The Ninth Gate
He gestures at the door with a cold and impassive air. CORSO gets to his feet.
10. BALKAN BUILDING: LOBBY INT/NIGHT
BALKAN walks swiftly across the lobby to the elevators with CORSO at his heels. They leave behind a buzz of conversation from members of the AUDIENCE who are still discussing the lecture.
BALKAN: Don’t you sleep nights?
CORSO: Like a baby.
BALKAN: Strange, I’d have bet a brace of Gutenberg Bibles you spend half the night with your eyes peeled. You’re one of those lean, hungry, restless types that put the wind up Julius Caesar – men who’d stab their friends in the back-
They reach the elevator. BALKAN presses a button and turns to CORSO, who yawns.
BALKAN (cont.) Not, I suspect, that you have many friends, do you, Mr. Corso? Your kind seldom does.
CORSO (calmly): Go to hell.
BALKAN is unruffled by CORSO’s discourtesy. The elevator doors open. He stands aside to let CORSO pass, then follows him in.
11. BALKAN BUILDING: ELEVATOR INT/NIGHT
BALKAN punches a code number on the elevator’s digital keyboard With a subdued hiss, the elevator starts to ascend.
BALKAN: You’re right, of course. Your friendships don’t concern me in the least. Our relations have always been strictly commercial, isn’t that so? There’s no one more reliable than a man whose loyalty can be bought for hard cash.
CORSO: Hey, Balkan, I came here to do some business, not shoot the breeze. You want to expound your personal philosophy, write another book.
BALKAN: You don’t like me, do you?
CORSO (shrugs): I don’t have to like you. You’re a client, and you pay well.
The elevator reaches its destination, the doors open.
12. BALKAN BUILDING: COLLECTION INT/NIGHT
The elevator opens straight into a spacious room faced with black marble. The walls are bare save for a big, back-lighted photograph of a ruined castle overlooking a desolate valley.
Two huge windows in the right-hand wall extend from floor to ceiling. Visible outside on the building’s floodlit facade, gargoyles gaze out over the city with their monstrous heads propped on their claws.
The centre of the room is occupied by a rectangular block of tinted glass resembling a big black monolith. Vaguely discernible through the glass are shelves filled with antique books in exquisite bindings.
BALKAN leads CORSO over to the ‘monolith’ . He gestures at it proudly, soliciting admiration.
BALKAN: Well?
CORSO: Yup.
BALKAN: You’re privileged, Corso. Very few people have ever set foot in here. This Is my private collection. Some bibliophiles specialize in Gothic novels, others in Books of Hours. All my own rare editions have the same protagonist: the Devil.
CORSO is impressed but does his best not to show it.
CORSO: May I take a look?
BALKAN: That’s why I brought you here.
He goes over to the ‘monolith’ and punches a keyboard on a control panel, gestures to CORSO to come closer.
CORSO puts out his hand. Before he can touch the glass, it glides aside with a faint hum. He adjusts his glasses and glances at BALKAN, who looks on calmly. His eyes roam along the spines of the books. BALKAN comes and stands beside him.
BALKAN (cont.): Beautiful, aren’t they? That soft sheen, that superb gilding- Not to mention the centuries of wisdom they contain-centuries of erudition, of delving Into the secrets of the Universe and the hearts of men- I know people who would kill for a collection like this. (CORSO shoots him a quick glance) The Ars Diavoli! You’ll never see as many books on the subject anywhere else in the world. They’re the rarest, the choicest editions in existence. It has taken me a lifetime to assemble them. Only the supreme masterpiece was missing. Come-
He has accompanied CORSO on his tour of the collection. They come to the end of the ‘monolith’. Gesturing to CORSO to follow him, BALKAN goes over to an ultramodern, brushed steel lectern standing beside one of the huge picture windows.
As he approaches the lectern, CORSO briefly glimpses the sheer drop beyond the window, the twinkling lights of traffic passing in the street far below.
Reposing on the lectern is a black book adorned with a gold pentagram. CORSO opens it at the title page, which displays the title in Latin and a pictorial engraving.
CORSO (not looking at BALKAN) ‘The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows-
BALKAN: You’re familiar with it?
CORSO: Sure. Venice, 1623. The author and printer was Aristide Torchia, burned by the Holy Inquisition, together with all his works. Only three copies survived.
BALKAN One.
CORSO: The catalogs list three copies surviving in private ownership: the Fargas, the Kessler, and the Telfer.
BALKAN: True. You’ve done your homework, but you’re wrong nonetheless. According to all the sources I myself have consulted, only one is authentic. The author confessed under torture that he’d hidden one copy. Only one.
CORSO: Well, three are known.
BALKAN: That’s the trouble.
CORSO resumes his inspection of the book.
CORSO: Where did you get it?
BALKAN: I bought it from Telfer.
CORSO (surprised): Telfer?
BALKAN (looking out the window): Yes, he finally sold it to me. The day before he killed himself.
CORSO: Good timing.
BALKAN ignores this. CORSO turns the pages with care. He lingers over AN ENGRAVING OF A KNIGHT IN ARMOR RIDING TOWARD A CASTLE WITH A FINGER TO HIS LIPS as though enjoining the reader to silence. Below it is a caption. BALKAN draws closer and reads over CORSO’s shoulder:
BALKAN: Nemo pervenit qui non legitime certaverit.
CORSO: You only succeed if you fight by the rules?
BALKAN: More or less. Ever heard of the ‘Delomelanicon’?
CORSO: Heard of it, yes. A myth, isn’t it? Some horrific book reputed to have been written by Satan himself.
BALKAN: No myth. That book existed. Torchia actually acquired it.
He returns to the window overlooking the sheer drop. Gazing down, he goes on:
BALKAN (cont.): The engravings you’re now admiring were adapted by Torchia from the ‘Delomelanicon’. They’re a form of satanic riddle. Correctly interpreted with the aid of the original text and sufficient inside information, they’re reputed to conjure up the Prince of Darkness in person.
CORSO: You don’t say.
He continues to turn the pages.
BALKAN: Are you a religious man, Corso? I mean, do you believe in the supernatural?
CORSO: I believe in my percentage. I also believe that books grow old and decay like the rest of us- Don’t you get dizzy, standing there?
BALKAN continues to stare down at the nocturnal cityscape. CORSO changes tack.
CORSO (cont.): What the hell do you want from me, Balkan?
BALKAN leaves the window and confronts him.
BALKAN: I want you to go to Europe and play the detective. The other two copies are in Portugal and France. You must find some way of comparing them with mine: every page, every engraving, the binding – everything. I’m convinced that only one can be authentic, and I want to know which one it is.
CORSO: Could be an expensive trip.
BALKAN takes a folded check from his pocket and hands it to CORSO, who slips it into his breast pocket unexamined.
BALKAN: That’s to get you started. Spend what you need.
CORSO: What if I find your copy’s a forgery?
BALKAN stares at him coldly for a moment.
BALKAN: It’s quite on the cards.
CORSO seems mildly surprised. He looks at the book again, ‘listens’ to the quality of the paper by putting his ear to the pages and riffling them with his thumb.
CORSO: Really? It doesn’t appear to be. Even the paper sounds kosher.
BALKAN: Even so. There may be something wrong with it.
CORSO continues to examine the book. He smiles ironically.
CORSO: You mean the Devil won’t show up?
He shuts the book and replaces it on the lectern.
BALKAN: Don’t be flippant. (quotes) ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’
CORSO: Hamlet believed in ghosts, not demons.
BALKAN: If all three copies turn out to be bogus or incomplete, your work will be done. If one of them proves to be genuine, on the other hand, I’ll finance you further.
CORSO stares at him, then unfolds the check and glances at the amount – a substantial sum, from the way he raises his eyebrows.
BALKAN (cont.): 1 shall want you to get it for me at all costs, never mind how.
CORSO: Never mind how sounds illegal.
BALKAN: It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done something illegal.
CORSO: Not that illegal.
BALKAN: Hence the size of the check. Do a good job, and I’ll double it.
He picks up ‘The Nine Gates’ and holds it out. After a moment’s hesitation, CORSO replaces the check in his pocket and takes the book.
BALKAN (cont.): Be careful, Corso.
CORSO: What do you mean? (indicates the book) With this?
BALKAN: Just be careful.
13. CORSO’S APARTMENT INT/NIGHT
