclair, Zamorra, and their little friends, the demon was sure to scale the ranks. For the Prince of Hell, only present successes counted, not those of the past.

The mist thickened. Soon, it had completely enveloped the demon’s form, and when a gust of wind dissipated the haze, there was nothing more to be seen of the Black Death.

But a storm was brewing!

***

Only madmen would think of ordering us to Hyde Park in the middle of the night. Or demons. Myxin, the magician, was a demon, and he had arranged the meeting. He had also set the conditions. Suko and I were to come alone. Such a meeting piqued our interest.

‘If this is a trap, we’re walking right into it like idiots,’ Suko said.

I shrugged. ‘If he wanted to set us up, he wouldn’t have been so open about it.’

Suko shook his head before answering bitterly. ‘I don’t trust him.’

I looked at my friend from the corner of my eye as I drove my metallic silver Bentley down the deserted Bayswater Road on the northern boundary of Hyde Park. Suko had changed in the past three weeks; it was almost as though he’d become someone else.

My Chinese partner still hadn’t got over the shock. Two weeks ago, his girlfriend Shao had not only been kidnapped and taken to a horror dimension, but she had been turned into a lost soul there — a hideous mummified shadow of her former self. We’d gone through a transcendental gateway in a cinema to reach the terrible dimension, but hadn’t been able to free Shao. Honestly though, we were lucky to escape the place alive ourselves. Instead of saving Shao, we had managed to rescue the little Caroline Potter, who had played a key role in the case, but the nine-year-old had gone insane and was now being held in a mental institution.

Suko and I had both seen the state of his girlfriend, so I could understand how he felt. Shao had been magically transformed into a horrific creature, but that wasn’t the end of it. Her consciousness had changed. She was now against us. She hated me and her former lover, who felt it very deeply.

The last two weeks had been beyond terrible. Suko had searched desperately for his girlfriend Shao, but had abandoned his efforts after little success. Shao was still missing. Neither of us knew where she was. Was she in limbo? In a different universe? Or was she in Hell? As difficult as it was, we even had to consider the last possibility.

I felt sorry for Suko — only, there was nothing I could do for him. He had to deal with his problems alone, which was hard to watch.

I slowed down. Suko said something I didn’t understand, so I asked him.

He just shrugged.

I’d warned him about letting his feelings of revenge get the better of him. Suko was doing his best, but inside, he must be feeling like hell. There was nothing to do but to follow the old posters — Keep Calm and Carry On — and his internal feelings weren’t anyone’s business.

Anyone except me. They were my business. I didn’t want Suko to run willingly to his own doom. The other side could exploit his fury as a weakness and lure us easily into a trap.

Now we were on our way to meet Myxin the magician. We hadn’t heard from him in some time, and I wondered what he wanted with us. Did this meeting have something to do with Shao’s disappearance? He hadn’t told us, but had spoken of a surprise that would supposedly be of our interest.

Myxin had been very exact with the meeting place. There was a part of Hyde Park called ‘The Fountains’, where four large fountains shot jets of water into the air. During the day, the area was a popular haunt for hippies, homeless, and hedonists.

At night, though, it was quiet. Several streets led to the park, and one narrow lane led directly to the fountains.

I had to turn right.

Not long afterwards, the large tyres of the Bentley were humming across the tarmac of the narrow lane. Its headlights shone their eery beams over bushes, footpaths, lawns, benches, and trees.

It was exactly eight minutes to midnight. Thick summer clouds had gathered in the sky, and a fine, warm drizzle fell over the ground. The green leaves on the trees and bushes glistened.

I slowed down and drove on at walking speed. Soon after, we reached our meeting point. With the weather as it was, even the lovers had stayed home or in their cars. There was no one on the narrow paths.

We were here.

I turned off my engine and got out. Suko opened the passenger door. The light drizzle fell onto my face. I turned up my coat collar and walked a few steps towards the four fountains. Suko stayed a little way behind me and kept my back covered. You never know...

The fountains were regular in shape. The enclosing walls came up to my knees. Water sprayed to the sides from several nozzles, collected, and was recycled so that none of it was lost.

We had four fountains to choose from, with no idea which Myxin would be waiting at, but he would show himself sooner or later.

Three minutes to go.

I was a little nervous. After all, meetings with our enemies weren’t a daily occurrence, not to mention, we’d recently taken an important weapon from him.

The Demon Whip.

How would Myxin behave? Would he take revenge? Take us out? Or would he give us a tip? That was also possible. After all, he was just as much of a mortal enemy of the Black Death as I was.

I lit a cigarette and smoked it in the hollow of my hand to protect it from the rain. I stopped in front of the first fountain. The smoke rose lazily into the air, and the rain ran off my Burberry.

Suko was wearing a leather jacket. He’d also turned up the collar and was pacing back and forth. I glanced at him, but his face was like a mask. Not a single emotion came across his face, but I knew that inside he was at war with himself.

Midnight!

From far away, we heard the tolling of a bell, ringing like a death knell. I stubbed out my cigarette and exhaled the last of the smoke. It mixed in with the mist. Despite the rain, it wasn’t cold. We were both sweating, me more than Suko because my coat was keeping me warm.

‘He’s not coming,’ my partner said suddenly.

I raised my hand. ‘Wait and see. He’s always turned up before now.’

‘Maybe he’s waiting at a different fountain. Shall I go and look?’

‘Stay here,’ I said. ‘He’ll find us.’

I’d barely uttered the words when it happened. Myxin appeared between two of the fountains, his small frame seemingly lost beneath them. No one would have guessed just how dangerous this figure was.

Myxin was much shorter than Suko and I. He had narrow shoulders and shimmering green skin. His hands were buried in his coat pockets, and a cold smile played over his lips. This was how we knew him, and how he appeared before us today.

I had already agreed with Suko that I would talk to the magician first. I raised my hand. ‘You’re late,’ I said.

‘What is time, really? I had to make sure the two of you were going to play fair.’

‘We’re not demons,’ I retorted acidly.

He laughed. ‘It would be fun to see you as one of us.’

‘We can do without that. Get to the point. Why did you want to see us?’

‘You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?’

I heard a short intake of breath beside me.

‘Shao...’ Suko growled.

‘Exactly.’

That’s when Suko lost it. Before I could stop him, he charged towards Myxin. ‘You know something!’ he cried. ‘Come on, out with it, or I’ll rip your throat out right here, right now!’ His arms shot forwards, fingers clawing at the lean neck of the demon, but Myxin reacted with chilling precision.

Quick as a flash, he pulled his right hand from his pocket. Five tongues of flame shot out with it.

All five hit Suko.

Suko threw up his arms and was stopped mid-jump. He staggered two steps to the right and fell heavily on his side, where he remained like a corpse...

I had immediately pulled out my gun, but Myxin lifted his arms. His magic had no effect on me; I wore my silver cross for protection.

‘Don’t shoot!’ he yelled. ‘Your friend is not dead, though I could have killed him. I want to speak with you, Demon Hunter. In peace.’

Hesitantly, I lowered my weapon. ‘You know we’re not friends, Myxin.’

‘No, but sometimes it’s necessary to cast out demons by Beelzebub, to keep to your earthly turns of phrase. And this is one such time.’

I nodded. ‘Go on.’

‘You’re in search of a certain Shao, no?’ Myxin began. When I nodded, he smiled cryptically. ‘You’ll never find her. That is, not without my help.’

‘Then you know where she is.’

‘Yes.’

Drops of rain ran down my neck, but I didn’t feel the cold. Inside, I was burning for an answer.

‘Shao, like all of the others, lies in an intermediary realm from which there is no escape. Neither may you enter. These dimensions are barred to you. She and the other lost souls were awaiting their orders.’

‘Were?’

‘That’s right. The time is ripe. Belphégor and the Black Death have met and made a pact.’

‘What kind of pact?’

‘That I do not know. I only know that the Black Death will not hinder Belphégor’s plans. He will allow him to retake what was once his.’

‘Do you know what that is?’ I asked tensely.

‘Not exactly. But events will occur in Paris that will cause waves across the entire world.’

I drew a sharp breath. ‘Does this have something to do with the lost souls?’ I asked.

‘Perhaps.’

‘And Shao? Have you seen her? How does she feel about Belphégor and her earlier life?’

‘She retains no memories of her past. She blindly obeys her master now, as do the others. They are his army and are virtually unstoppable. Remember that.’

I wiped the rain from my forehead. ‘Is there nothing you can say to help?’

Myxin shrugged.

‘Or do you not want to?’

‘We are enemies, Demon Hunter. Besides, you have something that belongs to me. My whip.’

‘You want it back.’

Myxin nodded. ‘Yes. For a tip, Demon Hunter. We will make an exchange.’

Myxin was, as they say, a devious rascal. But I didn’t agree with his games.

‘What are you thinking about, Sinclair?’

‘I’m not thinking about anything,’ I replied. ‘I’ve already made up my mind.’

‘And?’

‘I’m not giving you the whip!’

Myxin snarled, firing out a curse, and I could see in his eyes that he would rather do goodness knows what to me. But he was no match for the power of my cross. Instead, he hissed: ‘You will regret this, Demon Hunter. Bitterly. I swear to you that you and your friend will never see the woman again!’

His eyes glinted. A moment later, his form became translucent, and Myxin the magician disappeared. It was as if he had never been there.

I took a deep breath and wiped the moisture from my face with the back of my hand. It was just as well that Suko hadn’t heard his last words.

I walked over to him. My friend was still lying on the moist earth, so I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, before giving him a gentle slap across the face.

That did the job. Confused, Suko opened his eyes.

I grinned at him. ‘Sleep well?’ I asked him brightly, though I felt more like crying.

‘John?’ Suko croaked.

I held out my hand. He grabbed it and let me help him up. He shakily got to his feet, then froze.

‘Ouch, damn it!’ he cursed. ‘That really packed a punch. I thought it was the end of the world.’

‘For you it was.’

Suko rubbed his face and looked around. ‘Is he gone?’

I nodded.

My partner looked back at me. I could almost read the question in his eyes.

‘No,’ I lied. ‘He said nothing about Shao.’

Suko bit his lower lip. ‘Then she’s gone.’

‘Don’t jump to conclusions.’

Suko slammed his right fist into his palm. ‘You always say that!’ he shot at me. ‘You saw what happened to her. Does she even stand a chance?’

I kept silent.

Suko’s breathing sped up. I could see the rage, resentment, and helplessness rise up within him. He was emotional, and I could understand why.

‘Does she stand a chance?!’ Suko screamed.

‘Yes,’ I replied against my better judgement.

My friend let me go, looked at me, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Sorry, John. I lost my nerve again. Don’t hold it against me. I know how much I’m straining our friendship, but I’m a mess right now. I want to destroy anything in sight.’

No one understood Suko better than I could. Time and time again, I myself had been scared for Jane Collins. I tapped my friend on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay, partner. It’s all good.’

Right then, a ray of light shone through the bushes. For a split second, it grazed us. We immediately jumped apart, took cover, and drew our weapons.

We heard footsteps. Seconds later, a park attendant walked past the front of the fountains. I breathed a sigh of relief and put my gun away. As he shone his light into my Bentley, I approached him from behind, holding my ID ready.

‘Looking for something?’ I asked.

He spun around, shock written all over his face.

I held my badge in the beam of his torch. ‘Scotland Yard,’ I said.

The attendant let out a breath. ‘Wow, that’s a relief. I thought you were a gangster. There’s been all sorts hanging around here the past few days, sir. You should be on your guard.’

I nodded.

Suko approached from the side. When the park attendant saw him, he jumped.

‘Don’t worry,’ I explained. ‘He’s with me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The man left, his dark coat shining wet with rain. We waited until the attendant was out of sight and got back in the car.

I started the engine and turned on the headlights.

Suko sat beside me, deep in thought. I, too, was preoccupied, but by what Myxin had said. He’d mentioned Paris. Something was about to happen over there, so I resolved to catch a flight with Suko. But first, I wanted to make a call to an old friend who happened to live in a castle in France.

Professor Zamorra!

He could hear a pin drop when supernatural events caused it. Perhaps he already knew something. Anything was possible with him. I could still remember the last case we’d worked on together, back when murderous plants had almost wiped out the population of London.

Suko and I were so lost in thought that we didn’t notice the danger until it was too late. I heard a scratching sound coming from behind me; then, suddenly, two cold fingers of death curled around my neck and immediately squeezed shut...

***

Paris — city of love, city of fashion, city of joie de vivre. The minute anyone says ‘France’, one immediately thinks of Paris: the Seine; the Montmartre; the Place de la Concorde; the Louvre; and, last but not least, the Eiffel Tower.

The same applied to Roger Dolain. He, too, thought of nothing else. He had travelled from Colmar in Alsace and was in Paris for the first time. His colleagues from work — mostly the older ones — had raved about the city so much it had almost driven him mad.

‘You have to see it, Roger. The women are as hot as hell — and even hotter still!’

Roger had nodded along with shining eyes and his mouth wide open.

Yes, he had wanted to go to Paris. But before he could have the pleasure, he would have to put in the work. He wasn’t exactly a millionaire, and a trip to Paris wasn’t cheap. So he had to save up money, a reasonable amount at that.

But Roger was a zealous man. He had put every available franc to one side and ceased frequenting the bars in his village. The girls had teased him when word spread of his plans to go to Paris.

Roger, however, had let their words bounce right off him. They were only jealous. After all, he’d made it. On his twenty-first birthday, he had bought himself a ticket, got on the train, and set off.

He got off at Gare de l’Est, breathed in the Parisian air for the first time, and was immediately disappointed. He smelt nothing of the love and lust he’d been promised, only concentrated exhaust fumes. He felt a little lost with his small suitcase as he let the crowd carry him away from the station.

The taxis were snatched up from under his nose as he failed to assert himself, so he decided to walk, met with many pitying glances as the Parisians realised he wasn’t local. Finally, on Boulevard Haussmann, he plucked up his courage and hailed a taxi.

The driver leaned out of the old Renault. ‘Where to?’ the driver asked him.

Roger Dolain didn’t know either. ‘To the Eiffel Tower,’ he decided.

‘Get in!’

Roger threw himself into the back. The young man looked as though he were from the provinces.

The old driver grinned. ‘Tourist, is it?’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

‘You got a hotel yet?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Then first, I’ll take you somewhere you can stay. I know a nice little place that isn’t too expensive. It’s just the place for you, or else you won’t make it out alive.’ He laughed.

The lad really did look like a shy little boy with his pale face, freckles, and thick-rimmed glasses. Roger wore a brown suit with trouser legs that were far too short and a shirt that had been fashionable three years ago. There were still brown stains on it from his meal in the dining car.

‘Thank you, monsieur,’ Roger said.

He looked out of the window, seeing the huge opera house complex to his left and the Arc de Triomphe far in front of them. The driver drove towards the Arc, but turned left just before he got to the plaza, heading towards the Seine.

The boy behind him was the prime ‘victim’ for Madame Rosa. She owned a small bed and breakfast and gave the driver mighty fine tips for bringing her guests. Not to mention that Madame Rosa’s had a swell view of the Eiffel Tower. What more could the boy want?

‘How much further, monsieur?’ inquired the shy Roger Dolain.

‘We’re nearly there. Don’t worry, my friend.’

They’d left the wide streets and were gliding through a labyrinth of alleys on the banks of the Seine. It had long since grown dark. Lights swayed in the evening breeze in front of the small bars and restaurants.

The guest house was in a corner building at a narrow crossroads. The drivers pulled up behind an old 2CV.

‘We’re here.’

Roger got out. He looked up at the facade and frowned sceptically. The building looked as though it would collapse at any moment, but that seemed to be how nearly all of the buildings in Paris looked. On the ground floor was a liquor shop. The distillery reeked of liqueur and spilt pastis.

The taxi driver put his hand on Roger’s shoulder. ‘Stick to the left. You don’t want to go into the bar.’

‘I don’t know,’ the young man muttered. ‘Don’t you know another hotel?’

‘Oh, don’t judge a book by its cover,’ the driver said to Roger encouragingly. ‘It’s a good place. The outside is deceiving.’ He pushed Roger Dolain towards the door.

Madame Rosa was sitting downstairs at the reception desk. ‘Oh, a new guest,’ she said in greeting. ‘It’s your first time in Paris, darling, isn’t it?’

When Roger nodded, the madame hugged him to her ample breast, almost smothering him. Roger scrunched his nose. Madame Rosa smelt way too much of sweat and garlic.

‘I can get going, then,’ the taxi driver said.

‘Of course you can. Shoo!’ The madame detached herself from the young Roger and waved both hands.

The driver grinned a lopsided grin, then went on his way.

Madame Rosa was wearing a dress stitched with large appliqué flowers. It didn’t close in the neck; the zip remained open. The landlady had put on a little weight recently.

‘Where would you like to stay, my boy?’ she asked.

Roger Dolain shrugged.

‘Oh, darling. Tell me your name, at least,’ said the madame, taking on a maternal role.

‘Roger Dolain.’

‘And where are you from?’

‘Alsace.’

Madame Rosa rolled her eyes in thought, then her heavily made-up face seemed to light up. ‘From Alsace, where the mountains are. The woods too. How splendid.’

‘Have you ever been?’

‘No, but I’ve been told about it.’ She put a trusting hand on Roger’s shoulder. ‘You should know, my dear, that I like to rent out rooms according to where my guests come from. You’re from Alsace. It’s rather mountainous there, so you’ll be getting a room on the top floor.’

Roger only nodded.

‘Come on, my boy.’

‘Can you see the Eiffel Tower from there?’ he asked shyly.

‘Of course. That’s the room with the best view, my dear. You’ll be very comfortable.’ Madame Rosa pushed Roger towards an ancient lattice lift that looked as though it would collapse at any moment.

The madame pulled open the door. ‘After you, my boy.’

‘Will it hold?’ Roger asked sceptically.

‘It has done for the past thirty years,’ came the reply.

Roger got in the lift, and Madame Rosa pulled a lever down. With a