The Illuminatus! Trilogy Part 2

He unlocked the cell door and motioned George to precede him. He turned to the two policemen who had accompanied him. "Stay behind and take care of that other little matter." little matter." The last words were strangely emphasized. The last words were strangely emphasized.

George and the Sheriff walked through a series of corridors and locked doors until at last they came to a room whose walls were made of embossed sheet tin painted bottle-green. The Sheriff told George to sit on one chair, while he straddled the back of the chair facing him.

"You're a bad influence on my prisoners," he said. "I got a good mind to see that some kind of accident happens to you. I don't want to see you corrupting prisoners in my jail-mine or anyone's-for forty years."

"Sheriff," said George. "What do you want from me? You got me on a pot charge. What more do you want? Why did you stick me in that cell with that guy? What's all this scare stuff and threats and questioning for?"

"I wanna know some things," said the Sheriff. "I want to find out everything you can tell me about certain matters. So, from this moment be prepared to tell me only the truth. If you do, maybe things will go easier on you, after."

"Yes, Sheriff," said George. Cartwright squinted at him. He really does look like a pig, thought George. Most do. Why do so many of them get so fat and have such little eyes?

"Well, then," said the Sheriff. "What was your purpose in coming down here from New York?"

"I'm simply on an a.s.signment from Confrontation Confrontation, the magazine-"

"I know it. It is a s.m.u.tty magazine, and a communist magazine. I have read it."

"You're using loaded words. It's a left-wing libertarian magazine, to be exact."

"My pistol is loaded, too, boy. So talk straight. All right. Tell me what you came down here to write about."

"Sure. You ought to be as interested in this as I am, if you're really interested in law and order. There have been rumors circulating throughout the country for more than a decade now that all the major political a.s.sa.s.sinations in America-Malcolm X, the Kennedy brothers, Medgar Evers, King, Nixon, maybe even George Lincoln Rockwell-are the work of a single, conspiratorial, violence-oriented right-wing organization, and that this organization has its base right here in Mad Dog. I came down to see what I could find out about this group."

"That's what I figured," said the Sheriff. "You poor, sad little t.u.r.d. You come down here with your long hair and you expect to get, as you put it, a line on a right-wing organization. Why, it's lucky for you you didn't meet any of our real right-wingers, like G.o.d's Lightning for instance. The ones around here would have tortured you to death by this time, boy. You really are dumb. OK, I'm not gonna waste any more of my time with you. Come on, I'll take you back to your cell. You might as well get used to looking at the moon through bars."

They walked back the same way they had come. At the entrance to the corridor where George's cell was, the Sheriff opened the door and yelled, "Come and get him, Charley."

George's guard, his face pale and his mouth set in a lipless line, took George by the arm. The corridor door clanged shut behind the Sheriff. Charley took George to his cell and pushed him in wordlessly. But at least he was three-dimensional now and less like a marijuana phantom.

Harry Coin wasn't there. The cell was empty. George became aware of a shadow in the corner of his vision. Something in the cell next to him. He turned: His heart stopped. There was a man hanging from a pipe on the ceiling. George went over and stared through the bars. The body was swaying slightly. It was attached to the pipe by a leather belt which was buckled around the neck. The face, with the staring eyes, was that of Harry Coin. George's glance went lower. Something was coming out of Harry Coin's midsection and was dangling down to the floor. It wasn't suicide. They had disemboweled Harry Coin, and someone had thoughtfully moved a s.h.i.+t-can under him for his b.l.o.o.d.y intestines to dangle into.

George screamed. There was no one around to answer him. The guard had vanished like Hermes.

(But in Cherry Knolls mental hospital in Sunderland, England, where it was already eleven the following morning, a schizophrenic patient who hadn't spoken in ten years abruptly began exhorting a ward attendant: "They're all coming back-Hitler, Goering, Streicher, the whole lot of them. And, behind them, the powers and persons from the other spheres who control them...." But Simon Moon in Chicago still calmly and placidly retains the lotus position and instructs Mary Lou sitting in his lap: "Just hold it, hold it with your v.a.g.i.n.al wall like you'd hold it with your hand, gently, and feel its warmth, but don't think about o.r.g.a.s.m, don't think about the future, not even a minute ahead, think about the now, the only now, the only now, the only now that we'll ever have, just my p.e.n.i.s in your v.a.g.i.n.a now and the simple pleasure of it, not a greater pleasure to work toward...." "My back hurts," Mary Lou said.) WE'RE GONNA ROCK ROCK ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK TO NIGHT There are Swedish and Norwegian kids, Danes, Italian and French kids, Greeks, even Americans. George and Hagbard move through the crowd trying to estimate its number-200,000? 300,000? 500,000? Peace symbols dangling about every neck, nudes with body paint, nudes without body paint, long and dangling hair on boys and girls alike, and over all of it the hypnotic and unending beat. "Woodstock Europa," Hagbard says drily. "The last and final Walpurgisnacht and Adam Weishaupt's Erotion finally realized."

WE'RE GONNA ROCK ROCK ROCK TILL BROAD DAYLIGHT "It's a League of Nations," George says, "a young people's League of Nations." Hagbard isn't listening. "Up there," he points, "to the Northwest is the Rhine, where die Lorelei die Lorelei was supposed to sit and sing her deadly songs. There will be deadlier music on the Danube tonight." was supposed to sit and sing her deadly songs. There will be deadlier music on the Danube tonight."

WE'RE GONNA ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK TONIGHT (But that was still seven days in the future, and now George lies unconscious in Mad Dog County Jail. And it began-that phase of the operation, as Hagbard called it-over thirty years before when a Swiss chemist named Hoffman climbed on his bicycle and pedaled down a country road into new dimensions.) "And will they all come back?" George asked.

"All of them," Hagbard answered tightly "When the beat reaches the proper intensity ... unless we can stop it."

("Now I'm getting it," Mary Lou cried. "It's not what I expected. It's different from s.e.x, and better." Simon smiled benignly. "It is is s.e.x, baby," he said. "What you've had before wasn't s.e.x. Now we can start moving ... but slowly ... the Gentle Way ... the Way of Tao...." s.e.x, baby," he said. "What you've had before wasn't s.e.x. Now we can start moving ... but slowly ... the Gentle Way ... the Way of Tao...." They're all coming back; they never died They're all coming back; they never died-the lunatic raved at the startled attendant-You wait, guvnor. You just wait. You'll see it) The amplifiers squealed suddenly. There was too much feedback, and the sound went off into a pitch beyond endurance. George winced, and saw others hold their ears rock, rock, rock, around the clock. The key missed the lock, turned and cut Muldoon's hand The key missed the lock, turned and cut Muldoon's hand. "Nerves," he said to Saul. "I always feel like a burglar when I do this."

Saul grunted. "Forget burglary," he said. "We might be hanged for treason before this is over. If we don't become national heroes."

"A fanf.u.c.kingtastic case," Muldoon grinned. He tried another way.

They were in an old brownstone on Riverside Drive, trying to break into the apartment of Joseph Malik. And they were not merely looking for evidence, both tacitly admitted-they were hiding from the FBI.

The call had come from headquarters just as they were finis.h.i.+ng the questioning of a.s.sociate editor Peter Jackson. Muldoon had gone out to his car to take it, while Saul finished getting a full physical description of both Malik and George Dorn. Jackson had just left and Saul was picking up the fifth memo, when Muldoon returned, looking as if his doctor had just told him his Wa.s.serman was positive.

"Two special agents from the FBI are coming over to help us," he said woodenly.

"Still ready to play a hunch?" Saul asked calmly, pus.h.i.+ng all the memos back in the metal box.

Muldoon merely called Pricefixer back into the cafeteria and told him, "Two feds will be here in a few minutes. Tell them we went back to headquarters. Answer any question they ask, but don't tell them about this box."

Pricefixer looked at the two older officers carefully and then said to Muldoon, "You're the boss."

He's either awfully dumb and trusting, Saul had thought, or he's so d.a.m.ned smart he's going to be dangerous someday.

"Now," he asked Muldoon nervously, "is that the last key?"

"No, I've got five more beauties here and one of them will-here it is!" The door opened smoothly.

Saul's hand drifted toward his revolver as he stepped into the apartment and felt for a light switch. n.o.body was revealed when the light came on, and Saul relaxed. "You look around for the dogs." he said. "I want to sit down and go over the rest of these memos."

The room was used for work as well as living and was untidy enough to leave no room for doubt that Malik had been a bachelor. Saul pushed the typewriter back on the writing desk, set down the memo box and then noticed something odd. The whole wall, on this side of the room, was covered with pictures of George Was.h.i.+ngton. Standing to examine them more closely, he saw that each had a label-half of them saying "G.W." and the others, "A.W."

Odd-but the whole case had overtones that smelled as fishy as those dead Egyptian mouth-breeders.

Saul sat down and took a memo from the box.

Muldoon came back into the living room and said, "No dogs. Not a G.o.ddam dog anywhere in the whole apartment."

"That's interesting," Saul remarked thoughtfully. "You say the landlord had complaints from several other tenants about the dogs?"

"He said everybody in the building wag complaining. The rule is no pets and he enforced it. People wanted to know why they had to get rid of their kittens when Malik could have a whole pack of dogs up here. They said there must have been ten or twelve from the noise they made."

"He sure must love those animals, if he took them all with him when he went into hiding," Saul mused. The pole vaulter in his unconscious was jumping again. "Let's look in the kitchen," he suggested mildly.

Barney followed as Saul methodically ransacked the refrigerator and cupboards, finis.h.i.+ng up with a careful examination of the garbage.

"No dog food," Saul said finally.

"I noticed."

"And no dog dishes either. And no empty dog-food tins in the garbage."

"What wild notion are you following now?"

"I don't know," Saul said thoughtfully. "He doesn't mind the neighbors hearing the dogs-probably he's the kind of left-wing individualist who likes nothing better than quarreling with his landlord and the other tenants about some issue like the no-pets rule. So he wasn't hiding anything until he ducked out. And then he not only took the dogs but hid all evidence that they'd ever been here. Even though he must have known that the neighbors would all talk about them."

"Maybe he was feeding them human flesh," Muldoon suggested ghoulishly.

"Lord, I don't know. You look around for anything of interest. I'm going to read those Illuminati memos." Saul returned to the living room and began: ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #5.

7/26.

J.M.:.

Sometimes you find things in the d.a.m.ndest places. The following is from a girl's magazine ("The Conspiracy" by Sandra Gla.s.s, Teenset Teenset, March 1969, pages 34-40).

Simon proceeded to tell me about the Bavarian Illuminati. The nightmarish story begins in 1090 a.d. in the Middle East when Ha.s.san i Sabbah founded the Ismaelian Sect, or Has.h.i.+s.h.i.+m Has.h.i.+s.h.i.+m, so called because of their use of has.h.i.+sh, a deadly drug derived from the hemp plant which is better known as the killer weed marijuana.... The cult terrorized the Moslem world until Genghis Khan's Mongols brought law and order to the area. Cornered in their mountain hideaway, the Has.h.i.+s.h.i.+m dope fiends proved no match for the clean-living Mongol warriors, their fortress was destroyed, and their dancing girls s.h.i.+pped to Mongolia for rehabilitation. The heads of the cult fled westward...."The Illuminati surfaced next in Bavaria in 1776," Simon told me.... "Adam Weishaupt, a student of the occult, studied the teachings of Ha.s.san i Sabbah and grew hemp in his backyard. On February 2, 1776, Weishaupt achieved illumination. Weishaupt officially founded the Ancient Illuminated Seers of Bavaria on May 1st, 1776. Their slogan was 'Ewige Blumenkraft.' 'Ewige Blumenkraft.' ... They attracted many ill.u.s.trious members such as Goethe and Beethoven. Beethoven tacked up an ... They attracted many ill.u.s.trious members such as Goethe and Beethoven. Beethoven tacked up an Ewige Blumenkraft Ewige Blumenkraft poster on the top of the piano on which he composed all nine of his symphonies." poster on the top of the piano on which he composed all nine of his symphonies."

The last paragraph of the article is, however, the most interesting of all: Recently I saw a doc.u.mentary film on the Democratic Convention of 1968, and I was struck by the scene in which Senator Abraham Ribicoff made a critical remark provoking the anger of the Mayor of Chicago. In the ensuing tumult it was impossible to hear the Mayor's shouted retort, and there has been much speculation about what he actually said. To me it seemed his lips were forming the words that by this time become frighteningly familiar: "Ewige Blumenkraft!" "Ewige Blumenkraft!"

The further I dig, the wilder the whole picture looks. When are we going to tell George about it?

Pat ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #6.

7/26.

J.M.:.

The John Birch Society has looked into the subject and they have a theory of their own. The first source I've found on this is a pamphlet "CFR: Conspiracy to Rule the World" by Gary Allen, a.s.sociate editor of the Birchers' magazine, American Opinion American Opinion.

Allen's thesis is that Cecil Rhodes created a secret society to establish English domination of the world in 1888. This society acts through Oxford University, the Rhodes Scholars.h.i.+ps and-hold your breath-the Council on Foreign Relations, a nonprofit foundation for the study of International Affairs headquartered right here on Sixty-eighth Street in New York. Seven out of nine of our last Secretaries of State were recruited from the CFR, Allen points out, and dozens of other leading politicians as well-including Richard Nixon. It is also implied, but not directly stated, that William Buckley, Jr. (an old enemy of the Birchers) is another tool of the CFR; and the Morgan and Rothschild banking interests are supposed to be financing the whole thing.

How does this tie in with the Illuminati? Mr. Allen merely drops hints, linking Rhodes to John Ruskin, and Ruskin to earlier internationalists, and finally stating that "the originator on the profane level of this type of secret society" was Adam Weishaupt, whom he calls "the monster who founded the Order of the Illuminati on May 1, 1776."

Pat ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #7.

7/27.

J.M.:.

This is from a small left-wing newspaper in Chicago (The Roger SPARK (The Roger SPARK Chicago, July 1969, Vol. 2, No. 9: "Daley Linked With Illuminati," no author's name given): Chicago, July 1969, Vol. 2, No. 9: "Daley Linked With Illuminati," no author's name given): No historian knows what happened to Adam Weishaupt after he was exiled from Bavaria in 1785, and entries in "Was.h.i.+ngton's" diary after that date frequently refer to the hemp crop at Mount Vernon.The possibility that Adam Weishaupt killed George Was.h.i.+ngton and took his place, serving as our first President for two terms, is now confirmed.... The two main colors of the American flag are, excluding a small patch of blue in one corner, red and white: these are also the official colors of the Has.h.i.+s.h.i.+m. The flag and the Illuminati pyramid both have thirteen horizontal divisions: thirteen is, of course, the traditional code for marijuana ... and is still used in that sense by h.e.l.l's Angels among others.Now, "Was.h.i.+ngton" formed the Federalist party. The other major party in those days, The Democratic Republicans, was formed by Thomas Jefferson [and] there are grounds for accepting the testimony of the Reverend Jedediah Morse of Charleston, who accused Jefferson of being an Illuminati agent. Thus, even at the dawn of our government, both parties were Illuminati fronts....

This story later repeats the Teenset Teenset report that Mayor Daley used the phrase report that Mayor Daley used the phrase "Ewige Blumenkraft" "Ewige Blumenkraft" during his incoherent diatribe against Abe Ribicoff. during his incoherent diatribe against Abe Ribicoff.

Pat ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #8.

7/27.

J.M.:.

More on the Was.h.i.+ngton-Weishaupt theory: In spite of the fact that his face appears on billions of stamps and dollar bills, and his portrait hangs in every public building in the country, no one is quite sure what Was.h.i.+ngton looks like. A "Project 20" script, "Meet George Was.h.i.+ngton" will be seen tonight at 7:30 on Channel (fill in by local stations). The program offers contemporary portraits of the first President, some of which do not even seem to be the same man.

This is a press release sent out by NBC on April 24, 1969. Some of the portraits can be found in Encyclopedia Britannica Encyclopedia Britannica and the resemblance to portraits of Weishaupt is undeniable. and the resemblance to portraits of Weishaupt is undeniable.

Incidentally, Barbara called my attention to this: the letter in Playboy Playboy asking about the Illuminati was signed "R.S., Kansas City, Missouri." According to the Kansas City newspapers, a Robert Stanton of that city was found dead on March 17, 1969 (about a week after the April asking about the Illuminati was signed "R.S., Kansas City, Missouri." According to the Kansas City newspapers, a Robert Stanton of that city was found dead on March 17, 1969 (about a week after the April Playboy Playboy appeared on the newsstands) with his throat torn as if by the talons of some enormous beast. No animal was reported missing from any of the local zoos. appeared on the newsstands) with his throat torn as if by the talons of some enormous beast. No animal was reported missing from any of the local zoos.

Pat Saul looked up at the pictures of Was.h.i.+ngton on the wall. For the first time, he noticed the strange half-smile on the most famous of them all, the one by Gilbert Stuart that appears on one-dollar bills. "As if by the talons of some enormous beast," he quoted to himself, thinking again of Malik's disappearing dogs "As if by the talons of some enormous beast," he quoted to himself, thinking again of Malik's disappearing dogs.

"What the h.e.l.l are you grinning about?" he asked sourly.

Congressman Koch, he remembered suddenly, in a speech years and years ago when marijuana was illegal everywhere, said something about Was.h.i.+ngton's hemp crop. What was it? Yes: it was about the entries in the General's diary-they showed that he separated the female hemp plants from the males before fertilization. That was botanically unnecessary if he was growing the crop for rope, but it was standard practise in cultivating hemp for marijuana, Koch pointed out.

And "illumination" was one of the words hippies were always using to describe the experience one obtains from the highest grade of gra.s.s. Even the more common term, "turning on," had the same meaning as "illumination," when you stopped to think about. Wasn't that what the crown of light around Jesus' head in Catholic art was supposed to mean? And Goethe-if he was really part of this-might have been referring to the experience in his last words, as he lay dying: "More light!"

I should have become a rabbi, like my father wanted, Saul thought bemusedly. Police work is getting to be too much for me.

In a few minutes I'll be suspecting Thomas Edison.

ROCK ROCK ROCK TILL BROAD DAYLIGHT.

Slowly, Mary Lou Servix swam back to consciousness, like a s.h.i.+pwreck victim reaching a raft.

"Good Lord," she breathed softly.

Simon kissed her neck. "Now you know," he whispered.

"Good Lord," Lord," she repeated. "How many times did I come?" she repeated. "How many times did I come?"

Simon smiled. "I'm not an a.n.a.l-compulsive type-I wasn't counting. Ten or twelve, something like that, I guess."

"Good Lord Lord. And the hallucinations. Was that what you were doing to my nervous system, or was it the gra.s.s?"

"Just tell me about what you saw."

"Well, you got a halo around you, sort of. A big blue halo. And then I saw that it was around me, too, and that it had all sorts of little blue dots dancing in sort of whorls inside it. And then there wasn't even that anymore. Just light. Pure white light."

"Suppose I told you I have a friend who's a dolphin and he exists in that kind of limitless light all the time."

"Oh, don't start jiving me. You've been so nice, until now."

"I'm not jiving you. His name is Howard. I might arrange for you to meet him."

"A fish?"

"No, baby. A dolphin is a mammal. Just like you and me."

"You are either the world's greatest brain or the world's craziest motherf.u.c.ker, Mr. Simon Moon. I mean it. But that light ... My G.o.d, I will never forget that light."

"And what happened to your body?" Simon asked casually.

"You know, I didn't know where it was. Even in the middle of my o.r.g.a.s.ms I didn't know where my body was. Everything was just ... the light...."

ROCK ROCK ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK TONIGHT.

And leaving Dallas that much-discussed November 22 afternoon in 1963, the man using the name "Frank Sullivan" brushes past McCord and Barker at the airport, but no foreshadowing of Watergate darkens his mind. (Back at the Gra.s.sy Knoll, Howard Hunt's picture is being snapped and will later turn up in the files of New Orleans D.A. Jim "The Jolly Green Giant" Garrison: not that Garrison ever came within light years of the real truth....) "Here, kitty-kitty-kitty" Hagbard calls.

But now we are going back, again, to April 2 and Las Vegas; Sherri Brandi (nee Sharon O'Farrell) arriving home finds Carmel in her living room at four in the morning. It doesn't surprise her; he often made these unexpected visits. He seems to enjoy invading other people's territory like some kinda creepy virus He seems to enjoy invading other people's territory like some kinda creepy virus. "Darling," I cried, rus.h.i.+ng to kiss him as he expected. I wish the creep would drop dead I wish the creep would drop dead, I thought as our mouths met.

"An all-night john?" he asked casually.

"Yeah. One of those scientists who works at that place out in the desert we're all supposed to pretend we don't know about. A freak."