Unspeakable Secrets of the Aro Valley

by Danyl McLauchlan

  What should he do? He needed a clever plan. Run away? Pretty good, but he still didn’t have Stasia’s letter. Lock Campbell inside the bathroom? Even better, but the keyhole was empty. Then he realised it was a bathroom door; the key would be on the other side.

  He heard Campbell grunting with displeasure, his bare feet slapping on the floor tiles, picking up speed. Danyl glanced around. His gaze fell upon the table by the rack of computers. It was littered with tools and components. He grabbed a DVD and a flat-head screwdriver, knelt down and slipped the DVD beneath the door, then inserted the screwdriver into the keyhole. He felt resistance, pushed harder and heard something small and metallic fall and rattle onto the DVD, which he snatched back from under the door. The key lay in the centre of it. Danyl!

  He picked it up, gripping the door handle with his other hand, but it slipped from his grasp as Campbell jerked the door open. He towered above Danyl, his face purple with anger as he roared above the noise of the music, ‘Writer! Traitor! Now I have you!’

  Danyl threw the screwdriver at him. The handle glanced off Campbell’s brow; he stumbled backwards, releasing his grip on the door and Danyl slammed it shut, slipped the key into the keyhole and turned the lock.

  Campbell rattled the handle, beat his fists against the door and howled with fury. The opera music soared, and Danyl bit his bottom lip and made vigorous thrusts with his pelvis in the direction of the locked bathroom. He counted off fifteen thrusts then ran to the filing cabinet.

  He had outwitted the Campbell Walker. Now he just had to find Stasia’s letter and escape. He rummaged through the drawers marked ‘EZ Wellness,’ and in the last one he found the small silver jewellery box.

  He leaped into the air in celebration of his awesomeness, and joyously burst into the first verse of ‘The Danyl Song’, then broke off. Something was wrong.

  Campbell was silent: no more threats; no more pounding on the door. This was probably a bad sign. Danyl slipped Stasia’s box into a pocket in his robe, crept over to the bathroom and pressed his ear against the door: he heard a faint beeping sound, then a pause, then Campbell’s voice, very even, very calm, saying, ‘He’s in my study. Seal off the entire floor. Send as many men as you can.’

  How typical of Campbell to take his phone with him into the toilet. Danyl cursed and stepped off the deck onto the bottom rung of the ladder leading to the roof of the tower.

  It was difficult to climb in the robe, but the warm evening breeze felt nice on his bare thighs. He was almost at the top when he heard shouts below, then the loud crash of a door being kicked in as the SSS stormed Campbell’s apartment. This was followed by Campbell’s voice, screaming, hysterical with fury, ‘I don’t know where he is! Find him!’

  Fools. It would take them forever to figure out he’d escaped via the deck and the emergency ladder to the roof, and by that time he’d be over the other side of the building, down the external fire-exit and far, far away.

  ‘I see him! He’s on the ladder!’

  Or not. Danyl climbed faster. He reached the top rung and hauled himself up onto the rough concrete surface of the roof. The whole valley lay beneath him, vast and secret and deep. The streetlights glowed like a nervous system floating in the void.

  The ladder shuddered as someone below began to climb.

  Danyl stood and ran towards the far side of the building. There was another ladder on the opposite face, descending to the fire-escape two floors below. If he was lucky he’d be halfway to the ground before the SSS thought to block it. And after that? Best not to think about his longer-than-immediate-term future.

  He stopped running just before the edge of the building, inched forward and looked down. It fell away into a pit of darkness punctuated by irregularly spaced windows of light. He couldn’t see the ladder. He crawled along the ledge on his knees, groping blindly, desperately.

  He couldn’t find it. The shouts of the cultists were louder. They had reached the roof.

  Maybe he should go back and talk to them? Apologise. Negotiate surrender. These people weren’t animals, after all.

  Then Colin’s voice rang out, savage and high. ‘Destroy the traitor! Sapiens! Sapiens! Sapiens!’ Others took up the call. Perhaps the time for dialogue had passed.

  Danyl’s hand gripped the ladder and he swung over the edge of the roof just as beams of torchlight swept the empty air above him. His feet kicked in space before finding purchase on the rungs.

  He went slowly, partly to avoid making any sound to alert the cultists above to his presence, mostly because it was scary climbing down the side of an eight-storey building in near-total darkness. He passed the first set of windows, through which he heard muffled yelling from inside Campbell’s apartment, and then he reached the seventh floor where the ladder met a small, wooden ledge: the fire escape. This ran along the side of the building to a rickety set of steel stairs leading down.

  Danyl shuffled along the ledge on his knees, past the darkened windows leading into the empty apartments. He was barely at the halfway point when he heard voices, saw torchlight below. Beams of light scanned the fire-escape. There were at least two cultists down there, searching. The way was blocked.

  Why did escaping from a cult fortress have to be so hard? He crawled back to the nearest window and took Stasia’s box from inside his robe. Balancing carefully, he tapped it against the glass with increasing force until it cracked and cob-webbed, then he pushed on the fragments and they fell inwards, shattering on the unseen floor. Hopefully the cultists above were too busy screaming ‘Death to the traitor!’ to hear.

  He pulled his hand inside the sleeve of his robe and ran it around the empty frame to make sure there weren’t any shards left to cut himself on, and then pulled his weary body through the window into the lightless interior.

  He had no idea where he was. Probably one of the seventh-storey apartments. With luck he was close to the stairs. But whatever his location, his situation was bleak. In minutes this whole floor would be swarming with cultists.

  He climbed to his knees, flicked on his torch and cast the beam around the room. It picked up a couch, table, chairs; it all looked new, expensive. The room was clean and bare of any objects other than the furnishings.

  He stood and brushed the broken glass from his robe and made his way towards the door leading to the hall. It was ajar. The sign on it read: ‘Chambers of the High Hierophant. Absolutely no Admittance.’

  He was back in his old apartment.

  Then a sound came from the bedroom: creaking, rustling; footsteps crossing the floor.

  No sense in running, and there was nowhere to hide. Danyl trained his torch on the door as it creaked open and a figure entered the room. It held his hand over its eyes, peered into the torchlight and said, ‘Oh, hey there, buddy.’

  It was Steve.

  27

  The High Hierophant

  ‘This? This is your secret research project?’

  ‘Well, obviously.’

  ‘So, what? You’re the High Hierophant? You run the SSS?’

  ‘Me? The High Hierophant?’ Steve chuckled and shook his head. ‘I wish. No, I joined the Order a few weeks ago as part of my longitudinal study into Aro Valley psychological historic epi-incompatibilism. I’m just an apprentice. Any more questions, Mister Curious?’

  ‘Yes.’ Danyl noticed now that Steve wore the same black SSS T-shirt as Colin and the other young cultists. ‘I have many questions. First, if you’re not the High Hierophant then what are you doing in his apartment?’

  ‘Field work. Apparently there’s an intruder loose in the building. I took advantage of the confusion and snuck in here to learn more about the Order.’

  ‘Did you find anything?’

  ‘I found the bedroom. And then the bed. Which I took a nap on. Then you smashed in a window and woke me up. But enough about me. What brings you up here?’

&nbs
p; ‘I’m the intruder.’

  ‘You’re the fat intruder?’ Steve absorbed this information. ‘That makes sense. You better be careful, buddy. There’s a lot of people looking for you.’

  Danyl rubbed his eyes. It was late. He was physically and emotionally exhausted. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Steve. But he had no choice. He said, ‘Can you throw these cultists off my trail? Buy us some time?’

  ‘Time? Why do we need time?’

  ‘To talk. Exchange information.’

  ‘Didn’t we just do that?’

  ‘Not . . . There’s a lot more to talk about. And we need to formulate a plan.’

  Steve looked dubious, but he took his phone from his pocket and typed a message into the keypad. ‘I’m telling my brothers I saw you climb into a window on the fifth floor,’ he said.

  ‘Nice. That should work.’

  ‘OK.’ Steve put his hands on his hips. ‘What do we need to talk about that’s so important I had to lie to my superiors in the Order?’

  Danyl felt an urge to rush Steve, grab him by his SSS T-shirt and hurl him from the window. He suppressed it on the grounds it might give away his position to his enemies. Instead he breathed through his nose and said, ‘Let me answer your question with a question.’

  ‘Go.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you joined Campbell’s cult?’

  ‘I swore a sacred vow never to divulge my membership. By the way, the SSS is not a cult. We’re a paramilitary philosophical order.’

  ‘Not a cult? Steve, don’t you—’ He stopped mid-sentence and held his hand to the side of his head. ‘An order. Of course! It’s been staring us in the face all along!’

  ‘What has?’ Steve sounded impatient.

  ‘The full name of the SSS is Sapiens Sapiens Sapiens. And what does sapiens mean? It’s Latin for “wise”. So the name of the order is Wise Wise Wise. Thrice wise.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So Wolfgang Bludkraft’s Order of Thrice-Wise Hermes and Campbell’s SSS are linked.’

  Steve nodded, still impatient. ‘Well, obviously.’

  ‘Obviously? If it was obvious why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I thought it was so obvious I didn’t need to.’

  Danyl replied bitterly, ‘And was it obvious that the SSS broke into my house, stole my box and destroyed my spare room? It that why you neglected to mention that little detail?’

  Steve snorted. ‘Oh, they’d never do anything of the kind. I know you don’t like Campbell but the SSS are scholars. We’d never—’

  ‘The box we stole is upstairs in Campbell’s study,’ Danyl interjected. ‘Next to an aerial map of the valley marking all the homes he’s vandalised.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  Steve shook his head, clearly troubled. ‘There must be a reasonable explanation. The stated goal of the SSS is to work for the betterment of humanity. Such lawless destruction would be totally contrary to the spirit of the Order. Although . . .’ He scratched his nose. ‘It would explain a few things.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Like why Campbell and his initiates sometimes leave the tower late at night carrying power tools and drive off in their van and don’t return until the early hours of the morning. I guess your allegations make sense in that context.’

  ‘It makes perfect sense. They’re out searching for the Priest’s Soul.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You swear you didn’t know anything about this?’

  ‘Of course not. I’m just an apprentice. I don’t know what the initiates do. I’m not cleared for that information. You probably,’ Steve added in a disapproving tone, ‘shouldn’t have told me about it.’

  ‘And you weren’t with them when they attacked me in the park yesterday?’

  ‘Of course not. I would never directly participate in anything like that.’ He scratched his nose again. ‘No, I was just a lookout.’

  ‘Lookout? You were involved?’

  ‘Indirectly. I was given an order. I couldn’t blow my cover. I had to protect my research, buddy.’

  ‘You helped those thugs ambush me because you didn’t want to compromise your research? Where’s your sense of morality? You call me your buddy? How can you even say that word?’

  ‘Let me explain something to you,’ Steve spoke as if addressing a slow child. ‘My SSS field work is a crucial part of my thesis. Why, I had to get approval from the university’s ethics committee to conduct this research, and one of their requirements was that I respect and honour the values of the SSS for the duration of my doctoral studies. So don’t talk to me about morality, because the moral, ethical thing to do would be to hand you over to Campbell to be beaten and tortured, as per the SSS code for the punishment of traitors. But I didn’t. Because we’re buddies.’

  ‘But what are you even studying here? What could you hope to prove by observing these crackpots?’

  ‘We’ve discussed my hypothesis before,’ Steve said. ‘That the belief system of a society dictates the reality it operates under. If you live in a civilisation that worships Yahweh, or divine Imhotep, inventor of the sacred column, then Yahweh and Imhotep become real. The SSS is a perfect subject because it’s a micro-society, almost totally autonomous from the rest of the world. It has a full set of symbols; a prophet, the mysterious High Hierophant; and his apostle, namely the Campbell Walker. They even have a kind of Devil.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That would be you. They really don’t like you. Campbell calls you “The Great Traitor” and “The enemy of humanity”. And if my thesis is correct, that’s why you’re here tonight. Their fear and hatred has called you into existence.’

  ‘But that’s absurd. I don’t exist simply because the SSS believe I’m the Devil.’

  ‘Oh no? You’re here now, aren’t you? Storming their tower, trapping them in their maze, attacking their spiritual leader and locking him in his toilet—behaving exactly how you’d expect the Devil to behave.’

  ‘This is your thesis? You’re spending time trying to prove this nonsense?’

  Steve opened his mouth to reply indignantly when his phone chimed. ‘That’ll be the DHH with his plan to capture you.’ He held up his hand for silence while he read the new message. ‘He’s going to set guards around the base of the building and search it floor by floor until we corner you.’ Steve whistled and cocked an eyebrow in admiration. ‘That’s a good plan. You better think of something quick, buddy, or we’re gonna get you.’

  Danyl gritted his teeth and said, ‘They’re not going to get me, because you’re going to help me.’

  ‘No can do, buddy. As a scientist and a sworn apprentice of the SSS I have an obligation—’

  ‘Steve. Please. You’re my friend.’

  ‘And you’re my friend. So you won’t ask me to betray my principles and compromise my work.’

  ‘Fine.’ Danyl shone his torch in Steve’s face. ‘Let’s put friendship aside and make a deal. You’ll help me because if I’m captured I’ll tell Campbell you’re a spy, that you helped me hide from his men, that you violated the chambers of the High Hierophant and that you’re researching his cult as part of your doctoral thesis. How will that affect your so-called ethical so-called field work?’

  Steve’s plan was simple and elegant. Danyl would hide in the apartment while the SSS secured the base of the building and began their floor-to-floor search. Then Steve would send a group text message claiming he’d seen Danyl on the second floor of the building, somewhere on the north side. While the SSS searched that area Danyl would climb down the fire escape on the south side of the tower and then flee into the night.

  ‘Just remember,’ Steve explained once they had agreed on the details. ‘Once we capture you and interrogate you—’

  ‘I won’t say a word about your research.’

  Steve poin
ted at him, winked and made a clicking sound with the corner of his mouth that made Danyl want to be captured just so he could betray him. He responded with a feeble wave, then said, ‘Steve, wait. One last question.’

  Steve was heading towards the hall. He turned and Danyl pointed at the sign on the door.

  ‘Who lives here? Who is the High Hierophant? If the original High Hierophant of the Order of Thrice-Wise Hermes was Wolfgang Bludkraft, then who is the leader of the SSS? Have you ever seen him?’

  ‘No one has,’ Steve said. ‘Except Campbell, who receives instructions from the Hierophant, which the rest of the Order carries out.’

  ‘Well, these are his chambers.’ Danyl crossed over to the kitchen. ‘So where is he?’ The benches were clear; the pots and cooking utensils arranged neatly on the shelves; everything was covered with a thin layer of dust. ‘Does he even exist?’

  ‘Of course he exists. He dictated the Liber Peditis to the Campbell Walker.’

  ‘Ah ha! Campbell didn’t write The Book of the Walker—I did. This proves my point—there is no High Hierophant. Campbell is a false apostle.’

  ‘Haven’t you heard anything I said?’ Steve looked disappointed. ‘What you’ve done, what we’ve seen in here, none of it matters. It’s what the members of the SSS believe. And they believe the High Hierophant is real. Therefore he is.’ He tipped his finger to his forehead in salute and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

  Danyl stood in the lounge for a minute, re-imagining his conversation with Steve so that all of Steve’s absurd postmodern psychobabble was annihilated by the withering force of Danyl’s cold logic. When he had redacted the debate to his own satisfaction, and imaginary-Steve had agreed to abandon his thesis, leave Te Aro and seek work as a shepherd in a very remote rural area, Danyl nodded with satisfaction and turned his attention to the rest of the apartment.

  Because something still didn’t add up about this High Hierophant business. OK, he had told the real Steve there was no High Hierophant, but in the course of his imaginary argument, imaginary-Steve had made a couple of good points. One, if he didn’t exist why would Campbell allocate an apartment for him? Why not just say he lived someplace else? And two, didn’t the Campbell Walker see himself as a great leader of men? Why would he invent a fake head for his own Order? It didn’t make sense.