Genuflect

by Tracy R Twyman

  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.