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in there shooting； take as many of them with him as possible before the sheer weight of numbers bore him down。 No； it had to be more subtle than that。
His dream of the previous night had never really left him。 He thought of Pierre de Lancre。 At a time such as this there was no better man to have on one's side。 But it had only been a dream and there was no chance of the witchfinder ing。 Had Sabat met him on the astral plane then there would have been a faint prospect of help。
A similar situation： that place in his dreams； the coven trapped inside by fire。 But it would not work here。 This was a thriving city。。。 an army of fire…engines would be screaming to the scene before the first smoke pall had a chance to settle； the flames doused within minutes。
And then he knew； a solution that came to him with shattering suddenness。 A blinding inspiration and so damnably simple。 The rope triangle oft used by the powers of evil to imprison their victims in a particular place； a device that was more secure than any lock or key！ The accursed could not break it； only an exorcist could gain entrance unharmed and free those trapped inside。
Euphoria that dispelled his mounting depression instantly； so that he had to fight to control his emotions。 He had not thought of it because he was （had been！） Mark Sabat； exorcist。 He had remembered it because he was Quentin Sabat； one of the ungodly who knew it as a device of the evil forces！ Furthermore； he would use it。 There was still a little time left。 In all probability Schmid and his followers would not leave before nightfall。
Sabat walked away quickly； having to restrain himself from breaking into a run。 Some suburban shops。 He noted their signs： a newsagent； a grocer。。。 an electrician。 Cursing beneath his breath； again almost running。 The end of the street； a T…junction。 Right or left？
He chose the left because that was what he believed in。 They had given him a sign。 Surely it was an omen。 He turned to his left； a fast walk that ate up the yards。
More shops； closer together in the form of a precinct。 A confectioner's； a tobacconist。。。 a sports shop。
His one fear was that it might be closed； that he would have to take the risk of breaking and entering to get what he wanted。 As he approached the glass door he saw a young man dressed in a fawn sweater with trousers to match in the act of turning the key。
This time Sabat ran； a sprint of several yards； pushing at the door； mouthing to the one on the other side。 A look of surprise and annoyance on the shopkeeper's face but he unlocked the door； kept a foot behind it。
'I am sorry； monsieur； but we have been closed a quarter of an hour。 I was stock…taking； had forgotten to lock the door。'
'Please。。。 please； I will not take up more than a few moments of your time。 I need two skipping ropes。'
'Skipping ropes！'Incredulity； raised eyebrows。'Monsieur； there is no urgency； surely。 Tomorrow。。。'
'But there 〃！' Sabat was trying not to appear petulant。 'My twin sons。 It is their birthday tomorrow and I had promised them skipping ropes but with the pressures of business I forgot。 Please； monsieur。'
The other sighed； flung back the door。 'e inside。 But please be quick。 I have a meal to go home to and my wife is not a patient woman。'
Sabat stepped inside； saw the ropes he needed so badly folded on a shelf behind the counter。 He snatched a couple up； fumbled with some franc notes； dropped three on the glass…topped counter。
'Your change； monsieur！'
But Sabat was not interested in change。 Out of the shop； retracing his steps across the precinct； fumbling to unfasten the folded nylon rope。 His fingers moved deftly； knotted ends which would suffice when hung in triangular formation。
Another thought； a frightening one because he had almost forgotten。 The newsagent was still open； selling late evening papers。 Sabat sighed with relief； purchased a packet of drawing pins。 He had almost overlooked them。
The shadows had nearly reached the other side of the road。 The streetlights were already on； seeming to make the gathering dusk deepen。 Sabat walked further down from the mune entrance； knew that he would have to bide his time until full darkness fell； when he could move unseen to affix the ropes on both the front and back doors。 It would only take a matter of a minute or two。 Beyond that he had no plans。 He would leave the rest to Andre Schmid！
Dusk seemed to take an eternity blending into darkness。 Sabat thought about risking his furtive mission but patience was essential。 One mistake and he would not get a second chance。
Finally he moved； walking cat…like on tip…toe； crouching； the shadows of the overhanging trees swallowing him up。 He paused in the drive； several of the upstairs windows were lighted but the ground floor was in darkness。 Again he was reminded of that house at Labourd。 A figure passed briefly across the window； just a naked male torso； rolls of fat that resembled a woman's breasts。 Andre Schmid！
Sabat crept to the door； three drawing pins in his left hand； the rope in his right。 The wood was soft and rotten； the sharp points going in easily。 Fifteen seconds； maybe less； and the front entrance was barred to all who sought to leave or enter。 He smiled faintly in the darkness； then moved on； following the wall to his left。
The rear door was dealt with just as swiftly and then Sabat was standing back in the shadows admiring his handiwork； remembering how he himself had once been the victim of an almost identical psychic attack。 It hadn't worked； simply because he had the gift of exorcism； had been able to break the barrier。 This coven would not have that advantage； their evil magic would be no match for the power of Quentin！
He stepped back into the shrubs lining the short drive and waited。 He had to stay and see what happened。 If by any chance they managed to break out。。。 he fingered the butt of his ？38 inside his jacket。 There would be only one course left open to him if that happened。
He listened intently； tried to determine what was happening in that upper storey。 Muffled conversation； a girl was squealing； others were laughing。 Apparently the cannibal cult could not wait until they got to the old chapel for the orgies to begin。
Shouting。 Sabat recognised Schmid's angry tones。 Things were getting out of control and the mune leader was anxious that everybody prepared themselves for Walpurgisnacht and whatever it held for them。
Sabat tensed； heard them ing downstairs； a shambling rabble high on drugs and alcohol； their appetites whetted for a feast of human flesh！ He pressed himself back into the bushes； drew his '？38； waited。
Andre Schmid； clutching a portmanteau containing his robes and various impedimenta needed for the ing black mass； turned back to survey his followers。 Rabble； the scum of the continent。 They didn't understand； just did it for kicks； but they had their uses。 A fair…haired girl dressed in filthy worn jeans was mopping at a damp patch on her th