The Vault of Horror Page #2

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I give you my blessing!

May the gods protect you

from all danger.

Pray for the soul

of the one within.

The gods be praised

for this mystic miracle.

And now...

...for demonstration of supernatural

power of human body...

...to withstand pain

through the power of mind.

- It is a trick.

- No pain.

Mystic power of yoga.

Excuse me, please. Excuse me.

The real one is in his sleeve.

No gods. No supernatural powers.

No yoga.

Just tricks.

Huh?

As a fellow magician,

I can assure you of that.

Oh, it's hot in here.

And that doesn't

seem to do any good.

Darling, why don't we

just pack up and go home?

Ah, we wanted to see

the land of ancient mystery.

Well, we've seen it.

There isn't a mystery in sight.

There isn't even

a new trick for our act.

Let's give it

another day or two.

How much?

How much do you want for the trick?

Name your price.

There is no trick.

The magic is in the rope.

Okay, then, sell me the rope.

I cannot.

It was my mother's, and her

mother's, and her mother's.

I'll give you...

40,000 rupees.

It is not for sale,

not at any price.

Of course it's a trick.

It has to be.

But I examined

the basket, the rope,

and I couldn't see

how it was rigged.

And she wouldn't sell it?

If I couldn't figure out how it

worked, no one else would be able to.

It could be a sensation.

We've got to get it.

Uh, the trick

you showed me yesterday...

- No trick.

- Of course.

Uh, the magic you showed me...

I told my wife about it and she

wondered if you couldn't show it to her.

No, you know, my wife is ill...

...and we wondered if you couldn't

come to our hotel room.

I'll pay you 200 rupees...

...just to show it to her.

Thank you.

Just a moment.

Come in.

This is my wife, Inez.

I am sorry you are ill.

Thank you.

We'll put her

in the trunk later.

Let's see

what the trick is first.

She said the secret

is in the rope.

But it isn't hollow.

There's no wire in it.

Nothing!

Look!

Keep playing! Keep playing!

It holds me! I can climb it!

And now,

just as it will be in our act...

Inez! Inez!

Where are you?

I have before me...

a magic basket...

...blessed by the gods

of the temple.

I'll open it.

Akbar?

I give you my blessing.

May the gods protect you

from all danger.

You look as though

you've seen a ghost.

There are no such things

as ghosts,

except in magicians' illusions.

Well, I have a similar vision.

- Do you?

- Similar fear.

Similar, but not quite.

It begins in a graveyard,

in a grave...

A freshly dug grave.

My grave.

Buried alive.

How did it happen?

I remember now.

I remember.

It's a surefire plan, Alex.

Now, this will cut down

my pulse and heartbeat...

My entire metabolism...

So that even the best doctor

will think that I'm dead.

Now, these are pills I'd be taking

if I had a heart condition,

so it'll look as though

I've had an attack.

There'll be no trouble

getting a death certificate.

You must make absolutely sure that

I'm buried not more than 24 hours...

after I... die.

Then all you have to do is

wait until night, dig me up...

and I'll hide at your place while

you collect the insurance money.

And we're off and away.

You know, it would have made

a really great story.

But I'd have been lucky

to get 50 for it.

There's no money in horror.

And once you've collected the

insurance money, friend Alex,

I shan't need you anymore.

The perfect plan. Perfect.

The perfect plan,

except for one thing.

I'll never learn it. I will

never pass the anatomy course.

Trouble is, we can only

work in the dissection room...

...for the short periods

we're assigned to it.

If only we had

a body of our own.

What?

We could work on it

when we wanted to.

Mr. Maitland.

Mr. Maitland?

Damn it!

Sorry if I gave you a fright.

You got the money?

After we get the body.

- What do you want his body for?

- We're ghouls.

Air giving out.

Hurry, Alex. Hurry!

Watch where you're

throwing it, will you!

Throw it that way!

Sorry.

Did you hear a cough?

- No.

- No.

Should be just about

waking up now.

I wonder how long it'll take before he

realizes his friend Alex isn't coming.

Alex!

Hurry!

Oi!

You can give me the money now.

He's all yours.

Sorry about the head.

A preposterous story.

But it seemed so real.

- Almost as if...

- You were going to do it?

But why that one?

Why that particular nightmare?

Why are you interested

in his nightmare?

It's yours that you're really

concerned with, isn't it?

Mine begins on an island.

A tropical island.

The island of Haiti.

Hey.

Hey!

Well, don't you remember me?

Bob. Bob Dixon!

- What are you doing here?

- I had some business in Port-Au-Prince.

I heard your name

mentioned in a bar.

- How's the work going?

- Not bad, I think. Self-portrait.

But, like all my work, it'll be

scorned, considered worthless.

What do you mean, worthless?

I saw one sold only a few

weeks ago for 5,000.

5,000? Sold by whom?

Arthur Gaskill, in his gallery.

He sold it on behalf of Lawrence Diltant.

- But why such a price?

- Your pictures!

They've been highly praised by no less

an art critic than Fenton Breedley.

Fenton Breedley?

F...

Fenton...

Hello?

- What do you wish?

- To buy voodoo.

Why?

To get revenge

on those who wronged me.

- What do you do?

- I'm an artist.

Put the hand you

paint with into pot.

- No.

- You want voodoo?

You must do it.

Now what?

Will I get a little doll

to stick pins into?

You are artist.

You don't need doll.

Now go.

This will get me to London and

then you'll get it all back...

...and lots more.

Thanks.

Glad your old studio

was available?

Yes.

- Nice to see you back.

- Thank you.

Thank you.

Oh, I bought the safe exactly

as you said in your letter.

- And here's the combination.

- Thank you.

Oh, I brought you some milk and bread,

in case you wanted a cup of tea.

Yes, yes. Thank you.

- You cheated me.

- You cheated yourself.

If you had any faith

in your work,

you wouldn't have listened to what

Fenton said about your paintings...

...or what Arthur said

about their saleability.

You wouldn't have sold them

to me at the price you did.

- You were all in it together.

- That's the way of the world.

You buy cheap, you sell dear.

And pay a critic to tell

lies so you can do it.

No. You cheated me.

All three of you.

And I'm going to have revenge.

Fenton Breedley, art critic,

you saw my pictures...

...and you lied about them

to the public.

Now, Mr. Art critic,

you will never see

another picture...

...again.

I tell you, she doesn't

mean a thing to me.

How long have you

been seeing her?

Look, darling, it doesn't

mean I don't love you.

You're my wife. But we're

living in the 20th century now.

You'll never see

another woman again!

Arthur Gaskill, art dealer,

you lied to me.

You told me that my

pictures were worthless...

...and that you

couldn't handle them.

You won't handle anything again.

No, no, no. That's not the way.

You're doing it all wrong.

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