The Shadow Project, page 15
“Could have fooled me,” Danny said.
Hector smiled slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to meet the Skull’s men in the dark. But Sword of Wrath’s a symptom, not the cause.”
They were going to get a lecture on foreign policy. Danny could smell it coming. Opal probably thought so too, because she still sounded cool when she asked, “What’s the cause then, Colonel Hamilton-Oakes?”
“War in heaven,” Uncle Hector told them.
There was a long, embarrassed pause during which Danny did his level best to suppress a grin.
Opal didn’t seem impressed either. “War in heaven?” she echoed as if she couldn’t quite believe she’d heard correctly.
“My grandfather was cavalry in the First World War,” Hector said soberly. “My father was a captain in the Second. Why do you imagine those wars were fought?”
Opal clearly started to lose patience because she said, “Actually we have a problem at the Project—”
Surprisingly, it was Michael who cut her short. “It’s all right, Opal; Uncle Hector knows exactly what’s happening at the Project. If you listen to what he has to say, it may prove helpful.”
Hector took a very small sip of his gin. “They’ll tell you it was politics, but politics didn’t come into the First World War. Read your history books. Nobody wanted it, but that didn’t stop it from happening. It’s a bit easier to find superficial reasons for the Second World War—Munich Agreement, appeasement, invasion of Poland—but they don’t really stack up either. Neither does the Holocaust. The German people were the most civilized in Europe and by no means the most anti-Semitic. How on earth did the Nazis persuade them to behave the way they did?” He shifted in his seat. “Neither of these wars was about what it seemed to be about. They were both about Good versus Evil, Light versus Darkness. They were about the movements of cosmic currents. Hitler was an occultist. So was the Kaiser. They both allowed themselves to become channels for some particularly dark powers. In effect there weren’t two world wars in the twentieth century. There was one great spiritual conflict that manifested on Earth in 1914 and again in 1939. But it didn’t stop in 1945. It manifested again in the Korean War and the Vietnam War and the Pol Pot regime in Cambodia and ethnic cleansing in the Balkans and two Gulf Wars and God knows how many civil wars in Africa.” His eyes flickered back and forth between Opal and Danny as if willing them to believe him. “It’s still going on today.”
“Good versus Evil?” Danny said. “Right.” He glanced over at Opal. “One way of looking at it.”
Hector gave a thin smile. “This isn’t about viewpoint, Danny. Sometimes the hidden powers manifest of their own accord. It’s as if they take over people and involve them without their even knowing it. But sometimes particularly evil people tap into the powers quite deliberately to further their own ends. It may have happened with the Kaiser. It certainly happened with Hitler.” He glanced from face to face, then went on soberly, “It’s happening again now with the Skull—or at least with his chief adviser, Farrakhan.”
The name brought Danny up short. “You know about Farrakhan, then?”
Hector said, “The Skull’s political, pragmatic, but Farrakhan’s no politician, not by a long shot. Before they teamed up, Farrakhan was a marabout, a sort of hermit, living in the mountains. He claims to have spent time studying ilmu al-hikmah—Middle Eastern occultism. We believe he specializes in ilmu khodam, the art of summoning spirit servants.”
Out of the corner of his eye Danny saw Opal lean forward suddenly in her chair. There was an image in his head of the thing that had killed Fran, another of the towering shape he’d seen in the cellar. Was that what Hector meant by a spirit servant?
But Hector was still talking. “Farrakhan’s a natural psychic as well as an occultist. He knows about things like astral projection—they probably call it by some trendy initials in the Project, do they, Michael?”
Michael nodded. “RV for remote viewing. Or OOBE.”
“Out-of-body experience,” Hector sniffed. “But whatever you like to call it, Farrakhan’s one of those rare individuals who can see your second body while they’re still in the physical. He found out that the Americans were using astral projection in their intelligence work—probably spotted an agent in his second body. We believe he brought that knowledge to the Skull, managed to convince him it was more than mystic flimflam, and used it to get his current position of power in Épée de la Colère. I’m fairly sure Opal was the first agent they actually captured. They must have been furious when she escaped.”
“These spirit servants,” Danny said. “Do they have teeth and claws?”
Hector stared at him. “Some of them.”
Opal said, “How do you know all this?”
“The problem,” Uncle Hector said, “is that the CIA and even our own intelligence services have begun to take an interest in areas that don’t properly concern them. Astral projection is a very ancient spiritual practice—it can be used to access different levels of reality. But the CIA never looked beyond using it for spying. They don’t believe there is anything beyond that. They operate with a very dangerous mix of ignorance and arrogance. They think because they’ve developed some electrical technologies, they know all there is to know. They’re not aware of the hidden realities.”
Michael said, apparently in answer to Opal’s question, “Uncle Hector is a member of the Priory of Mons.”
“What’s the Priory of Mons?” Danny asked.
“An organization that has studied spiritual technologies since the early Middle Ages,” Hector told him.
“He means a secret order of magicians,” Michael said. “Like you, Danny, Uncle Hector is sohanti.”
43
Danny, Blandings
They moved into the library because Uncle Hector wanted to consult a book. Danny stood wondering if his head was going to explode. Problem was, he didn’t know what he wanted to focus on first. He wanted to find out more about the Priory of Mons. He wanted to talk to the other two—still not sure about Hector yet—about Farrakhan and that creature in his triangle. Everything was overwhelming. But at least Opal was safe here: that was the main thing.
Unless Farrakhan tracked her down.
A scary picture popped into Danny’s mind, clear as a Spielberg movie. There was Farrakhan in his second body, strolling through the Project walls and halls. There was Opal’s father, Sir Roland, hanging up the phone. There was George Hanover beside him, hanging up his phone. “It’s all right—she’s with Uncle Hector,” says Sir Roland. “Yes,” says George, “you mean Michael’s uncle Hector Hamilton-Oakes, who lives at Blandings, just twenty minutes south of here, and Michael’s with her and so’s young Danny—no worries there, then.” Danny could see Farrakhan pricking up his ears.
Maybe it was time to bring up current problems. Danny said loudly, “Farrakhan sent the thing that killed Fran. I don’t know what it was, but he’s sending something worse after Opal. A lot worse. I saw him call it up in some sort of black magic ceremony while I was out of my body. Called it a Devourer.” Well, there it was. If they wanted to phone the men in white coats, now was the time to do it.
He looked at Opal, who was staring back at him with open disbelief on her face. “Did you say ‘Devourer’? The old woman in the clinic warned me about a Devourer!”
Danny frowned, wondering what she was talking about, as Hector, who had his nose buried in a leather-bound book, said, “I know.”
It irritated Danny. “No you don’t,” he said sharply. “I’m the one who knows. Rest of you wouldn’t believe what I saw, trust me.”
Hector glanced up and said mildly, “It’s a war, Danny. It’s always been a war. Between people like us and people like them. The bit you see is just a puppet show—the Skull and his suicide bombers, the politicians and their armies. It’s Farrakhan and his ilk who pull the strings—or rather the forces behind them. ‘For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.’ Read your Bible. Ephesians six, verse twelve. Never truer words spoken.” He looked down again, as if embarrassed, then added, “We’ve known about Farrakhan for some time—and his spirit servants. The techniques he uses are old Egyptian. The Egyptians were the most knowledgeable magicians of the ancient world. Farrakhan has studied their methods. Old magic, very dark. Once Michael told me Opal had actually seen him, we knew it would only be a matter of time before he mounted an attack on the Project.”
“We?” Danny asked. “You and Michael?”
“The Priory,” Michael said. “Uncle Hector means the Priory.”
“I think you’d better tell us more about this Priory,” Opal said.
She was looking at Michael, but it was Hector who answered. “I suppose since you’re under threat from the Powers of Darkness, you deserve to know you’ve got some friends among the Powers of Light.” He took a deep breath.
“Uncle—” Michael interrupted warningly.
“It’s all right, Michael,” Hector said. “They’re Project operatives. They know how to keep a secret. Besides, if they did tell anybody, who would believe them?” He grinned, then turned back to Opal. “I’m afraid it’s rather a complicated story. Have you ever heard of the Fama Fraternitatis?”
Opal shook her head. “No.”
“It was a document published in Germany in 1614. Caused a sensation at the time because nobody knew who wrote it. It told the story of a man named Father C.R.—it stands for Christian Rosenkreutz—who went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and was subsequently instructed by the sages of the East in the most ancient esoteric wisdom. He studied alchemy, physics, mathematics, magic, and the Kabbalah. When he returned to Germany, he and some others established a secret Christian fraternity, the Fraternity of the Rose Cross. Members—or brothers, as they called themselves—were instructed to use their knowledge to heal the sick free of charge, wear no special clothing or insignia, keep their membership in the Order a strict secret, and meet together once a year in what the document called the House of the Holy Spirit.”
Opal frowned. “Are you saying that was the origin of this Priory you belong to?”
“Not quite,” Hector said. “The real Priory of Mons dates back about five hundred years earlier. It was secretly established by the Knights Templar based on some unbelievably ancient scrolls they discovered in the Ark of the Covenant.”
This is getting batty, Danny thought, even for Uncle Hector. He opened his mouth to try to bring the conversation back to the problems at hand, but Opal beat him to it. “The Ark of the Covenant that’s mentioned in the Bible?” she asked. “The thing God used to communicate with Moses?”
Hector nodded. “The holiest relic in the whole of the Old Testament—and an artifact of great power. The Israelites used it to slaughter their enemies when they were wandering in the wilderness. It disappeared when Jerusalem fell to the Babylonians in 586 BC, but the Templars found it hidden in a cave under the Temple Mount. It contained scrolls dating back to a lost prehistoric civilization with information on spiritual techniques of amazing efficacy in the service of the Light. The Templars used them to found the Priory of Mons.”
Intrigued despite himself, Danny said, “Where does the Fama Whatsit come in?”
“It was important that the Priory remain a secret,” Hector said. “Unlike the Powers of Darkness, which often work through politicians and popes and other influential people, the Powers of Light are pledged not to interfere with humanity’s free will, so any work they do is subtle. And the Priory did remain a secret for five hundred years. But then one of our members went over to the Dark Side and threatened to expose its existence. So the Priory issued the Fama Fraternitatis to divert public attention. There was just enough truth in it to keep scholars busy—Christian Rosenkreutz really existed, for example: he was one of our late medieval friars—but subtly slanted to send them looking in the wrong direction. So the Fama Fraternitatis sparked off a whole occult Rosicrucian movement, and the real Priory managed to stay hidden. When our Dark Brother told his story, everyone assumed it was a variation on the Rosicrucian theme and ignored it.”
“And my father is a member of this Priory?” Opal asked incredulously.
“An Outer Member,” Hector said. “Which means he is sympathetic toward our ideals and is permitted to attend certain meetings, but he plays no part in policy decisions. What he does do, of course, is keep us informed on matters of interest—his position with MI6 is ideal for that.”
“Look,” Danny said, “the history lesson is all very interesting, but can we get back to what’s happening today? That old boy Farrakhan is sending something very scary after Opal. Do you think she’ll be okay here?” It was his biggest worry, and he was beginning to think Uncle Hector might actually know the answer.
But Uncle Hector said soberly, “Nobody’s safe anywhere. Fran was only a trial run. But even Opal is just the beginning. Farrakhan will aim to wipe out the entire Project, now that he’s discovered it. Farrakhan will hunt down Opal; and he’ll find her eventually, make no mistake about that. But before he does, he will kill everyone else associated with the Project—everyone.”
“My father’s at the Project,” Opal said.
Hector added, “Unless somebody stops him.”
There was a long silence in the room; then Opal said, “How do we do that?”
“I’m not sure we do,” Uncle Hector said. “I think it may be up to Danny.”
“Hey, wait a minute—” Danny said.
“You’re sohanti, Danny,” Michael told him sharply, as if that explained something.
Danny rounded on him. “Listen, I never even heard about sohanti until you told Opal about your old man. But even if I am, it just means I attract bugs. Farrakhan is into devils.”
“Is it really a devil?” Opal asked, looking at Hector.
“Near enough, I’m afraid. Not exactly Satan and his minions—that’s Judeo-Christian mythology—but the old Egyptians had some very nasty lines of communication into the dark side.” He turned another page of the book. “Ah!” With the book still open, he swung it around and pushed it toward Danny. “Is that what you saw?”
The illustration was an old black-and-white woodcut, crudely done, of something ripping the arm off a naked man as casually as a child might pull the wing off a fly. Badly drawn or not, Danny had no doubt what he was looking at. “That’s it.”
Opal and Michael leaned forward to look. Opal said tightly, “What is it?”
“It’s called a matchet,” Hector said. “A creature of Isfet, who was the Egyptian god of darkness and chaos, the great opponent of the light. Matchets were believed to live in a lake of fire and feed on human hearts. The Egyptians used to call them the Everlasting Devourers and the Lords of Terror. Nasty buggers. Very difficult to control—even black magicians shy away from them. Farrakhan must have used the Spear of Destiny. He took a dreadful risk.”
“What’s the Spear of Destiny?” Danny asked.
“It’s supposed to be the spear that pierced Christ’s side while he was hanging on the cross,” Hector said. “Also known as the Spear of Longinus after the Roman centurion who used it, or the Holy Lance. One of the reasons Hitler annexed Austria in 1938 was to steal it—the lance was in the Imperial Treasury of the Hofburg Palace at the time. He believed he could use it to channel spiritual power to aid him in his conquest of Europe.”
“Thought he lost the war,” Danny said. “Leastways that’s what my old Nan always told me.”
“Fortunately for us all, he had no idea how to use the lance. Unfortunately, Farrakhan does.”
“Hold on a minute,” Danny said. “Let me get this clear. You’re saying Farrakhan now has the spear that Hitler stole from Austria? How did he get it?”
“It went back to Austria after the war. It’s now in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. Or at least it was. At the moment it’s on loan to a museum in Egypt. That’s how we knew Farrakhan must be up to something on the inner levels. Everything that exists on the physical has a mirror image on the astral plane, which is a whole different reality. The spear’s physical location is affected by what’s happening to its astral counterpart. The fact that it’s moved as far away as Egypt shows there are major problems and gave us a clue to what was happening. Hitler’s mistake was believing he needed the physical spear. Farrakhan knows better. He has been manipulating the astral lance that stands behind the physical spear.” Hector closed the book and peered again at Danny. “When did you see Farrakhan call up this thing?”
“About…” Danny frowned and calculated. “An hour ago. Maybe more.”
“Well, that’s a bit of good news, anyway,” Hector said. “It will be several hours before it manifests completely in our reality. Which gives us time to get our ducks in a row.”
It occurred to Danny the old boy was enjoying this.
“What we need to do,” said Hector, “is tackle the source of the problem. No use attacking the physical manifestation of the Devourer—you can’t kill a thing like that. We need to capture the Spear of Destiny.”
“You’re sending us across to Austria? Oh, no, I forgot—you’re sending us to Egypt.”
“Come on, Danny, stop pretending you’re the village idiot. I told you it’s not the physical lance we need—what we need is its astral counterpart.”
The village idiot crack irritated Danny hugely. Hector talked a lot, but he wasn’t really saying anything. He kept dropping in terms that meant nothing to anybody outside this crackpot Priory he belonged to. But Danny kept his cool. “And where do we find the astral counterpart of something?”
“On the astral plane,” said Uncle Hector, as if that should be obvious.
Danny still managed to hold his temper, although he did sigh loudly. “What’s the astral plane?”
Hector smiled slightly. “It’s another level of reality, much like the one you’re used to. The astral plane reflects our world, so some of our structures appear there the way they do here. Where I’m sending you will look similar to Ancient Egypt, since that’s where Farrakhan is using the astral lance.”
