Only now did Salter appear to notice him in the darkness. With a calm, relaxed demeanor, he turned to Simon. Simon was astonished. The man in front of him looked sensitive and intelligent, not someone Simon would expect to commit such dastardly crimes.
“When my life ends is something I’ll determine myself,” Markus said, so softly that Simon could barely understand him over the sounds of the wind and the raging fire. “And the final curtain has not fallen.”
Not until now did Simon have a chance to look more closely at the woman, whose hands were clearly shackled. She looked haggard and drawn, and her dress was soiled and ripped. She was no doubt one of the people Salter had abducted. Were there others trapped down below in the burning cellar? If so, they had little chance of making it out alive.
“Where is Barbara?” Simon demanded with a trembling voice. “The hangman’s girl? What did you do with her, you devil?”
“So that’s what you want to know?” Salter smiled. “Are you one of her relatives? It must really be a large family-almost as large as mine was once.” The smile vanished. “I’ll make you an offer: I’ll tell you where Barbara is, and you’ll let the two of us go.”
“By God, if she’s still down there, I’ll shoot your head off,” Simon replied grimly, pointing at the barrel of the gun.
Salter gave him an innocent look. “Who says she’s there? Perhaps I’ve taken her somewhere else altogether.”
“She’s-” the woman started to gasp, but Salter put his arm around her neck and held the knife to her throat.
“Don’t say a word or you’re dead,” he hissed, then turned back to Simon. “Well, what do you say? Throw the pistol away, and I’ll talk.”
“And suppose you don’t? What do I do then?” Simon asked.
Markus Salter smiled. “That’s just the risk you’ll have to take.”
Simon took a deep breath. What should he do? Accept the madman’s offer? He was about to go into a long-winded reply, just to buy time, when from of the corner of his eye he saw someone climbing out of the shaft. And this time he was quite sure who it was.
It was Jakob Kuisl.
Salter couldn’t see him, as his back was to the building, and Jakob was still a good thirty yards behind him. The hangman raised his hand in a warning to Simon.
I’ve got to stall him, Simon thought. Just a bit, until Jakob is close enough.
“What a splendid hideaway you have here,” he said, keeping a firm grip on the pistol. “It’s too bad it’s all going up in flames.”
Salter shrugged. “I don’t need it anymore-my work is done, though I do regret the loss of the”-he hesitated-“let’s just say the props. Some of them were valuable pieces I acquired from experienced smiths in Forchheim, but most of them were fortunately already there.”
“You mean the torturing tools?” Simon asked with surprise.
“I prefer the word props,” Salter said with a smile. “I discovered this house on our last visit to Bamberg. People avoid it because they think it’s haunted, so no one has ever searched the old cellar, not even the Swedes back during the Great War. The former owner had a strange hobby. I found a rack down there, thumbscrews, Spanish boots, tongs. . It was like God giving me a sign. My revenge could finally begin.”
Simon surreptitiously glanced behind the actor, where Jakob approached, step by step. He seemed to be limping. Apparently he’d had an accident in the house, and Simon could only hope his injuries weren’t so serious that he couldn’t overpower Salter.
“But why now?” Simon asked. “So many years have passed. Why couldn’t you forget? Why-”
“I wanted to forget!” Salter interrupted, still threatening his struggling victim with the knife. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “Believe me, I didn’t want all this. But then, half a year ago, I came back to Bamberg. I saw those fat patricians at the performances, some of them the same men responsible for killing my family. They’d made comfortable lives for themselves with my family’s fortune, while I scraped along as a poor actor. But I learned all about them-where they lived, their habits, trips, political intrigues. I assumed many disguises to get close to them, and lo and behold, old Gotzendörfer actually lived in one of our former houses, which he’d acquired for next to nothing. And I surprised greedy old Vasold in front of another home that once belonged to our mighty family. What a stroke of luck.” He smiled, but then his face turned serious and grim again. “It was hardest with Sebastian Harsee. That son of the former chairman of the Witches Commission, that swine, had made it all the way to the post of Bamberg suffragan bishop, even though his father was the mastermind behind the plot to destroy our family.”
“You had to make sure Sebastian Harsee died in that unspeakably horrible way,” Simon said.
“Hah! You figured it out? You know the true story of Romeo and Juliet?” Salter’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “The suffragan bishop was my masterpiece. It all began with him. A few months ago I came upon a dying fox here in the forest and got the idea of poisoning my two darlings with rabies. With Juliet it didn’t work, but it did with Romeo. I sold some religious writings to Harsee and in that way gained access to his rooms. Then Romeo kissed him.” He giggled. “I made Harsee my werewolf, the one responsible for all these horrible murders. It took a long time, almost too long, but finally he got sick at just the right time. The suffragan bishop, that bigoted zealot, finally became a warlock himself, and people believed he was prowling through the streets in the animal pelts. But it was always me-the last heir of the family that his power-hungry father destroyed.”
“Harsee almost found you out,” Simon replied. “He sent his guards to watch your actors, and that’s when you planted the pelts on Matheo.”
Salter shrugged. “I’m sorry about Matheo, but what could I do? They were hot on my heels. Later, I steered the suspicions toward Sir Malcolm. I smuggled the child’s skull and other odds and ends into his chest, just in case they were looking for a suspect.”
Jakob was now just a few steps behind Salter. He gestured at Simon to keep talking.
“I can understand why you wanted to take revenge on the members of the Witches Commission,” said Simon, “but why these innocent women-”
“They are just as innocent as the members of my own family!” Salter screamed, squeezing the blond woman’s neck until she started to suffocate. “Their only quarrel was with my grandfather, but they went ahead and killed the entire family, because they were afraid of our revenge. Now I’m taking my vengeance out on them in the same way.” His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “The only one who disappeared without a trace was the former hangman. It was said he left no family. Then Barbara and I crossed paths. She told me that all hangmen are related and view each other as cousins. Michael Binder and Bartholomäus Kuisl, for example-so she, his niece, had to die as a member of the great family of hangmen. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
Simon was stunned. What had Salter just said?
She, his niece, had to die. .
Did that mean Barbara was already dead? And what about Magdalena and the others?
Just then Jakob reached the unsuspecting Salter. He jumped on him from behind with a hoarse shout, and all three fell to the ground. The woman began shouting now, too, as Salter was still holding her like a shield between himself and Jakob. The knife disappeared in the tumult.
Frozen to the spot, Simon stood just a few steps away, observing. He felt the cold iron of the pistol in his hand again. Had the moment finally come to use it? But what would happen if he shot the wrong person?
“Stop!” he shouted desperately as he fumbled around with the pistol. “Stop at once or I’ll shoot!”
But the two men had no intention of stopping. Simon saw now that Jakob looked battered, almost numbed. The smoke in the house must have made him dizzy, and he was bleeding from several wounds to his head.