The inside of the mausoleum was engulfed in darkness. Max was able to make out a trail of dead flowers on the floor leading to the foot of a tombstone on which Jacob Fleischmann’s name had been carved. But there was something else. Under Jacob’s name, presiding over the stone that held his remains, was the symbol of a six-pointed star within a circle.
Max felt an unpleasant tingling down his spine and for the first time he wondered why he’d come to the cemetery on his own. Behind him, the daylight seemed to be growing fainter. He pulled out his watch and looked at the time, thinking that perhaps he’d spent longer in this place than he’d intended and that some guard had locked the gates, leaving him trapped inside. The hands on his watch showed it was two minutes past three. Max took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
He had a last look around, and after making sure there was nothing else here that could shed new light on the story of Dr Cain, he got ready to leave. It was then that he realised he was not alone inside the tomb. He could hear the sound behind him. A sound like nails clicking over stone. He slowly turned round. Something was moving in the gloom, a dark figure creeping along the ceiling, advancing slowly, like an insect. Max broke out in a cold sweat and he could feel his watch slipping from his hands. He took a few steps back and looked up. At first he could only make out the eyes, which were trained on him. One of the stone angels he’d seen at the entrance was walking upside down on the ceiling. The figure stopped and, staring at Max, gave a canine smile then pointed an accusing finger at him. Gradually, the angel’s features melted until they were transformed into the familiar face of the clown, Dr Cain. Max could see burning anger and hatred in those eyes. He knew he had to run to the door but his legs wouldn’t respond. Terrified, he could only close his eyes and stand, rooted to the spot, shaking, waiting for those stone claws to caress his face. Moments later he felt a fetid, icy breath on his face. He opened his eyes, resolved to face death head on, but there was nothing there. The apparition had dissolved into the shadows. Max still stood, paralysed. Perhaps the creature was just behind his back, closing in.
This time he didn’t hang about. He ran to the exit as fast as he could and didn’t stop to look behind him until he was back on his bicycle and had put at least a hundred metres between himself and the cemetery gates. Pedalling furiously helped him to regain control of his nerves. He told himself it had just been a trick of the light, a macabre manipulation of his own fears. That was all. Maybe there was still time for him to go back to the beach and join his sister and Roland for a swim. He was about to check his watch when he realised it wasn’t there. He’d dropped the precious present his father had given him for his birthday inside the tomb.
‘You idiot,’ he muttered to himself.
He contemplated his options. The idea of returning to that place to recover his watch was unthinkable. Defeated, Max rode back towards the bay. But this time he wasn’t looking for Roland and his sister; he wanted to see the old lighthouse keeper. There were a number of questions he wanted to ask the old man.
*
The lighthouse keeper listened attentively to Max’s account of what had happened in the cemetery. When the story was over, he nodded gravely and gestured to Max to sit down next to him.
‘Can I be honest with you, Mr Kray?’ Max asked.
‘I hope you will be, young man,’ Victor Kray replied. ‘When you get to my age you realise lying is a waste of time.’
‘But you lied to us, sir,’ Max prompted, instantly regretting his bluntness.
Victor Kray regarded him with piercing eyes.
‘What makes you think I did, Max?’
Max tried to choose his words more carefully this time. He had not meant to offend the lighthouse keeper and was convinced that if the old man had not told them the whole truth it was probably for a reason.
‘I have a feeling that yesterday you didn’t tell us everything you know. Don’t ask me why – it’s just a hunch,’ said Max.
‘A hunch,’ echoed Victor Kray.
‘My father says a hunch is your brain’s way of taking a short cut to the truth,’ replied Max.
‘He’s a wise man, your father. What else does he say?’
‘That the more you try to hide from the truth, the quicker it finds you.’
The lighthouse keeper smiled.
‘And what do you think the truth is, Max?’
‘I don’t know… I think that Dr Cain, or whoever he is, is about to make a move. Soon,’ Max said. ‘And I think that all the things that have been happening over the last few days are just a sign of what is to come.’
‘What is to come,’ the lighthouse keeper repeated. ‘That’s an interesting way of putting it, Max.’
‘Look, Mr Kray,’ Max interjected. ‘I’ve had the fright of my life. Very strange things have been happening to me, and I’m sure my family, you, Roland and I are in danger. The last thing I need right now is another mystery.’
The old man smiled again, nodding.
‘That’s what I like. Direct and forceful.’ Victor Kray laughed without conviction. ‘You see, Max, if I told you the story about Dr Cain yesterday, it wasn’t to entertain you or to reminisce about old times. I told you so that you would all know what is happening and you’d be vigilant. The last few days have been tough for you; I’ve been in this lighthouse for twenty-five years with one sole objective: to keep an eye on that beast. That’s my only purpose in life. I’ll be honest too, Max. I’m not going to throw away twenty-five years because some kid decides to play detective. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you anything. Perhaps it would be best if you forgot everything I’ve said and kept away from those statues and my grandson.’
Max tried to protest, but the lighthouse keeper raised his hand and silenced him.
‘I’ve already told you more than you need to know,’ Victor Kray pronounced. ‘Don’t push it too far, Max. Forget Jacob Fleischmann and burn those films immediately. Today. That’s the best advice I can give you. And now, young man, get out of here.’
*
Victor Kray watched Max cycle away. He knew he had been harsh and unfair to the boy, but in his heart he believed it was the wisest thing to do. He also knew that the lad was intelligent and he couldn’t fool him. Max suspected that he was hiding something, but even so he hadn’t been able to grasp the magnitude of Victor’s secret. Events were gathering pace, and now, after a quarter of a century, as his life was nearing an end, Victor felt weaker and more alone than ever, his fear and anguish about the reappearance of Dr Cain threatening to overwhelm him.
Victor Kray tried to banish the bitter memory of a whole existence entwined with that sinister character, from the dirty suburbs of his childhood to his imprisonment in the lighthouse. The Prince of Mist had robbed him of his best friend and of the only woman he had ever loved; he’d stolen every minute of his long adult life, turning him into his shadow. Victor Kray had spent countless nights in the lighthouse trying to imagine what his life might have been like if fate had not decided that the powerful magician would cross his path. Now he knew that any memories he might cherish during the last years of his life would be only fictions from a biography he’d never lived.
His last remaining hope lay in Roland and in the promise he’d made himself that the boy would have a future far away from that nightmare. There was little time left and Victor’s strength was nothing like the force that had once sustained him. In barely two days’ time it would be exactly twenty-five years since the sinking of the Orpheus, and Victor Kray could sense that Cain was gathering power with every passing minute.
The old man went over to the window and gazed at the dark hulk of the Orpheus submerged beneath the blue waters of the bay. There were still a few hours of sunlight left before the darkness crept in and night fell – perhaps his last night of vigil in the lighthouse.