Theroomacrossthestreetwastoodarkformetoseeanydetails.Iwondered howlongheorshehadbeenwatchingus,aswellashowclearlythedetailsof mycomputerscreenmighthavebeenfromthatview,sinceourtablewaswell-lit.Thisremainedonmymindasweexitedthetavernandwalkedoutintothe brisknightair.
Chapter14:Rerouting…
ManyroadsThouhastfashioned:allofthemleadtotheLight.
—RudyardKipling,“TheSongofMithras”from Puckof Pook’sHill Iwasn’tsurewhatChesterfieldhadinmindformenext.ButIintendedtotell himthatIwastoophysicallyexhaustedtocontinueforthenight.Heseemed annoyedaboutsomething.Icouldn’thelpworryingthatitwasn’tjustthe disturbinginvestigation,butactuallymethatwaspissinghimoff.Iwasjust abouttoopenmymouthaboutthiswhenafamiliarblackVauxhallAstraElite pulleduprightinfrontofus.Thetinteddriver’ssidewindowrolleddown.
“Carservice!”AgentPariscalledouttous.
“Wheredidhecomefrom?”IaskedChesterfield.
“Hecalledwhileyouwereinthetoilets,”Chesterfieldreplied.“Heofferedto pickusup.Butyou’rewelcometowalkbacktothetubestationbyyourselfif youwant.Asforme,I’mfreezingmyarseoff!”Herushedovertobackcardoor andopenedit,thensteppedaside.
“Areyoucoming?”heasked.Igotin.Thistime,heclosedthedoorandthengot
intothefrontpassengerseatinsteadofsittingnexttome.
“Thanksfortheride,Parvin,”hetoldhispartner.
“Parvin?Isthatyourfirstname?”IaskedAgentParis.“Iknowaladyatthe BritishMuseumwithalmostthesamename.”
“It’sacommonPersiannameforbothmenandwomen,withseveralvariants,”
heanswered.“It’sFarsiforthePleaides.”
“Oh,”Isaid.“That’sinteresting.Say,wouldyouminddroppingmeoffatthe RegentPalace?”Chesterfieldturnedaroundandstaredatmeincredulously.
“YouseriouslywanttogobacktotheRegentPalace?”hesaid.“Thatplaceisa dump!AndtheWorshipfulButchersknowyourroomnumber.It’snotsafe!”
“Well,Idon’thaveanywhereelsetosleep,”Isaid.AndIcan’tstayawakemuch longer.”Iwouldhavegleefullylaiddownonjustaboutanyhorizontalsurface rightthen.
“ChesterfieldandIwerewonderingifyou’dliketohaveaslumberpartyathis placetonight,”saidParis.Thecarfellabsolutelysilent.Iwassuretherewasa punchlinecoming.Afteranawkwardminute,IfeltIhadtosaysomething.
“Well,I’mnotnormallyinthehabitofhavingslumberpartieswithgroupsof menthatI’vejustmet.”Isetitupandwaitedforthepunchline. Knockknock, who’sthere? Finally,Chesterfieldresponded.
“Andwe arenormallyinthehabitofhavingpeoplewewanttointerrogate arrested,thenheldwithoutformalchargesforaslongaslegallypossible.Butwe thoughtwe’dgetmorecooperationfromyouifweapproacheditinamore friendlymanner.Besides,aren’tyoucurious?Don’tyouwanttohelpwiththe investigation,toseewhereitleads?It’sdirectlyrelatedtoyourTemplar research,isn’tit?Andhaven’twealreadyfiguredoutsomanyamazingthings together?”
Heturnedaroundtofacethefront,butPariscontinuedwiththeargument.
“Weneedyourhelpsolvingthiscase,Pamela.Therearesensitivedetailsthatwe can’tmakepublicwhicharesobizarreandarcanethatonlyanexpertlikeyou
couldushelpanalyzethem.Andreally,therearen’tanyotherexpertslikeyou—
notinyourparticularsubjects.”
“Look,honestly,ifyouwantmyhelp,letmereturnhometomorrow,andwecan correspondthroughemail,”Isaid.“I’mnotdoingthisoffthebooksanymore, andI’mcertainlynotgoingwithyouguystoChesterfield’sapartment.”
“You’reinthiswhetheryoulikeitornot,”Chesterfieldrebutted.“Youare connectedtothe fakeBaronofAlphamstone,towhoseapartmentsinChancery LanewetracedthetransmissionofthechildpornandtorturevideoyouandI justwatchedattheOldCockTavern.Andthatvideoshowedchildrenbeing rapedandmutilated.Sonowwethinkthismighthavebeendonebythesame peoplewhoyousaykidnappedyouandforcedyoutowatchthekillingofan animal.
Therefore,ifyoudon’twanttohelpusfindthepeoplethatdidthesethings,and bringthemtojustice,tostopthemfromhurtinganyoneelse,I’vegottoassume
it’sbecauseyouhaven’ttoldmethetruth,inwhichcaseyou’renotavictim, you’reanaccomplice.”
“Waitaminute,”Isaid.“Youtracedtheoriginofthevideo?Sotheanonymous tippagewasn’treallyanonymous?”
“Ofcoursenot,don’tbestupid,”saidChesterfield.Parisstudiedmyreactionin therearviewmirrorasheturnedthrougharoundabout.
“AndyoutracedittoChanceryLane,thatsamestreetthatwewalkeddownto gettothepubatTemple?”
“Yes,andofcourseyouknowwholivesthere.”
“Idon’tknowanythingaboutit,”Ianswered.“YousaidAleisterCrowleyused tolivethere.That’sallIknow.”
“Oh,soLeopoldBlacknevergaveyoutheaddresstohisapartmentnexttothe silvervaults?”Chesterfieldasked,notbelievingme.AshespokeInotedthatwe werecoincidentallygoingrightbythesilvervaultsonChanceryLaneonceagain beforeturningwestonHighHolborn.
“IassumedthathelivedinAlphamstoneinsomegrandestate!”Isaid.“I obviouslydidn’tknowanythingabouthimthatwasactuallytrue.Itoldyou that!”
“Andnowwe’retellingyouthathe’sinvolvedinmakingthesechildtorture films,inadditiontoeverythingelsewe’vetoldyouabouthim,”saidAgentParis.
“Doesn’tthatmakeyouwanttohelpusstophim?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“ButwhydowehavetodoitatChesterfield’shouse?Surelythat’s notMI5procedure.”
“Well,MI5mayhavebeendecapitatedtonight,orelse,itisthoroughly compromised,”Parisanswered.“Andnobodyoutsidetheagencyknowsityet, exceptyou.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Isaid,thoroughlyconfused.“Explain.”
“Forsomereason,ourDirector,Mr.Pindar,madeaspecialrequesttointerview ThomasWeirpersonallyinthebasementoftheOldBailey,rightafterhewas bookedandabouttobetransferredtoaholdingcell.Thenthetwodisappeared shortlythereafter.”
“SoLeopoldisonthelooserightnow?”Isaid.“Andhe’skidnappedthe Director?”ForsomereasonIcouldn’tstopcallingthatmanbyhisfakename.
“Eitherthatorthey’rebothinonit,whichiswhatIsuspect,”answeredParis.
“Sodoyouunderstandwhyitisn’tsafeforyoutogobacktothehotel,orback home,orforustohaveyouinterrogatedthroughthenormalchannels?Wehave tofigureoutwhat’sgoingonbyourselves,orelsenoneofusaresafe.Andwho knowswhatthebadguysaregoingtodonext,orwhoelsemaybeindanger.”
“Isn’tthatanextremeaccusation?”Isaid.
“We’vehadRussianagentsdirectingbothMI5&MI6before,”saidChesterfield.
“Idon’tseewhytheseoccultweirdos,whatevertheyare,couldn’twormtheir wayintothatdenofvipersaswell.”
Iassumedhewastalkingabouttheallegationsfromthebest‐selling1980sbook Spycatcher,claimingthatRogerHollishadbeenaRussianspywhenheserved asMI5DirectorGeneralinthe50sand60s.TheauthorbelievedthatHollisand manyotherswereinleaguewiththeinfamousCambridgeFivespyringthathad alreadybeencaughtanddefected.Ofcourse,theseallegationshadinnoway everbeenproven,asChesterfieldhadimplied.ButIwasn’tgoingtoarguewith him.Hewasprobablyrightanyway.
“Sohowdidtheydisappearfromtheprison?”Iasked.“Howmanyothersarein onit?”
“Thenumberofaccomplicesisunknown,butitneedn’thavebeenverymany.
Allthatwasrequiredwasafewdumbcopsfollowingorderswithoutques
tion.
Turnsoutthere’satrapdoorintheflooroftheOldBailey’sbasementthatleads tothesewers,outofwhichtheydisappeared.”
“Soisanybodylookingforthem?”Iasked.
“Yeah,we’vegotcopsandotheragentsuptotheirnecksinshitlooking underneaththeCityforthem,butsofarnothing,”saidParis.“Theyreallycould
beanywherebynow.Ourguysletanhourpassforthis interrogationbefore anybodycheckedonthem.”Hewasobviouslydisgusted.
Justthen,thecellphonesofbothagentsrangatthesametime.Theyhad differentringtones.Itwasajarringcacophony.Theybothanswered,received somesortofshockingnews,andthenlookedateachotherinhorrorbefore hangingup.Parisabruptlyturnedhisvehiclearoundandchangedthedestination onhisGPS.
“Wherearewegoingnow?What’sgoingon?”Idemanded.Chesterfieldturned aroundandlookedatmesolemnly.
“DirectorPindar’sheadwasjustfoundspikedtothemainarchofTempleBarat PaternosterSquare,”hesaid.
Chapter15:EmpyreanandBeyond
OSatan,myyoungestborn,artthounotPrinceoftheStarryHosts,loAndofthe WheelsofHeaven,toturntheMillsday&night?
—WilliamBlake, Milton
BeforeIhadtimetoabsorbthenews,wewerealreadythere,pullingupon WarwickLane,rightnexttothemonument.Theareawasalreadycordonedoff withaflurryofpolicepresence.Weallgotoutofthecarsimultaneouslyand begantowalkbrisklytowardstheaction.Awomaninamustard‐coloredtrench coat,whoseemedtoknowbothagents,hurriedtowardsus.Shebriefedthemon whatsheknewwhileIstoodaside.ThenPariscontinuedtotalktoherabout detailswhileChesterfieldrelayedthehighlightstomewhile.
“Theheadwastackedtothefront,”hesaid,“andthebodywasstuffedinsidethe upperchamber.”
“Thesamelocationastherapesceneinthevideo,”Inoted.Chesterfieldnodded.
“TheyusedtohangtheheadsoftraitorsonTempleBar,”heremarked.
“SoLeopoldconsiderstheDirectorofMI5atraitor?”Isaid,thinkingaloud.
“Andhewasabletokidnapandkillhimafterthemanrequestedaprivate
meetingwithhim?Ithoughtyousaidhewasafakenoblemanrunningascam formoney.Howdoeshehavethepowertodothis?”
“That’swhatI’mtryingtofigureout,”hesaid.“Inthemeantime,MissBeverly EquitoneistheactingheadofMI5untilareplacementismade.NowIhaveno ideawhatsideshe’son,orwhatthesidesinthismatterevenare.Butthere’s somethingelseIwantyoutosee.”
Hegrabbedmyhandandwalkedmeovertothemonument,thenliftedthe cordontoletmeunderneath.Wewalkedtothelittledoorintheback,sitting openandguardedbytwoMetropolitanpoliceofficerswithbrightreflective yellowjackets.Chesterfieldflashedhisbadgeandaskedthecopstoletus examinethecrimescene,towhichtheybothnoddedinaffirmation.Thenwe walkedupthetinystairwayintotheupperchamberwhich,Chesterfield informedme,hadatonetimeservedasasmallprison.
Therewerethreepoliceofficersintheroom:awhitemantakingpictures,a whitemandustingforfingerprints,andonewhitewomanwithgreenhair(the fadedremnantsofapunk‐lookingdyejob),whoappearedtobesupervising them.
Therewasbloodsplatteredonthefloor.Chesterfieldaskedthemifthebodyhad alreadybeenremoved.
“No,justthehead,”saidtheladycop.Thebody’supthere.”
Shepointeduptotheceilinginthemiddleoftheroom.Thebodyhungnaked fromtherafters,tiedwithblackwirebythehandsandfeetsothatitwascurled intoacirclewiththestomachpointingdown.Inadditiontotheremovalofthe head,therewasapuncturewoundnearthenavel.
“So that’showthebloodgotsplatteredlikethat,”saidChesterfield,apparentlyto himself.
“Yeah,allovertheblackmagicsymbolsontheground,”saidthephotographer.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked.Ididn’tseeanyblackmagicsymbols.
“Youhavetousebluelighttoseethem,”hesaid.“450nanometers.AndIhadto useaspecialcameratophotographit.”Heflickedofftheonelightintheroomat theswitch.HehandedmeandChesterfieldeachapairofamber‐colored goggles.Thenhepointedhisblueflashlightwheretheblooddropswere.Tomy surprise,Ididseesymbolsstandingout,lookingwhiteinthelight,written underneaththespatter.
Aninvisibleinkhadbeenusedtocreateanarrangementofwords,letters,and othersymbols.Atthetopitsaid“ToEmpyreanandBeyond,”withanoddsigil
formingtheexclamationpoint.Itwasacirclewithadotinthemiddle,topped withanarrowpointingupward,theastrologicalsignforUranus.
BeneaththiswasoneoftheoldestmagicaldevicesusedintheWesternworld, theSatorSquare,apalindromewhichgoes:SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS
Theentiredisplaytookupanareaofaboutafootsquare.
“It’sallwritteninsemen,”thephotographersaid.
“TheinvisibleinkusedbySIS!”saidChesterfield.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Isaid,waitingforanexplanation.
“Yeah,what doyoumean?”thephotographerasked.Theothermalecop,the fingerprintcollector,cameclosertolisten.
“Well,see,”Chesterfieldcontinued,“itwasreallyaninsidejoke.Itwasa referencetothefactduringtheFirstWorldWar,whenthespyservicewasnew justthenbeingformed,theyusedsemenasaninvisibleinkforsendingsecret messagestoeachother.‘Everymanhisownstylo,’theyusedtosay.Their director,MansfieldCumming,cameupwiththathimself.
“Hislastnamewas actually‘Cumming’?”Isaid.Icouldn’thelpmyself.
“Thisguy’sfirstnamewasactually‘Côme,’”Chesterfieldrepliedwithout humor,pointingtothebodyaboveus.Hepronounceditlike“comb.”
“It’saFrenchvariantofthename‘Cosmo,’”saidthephotographer.
“Iwonderifthat’swhythismessagewaswritteninthismedium,”thefingerprint collectorinterjected.“ItcouldhavebeenareferencetoMansfieldCumming’s invisibleink,somethingthatwouldbeunderstoodonlybypeoplewhoworkin nationalintelligenceandsecurity,orwhoarefamiliarwiththeirhistory.”
Chesterfieldshruggedhisshoulder.“Whoknowsatthispoint.Weassumeit’s thekiller’ssemen,right?Imean,itdoesn’tkeepwell,sohemusthavejerkedoff somewhererighthere,don’tyouthink?”
“Yes,beforehestrungupthebody,”saidthefingerprintguy.
“Sodidyoufindasourcepoolofsemen?”askedChesterfield.“Ordidhecollect itinhishand,oracuporsomething,beforehestartedwritinganddrawingwith it?”
“Hecollecteditinthevictim’seyesocket,”saidthegreen‐hairedlady,who walkedtowardsusnow,lookingdeadpan.“Thedirectorwassubjectedto‘ocular penetration.’Wefoundspermaticfluidaroundandwithinthelefteyesocket,but wehaven’tyetdeterminedifthevictimwasstillalivewhenitwasdeposited.
Andtheeyeismissing.”Chesterfield’seyeswidenedinhorror.
Skullfucked,Ithought. Iguessitreally does happen.Howawful.
“Oh,Ithinkhemusthavehadalargersupplythanjustthatoneinkwell,”
saidthefingerprintcollector.“Ithinkhebroughtasupplywithhim,keptfresh somehow.Hewouldhaveneededmoretodoallthiswriting.”
Whilethethreecopsdiscussedthis,Chesterfieldpulledmebackafewsteps, closertothestairwell,sothatwecouldspeaktoeachotherdirectly.Helowered hisvoice—nottoawhisper,butjustenoughsothatwewouldn’tinterruptthe others.
“What’sthisabout?”Chesterfieldaskedme,pointingtothesymbols.
“It’sanancientmagicspell.Theoldestonetheyeverfoundwasintheruinsof HerculeaumnearVesuvius.Itmeans‘TheploughmanArepoworksthewheels.”
ButnobodyknowswhoArepois,orwhatthewholethingmeansatall.
“What’sitsupposedtodo?”heasked.
“Ithinkitcouldbeusedforblessingorcursing,whicheveryouchoose,”Isaid.
Irealizedthiswastotallyvague.Butmymindwasdistractedbytheothergraffiti nexttothemagicsquare.Oneithersideofitwerethe“Alpha”and
“Omega”symbols.BeneaththeAlphaontheleftwasanimageofacrudely-drawnpenisandtesticlesdescendingintoavase.UnderneaththeOmegasymbol therewasapictureofababy’sheademergingfromanidenticalvase.
“SoIsupposetheotherpicturesrepresentwhathappenedtotheboyinthe movie,”Chesterfieldtheorized.“Also,thecastration,andmaybethereferences inthefilmtolaying‘anEasteregg.’Itcouldbeconnectedtothispictureofthe babyhatchingoutofthevase,right?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“AndEmpyreanisthehighestchamberinHeaven,althoughI don’tknowwhatthatweirdarrowisabout.”
“Oh,”saidChesterfield.“IthoughtforsureitwasaquotefromBuzzLightyear.”
Iignoredhisjoke,althoughIhadnotedthesimilaritytothephrase“ToInfinity andBeyond”aswell.Ialsothoughtaboutthefinalsegmentofthefilm 2001:A SpaceOdyssey,entitled“JupiterandBeyondtheInfinite,”althoughinArthurC.
Clarke’soriginalplansforthestory,theplanetnamedwasSaturn.
“There’smore,”Isaid.“Irecognizetheseimages.TheycamefromtheTemplar artifactsintheHammer‐Purgstallbook—theoneIhadtranslatedandpublished alongwithmyownbooklastyear.”
Ishookmyheadinanefforttosnapmyselfbackintoreality.ThenIdugintomy phoneandGoogle‐image‐searcheduntilIfoundawebsitewheresomeasshole hadillegallyuploadedaPDFofmybookaboutBaphomet.Iskimmedthrough thedocumentuntilIfoundtheimageIwaslookingfor.
“Hereitis,”Iannounced.Ishowedhimthepictureofthehumanfigure(let’s assumeit’smaleforthesakeofgrammar)sittingonaneagle.Hehadwhat lookedlikeadeadgooseorduckdrapedoverhishead,sothatthebird’sneck dangledoverhisface,itsbeakliningupwithhischin.Behindhim,thebird’s wingswereextendedout,asiftheywerecomingoutofhisownback.
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