ItwasalreadytunedtotheSkyNewschannel,whichwasplayingacommercial forBarclaysBank.ThenitcuttoareportaboutthemurderoftheMI5
DirectoratPaternosterSquare.Itlookedlikethenewshasjusthit.Chesterfield
turnedupthesound.
Thenewsreportwasslightlytruthfulandslightlymisleading,asIsuspectedit wouldbe.TheysaidthattheDirectorhadbeeninterviewinga“suspectinan espionagecase”attheCentralCriminalCourtwhenbothmenhaddisappeared.
Ashortwhilelater,policeissuedareporttothemediathatDirectorPindar’s bodyhadbeenfoundatTempleBarinPaternosterSquare.
Nodetailsweregivenabouttheconditionofthebodyortheuseofunderground tunnelstoescape.Theydidn’tmentionthenameofthe“suspect”
oranyoftherealchargesagainsthim.TheydidstatethatEquitonewasthe currentactinghead.
ThePrimeMinister,whohadbeeninformedofthenews,releasedastatement expressingcondolencesforPindar’sfamily.Shealsopromisedthattherewould beapressconferenceonthematterthefollowingday.Apanelofb-team reportersandintelligenceexpertsbegantospeculatewildlybasedonwhatlittle informationtheyhad.Chesterfieldturnedthevolumedownagaintoawhisper.
“Now,”heannounced,pointingtotheceilingwithhiscontortedrightindex finder,“sinceweareundertheprotectionoftherose,letususetheselastfew momentsofconsciousnesstospeakfreelywithoneanother.”
Ilookeduptowherehewaspointing.TherewasindeedaredandwhiteTudor rosepaintedontheceiling,withgreenleavespokingoutbetweenthefivepetals andagoldenbudemerginginthecenter.Iknewthat subrosa,or“under therose,”wasacodethatmeant“undertheprotectionofmutualvowsof secrecy.”Thepaintwascracked,justlikeitwasontherestoftheceilingand walls.Itlookedlikeitcouldhavebeenthereforcenturies,andmostlikelyhad been.
“ChathamHouserules,right?”saidParis,winkingathim.“Everybodysayswhat theythinkandwhattheyknow.Afterwardsweallforgetwhosaidwhat.”
“Exactly,”Chesterfieldrepliedtohispartner,smilingandnodding.Isaid nothing,andpromisednothing,whichiswhyIfeelfreetosharethisinformation withyounow.
“Soisthisanall‐outcoupnoworwhat?”ChesterfieldaskedParis,gettingthings started.“Doyoureallythinkit’stheCybele‐worshippingTemplardick-cutters, orisittheRussians?”Thelastparthesaidwithanairofhumor,whichParis pickedupon.
“Naw,it’stheIlluminati,”saidParis,onlyhalf‐joking.“Pindar’saFrenchyby birth.Nevertrustthosefrogs.Neverforgethowtheychoppedoffallthose ChristianheadsduringtheRevolution.OrhowtheyhelpedtheAmerican colonieswiththeirtreason.”
“YournameisParis,forGod’ssake!”Chesterfieldshouted,throwingacouch pillowathispartnerplayfully.
“ButhewasaTrojanPrince,Martin,”saidParis.“JustlikeBrutus,whofounded LondonasNewTroy.I’mnofrog‐lover,myfriend.They’vealwaysconspired againstthegovernmentsofEurope.ThemandtheJews,justlikemymumsaid.”
Parisdrainedhisglassandthengotuptorefillit,takingChesterfield’swithhim also.Iwasstillnursingmine.Infact,Iwasstartingtonodoff.Icaughtmyself leaningforward,andstraightenedup.ChesterfieldrespondedtoParvin’splayful pretenseatracistparanoia.
“YouAsiansalwaysthinktheJewsdideverything.WhatabouttheJesuits?
TheyburneddownLondonin1666.Andthey’vebeendiddlingallthealtarboys foratleastaslong.TheyhangedthatguyatBlackfriarsBridgeinthe1980s.
Thisjobtonightwasalotlikethat,youknow.”
ItoohadthoughtthesameaboutRobertoCalvi’smurderin1982,allegedlydone atthebehestofabizarreMasonicgroupcalled“P2”or PropagandaDue.
DespitethepapalbanonCatholicsjoiningmasonry,P2hadbecomeapower withintheVaticanitself,aswellasinItalyandLatinAmerica.Calvi,amember ofP2,hadworkedfortheBancoAmbrosiano,anItalianbankwhichhadbeen doingbusinesswiththeorder,whichincludedlaunderingillegalmoneyforthe Vatican.
Afterthemoney‐launderingschemewasdiscoveredbyItalianauthorities,and prosecutionsbegan,CalviwasfoundhangingfromabridgeovertheThames.
Hehadfledthecountryafterhisinitialarrest,presumablyrunningfrom prosecutionbutalso,accordingtohisfamily,becauseofthreatsfromtheP2
goons.ThenewspapersspeculatedthatthemannerofhisdeathwasaMasonic retributionritualfortraitorstothebrotherhood.Thebridgetheyhadchosen, Blackfriars,wasthoughttohavebeenusedasareferencetothe fratineri,or
“blackbrothers,”anicknamethatP2membershadchosenforthemselves.
“Youknowwhatmydadtoldme?”saidParis.“WhenheworkedforSIShe foundoutthatthoseP2guyskilledPauloPasolinitoo.Rightwhilehewas editing 120DaysofSodom.Allthatcrapabouthimrapingtheprostituteboy withastickwasalie,andtheysetthatkidup.”
Chesterfieldarchedhiseyebrowsinsurprise.Itoowasintriguedthatthe conversationhadturneddownthisavenue.IwouldnothaveimaginedthatMI5
agents,andevenagentsofMI6(a.k.a.“SIS,”whomParis’fatherhadapparently workedfor)wouldbeinvestigatingthemurderofanundergroundfilmmaker becauseofhisadaptationofanobscureunfinishedporno‐horrornovelfromthe eighteenthcentury.ThepossibilityofaP2connectiontothiswascompletely foreigntome.Parisleanedforwardandcontinuedinalowervoice.
“ThetruthistheJesuitMasonsgothim.Therewereseveralrollsoffilmthat weresupposedtobeinthemoviewhichgotstolen.Inthoserolls,Pasolinihad toldthetruthaboutwhattheSatanistsintheVaticanareallupto.Andit’sjust likethatPizzagatestuffyouweretalkingabout,Pamela.”Hepointedatme.
Iwasstrugglingtostayawake,butIwasveryinterestedinwhathewassaying.I recalledasbestIcouldthefactsIknewaboutPierPauloPasolini,thefilm director.Hewasmurderedin1975byamaleteenageprostitute,whoranover himwithhisowncaratabeachinOstia,Italy.Supposedly,thedirectorhad hired
thekidforsex,butthentriedtosodomizehimwithalargestick,againsthiswill, leadingtohisownviolentend.
TheonlyreasonwhyIknewaboutitwasbecauseasateenagerIhadbeenafan ofabandcalledCoil,whowroteasongaboutthemurder.Ihadalsoseen Pasolini’slastfilm, Salo,orthe120DaysofSodom,whichhehadbeenediting
whenhedied.Itdidindeeddepictthebrutalrapeandmurderofyoung teenagers,bothmaleandfemale.Inthestory,theywerekidnappedontheorders ofagroupofaristocratsandpowerfulclerics.Themeninthisgroupthen imprisonedtheminanisolatedmansionwheretheyalleventuallydiedinthe mostawfulways.ItwasbasedonaMarquisdeSadenovel,withthelocation changedfromrevolutionaryFrancetofascist‐eraItaly.
“WellnowI’veheardeverything,”Isaid,consciousthatImightbeslurringabit.
“I’dheardthatthePapistsburneddownLondon.I’veheardFatherMalachi MartinsaythattherewereSatanistsrunningtheVaticannow.ButIdidn’tknow thatP2killedPasolini.
“Yeah,welltheygotMalachiMartintoo,”saidChesterfield.“Theycursedhim withademonthatfinallyovercamehim.Don’tthinkthatwasanaccident.”
ThedeadIrishclerichespokeofhadbeenanaccomplishedexorcist,and everyoneknewhewastheguythatthepriestinthe Exorcistmoviewasbased on.
FatherMartindiedofacerebralhemorrhageafterafallinhisManhattan apartment,whichhetoldfriendshadbeencausedbyademonicattack.
Purportedly,hewasalsoacloseconfidantofJeanPaulII,andwasprivytomany Vaticansecrets,whichhewroteaboutinseveralbooks.
Theseincludedthefactthat—heclaimed—Satanistshadinfiltrateditshighest ranks.HesaidthatthewidespreadmolestationofchildrenintheChurchwas beingorganizedbytheSatanistsfor
ritualpurposes.FatherMartinalsoalleged thatthePopehadtoldhimthethirdsecretofFatima,givenbytheVirginMaryto threechildreninPortugalin1917,whichtheChurchhasneveropenlyrevealed.
Accordingtohim,itwasaprophecythattheFinalPopewouldbe
“underthecontrolofSatan.”
“Sowhyarepeopleinthespybusinessmoreparanoidthaneveryoneelse?”I asked.
“Becausewedon’tjustthinkweknow,weknowweknow,”saidChesterfield.
HeaimedtheremotecontrolattheTVandtuneditintooneoftheother channels.ItshowedaladydressedupkindoflikeNapoleon,wavingaBritish
flagfromthepointofascabbardwhilesinginginahigh‐pitchedoperaticvoice.
“Ohyes!”saidChesterfieldexcitedly.“Thisisfrom2009!”Hecrankedupthe sound.
Justthenthesingergottothechorus.Thewholeaudience,andthetwomenin theroomwithme,joinedinthesinging.ThenIrealizedthatIvaguely recognizedthesongfromhearingitbeforesomewhere.
RuleBritannia!Britanniarulethewaves!
Britonsnever,never,nevershallbeslaves!
Theybothresoundedgleefullyanddrunkenlythroughtherestofthe performance.Itendedwithastrangeencorethatcameaftertheinitialroundof applausefromtheaudience,andevenafterasummationfromanoff‐screen presenterstatingthatitwasrecordedatRoyalAlbertHall.Whenitwasover,my friendsinformedmethatthiswasasamplefromthe“LastNightoftheProms,”
whichwassomekindoftraditionalannualpatrioticoperashow.
Ihadfinishedmywhiskey,soChesterfieldgotuptogetusbothanother.
Parisdeclinedarefill,andinsteadchosetostretchoutonthecouchwhenhis partnerstoodup.Asforme,thisseemstobethelastthingIrememberfromthat night.
Chapter17:Saturn’sReturn
ORosethouartsick.
Theinvisibleworm,
Thatfliesinthenight
Inthehowlingstorm:
Hasfoundoutthybed
Ofcrimsonjoy:
Andhisdarksecretlove
Doesthylifedestroy.
—WilliamBlake, TheSickRose
Whenyouwakeupfromadream,doyousometimesfindthatyoucan’t rememberwhatorderthingsactuallyhappenedin?Doyoueverwonderifyour mindhasreallyjustorganizedthingsthewayyourememberinanefforttocreate theillusionofcausality—thatonethingledtoanother?Isitpossiblethatthe orderofeventshasbeenimposed expostfactobyyourownconsciousmind uponwaking?Doyoueverwonderifperhapsyourmindhaseveninserted certainstoryelementsafterthefacttogiveformtoanotherwiseincoherent chaoticcacophonyofsoundsandimagesfromtheabyssoftheunconscious?
Doesthisexplainwhyhumansallegedlyseeeverythingwhiledreaminginblack andwhite,likecolorblinddogs,butrememberitotherwise?
IamprettysurethepartthatIrememberbeing“first”inthatnight’sdreamwas actuallyinsertedattheend,asIbegantowakeup.Iwalkedintoaroomlikea darkcave,withanorboflightshiningfromthetop,andreflectingonamirror thatcoveredthewallinfrontofme.Therewasamanadarksuitstandingthere infrontofmelookingatthemirror.ButIcouldnotseehisface.I couldnotlook atitforsomereason.
Itriedtolookatthemirrortoseehisreflection.Butsuddenlyinfrontofhis head,whereIshouldhavebeenabletoseetheleftsideofhisface,ablack‐and-whitephotographhadbeensuperimposed,showingasquintingoldbaldingwhite manwithamustachewhoIdidn’trecognize.Thesightofhimfrightenedme.
Thenhespoke.Ifoundhisvoiceharshandmenacing.
“Iwanttoscareyousothatyou’llrememberwhenyouwakeup.”
Atthatmoment,Irecallbeingutterlyterrified.Iwasdreaming.Notonlythat, butsomeoneelseinthedreamknewthatIwasscared,andhehadthepowerto cloakhimself.Thatmeantanythingcouldhappen.Ithoughtinluciddreamsyou weresupposedtobeabletorealizeyourpowerinthesituationandtakecontrol ofthenarrative.Butherethispersonseemedtobeexercisingcontrolovermy dreamlife.Andofcourse,liketheworstofmynightmares,Iwasfrozen,unable toscreamormove.
“I’llputtheimportantparthereattheendsothatyouwon’tforgetit.”He laughed.Hisvoicewasmasculinebuthehadthewickedlaughofameanold lady.
Somehow,thesceneshiftedtothatoftwogiant,slimywormshavingdisgusting sex.Theyweregluedtoeachotheronbothends,liketheyweredoingtheold
“69”position.Itseemedliketheywerebothfightingandfucking,tryingto simultaneouslyeatandrapeoneanother.
ThenIrememberedhowithappened.Iwasgoingbackwardsintimeitseems, uponreflection.Ihadbeensleeping,andthensomethingwokemeup.
Somebodywasontopofme.IhadthoughtIwasalone,butsomeonewasontop ofme.IwokeupandrealizedIwasfuckingsomeone.Orrather,perhaps,that someonewasfuckingme.
Icouldn’tbesure.Icouldn’ttellifitwasamanorawoman,orevenwhatkind ofthingIwas.
AmIaworm? Irememberwondering. Ablindworm?
Icouldn’tseeanything.Allwasdark.Itriedtopushhimoff.
Him?
Ireachedoutandgrabbedsomething:aknife.
Istabbedattheattackerblindly,butimmediatelymythighwasfilledwith shootingpain.
Thenfinally,Icouldscream.Finallyhegotoffofme.FinallyIcouldsee,asthe lightcamethroughthewindow.Chesterfieldopenedtheblinds,hollering obscenities.
Iwasawakenow.Hewasinhisboxershortsandwife‐beaterwithanopenwhite terryclothbathrobe,lookingatmelikeIwasamaniac.
“Whatthefuckisgoingon!”heshouted.
“Youwererapingme!”Ianswered,shieldingmyeyesfromthelight.Myvision
wasstillblurry.Myheadwaspounding.Ahangover.
“No,Iwasmerely sleepingnexttoyou!”heresponded.“Yourolledoverontop of me.Thenyoustartedstabbingyourselfwithmynose‐trimmers.”
“Eww!”Irecoiled.IfoundthatIwasonthefloorbetweenhisbedandhis radiator,kneelingdowninfrontofhim.Ilookeddownatthewoundinmyleg, stillbleedingandthrobbing.IpresseddownonitwithmyhandasIrealizedI wasinmyunderwearandwearingaman’swhiteundershirt,justliketheone Chesterfieldwaswearing.
“YoutookmyclothesoffwhileIwassleeping?!”Ishoutedinoutrage.
“That’sthesecondtimethat’shappenedtomeinthelast24hours!Whatthe fuck!”
Chesterfieldshruggedashetookhisbathrobeoffanddrapeditovermy shoulders.
“No,”hesaid,“Iwentintothekitchentogetussomecheeseandcrackers.
WhenIgotbacktothelivingroomyouweregone.Ifoundyoulyinginmybed dressedasyouarenow,wearing myundershirt.Itwasclean,youknow.”
“Good,”Ithought.Iwasalreadygrossedoutabouthavingiton.Hewalkedout oftheroomforamomentandcamebackwithawetwashclothformetoputon myinjuredthigh.
“IguessIreallytiedoneonthen,”Isaid.IwasembarrassedthatIhadgotten drunkenoughtoblackoutlikethat.Iwasalsoverysicktomystomach.
“Yeahwellfileyoursexualharassmentcomplaintupyourarse,”hesneered,not lookingatmedirectly.
“I’msorry!”Isaid.
Heseemedtoacceptthis,butIcouldtellhisfeelingswerestillhurt.Togetaway fromtheawkwardness,Iaskedtousethebathroom.
Iwasinthereforawhile.ItwasspaciouscomparedtotheoneintheRegent
Hotel,althoughittoolackedabathtub.However,liketherestoftheapartment,it wassurprisinglycleanforabachelorpad,andIenjoyedanicehotshower.
Asthefreshsteamywaterpoundeddownonmyface,Ithoughtaboutbydream, especiallytheworms.ImademethinkaboutthestoryofChronosagain.
You’llrecallthatheswallowedhisbabiesassoo
nastheywereborn,afraidthat oneofhischildrenwouldusurphispositionaskingofthegods.
IenvisionedChronoswithhismouthconstantlyonthemother’svaginaassoon asthematinghadfinished,tomakesurenothingescaped.Iimaginedthathe probablyalsohadtobequitecarefulthatnoneofhissemenspilledoutanywhere else,becausethespermofallimmortalsisdescribedinthemythsasbeing super‐fertile,capableofgeneratingprogenyonanythingittouches.Asper example:Aphrodite,whowasbornfromthesementhatclungtothesidesofthe bloodypenisofOuranosasitfellintotheseasbelow.Thiswas,ofcourse,after hissonChronoscutitoff.
TheGreekssaidthatOuranoswastheSkyandhiswifeGaiawastheEarth.
Theywerethefirstparentsintheuniverse.TheyproducedChronosandtherest oftheTitans,anastybroodofdragons,giantsandmonsters.
Atonepoint,itwassaid,OuranosandGaiawereonebeing,presumablylocked inendlesssexualembrace,ifyouconsiderthefactthattheywereengendering childrentogether,alongwiththerestoftheknowndetails.Themythsdidn’t spellitout,butonecandeducethatthecastrationtookplaceinsidethemother’s vagina,theexitbeingdeliberatelyblockedfortheoffspringbytheirfather’s penis.Thisbringstheobviousquestion:wheredidtheweapon(saidtobea ceremonialscythecalleda harpe)comefrom?
Somesaidhedidthisbecauseofa“prophecy”thatOuranoswouldbekilledand havehisroletakenoverbyoneofhischildren.Itisuncertainwhetherthe prophecyarosewithinhisownmind,orifhiswifetoldhimthat,orperhaps someunnamedthirdparty.Someversionssayhefearedhischildren’sbirths becausehesomehowknewthattheyweresimplytoouglytobelookedat.I figuredthismeantthattheyrepresentthechaostheprecededcreation,whatthe alchemistscallthe primamateria oftheuniverse,whichhadnotyettakenany definiteform.
Chronosdidinfacttakeoverastheleaderofthegods.HeandRhea,hiswife, ruledoveratimerecalledasthe“GoldenAge.”Itwasdescribedasatimewhen everyonewasfreeandnobodywascalledintotheserviceofanother.Atthis point,“everybody”presumablyconsistedofjustChronos,Rhea,andtheirTitan siblings.
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