The Ninth Gate
The Mercedes rounds a bend.
Visible in the distance, crisply silhouetted against the afterglow, is a castle.
It’s the one of which we saw a backlighted photograph on Balkan’s wall.
129. CASTLE EXT/DUSK
THE GIRL pulls up some distance from the archway that was once the castle gate. A dark green Range Rover is already parked beside it. CORSO and THE GIRL get out and briefly survey the derelict building. A glimmer of light is issuing from the arrow slits in one of the turrets.
130. CASTLE COURTYARD EXT/DUSK
CORSO and THE GIRL cross the deserted courtyard, which is littered with fallen masonry.
131. CASTLE STEPS, BATTLEMENTS EXT/DUSK
CORSO and THE GIRL climb a dilapidated flight of stone steps to the battlements and walk along them to the tower.
They pause outside the moldering old door and listen. A man’s voice is faintly audible.
CORSO puts his hand on the handle. THE GIRL gropes in the pocket of her duffel coat and produces the chromium-plated automatic, holds it out.
CORSO hesitates briefly, then stuffs it in his jacket pocket. He op ~ the door and enters, followed by THE GIRL.
132. TURRET CHAMBER INT/NIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL are looking down into the interior of the turret, which forms a cylindrical chamber. They’re on a small landing from which a steep flight of unprotected stone steps curves down and around the inner wall to the floor of the chamber. The floor, littered with debris including worm-eaten
beams that have fallen from the ceiling far above, consists of massive, age-old planks.
9 1
A large circle has been chalked in the middle of the floor, and within it a square divided into nine boxes numbered 1-9. Each box contains some unrelated object: a rusty knife, a piece of cord, a stone, a gold ring, a serpentine bracelet, a glass vial, a small pile of earth, a quill pen, an hourglass.
The chamber is illuminated by half a dozen kerosene lamps located around the circle but outside it. Also near the circle is a camper’s collapsible table with various objects on it: a black briefcase, ‘The Nine Gates’, a magnifying glass, a vacuum flask and mug. On the floor beside the table are a large jerrican and an open suitcase with more books spilling out of it.
The voice we heard from outside is that of BALKAN, but a BALKAN unlike any we have seen before: no jacket or necktie, shirt sleeves rolled ‘ up, vest half unbuttoned, strands of gray hair falling over his scratched and sweating face, cheeks flushed, eyes ablaze with excitement.
He’s kneeling in front of the numbered boxes and gabbling to himself in an expressionless monotone:
BALKAN … eight doors come before the Serpent that guards the word, Teth, Enea, Novem, Oded, the number nine, which holds the final secret, the mystery of mysteries. The Serpent is the beast that always sleeps with one eye open and is reflected in the Mirror of Knowledge. (giggles triumphantly) Eight engravings plus one, or one plus eight, which coincides with the number that St. John of Patmos attributed to the Beast: 666-
CORSO (to THE GIRL): He needs therapy-
Feverishly, BALKAN proceeds to scrawl some numerals on the floor with a piece of chalk, muttering as he does so.
BALKAN: Six plus six plus six equals eighteen. One and eight. (even more triumphantly): One plus eight equals nine!
CORSO starts to descend the steps. THE GIRL stays behind, sits down on the top step, props her chin on her hand, and watches the proceedings.
BALKAN rises with chalk dust all over the knees of his pants. He goes to his briefcase and takes out a sheaf of torn engravings.
CORSO has reached the foot of the steps. BALKAN, turning to resume his place in the circle, catches sight of him. He freezes in disbelief, and a long moment passes before he speaks.
BALKAN (cont.): What are you doing here?!
CORSO: I thought I’d drop in before they put you behind bars.
BALKAN: Go away!
CORSO: We had a deal, remember?
BALKAN: A deal?! What impertinence! You bungled it, damn you! You failed me all along the line! Thanks to your lack of initiative,Ii was compelled to do my own dirty work. And I did it! I got these myself! See, here they are! (brandishes the engravings, speaks with mounting vehemence) Nine engravings or nine doors, and only an initiate can open them. Each door has two keys, each engraving discloses a number, a secret element and keyword to be interpreted in the light of reason and the Cabbala, the one true philosophy!
CORSO: I want my money.
BALKAN: Don’t you understand what’s going on here?
He returns to the circle, kneels down again, and deals out the engravings like playing cards, one to a box, leaving three boxes empty. Meantime:
BALKAN (cont.): You have before you the mystery of which men have dreamed throughout the centuries. Thousands have died an agonizing death in hopes of just a glimpse of what you’re about to see!
CORSO: Yeah? What’s that, Old Nick in person?
BALKAN: Don’t be ridiculous! He has never appeared to anyone, never! He’s a spirit – the spirit of pure evil. He manifests himself through his servants, of whom I’m proud to be one!
He rises, walks quickly over to the little table, and opens ‘The Nine Gates’ . Turning over several pages, he tears out an engraving. His voice betrays rising excitement, his face assumes a look of insane fervour.
BALKAN (cont.): Three copies, but only nine of their twenty-seven engravings hold the key, and I have them all! (tears out two more engravings in quick succession) 1 have only to complete the sequence. Then the Serpent will enter the seal of Saturn, and I – I shall enter the Ninth Gate!
CORSO: Cut the crap and write me a cheque.
BALKAN returns to the circle, kneels down once more and neatly positions the three engravings in the empty boxes. Then he rises, goes’ to the table, and pours himself a drink from the vacuum flask. He gargles with it, swallows, and shakes himself like a wet dog. Whatever the flask contained, it seems to have invigorated him.
Seizing the jerrican, he removes the cap and dribbles gasoline around the circle, then picks up one of the kerosene lamps and hurls it at the floor. The lamp smashes and ignites the gasoline. instantly, he’s ringed with fire.
He draws himself up and stands erect in the canter of the circle with flames dancing all around him.
BALKAN: I give you my allegiance, Master. I surrender myself unto you body and soul. Let me fear neither noose, nor sword, nor poison. Let me walk unscathed among lepers and the plague-ridden. Erase me from the Book of Life and inscribe me in the black Book of Death. Let it be no! Let it be so now!
His fervent voice and the wild-eyed, demented look on his face are such that not even CORSO is tempted to break the momentary silence that ensues.
BALKAN (cont.): (ecstatically): Yes, master, yes! Oh, thank you, thank you! I can feel the power flowing through me like an electric current, rendering me capable of any achievement, mental or physical! I could float on air, walk on water.
He stoops and dabbles his hands in the ring of fire.
BALKAN (cont.): See? 1 plunge my hands in fire and feel no heat:
He picks up the jerrican and inverts it over his head, dousing himself in the contents, then hurls it aside.
CORSO: Hey, don’t be stupid!
But BALKAN is deaf to reason.
BALKAN (in a mounting frenzy): Admay, Eloy, Agla, Zatel, Gebal, Elimi, Ashtoreth, Moloch, Shamash, Dagon-
With a whoosh, he himself catches fire. Flames play over his ecstatic figure.
BALKAN (cont.): It’s miraculous! I feel nothing, nothing at all!
He emits another triumphant laugh that soars up the scale until it becomes a high-pitched scream of agony. He starts to caper around, slapping at his clothes, his face, his hair.
CORSO has regained his feet. He takes the automatic from his pocket and sends it slithering across the floor and through the ring of flames.
CORSO: Here, you idiot!
He retreats up the steps with horror written on his face. THE GIRL has risen to her feet. He takes her hand and, with a last backward glance, hustles her outside.
133. CASTLE COURTYARD EXT/NIGHT
Balkan’s wild screams reverberate around the walls as CORSO and THE GIRL hurry across the courtyard.
134. CASTLE EXT/NIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL are standing beside the Mercedes. Smoke and tongues of flame are issuing from the arrow slits of Balkan’s tower. His screams rise in a crescendo. Then a gunshot cuts them off like a knife.
CORSO: He really thought it would work.
THE GIRL He wasn’t to know it wouldn’t.
CORSO stares at her, momentarily puzzled, then at the blazing castle, then back at her.
CORSO: You didn’t do anything to help him, Greeneyes, not this time.
THE GIRL I’m your guardian angel, remember?
She lays her palm against his cheek, then crooks her hand around the nape of his neck and draws his face toward hers, kisses him tenderly on the lips. CORSO returns her kiss. He folds her in his arms and holds her close. The fiery glow dances over their entwined figures.
135. CASTLE EXT/NIGHT
LONG SHOT of the castle ablaze. The flames have spread from Balkan’s tower to the rest of the building. Smoke and flames are now belching from it. The sky overhead is tinged with crimson.
136. PARIS HOTEL: BATHROOM, BEDROOM, CORRIDOR INT/EARLY MORNING
CORSO, his hair damp from the shower and a towel around his waist, is halfway through shaving when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.
One cheek daubed with foam, he opens it to find himself confronted by the FLOOR WAITER, check pad and ballpoint in hand
FLOOR WAITER: Bonjour, m’sieur. Votre petit dejeuner.
CORSO: Oh. Sure.
Taking the pad, he emerges into the bedroom and scribbles his signature, then stops short: there’s a breakfast cart in the middle of the room, but the bed is empty. No sign of The Girl or her clothes.
CORSO (cont.): Where is she?
WAITER: Pardon?
CORSO: Madame, ou elle est?
FLOOR WAITER Je ne ”ai pas vue, m’sieur.
He makes for the door and exits.
CORSO catches hold of the door just as it’s closing, puts his head out into the corridor, looks right and left. No one in sight but the FLOOR WAITER, who casts a puzzled glance over his shoulder as he walks off.
137. PARIS HOTEL: LOBBY, RECEPTION DESK INT/DAY
CORSO, now dressed but unshaven, hurries over to the reception desk, where GRUBER is on duty.
GRUBER greets him with an almost imperceptible inclination of the head.
GRUBER: Good morning, Mr. Corso.
CORSO: Morning, Gruber. The young lady I came with, have you seen her?
GRUBER: Yea, sir. She went out not long ago.
He reaches behind him and produces a folded message slip from one of the pigeonholes.
