The Demon Club

by Scott Mariani

  ‘It’s from Milton’s Paradise Lost,’ Ben said. ‘Describing the mythical dwelling place of demons. The high capital of Satan and his peers.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ Shelton said. ‘If ever there was an occult order with strong ambitions to set itself up as the domain of hell on earth, this is it.’

  ‘Never mind pandemonium,’ Wolf growled. ‘It’s the fucking Demon Club, that’s what it is.’

  ‘The tradition of important men joining secret orders with hidden nefarious objectives was nothing new, of course. The infamous Bohemian Club, over in the United States, was already some thirty-five years old when Crowley conceived his new order. Bohemian Club members met annually, as they still do, at their remote retreat in Sonoma County, California. Again, posing as a bit of harmless pageantry and theatre for rich, influential members of the old-boy-network establishment, while in reality, or so it seems, the members of the cabal gather together to worship the demonic entity Moloch, the pagan god to whom the ancient Canaanites offered children as sacrificial victims.’

  ‘So the Yanks were in it, too.’

  ‘This is a global phenomenon,’ Shelton said. ‘Other elite occult clubs existed in the States, like Skull and Bones. A society so shrouded in mystery that the powerful men who have been initiated into it since its inception in the 1830s – politicians, judges, military and business leaders and three United States presidents – are sworn to an oath forbidding them to disclose its occult secrets. There are many more examples from all over the world. The Thule Society cult of Germany, founded in the nineteenth century, likewise attracted the membership of high-up judges, police chiefs, civil servants, bureaucrats, political figures and business tycoons. Its initiates held seances where they invoked the Antichrist and sought to communicate with demons.’

  Shelton looked at Wolf. ‘You shouldn’t be too surprised that the Nazis would feature in this story. One of the Thule Society’s members you might have heard of was Adolf Hitler, initiated into the order in 1919. There Hitler met the then Master of the Temple, Dietrich Eckart, who would become his staunch ally and later transcribe Hitler’s book Mein Kampf. Eckart was also a devout follower of Aleister Crowley, and an adept Satanist who claimed on his deathbed to have opened his protégé Hitler up to “The Powers”. I’ll leave you to imagine what powers those were.’

  ‘This Crowley seems to pop up everywhere.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Many believe that he was such an influence on the Nazi occult movement that they were all part of the same dark brotherhood. Even though the Nazi Party officially disclaimed anything to do with mysticism and superstition, the infamous SS, with its death’s head symbol harking back to the ancient Celtic head cults, was shot through with black magic. Its leader Heinrich Himmler performed dark rituals and necromancy at his stronghold of Wewelsburg Castle in north-east Germany. We already know that his Nazi comrade Rudolf Hess had been a guest at Tredegar House, where he may have personally met Crowley. We can speculate that key players from the upper echelons of the Third Reich possibly attended ceremonies of the Pandemonium Club, before World War II and perhaps even post-war. Crowley was an active practitioner of the dark arts right up until his death in 1947.’

  Wolf wasn’t impressed. ‘Fuckers.’

  ‘But with or without the Nazi connection, the cancer of Satanic black magic was steadily finding its way deeper and deeper into the heart of Britain’s political and ruling elite. In 1942 the Soviet spy Kim Philby reported to his KGB handlers that British Intelligence were investigating an alleged blackmailing racket that linked members of high society to, among other things, homosexual orgies and black magic rites. Now, guess who was involved in organising those rites?’

  ‘Crowley again?’ Ben ventured.

  Shelton nodded. ‘MI5 were ultimately unsuccessful at penetrating his organisation, perhaps because he was too clever for them, or perhaps thanks to his own connections within the intelligence services. It’s entirely possible that the subjects of that failed investigation were Pandemonium Club members. Crowley’s cult is like a black stain running through the whole of modern history.’

  Wolf was growing restless with the history lecture. ‘Yeah, but all this stuff you’re talking about is in the past. What happened then, happened. It’s the here and now that concerns us.’

  Shelton shook his head. ‘You don’t grasp the enormity of what we’re up against here, do you? None of this is confined to history. It’s all still happening. I already told you about the rituals at Bohemian Grove, still every bit as active now as they were back in the 1870s. Then there’s the Lucifer Publishing Company.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘It was established in 1922 by the British-American occultist Alice Bailey, a fellow member of the Great White Brotherhood along with none other than our old friend Aleister Crowley, yet again. She was a disciple of Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, the founder of the Theosophy movement and allegedly a big influence on Hitler’s obsession with the occult, credited with having once said “It is Satan who is the God of our planet, and the only God”. The Lucifer Publishing Company’s purpose was to disseminate, shall we say, esoteric literature to its growing army of followers. Within just a couple of years, Alice Bailey subtly altered the name of her organisation, to deflect the negative attention it had received from mainstream religious circles. I guess the wider world wasn’t ready for Lucifer quite yet. The organisation’s new name was the Lucis Trust. You may have heard of it.’

  ‘Are you saying it still exists today?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Indeed it does, except it’s grown massively in scope from its original concept and now enjoys NGO status within the framework of the United Nations, as well as close links with some of the most powerful and wealthy figures in the world. Past trustees have reportedly included the business magnate John D. Rockefeller, the richest American of all time, and other notables. Dare to draw too much public attention to the uncomfortable fact that the trust was originally named after Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness, and you’ll soon find the lawyers and the censors descending on you like a pack of yipping hyenas.’

  ‘Talking from experience?’

  ‘Some folks get all jumpy when you speak the truth,’ Shelton said. ‘Ostensibly, it comes across as a disarmingly wacky and innocuous New Age organisation, albeit one with some surprisingly lofty connections. Devotees pray a “Great Invocation” and take part in spirit triangles, pagan festivals and moon rituals. One of their illustrious former members, a one-time US Secretary of Defense, was said to worship the full moon on the banks of the Potomac. Why on earth would the UN want to associate themselves with something so flaky? You may well ask. But I’m more interested in other details, such as the fact that at one time, the trust was allegedly headquartered at 666 United Nations Plaza, in New York City.’

  Wolf raised an eyebrow. ‘666. Number of the Beast.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, of course. Just like the fact that their website also features interesting quotations from certain followers of the teachings of Alice Bailey. One in particular, who’s also cited as having written “No one will enter the New World Order unless he or she will make a pledge to worship Lucifer.” Elsewhere he wrote, “Lucifer comes to give to us a gift of wholeness. If we accept it, then he is free and we are free.”’

  ‘Nothing to do with Lucifer, then,’ Wolf commented wryly.

  ‘They’re based on Wall Street now,’ Shelton said. ‘It’s rumoured that within their corporate headquarters is a great library filled with books on the occult. They claim to be in touch with “Ascended Masters” – for which, in my view, read “demons”. They also operate a distance learning academy called the Arcane School, which sends out occult literature to spread their message to the world.’

  ‘What message is that?’ Ben asked, sensing he already knew the answer.

  ‘You tell me,’ Shelton replied with a mysterious wink. ‘The coming of the Age of Aquarius. World Goodwill. The sermon of a New World Religion. Which, given the nam
e by which the organisation was originally founded, you can bet isn’t going to be a Christian one.’

  ‘This gets more and more fucked up,’ Wolf said.

  Shelton spread his hands. ‘Hey, maybe I’m right and maybe I’m wrong. What do I know? I’m just a humble researcher, after all. Check it out for yourself, it’s all over the internet and I’m hardly the first to have made such connections. Could be these folks are just a bunch of harmless, well-meaning, very rich, very well-connected mystics and New Agers. But consider the bigger picture, gentlemen. There’s no disputing the fact that all across the board, from Dashwood to Crowley to Hitler to the modern age, the forces of Satan have been working behind the scenes for centuries to rot the fabric of our societies and distort people’s minds to hate and corruption. Today the power of evil wields its influence on a global scale. The enemy are into everything, building their matrix for total domination. It’s all coming together. How the hell did they get so organised? I’ll tell you how. Because, as the wise old saying goes, “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men should do nothing”. We’ve been sleepwalking into this nightmare for a long time, my friends. We broke our contract with God, and created a void that the dark forces wasted no time in filling.’

  Shelton’s eyes were bulging with passion. He was in full-blown preacher mode now, driven by utter conviction and deep fear.

  ‘And make no mistake, the time is coming when these bloodthirsty maniacs will reveal themselves fully in their true colours. For so long they’ve stayed half-hidden in the shadows, but as our society crumbles and falls ever further into moral decay, they’re no longer afraid to come creeping out into the open. Some of them are the richest and most powerful people on the planet. They appear on television, telling us what a wonderful new world they’re going to create for the benefit of all humanity, while openly wearing the upside-down cross of the Antichrist around their necks. Taunting us. Testing our response so they can push their agenda even further, spreading their filth relentlessly everywhere, seeping into every corner and crevice of our world. Evil never rests. The signs are all around, and we ignore them at our peril. What does it take for people to open their eyes? How many people even truly recognised the terrifying warning that was the ceremonial opening of the Gotthard Tunnel in Switzerland?’

  Ben was vaguely aware that the inauguration of the world’s longest railway tunnel, through the Gotthard Pass in the Swiss Alps, had caused some sort of minor media stir a few years earlier, but he really couldn’t recall why.

  ‘No?’ Shelton said, seeing the blank look on their faces. ‘Then I suppose you must have missed the brazen and shameless display of Satanic worship right there in the faces of the media and the world, attended by an assembly of EU diplomats and complete with scenes of orgiastic dancing, demonic symbols, strange howling monsters from the underworld and goat-horned depictions of the Devil himself.’

  ‘You’re shitting us,’ Wolf said. ‘Would they come out in the open like that?’

  ‘Don’t believe me? Think I’m making this stuff up? I only wish I was. Go and check it out online. It was the most chilling spectacle ever performed for public viewing, as though the gates of hell had opened and they weren’t even trying to hide it any more. Right-thinking people the world over were shocked and appalled – and yet, now you hardly find a dissenting voice aired anywhere. Why? Because the secret powers that rule the media use disinformation and censorship to quell all opposition out of existence. Their goal is twofold. The first stage is to make their diabolical agenda seem so normal to the public that we simply get used to it all.’

  ‘And the second?’ Ben asked.

  ‘To infiltrate our minds with their poison until the day when every person on this earth is ensnared and enslaved, and the whole of humanity becomes just like Dave Dobbs, trapped in a living hell with the Mark of the Beast branded on their flesh. The Satanic takeover will be complete. That’s what’s coming to us, if these people aren’t destroyed.’

  Remembering their theological discussion back in Spain, Ben knew that Wolf took these things literally and was hanging on every word. Personally, he was prepared to take some of what Shelton was telling them with a pinch of salt. The guy might even be a total and utter crackpot.

  ‘I can’t promise to destroy them all,’ Ben said. ‘That’s someone else’s fight. But we have our plans for the Pandemonium Club.’

  Shelton asked, ‘What are those plans, if I may ask?’

  ‘Two words,’ Ben said. ‘Scorched earth. By the time we’re done, not one stone of their house will be left standing. But nothing can happen until we have some names.’

  ‘You have one name already. Anthony Abbott claimed to be one of them and I see no reason to doubt it.’

  ‘It’s the live ones we’re interested in,’ Wolf said. ‘Who are they?’

  Shelton sighed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Frankly, I don’t know who they are.’

  Chapter 47

  Ben and Wolf had come all the way to the Isle of Man to meet the expert who professed to have cracked open the secrets of the Pandemonium Club. Now he was saying he didn’t have the facts. It felt as though another door had slammed in their faces.

  Ben asked, ‘What about your quest to discover everything there was to be known about these people? What about the “great deal of information” you promised us?’

  ‘Give me a break. They don’t exactly post their membership list on a website,’ Shelton answered testily. ‘I’d say I’ve given you a heap of information. But I’m a researcher, not a detective. Collating the details of known historical facts is one thing. Penetrating the inner core of an ultra-secret cabal of murderers is another.’

  ‘Hold on a minute. The reason we’re here is Abbott’s book. He blew the whistle on them and your sister Georgie passed you on a copy of the manuscript sample. You said you’d read it.’

  ‘I have. All hundred pages of it.’

  ‘And you also told us it makes interesting reading. Sounded like you were hinting that you actually might know something.’

  ‘I meant what I said. Abbott’s account is like hearing Dave Dobbs’ story all over again. He describes how, as a young politician, he was approached by shadowy men who invited him to be inducted into a venerable order that had been around for over a century. How they promised him the earth in return for his undying loyalty. He talks about the ceremonies. The blood rites. The sacrificial murder of prostitutes and children. It’s pretty hair-raising stuff, and it confirms everything I’ve just told you. There’s just one problem. None of the names of any of the characters he describes in the book are real.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Wolf said.

  ‘I’ve checked every single one of them,’ Shelton went on. ‘They’re all pseudonyms. He was also extremely careful to leave out any details like places, times or other specifics that could have pointed to any particular person or group.’

  So Roland Seaward had been telling the truth after all. Ben looked at Wolf and saw the expression on his face, darkening his features like a thundercloud. He turned back to Shelton and asked, ‘If Abbott concealed the identities of his fellow Satanists, then why was Seaward so afraid of handling the book?’

  ‘I asked Georgie the same question,’ Shelton replied. ‘She said he was worried that the real-life players would recognise themselves. These are powerful people who can wreck your career and your life in more ways than one. For once, I can’t really say that I disagree with him.’

  ‘What about Abbott? Was he just covering his tracks? Did he really believe that changing the names would protect him from comeback?’

  ‘I’m not a psychiatrist, Mr Hope. I can’t possibly tell you what Abbott was thinking. Neither can he.’

  ‘We’re wasting our time here,’ Wolf muttered. He was staring at Shelton as though he’d have liked to pitch him out of the window. ‘I told you this was a stitch-up, Ben.’

  ‘As I said, you’re welcome to read the manuscript, if that’s any help
,’ Shelton offered.

  ‘Without actual identities, it means nothing.’ Ben racked his brain. ‘What about a man who calls himself Saunders, or Curnow? He belongs to some branch of intelligence, or something more obscure. He’s mixed up in this.’

  Shelton shook his head. ‘I don’t know those names. They’re certainly not mentioned in the book, for what it’s worth. It could be he’s one of the Pandemonium Club members, but that Abbott called him something else. In which case he could be any of them.’

  ‘There’s an old guy,’ Wolf said. ‘Much older than Curnow and the others. He’s right up there at the top of the hierarchy. Carries a cane with a bird’s head, like the masks they wear. He was there that night.’

  ‘Again, I don’t recall anything about an old man with a cane.’ Shelton sighed. ‘Look, we’re getting nowhere with this. Let me see the footage. Then at least this won’t have all been for nothing. Please?’ He snatched up the silver phone again and turned it back on, poised to enter the password that would let him into the video file.

  ‘Why should we?’ Wolf said. ‘It’s not like you’ve exactly delivered on your end of the bargain, is it?’

  ‘I’m begging you to let me see it. I’ve waited years for something like this. You can’t leave me hanging.’ Shelton was so desperate, he was almost weeping with frustration.

  Ben and Wolf exchanged glances.

  ‘I say screw him,’ Wolf said. ‘That’s what he gets for leading us on a wild goose chase. Even made us take our shoes off, like a couple of idiots.’

  But Ben was wondering what harm it could do. Either way, they’d still be leaving here empty-handed.

  He said, ‘Fuck it, Jaden. We’ve got nothing to lose by showing it to him. Let him have sleepless nights for the rest of his life, if that’s what he really wants.’

  ‘I like the sound of that,’ Wolf said, flashing a savage golden grin. ‘All right then, Shelton. The password is “Sofia”. With an F. Go for it. Knock yourself out.’