The Ninth Gate Page #7

CORSO 1 understood it was Mr. Telfer that bought it.

PABLO:
He paid for it.

PEDRO:
It was the senora who made him buy it. He did not seem

particularly... (glances at PABLO)

PABLO:
..interested.

PEDRO has finished examining the text. He looks at the spine.

PEDRO:
A superb specimen.

CORSO (hesitates briefly): Could it be a forgery?

PEDRO (suspiciously, almost indignantly) A forgery? (turns to

PABLO) You heard that, Pablo?

PABLO wags his finger reprovingly in CORSO's face.

PABLO:
I took you for a professional, senor. You speak too

lightly of forgeries.

PEDRO:
Far too lightly.

PABLO:
Forging a book is expensive. Paper of the period, the

right inks.... (makes a dismissive gesture) Too expensive to be

profitable.

PEDRO and PABLO assess the effect of their words on CORSO, who

digests them.

CORSO:
I'm aware of all that, but could some part of it be

forged? Restorers have been known to replace missing pages with

pages taken from another copy of the same edition. Have you never

done that yourselves?

The old men look at each other, then turn to CORSO

simultaneously. PEDRO, looking flattered, nods.

PEDRO:
Of course it can be done.

PABLO:
It requires great skill, naturally, but yes, it can be

done.

CORSO:
Couldn't that be the case here?

PABLO:
What makes you ask?

CORSO:
My client wishes to satisfy himself of the book's

authenticity.

The brothers eye each other over their glasses. CORSO adjusts his

own.

CORSO (cont.) :
His name is Balkan. Boris Balkan of New York.

PABLO and PEDRO exchange another glance. CORSO detects the hint

of a smile that passes between them.

PEDRO:
All books have a destiny of their own.

PABLO:
Even a life of their own. Senor Balkan is a noted

bibliophile. He's no fool. He must know this book is authentic.

PEDRO:
We know it.

PABLO:
So must he.

PEDRO:
This book was with us for years.

PABLO:
Many years.

PEDRO:
We had ample opportunity to examine it thoroughly. The

printing and binding are superb examples of 17th century Venetian

craftsmanship.

He picks up the book and riffles the pages under CORSO's nose.

PEDRO (cont.):
Finest rag paper, resistant to the passage of

time! None of your modern wood pulp!

PABLO:
Watermarks, identical shades, ink, type faces... If this

is a forgery, or a copy with pages restored, it's the work of a

master.

PEDRO:
A master.

CORSO contemplates the brothers with a smile.

CORSO:
Did you study the engravings? They seem to form a kind of

riddle.

PEDRO and PABLO reopen the book and look at the engravings.

PABLO:
Well, yes... (another glance at PEDRO) Books of this type

often contain little puzzles.

PEDRO:
Especially in the case of such an illustrious

collaborator.

CORSO looks at PEDRO with sudden interest, then at the book, then

back at PEDRO.

CORSO:
Collaborator?

PEDRO shrugs, PABLO refocuses on CORSO.

PEDRO:
You cannot have proceeded very far with your research.

Come, look closely.

He takes a magnifying glass and holds it over one of the

engravings, which shows A HERMIT WITH TWO KEYS IN HIS HAND AND A

DOG AND A LANTERN BESIDE HIM.

A microscopic inscription can be detected in the bottom right

corner.

CORSO bends over it, looking mystified. PEDRO grows impatient.

PEDRO (cont.):
Don't you see? Only seven of the engravings were

signed by Aristide Torchia.

CORSO:
And the other two?

PEDRO:
This is one of them. Look.

CORSO peers through the magnifying glass once more.

We see the INSERT 'Invenit L.F.'

CORSO:
'L.F.'? Who's that?

PEDRO:
Think.

CORSO:
Lucifer?

PEDRO and PABLO chuckle heartily.

PEDRO:
You're a clever man, senor. Torchia was not alone when

they burned him alive.

CORSO:
But that's absurd! You don't honestly believe...

PEDRO:
The man who wrote this did so in alliance with the Devil

and went to the stake for it. Even Hell has its heroes, senor.

CORSO looks from one to the other, trying to figure this out.

33. TOLEDO ALLEYWAY EXT/DAY

CORSO walks back along the narrow alleyway with the canvas-

covered scaffolding. He glances over his shoulder. Not a soul in

sight. The blue canvas flaps in the wind, the scaffolding creaks

and groans. He walks on.

He hears a sudden rending sound, looks back and up.

There's little time to react: the scaffolding has come away from

its mountings. it's starting to buckle and fall out into the

street.

Desperately, he breaks into a run. Behind him, collapsing like a

house of cards, the mass of canvas and metal gains on him as he

sprints for the end of the alley, summoning up all his energy for

a final burst.

The last of the scaffolding hits the ground only inches behind

him. He looks back at the tangled mass that has only just failed

to engulf him.

34. TRAIN EXT/NIGHT

A train speeds through the darkness.

35. TRAIN:
DINING CAR INT/NIGHT

The dining car is deserted save for CORSO and a STEWARD, who is

lolling against the kitchen bulkhead at the far end.

CORSO, with a coffee cup and a brandy glass at his elbow, has

'The Nine Gates' lying open in front of him at THE ENGRAVING OF

THE HERMIT WITH THE KEYS, DOG, AND LANTERN. There's some

cigarette ash trapped between the pages. Smiling faintly, he

blows it away. Then he reaches into his bag for his magnifying

glass, pushes up his steel-rimmed specs, and screws the glass

into his eye. He examines the engraving at close range.

We see again the INSERT of the inscription 'Invenit L.F.'

CORSO straightens up and removes the glass from his eye. He

finishes his brandy and beckons the STEWARD.

36. TRAIN:
CORRIDOR INT/NIGHT

The clickety-clack of wheels on tracks swells in volume as CORSO,

bag on shoulder, crosses the sliding floorplates that connect one

car to another.

He enters the next corridor and stops short: there's a lone

figure leaning against a window, looking out: it's THE GIRL we

saw at Balkan's lecture: short dark hair, catlike green eyes,

slim, athletic figure, jeans and white sneakers.

CORSO sets off along the corridor. When he reaches her, they eye

each other's reflections in the windowpane.

THE GIRL (softly): Hi.

CORSO pauses to look at her, unable to make up his mind.

CORSO:
I've seen you before, haven't I?

THE GIRL:
Have you?

CORSO:
Yes, somewhere.

A brief silence.

THE GIRL:
Are you traveling in this car?

CORSO:
The next one.

THE GIRL:
The sleeper. (smiles) I travel on the cheap.

CORSO:
Are you a student?

THE GIRL:
Something like that. (looks out the window again) I

like trains.

CORSO:
Me too. What's your name?

THE GIRL:
Guess.

CORSO:
(shrugs, smiles): Greeneyes.

THE GIRL:
That'll do. What's yours?

CORSO:
Corso.

THE GIRL:
Strange name.

CORSO:
Italian. it means 'I run'.

THE GIRL:
You don't look like a runner to me - more the quiet

type.

They look at each other's reflections once more. THE GIRL's gaze

is direct and unwavering. CORSO terminates their encounter with a

diffident little nod.

CORSO:
Well, have a good trip.

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