The Alembic Valise (13 page)

Even though he now had the Euro star app on his phone that allowed him to choose a seat and book it from where ever he happened to be; in a cab, eating lunch in a Seine side café or recovering from an afternoon love-making session on Mai’s divan: Joel had decided to fly. And so had arrived in what seemed like almost unseemly speed at Heathrow, with no time at all to savour the journey. This was not a pleasure trip though; the alarming news of Sophie’s disappearance was foremost in his mind as he trudged along the embankment to see Alembic Valise looking empty and a little sad, laying on the green river mud of the low tide. There was a basket of split logs covered with a plastic sheet on the deck and Joel selected a couple for the stove. His priority was to get the boat warm, that and to make a decent cup of tea.

It felt strange to be back, things were going so well in Paris. He had rented a room in the tenth arrondissement and went there every weekday from nine to five to write, the rest of the time he spent with Mai. Being in Paris had pushed his imagination out from beneath the shadow of his earlier creations; he was taking his hidden worlds out into the mainstream. The storyline of his new book involved secret cults controlling multi-nationals, governments and religions. Less fantasy more reality, in fact in the words of his publisher; a conspiracy thriller. No title yet though which troubled him a little as in the past the name of the story somehow defined and guided the story itself. The first draft was complete and he was keen to start the revision stage, so coming to London to search for a missing ex-girlfriend was not exactly on his current wish list. He was not even sure what kind of assistance he could contribute but felt guilty about leaving Lorna and Agim to do whatever it was they were doing. What were they doing, in fact? Joel had no idea having being so immersed in his writing that they had only communicated by text. But he was meeting them tonight, upriver in Mortlake. The stove was now beginning to take the dampness out of the air and the tea was brewing; Joel yawned and lay down on the couch.

“Give me your car keys,” said Lorna, as soon as Agim pushed open the flat door. “I need to play with your satnav.”

Agim reached into his pocket and tossed the fob to her, then began to put the contents of his shopping bag into a massive pale blue fridge-freezer.

“Why are you putting cans of beans in the fridge?” she shouted over her shoulder but the flat door closed, cutting off any answer.

Once downstairs she unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat then brought up Troy Town on the screen, noting the approximate location of the labyrinth she then zoomed out the display, then took from her pocket a folded piece of A4 paper that she had earlier printed from Agim’s computer. She compared the two maps. Surprisingly there was additional detail on the satnav version; to the west a green area was marked as Reservoir Works complete with an access road, whereas on the other map it just said Golf Course. It can’t be both she thought; and it may be important because this is the direction that the herons were flying in. She locked the car and looked up at the window of Agim’s flat to see if he was watching her. He wasn’t, and the building door had closed; she considered re-opening the car and sounding the horn, but instead grabbed a handful of gravel and threw it at the first floor window. Dust flew into her eyes.

It did not look like a golf course or a reservoir. They had followed the works access road until their way was barred by a large iron gate next to some neglected looking buildings. Through the gate was a large area of elevated grass, and in the distance a grey brick villa with an ornate gable roof. It reminded Lorna of her great aunt’s summerhouse in France; she had called it her ‘Gloriette’.

“So why are we here?” asked Agim, letting the padlock fall from his hand so it banged against the gate.

“To see one of the seven wonders of the industrial age.” Lorna began to climb.

Their research had disclosed that beneath the wide expanse of grass was the largest underground reservoir in Europe. A subterranean cathedral built by Victorian engineers holding ten million gallons of water, the nine-hole golf course covering it having only being recently torn up when renovations were carried out. Agim followed.

The winter sun had taken all day to break through and was now in descent; low in the sky, brushing the treetops, releasing a pink phosphorescence; illuminating the still frost covered grass and defining the scattered tracks etched by boot, claw and paw.

The folly cast a long shadow and as they drew closer they could see that the lower part of the building was covered with graffiti and that the numerous windows were blind bricked-up adornments. They walked around it until they found the door.

She walked right up to him then stepped round him to stand with her back against the wall of the folly, all the while allowing her eyes to drink him in. She then reached up, pulled off her woollen hat and shook her hair free, without breaking her gaze. He leaned forward and kissed her.

The steel door was the only access to the building and was securely locked. Before they left she made Agim stand against it whilst she took a picture of him with her phone.

When they got back to the car they found the windscreen smashed. As they waited for the repairman Lorna studied the graffiti that surrounded Agim in her photograph, there was a large serpentine letter Z above his head. She climbed the gate again and returned to take more pictures before the light went completely. Satisfied with her work and putting the phone in her pocket she saw a small dog in the distance running through the dusk towards her. It was Buster. He ran round and around her; his tiny paws inscribing infinity signs on the frosted ground.

Lorna could see the blue Rover parked next to the Mercedes. She climbed back over the gate and Buster squeezed through a gap in the fence. The windscreen repairman had still not arrived but Agim seemed relaxed enough and was talking to Buster’s owner. Leaning against the car and smoking a cigarette.

“You don’t smoke,” said Lorna. He just raised an eyebrow and exhaled.

“This is Mr Vale. He has kindly invited us for tea. Why don’t you go now and I’ll join you when this is fixed.” He gestured toward the fractured glass. They, the perps, must have used a brick, as there were several impact points. “We don’t have to be in Mortlake for,” he looked at his watch, “three and a half hours.”

“It’s just Vale, no need for the Mister,” said their new friend. Lorna opened the driver side door to allow Buster to jump in.

“Buster can go in the back, and remember its number fifty six, look here’s your man now,” said Vale, and sure enough a Speedy Screen van was just turning into the access road.

“So this is a coincidence,” said Lorna as the Rover made a stately turn, then edged past the approaching van.

“I saw you from my balcony and I said to Buster - what in God’s name are they doing? Of course being a dog he couldn’t reply. But anyway I thought we should come and get you.”

“Well I know we were technically trespassing,” began Lorna.

“You won’t find her, you know,” interrupted Vale.

Lorna noticed that his brow was pinched and he did not look at her but kept his attention on the road ahead. She powered through her confusion and said, “You mean Sophie.”

Only then did he look her way, “yes, of course. Ah here we are.” They had stopped in front of a semi-detached house.

On the back seat was an aluminium contraption that when unfolded gave Vale the necessary support to allow him to get from the car to the house. Lorna followed, Buster went ahead. Once in the kitchen Lorna offered to make the tea.

“Listen we do not have much time before your friend comes and there are some things I must tell you. If you want to tell him or anyone else later then that is up to you.”

Lorna nodded and sat down at the table.

“Most pre-Christian cultures viewed reality as a multi-layered universe with various divisions attended by numerous deities whose activities and relationships metaphorically expressed the forces of nature and the cosmos. Death was seen as a transition or journey from one realm of existence to another. And don’t worry this all has a direct bearing on your search for you friend, so let me continue.”

Lorna nodded again. Buster jumped onto her lap. He was a little muddy but she did not care.

“The monotheistic imperative of Christianity forced all previous spiritual pathways underground. The Christians say ‘only our god is real’ and that the old gods are no more. I am of course vastly oversimplifying and I am sure you know all this already. Anyway these lost gods and their followers are still amongst us in many different forms. Surfacing from time to time in mainstream culture, usually as parodies of themselves, but for the most part confined and consigned to the margins of our awareness.” Vale took a drink of tea before continuing.

“In recent years the channels that carry and energise these currents have multiplied and the reality peddled by our overlords is being subverted to the point that the people are capable of seeing behind the curtain. There are many subterranean streams, tributaries, rivers channelling this energy; some for good and others not so good. Take your pick – Druids, Voodooists, Nazis, Hippies, Masons, Eco warriors, the advertising industry, the Bilterbergs, Opu Dei,
etc.
So in fact there is a war going on and we are fast approaching the Omega Point of divine or demonic immanence. Your friend Joel has made this battle the basis of his next book. And of course there will be many interested parties wishing to prevent this conspiracy theory going into the mainstream.”

“Like who?”

“For instance there is a organisation very few people of heard about, but over the past thirty years their followers have infiltrated government and big business very effectively. Political and economic globalisation has allowed the growth of this organisation to attain an order of magnitude beyond anything the world has ever known.”

“Well of course they don’t call themselves that anymore, but it gives a clue to their dark origins. They operate as the Blake Organisation, these days.”

“Well that sounds a little less pagan,” again she laughed but behind her facade a fearful space was opening up within her consciousness. Everything that Vale was alluding to belonged in a nightmare, and yet here she was seeing a previously hidden presence inhabiting the world she occupied. She remembered the much quoted words of Friedrich Nietzsche -
to beware when looking into the abyss because when you do, the abyss also looks into you
; finally understanding the philosopher’s sentiment made her shiver. Vale was still speaking.

“They are all Prada suits and black Mercedes, and very in step with the modern world, and they have their fingers in investment banking, digital media, publishing, and security services. Unfortunately a scarily accurate parody of the Blake Organisation figures prominently in Joel Barlow’s soon to be published conspiracy thriller. The man under Hammersmith Bridge last year was intended as a warning; which Joel chose to ignore, and that is why your friend Sophie has now been taken.”

“Taken where?”

“Taken to their realm, one of the sideways worlds; Joel has already used the cosmology of their realm in his books, and in that game the Alembic Valise. That must have really pissed them off, but by now they must know that they are completely exposed in his next novel. They took Sophie to lure him back here to London, where they will either kill him or turn him into an imbecile.”

Lorna attended to the boiling kettle.

“You were saying earlier to Agim that you were going to meet Joel in Mortlake tonight. For Christ sake stop him. It is a Blake Organisation hotspot.”

“I’ll call him right now,” said Lorna. She found his number and dialled. It rang nine times and then went to voicemail. Joel’s recorded voice invited her to leave a message. Why is he speaking in French she thought? She left a message. “Tell me about the Blake Organisation.” She said putting her phone on the table.

“Do you know about the world’s chakras?”

Lorna shook her head.

“These are the seven power zones on the planet that coincide with the same areas on the human body. They have established HQs in all of these locations and their influence and power are increasing exponentially.”

“So are we talking about real people or are they in some other dimension?”

“They are right here but the rulers can move between multiple levels. The best way to understand this is to read up on string theory and the Akashic Field. The entities who currently hold dominion in these ‘in-between zones’ are real people going by the names of Baba Zum and …” he broke off at the sound of the doorbell ringing. “Check through the spy-hole before you open the door,” he called out to Lorna who was already in the hallway. It was Agim and she let him in indicating that he must not interrupt until Vale had told her everything. He followed her into the kitchen and sat down with a respectful nod towards Vale.

“I took pictures of the graffiti at the reservoir house, look it says Baba Z.” said Lorna excitedly holding up her phone for Vale to see. Buster sensed something and yipped nervously.

“They have an agenda, and that is creating a world for their own purpose, a sad place; seedier, more corrupt and the people more malleable, compliant. It is an experiment but it is to develop control mechanisms that can be used everywhere.

“How do you know all this?” asked Lorna.

“I have a God given gift. You will have heard of clairvoyance, clear vision; well I have clairaudience. I hear what my guides tell me. It has taken me my entire life to come to terms with this. I think perhaps Joel has the same gift but doesn’t realise it. I need to talk to him and make him understand that it is his writing that is driving these events. He probably believes his stories are the result of a creative imagination, and they are in a way, but he is actually channelling a shadow reality via an unconscious morphic resonance.”

“OK”, said Agim sounding doubtful.

“Anyway my gift brought me into contact with a group that has existed in this and the spiritual realm for thousands of years. I used to go to a spiritualist church where I found out about it. Well they found me more like. It’s called the HBL, the Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor. There are many of us trying to fight this contagion. Trying and failing.”

Vale sank into silence, closing his eyes. Lorna and Agim kept quiet. Several minutes passed. When he opened his eyes he looked seriously at Lorna and said, “Joel has forgotten to change over the Sim card in his phone, when you try to call him you are being redirected to his French number and when he does not pick up transferred to the landline located in his flat in the Rue des Goblin.”