Genuflect

by Tracy R Twyman

  “What?”Isaid,disbelievinghim.DespitewhatParveenhadtoldme,Icouldn’t acceptthatanythingcouldbestolenfromtheBritishMuseumwithoutitbeinga newsstory.Also,Leopold/Thomaswasaknownliar.

  “Yes,itsgone,andweneedtogetgonetoo,”hesaid.“Comewithme.”

  “OK,”Isaid.“I’dliketogetadecentcoffee.Ialsoneedtofindaclothingstore.

  Theylostmyluggage,andI’vebeenwearingthisoutfitforthreedays.”

  Weheadedtowardstheentrance,butfrombehindIheardmynamebeingcalled byadeepmalevoice.

  “Ms.Auger!”

  “Walkfaster,”saidLeopold.“Wecan’tletthemcatchus.”

  “YoumeanAccountsReceivable?”Isaid.“I’mjustgoingtoleave.Theycan’t makemestay.”Still,Ididwalkfaster.Thevoicecalledmeagain.

  “Ms.Auger,pleasecomebackhereforamoment!”

  NowIwasalmostrunning,panicking,wantingtoavoidconfrontation.

  Leopoldkeptpace.Wesprinteddownthestepsandacrossthecourtyard,with nowtwopursuers,whomIsawperipherallytobelargemenindarksuits,

  followingbehindatasteadypacebutnotrunningafterus.

  AswenearedthecurbofGreatRussellStreet,Leopoldhailedablackcarwith tintedwindowsthatlookedlikeitsarrivalwasperfectlytimed.Heopenedthe backdoorandbasicallyshovedmein.Beforethedoorclosed,Iheardthatsame familiarvoiceshoutingatmefrombehindus:

  “Ms.Auger,weneedtotalk.There’ssomethingyouneedtoknow!”

  Leopoldshutthedoor,andthedoorslockedautomatically.That’swhenI realizedthatthiswasnotataxicab,astherewerenometersandnoofficial identification.Itwasaprivatecar.Thedriver,ablondguyinhisthirtieswitha darksuitandblackbowlerhat,tookordersfromLeopold.

  “TakeustotheClub,Miles”hesaidtothedriver.Milesnoddedandspedoff, justasoneofthemenfollowingus,whoIsawtobeblackandhusky,reached forthedoorhandle,andmissed.Nowmysurvivalinstinctkickedin.

  “Leopold,Iagreedtogodownthestreetforcoffeewithyou,nottogetina privatecar.Whereareyoutakingme?”

  “TotheOrientalClub,ofcourse,”hesaid.“You’regoingtomakethe presentationIhiredyoutodo.”Achillwentthroughme.

  WhoisthismanthatI’vefoolishlygottenintoacarwith,Ithought, and whatis hegoingtodotome?

  “Actually,I’dliketogetoutnow,”Isaid.Ithenaddressedthedriver.“Canyou pullthecaroverplease?”

  Heignoredme.Myfearturnedintoafullfreak‐out.

  “Idemandthatyouletmeoutofthiscarrightnow!”Iscreamed.Ipickedupmy phone,thoughIdidn’tknowhowtocalltheequivalentof911inthiscountry.I didn’thavetimetothinkaboutwhotocallbecauseLeopoldsnatchedthephone outofmyhandwithaforcefulnessthatsurprisedmeforamanhisage.

  “Pamela,donotpanic,orIwillgiveyouareasontopanic,”hesaid.

  Whatascarythingtosay! Ithought.

  Iunlockedmydoorandreachedforthehandle,readytotakemychancesand jumpoutstraightontothepavementbelow,hopingIcouldaimforthesidewalk atleastinsteadofbeingcrushedimmediatelybythecarbehindus.ButLeopold grabbedmyhandandpressedsomethingcoldandhardagainstmychest.

  Ilookeddown.Itwasasilverhandgun.Isatback,terrified.

  “Whatdoyouwantfromme?”Isobbed.

  “Justyourprofessionalanalysis,”heanswered.“Nowcooperate.”

  Chapter9:OrientalClub

  BetweenSouthMoltonStreet&StratfordPlace:Calvary’sfoot:Wherethe VidimswerepreparingforsacrificetheirCherubim…theirinmostpalaces Resoundedwithpreparationofanimalswild&tame.

  —WilliamBlake, Milton

  Attimeslikethis,youfindyourselfwishingyou’dattachedaridertoyour contract.

  Theclientmustprovidehisactuallegalname.Noinvoluntarytransportof my person(kidnapping).Nogunsorthreatsofmurder.Pickmeupattheairport, for Christ’ssake.Returnphonecallsandemailsrelatedtobusinessinatimely manner.Andnever,everbookmeatahotelroomthatcannotfitbothmybody andmysuitcasesimultaneously.Also,ofcourse,acancellationclauseincase the aboverequirementsareviolated.

  Butnorecourseseemedavailabletomeatthattime.SoItriedtocalmmyself down,wipingthetearsfrommypuffy,reddenedfacethathadnothadthebenefit ofmake‐upindays.IconcentratedonLeopold’shands,whichIlookedatclose upforthefirsttime.Inoticedthattheywerebothscarredalloverandhorribly contorted.Itwasalmostasifeachphalangehadbeenseparatedfromtheothers atsomepoint,andthenithadallbeengraftedbacktogetheragain,badly.

  Ilookedoutthewindowtomyleftandsawapublicpark.Asignsaid

  “HanoverSquare.”IrecalledthatthiswasnearwheretheOrientalClubactually didmeet,atsomeplacecalledStratfordHouse.ButLeopoldwasholdingmy

  phone,soIcouldn’tuseittoconfirmthis.Iwonderedwhattheyweregoingto dowithme,howmuchitwouldhurt,andifanyonewouldfindmybody.Finally, Iturnedagaintomycaptorandinquiredastowhethertheprojectorandscreen hadbeensetupformyPowerPointpresentation.

  “You’llhaveeverythingyouneed,”Iwastoldgruffly.

  Thecarstoppedabruptlyandpulledupnexttothepark.

  “Wewalkfromhere,”Leopoldannounced.Thedoorsunlockedandheleaned overtopullthehandleonmydoorwithhisrighthandwhilehegrabbedmyright wristwithhislefthand,whichwassognarlythatmyskintriedtocrawlaway frommybodyassoonashetouchedit.Hethenwrappedhisentirearmaround minesothathehadfirmcontrolofmywholeupperbody.Hepushedmeout alongwithhimself,andweemergedstucktogether.Hethenpulledmeoverto thecorner,wherewecrossedthestreetafterMilesdroveoff.

  IguesswejustlookedlikeatypicalMay‐Decembercouple.Peoplewalkingpast usdidn’tseemtonoticethathewaspressingagunagainstmyside,orthatIwas underextremeduress.Icouldn’tbelievethatsomethinglikethiscouldhappenin alargecityinbroaddaylight.Butitwashappening.

  Whenwegottotheothersideofthestreet.Leopoldstoppedmeforamoment andlookedaround.Therewasnobodyelseinourimmediatevicinity.Infrontof uswasamulti‐purposeofficebuilding.IsawasignforaLloyd’sTSBbankin thelobby,andnexttothat,Barclays,again.InmyfearandparanoiaItried desperatelytounderstandwhatwasgoingon.IturnedtolookatLeopold.

  “Youdon’tworkforBarclaysdoyou?”Heshookhisheadsidewaysand laughed.Irealizedthatdidn’tmakeanysense,especiallysincehehadpaidme thousandsofdollarsandspentthousandsmoretobringmehere.

  That’sasillywaytocollectadebt,Ithought.JustthenIfeltsomeonecomefrom behindandgrabmyleftarm.ItwasMiles.Hemusthavealreadyparkedthecar.

  “Thiswayplease,”hesaidpolitelyasheandLeopoldbothdraggedmeoff.

  TheymarchedmepastanotherbuildingandacrossHanoverStreet,thendowna fewdoorstotheleft.Wepausedinfrontoftheglassdoorofanartgallerywith noname,simplylabeledwiththeaddress,“10Hanover.”Inthemiddleofthe

  day,itwasclosedandempty.

  Therewasatouchpadforanalarm.MileskeyedinthecodewhileLeopoldheld mefirm,neverlooseninghisgriponmyarmorthepressureofthegunonmy ribcage.ThedooropenedandIwasusheredinside.

  Thelightswereoff,butIcouldseethemainroomfromthedaylightcoming throughtheglassdoor.Ionlysawtwoartpiecesondisplayintheotherwise emptyroom.OnewasagiantBand‐Aid,aboutafootlong,stucktoacanvason thebackwall,rightnexttoastaircaseleadingdown.Theotherwasalarge squarecanvasonthewalltomyleft,maybe8feetby8feet,paintedblackwith threeyellowdiscsarrangedinadownward‐pointingtriangleformation.Leopold noticedmenoticingit.

  “Whata
reyouthinking?”heaskedcuriously.

  “OhIwasjustthinkingthatthisremindsmeofanimageIsawinamovieonce,”

  Itoldhim.

  Thiswholeexperienceislikebeinginamovie,Ithoughttomyself.

  “Whichone?”heprodded.

  “Ithinkitwas InvocationofMyDemonBrother,byKennethAnger,”I answered.

  “Ahyes,theAleisterCrowleyworshipperwiththehorribleamateurmoviesthat everybodycalls‘art,’”hesaid.

  Theyshovedmetotheleftsideoftheroom,aroundabend,sothatwewerenow outofsightfromthefrontdoor.LeopoldletmegoandgavetheguntoMiles, whonowpresseditintomybackunderneathmyleftshoulderblade.

  Leopoldlitacigarettewithazippo.TheywereChesterfields.Ididn’tevenknow theymadeChesterfieldsanymore!That,ofcourse,mademethinkfondlyofmy favoriteMI5agent,wishingheandhispartnerweretheretosaveme.

  “Actually,”Leopoldexplained,“theyellowdotsintheKennethAngermovie formadownward‐pointingtriangle.This,”hesaid,jabbinghisthumbatthe paintingbehindhim,“isbasedonthecoatofarmsforWilliamPitt.There’sa

  statueofhimintheparkacrossthestreet.”

  Hestartedtowalktowardsthestairsandthenstoppedagain.Heturnedaround andlookedatme,wagginghisgnarlyindexfingeratme.

  “Butsee,youwerepickinguponanAleisterCrowleyvibe.That’swhyIhired you.There’smorethanjustlogicandknowledgeatworkinyourbrain, thoughthereisthat.You’reusingasixthsensetodoyourresearchtoo.I’ve knownitforsometime.That’swhyyou’retheoneweneed.”

  Heturnedaroundandheadeddownthestairs.MilesandIfollowed.

  “Why,”Iasked.“What’sthisgottodowithAleisterCrowley?”

  Whenwereachedthebottomofthestairswewereinadarkunfinished basement.Icouldn’tevenseethewallstotellhowlargeitwas.Leopoldturned towardsmeandignitedhislightertoilluminatehisface.

  “Crowley’sAstronArgonclubhadanofficeinthatbuildingdownthestreet,at 10HanoverSquare,”hesaid,pointingbackupthestairs.“Oratleast,inthe buildingthatusedtobethere.”

  “Butaren’twein10Hanovernow?”Isaid,confused.Irememberedtheaddress onthefrontdoor.

  “We’rein10Hanover Street.TheSquareisdownthere,hesaid,continuingto point.Mileswinced.

  “It’sOKMiles,”Leopoldassuredhim.“Sheneedstoknowthesethings.

  Now,Crowleyandhisfriendshadaccesstotheundergroundtunnelnetwork beneaththesestreets,whichleadstowhatwasoncethesub‐basementofwhere theOrientalClub usedtomeet,at18HanoverSquare.”

  “SonotStratfordHouse?”Iinquired.

  “That’sright,”heanswered.“TheymovedtoStratfordHouseinthe60s.It’sjust aquarter‐mileawayfromhere.Butbeforethat,OrientalClubwasjustafewfeet awayfromAstronArgon’soffice,rightacrossHanoverSquare.NowCrowley

  spentsometimethere,notasadues‐payingmember,butasaguest.Andthe personwhoinvitedhimin,whosenameIshallwithhold,alsosharedwithhima secretwhich shouldnothavebeendisclosed,aboutthetunnelnetwork.Crowley andhisfriendsthenbeganmakingnefarioususeofthetunnels.Weknowthis becausewhenwewereexploringdownhere,wefoundoneofhissecret shrines.”

  “Whattunnels?”Iasked.“Andwho’s‘we’?”

  “TheWorshipfulSocietyofButchers,”Leopoldreplied.Hewalkedovertoa grimytile‐coveredwall,whichIcouldnowseeonlybecauseoftheflamefrom his

  lighter,andunlatchedahookthathadbeenkeepingathinwoodendoorclosed.It swungopen,revealingatoilet,asink,andanoverflowingtrashcan.Milesletgo ofmeandgavethegunbacktoLeopold,whohelditstickingouttowardsme.I nowhadnobodyholdingme,butIdarenottrytorun.

  Milespulledthetrashcanoutofthebathroomandintothemainroom,togetit outoftheway.Thenhebrushedasidetheremainingpileofusedpapertowels, revealingagreenwoodenhatchdoor,whichheraised.Underneathwasadeep shaft,withatleasttworungsofametalladdervisiblefromthetop.

  Thismustbetheentrancetothesecretnetworkoftunnelstheyweretalking about,Ithought.

  Mileswentdownfirst.Thenafewsecondslater,LeopoldinsistedIfollow.Iput thestrapofthelaptopcasearoundmyneckandletithangfrommybackasI climbeddown.Leopoldextinguishedhisflame,andwaitedformetogettothe bottom,stillinpitch‐darkness.ThereMilesgrabbedmewithbothhands,and whistledtoannouncethis.ThenLeopolddescendeddowntheladderhimself.

  Whenhegottothebottom,heflickedhislighterbackontemporarilyand pointedhisgunatmeagain.ThenMilesletgoofme,andreachedintohiscoat pockettopulloutalongsilvercylinder.ItwasanLEDflashlight,whichhe turnedon,allowingLeopoldtoputouthislighterandreturnittohispocket.

  “I’msorrythatIhavetopointthisgunatyou,”saidLeopold.“ButIknowthatI can’ttrustyoutocooperateyet.”Hepulledsomethingoutofhisinnercoat pocketandsnappedittounfurlit.Itwasacloth,likeascarf.

  “Turnaround,”hesaid.Icomplied.Hetiedtheclothovermyeyes.Iwas completelyblind.

  “Ohcomeon,”Isaid,“Icanbarelyseeasitis.”

  “TherearesomedetailsIjustcan’ttrustyouwith,”hesaid.“Miles,takeherbag please.”

  Milesrelievedmeofmyburden,whichactuallywas quitearelief,physically.

  ButnowIhadtoworryabouthowIwasgoingtogetitback.Leopoldthen grabbedmefrombehindbytheleftshoulder.

  “Putyourarmsouttoyourside,please,”heinstructed.Icomplied,bewildered.

  “Forwardthreepaces,please,andthroughthearchway,”Leopoldcontinued.

  Iwalkedahead.Aftertwosteps,Ifeltawalloneithersideofme.Withathird stepIwalkedthroughapassagewaybetweenthem.Isteppedintoanopenroom ofsomesort.Icouldtellthisbecausetherewasachangeinairpressure,aswell asintheacousticsofourfootsteps,andagentlebreezefromabove.

  “Wherearewegoingnow?”Isaid.

  “Youtellus,mydearVirgil,”hecommanded.

  “Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked.

  “Directlyaheadofyouaretheentrancestothreedifferentcorridorsthatyoucan godown,”Leopoldexplained.“Threedifferentavenuesallleadingtothelight.

  Threedifferent Waysthrough Strengthand Beauty.

  “Butremember,”helectured,“thesepathsallintersectwitheachotheratseveral pointsonthejourney.Sointhelongrun,therewillbenumerousopportunitiesto changetheroadyouareon.Therefore,fearnottheoutcome.

  Simplymakeachoice,andmoveahead.Buttomakesurethatyouareperfectly lost,andthereforeyourchoiceallthemorearbitrary,weshallgiveyouafew spinsaround,justlikeagameofpinthetailonthedonkey.”

  Leopoldtookmebymylefthand,andMilestookmebymyright.Thenthey

  bothbegantospinmeinacounter‐clockwisedirection.

  SuddenlyIunderstood,atleastinpart,theirpurposeforbringingmehere.

  LeopoldhadsurmisedmyclairvoyantpowerswhenherealizedthatIwasusing intuitionanddivinationtoolsinmyoccultresearch.HehadfiguredoutwhyI hadbeenabletopenetrateesotericmysteriessodeeply.

  Perhapshe’salsooverestimatedmypowers,Ithought, andassumesIcan control them.Maybehedoesn’trealizethattheyworksporadicallyatbest,and aren’t alwaysreliable.Eitherway,it’scertainlywasstartingtolooklikehe broughtme heretoserveasasoothsayer.

  “Areyouguystryingtousemeasahumandowsingrod?”Iasked,asIwas beingturnedbythemlikeacorkscrew.

  “Inaway,yes,”Leopoldreplied.

  Theyspunmearoundseventimes,attheendofwhichIwas,astheyintended, dizzyandcompletelydisoriented.Istumbledforwardafewfeet.Myhan
ds caughttheleftsideofanotherarchway.

  “Excellentchoice,”saidLeopold.“Steadyon.”

  Iwalkedonthroughthearchway,andintoanarrowtunnel,withLeopold’shand onmyshoulderonceagain.IreckonedthatMileswassomewherebehindus.

  “Don’tyouknowwherethesetunnelslead?Orareyouexpecting metotellyou?

  Because IsureasHelldon’tknow.”

  “Yes,Iknowwheretheylead,dear.ButI’mjustnotsurewhatstationweneedto beatnext.SoIamcountingonyoutointuitthatforus.Don’tworry,Ihave completefaithinyou.”

  Andsowewalkedon,forwhatfeltlikeaquarterofamile,untilwehitawall.I sensedthatwehadreachedanothercrossroads.Iscuttledtotheleftandfound thattherewasindeedapassagewaythere,soIturnedleft.ButthenIhesitated afterafewsteps.Itsmelledwetandmoldy,likedirtytowels.

  “Maybeweshouldgotheotherway,”Isaid.“Thismightbeleadingintoa

  sewer.”

  “It’snot,”saidLeopold.“Goon.”

  “Butthere’sapassagewaygoingtheoppositedirectiontoo,isn’tthere?”Iasked.

  Igotthesensethattherewas,andthatImighthavemadethewrongchoice.

  “Don’tsecond‐guessyourself,”saidLeopold.“Keepgoing.”

  Wetrekkedonforaboutanotherquarterofamile.AtonepointIwassurethatI heardasubwaytrainpassingoverahead,andMilesconfirmedit.Thensometime afterthatIsaw,inmymind’seye,anoldwoodendoor,withapadlockonit.I stoppeddeadinmytracks.

  “There’snopointingoingon,”Isaid.“There’salockeddoor.Wewouldneed thekey.”

  “She’sgood!”saidMiles.Ithenheardakeyringjangling,andakeybeing insertedintothelock.

  “Comeonthrough,”hesaid,guidingmethroughthedoorwithhishandonmy shoulders.“There’sonlyonedirectiontogoinfromhere.”

  Isteppedforward.Leopoldsteppedthroughbehindme.Thenhetoldmetostop.

  “Goaheadandtakethehoodwinkoff,Miles,”heordered.

  Theblindfoldwasremoved.NowIcouldseethebrickwallsandfloorsofthe corridorwewerein,illuminatedbytheLEDflashlight.Itseemedcenturiesold.