The Players And The Game Read Online Free Page B

I’m not with her she feels quite differently. She told me she used to go to church every week when she was small. Her father beat her while her mother watched, when she did anything wrong. Asked if the tortures of the martyrs excited her, lent her one or two of my books about the rack, etc. She liked it while I was telling her, I could see that, but I don’t know what she felt afterwards.
    Asked her if she’d ever tortured an animal, told her about a cat I’d seen when I was little. Some boys hung it upside down and shaved off its fur. Did this happen? And if it happened, did I take part? Don’t know, I get confused. But Bonnie didn’t answer, got upset when I asked again if she’d ever done things to animals. I believe she has.
    I have told Bonnie what I believe. The important thing in life is Power. Most people are stupid, they don’t possess Power, not even in their fantasies. Everything is petty now. I gave her my test, quoted the great master Nietzsche to her. ‘Whatever is of the effeminate type, whatever springeth from the servile type, and especially the mobmishmash: – that wisheth now to be master of all human destiny – O disgust! Disgust! Disgust!’
    She seemed to be impressed. Bonnie is in awe of me, recognises her superior. That is right.
    A third person in the Game is vital. There is something sacred about one – ‘one is one and all alone’ – and about a triangle. Two is not the same. That has been my trouble in the past. What is the relationship between Sex and Power?
     
    Later. Have made a contact with a Third. Very promising, although I have been careful. I said nothing of Bonnie. I long for the moment when the three of us meet, when we talk to each other as Bonnie and Dracula have done, secure in the freedom of fantasy.
    Have bought a tape machine in preparation. What will it record and repeat?

Chapter Six
The Disappearances
     
    Anne Marie had every evening free, but it was understood that she would let Penelope know in advance if she was to be home later than eleven o’clock. On the night of 27 May she went out at eight o’clock. Penelope noticed, or remembered afterwards, that she looked flushed and excited. She said that she would probably not be back until about midnight.
    At two in the morning Penelope went to bed. At breakfast time Anne Marie had not returned. Penelope and Dick talked about whether they should sack her when she came back. On the following day, Sunday, they got in touch with the police.
     
    On the morning of Wednesday, I June, Mr Darling visited Rawley police station. He saw Sergeant Saunders, who knew him quite well by sight as one of the town’s half-dozen estate agents. Mr Darling asked rather hesitantly whether they had heard anything about a secretary-typist named Joan Brown who worked for him. She had not come in on Monday morning, and when he went round to her room to inquire if she was ill, it seemed that she had packed her things and left.
    ‘I see, sir. Had you any hint of this? I mean, did she seem fed up with the job, give you any idea she might be going?’
    ‘None whatever. I was quite satisfied with her work.’ He made it sound like a testimonial. ‘It’s surprising. And annoying. She was reliable, which is unusual nowadays. If she’s coming back I don’t want to engage anybody else.’
    ‘Been with you long, had she?’
    ‘Not long, no. About three months.’
    ‘Any trouble at home as far as you know, anything – like that?’
    ‘Home.’ Mr Darling, neatly dressed and wearing a spotted bow-tie, considered the word. ‘I don’t actually know where her home is, we never discussed it. She just had a room here. I suppose she came from London.’ He leaned on the counter. ‘I expect you think I’m fussing about this, Sergeant, but I don’t understand why she left without saying a word to me or sending a letter. It seems out of character.’
    The sergeant, who did think that Mr Darling was fussing, said that inquiries would be made.