In some circles, Lord Penrose's soirees marked the high point of social calendars throughout Geneva and beyond. Some were small, intimate affairs, designed only to entertain the select few -- fellow members of a perverse elite -- affairs that included a veritable cornucopia of macabre sexual behaviors. Others were large gatherings of the rich and famous from politics, the New Hollywood, the same people, same behavior, only the location was different. The really special occasions, however, involved both, often at the same time, complex affairs that were not only sexual in nature, but took on an added air of religiosity as well. These involved the elites at their height of open debauchery.
These special occasions involved sado-sexual sacrifices -- both figurative and literal -- and this year’s Halloween gala promised to be the highlight of the year's festivities. It was this soiree that Yuri and Vanessa would unwillingly attend, hoping to discover the identity of the mystery man that Vanessa had informed Przybysz about. Not only would Yuri and Vanessa be in attendance, but some of New Hollywood's most luminous stars would be there as well, both as attendees and feature attractions.
Natalie Williams had been a star for most of her young life, famed now for her abilities as a singer, dancer and actress, she had begun her career doing commercials at the tender age of three. Her beauty was unsurpassed as were her sexual appetites, according to the tabloids. At 12 she had her own television show, a sitcom about the trials and travails of a precocious pre-teenaged girl. The show essentially mirrored the girl's real life experiences -- by 12 she was more sexuallty experienced than many 30 year olds. Now 26, her sexual exploits with members of both sexes were the stuff legends are made of.
Natalie, like many of her contemporary former child stars, had been groomed for the life they lead. products of years of psycho-sexual manipulation and forced into sexual liaisons with both men and women three or four times their own ages. One of the primary architects of this psychological indoctrination technique was the eminent Dr. Malcolm Van Sloan, renowned psychiatrist and professor at Harvard School of Medicine. He was also connected at the hip with the CIA, one of the designers of the MKUltra project, an expert in trauma-based mind control.
Van Sloan had treated Natalie personally for her bouts of depression since early childhood, all with the complicity of her star-struck mother. She had become first an unwilling participant -- a party favor for the rich and powerful, handed around and subjected to all manner of perversities. Her mother, like many stage mothers before her, was willing to sell her childhood and innocence for a life of glamour, happily riding the coattails of a wealthy, irreparably broken child.
As an adult, Natalie was an enthusiastic performer at Lord Penrose's sexual extravaganzas, often performing bizarre sex rituals with Cheryl Layne, another actress that shared a childhood similar to Natalie's. Cheryl's mother, like Natalie's was stage-struck, an aspiring actress herself whose own ambitions had been thwarted by a lack of talent, looks and personality. She too would mortgage her daughter's innocence to enter the dark, perverse world of the entertainment industry.
The sex shows were just the warmup for the real festivities -- an appetizer to whet the perverse appetites of the truly sadistic. The later rituals, held in private, were more theater than anything else, emulating a religious service. But there was an underlying purpose -- homage to the Night Gods -- those ethereal beings that exist beyond our senses, living in a dimension apart from our own. Although these rituals appeared to be conducted for the pleasure of the participants, rather than an actual form of worship of deities real or imagined. They were there in spirit so to speak, revelling in the debauchery. Robes and masks were a part of the theatricality, designed to enhance the atmosphere and experience. These people were drawn to the pageantry by the same aspect of human nature that drew many to the ritualistic pageantry of the Catholic Church.
It was against this backdrop of man's fascination with the esoteric and supernatural, coupled with the pageantry and arcane rituals, that made Lord Penrose's affairs popular with the ultra-rich and powerful. The elites of Hollywood, both old and new were there. Studio executives brought party favors- aspiring stars of all ages, shapes, sizes and types. When Yuri and Vanessa arrived, Natalie and Cheryl were the center of attention, performing a complex bondage ritual. Clad only in skimpy lingerie, bound and gagged, they were being tended by a large hooded black man brandishing a variety of sex toys, whips and the like. Lord Penrose himself was at the door to greet them.
"Vanessa darling," he said, his voice dripping with the insincerity of the British aristocracy. Lord Robert Penrose was a man in his 70's, tall, elegant, with an air of nobility, an aristocrat through and through. His tanned face featured an aquiline nose and blue eyes -- eyes rimmed with red, rheumy, the result of a life spent in dissipation. He moved toward Vanessa and Yuri, shaking his hand and kissing both of her cheeks in greeting.
"Robbie darling," Vanessa said looking around, "you look wonderful dear."
"You're lying, but thank you darling," he smiled, "and you're as beautiful as always."
"I don't see Gwendolyn," Vanessa observed, scanning the crowd for Penrose's daughter.
"You know how she hates these affairs," Penrose laughed, "and her father along with them."
Gwendolyn Penrose despised both her father and his friends. These gatherings sickened her and she avoided them like the plague, either by leaving or by staying in her rooms at the luxurious estate.
"She's likely in her rooms, my dear," Penrose told her. "Undoubtedly exhausted from a hard day squandering my money."
Gwendolyn took her revenge by spending as much of the vast family fortune as she could.
"I'm going to say hello," Vanessa replied, "before all the fun starts. Are you coming, Yuri?"
Yuri was engrossed in the floorshow and the young actresses with their well-endowed master.
"Your man seems to be enjoying himself," Penrose observed dryly. "Why not leave him with me?"
"I'm afraid he might not be here when I get back," she laughed. "Come Yuri."
"Say hello to my beloved daughter for me," his Lordship smiled, "I see so little of her these days."
"I shall," Vanessa said, kissing his cheek before leading Yuri away.
They found Gwendolyn in her rooms, in a wing of the estate removed from the festivities. She was beautiful, a natural blonde in her 40's, tall and elegant like her father, but without the look of dissipation that indelibly etched his face. Her beauty was natural, understated, her movements graceful like those of a dancer.
"Gwen dear," Vanessa said, "you look incredible. You have to tell me your secret." The two women embraced. Their friendship was genuine, there was none of the insincerity of Gwendolyn's father's greeting.
"Hello Yuri," Gwendolyn smiled. "No kiss for me?"
"Hi Gwen," Yuri replied kissing her cheek, "not going to the party?"
"You know how I despise those things -- sickos," she replied with a mock shudder. "Why don' t you and Vanessa stay up here with me? I've got champagne chilled and we can have our own party."
"Gwen," Vanessa said earnestly, "I have to ask you something.”
"Of course dear," Gwendolyn said. "Anything."
"There was a man here a couple of months ago," Vanessa said. "He was tall, dark -- he looked like he could be Arabic or something like that."
"Ah," Gwendolyn replied, "the mystery man. I've never seen him here before that night. He's someone different, special. He's not one of the sickos. Whenever he's here, he disappears before the partying begins. Why, is he important?"
"I don't know," Vanessa told her cousin sincerely. "He could be. Do you know his name?"
"You're not looking to trade Yuri in are you?" Gwendolyn laughed touching Yuri's arm. "I might be interested."
"This is serious Gwen," Vanessa said sincerely. "I need to know his name. Can you find out for me?"
"Of course dear," Gwendolyn said blythely. "Now how about some champagne?"
"You won't forget to call me about this will you?" Vanessa asked. "It could be really important."
"I promise dear," Gwendolyn said, crossing her heart.
In another part of the estate a private affair had begun. Twenty-five of Lord Penrose's inner circle had gathered in a black draped room dimly lit only by candles. There was an altar, behind which a statue of a large stone owl presided over the festivities -- the attendees were all clad in black robes and were standing in a semi-circle around the stone-topped altar.
A tall black-robed figure entered leading a child wearing a white satin hooded robe. He led the child by the hand, then lifted her, holding her out toward the owl, as if seeking approval, all the while intoning:..
"Oh wise and ancient ones, accept this lowly, modest gift, our unworthy sacrifice to you."
The figure placed the child on the altar and removed the robe showing a naked girl of six or seven years old. Her hair was blonde, her eyes blue and wide with fright. She began to cry trying in vain to hide her nakedness with her hands.
Two figures came forward and laid the child on the altar, securing her arms and legs with straps. The child began to wail pitifully and struggle against the bonds. The tall figure stood at the foot of the altar and dropped his robe to the floor revealing a fully erect Lord Penrose. The girl screamed when he entered her and began to struggle wildly.
A figure appeared behind Penrose carrying a silver tray upon which was an obsidian dagger with an ivory handle. When he finished the molestation, he grasped it in both hands holding it high above his head. The child's eyes were wide with terror, what was about to happen was now clear. She shrieked loudly, tears pouring from her eyes and down her cheeks. The knife plunged into her chest and within seconds Lord Penrose withdrew her still beating heart. He held it forth to the statue saying: "The sacrifice is complete, Ancient Ones."
As the others removed their robes, Penrose smeared his face and chest with the heart and began to lick it. The men and women gathered moved forward in unison chanting the sacrifice is complete, before covering their hands, faces and torsos in the blood, licking it from their fingers. Beck was among them, as was Dr. Van Sloan and numerous famous Hollywood dignitaries, their perverse theater of the macabre satisfied for the moment.
Lord Penrose's Halloween soiree may have been the highlight of the year's social calendar for the global elites, but Gao Delun's November uprising in China would make the history books. It was a masterpiece worthy of Sun Tzu. While his primary force attacked in Guangzhou, smaller forces throughout the provinces fought skirmishes preventing the PLA from sending reinforcements. The UN troops destined for China had been sent to the US after Wade's assassination and was unavailable to aid the Chinese government troops. Because of the assistance of the tongs, victory was imminent. Hong Kong was the final stronghold of the government, but when the provinces finally fell -- something that should happen any day -- they would have no choice but to acquiesce. Hong Kong was still a very dangerous place for Gao, it was imperative he should meet with Wu Feng.
In America, Oliveira's decision to send troops better utilized in China proved as useless as it was ill advised. American patriots used the time to regroup and organize as a national unit. Uwe's technology enabled fluid and undetectable communications between groups. The Doctor's list provided Przybysz with names of other patriot leaders and the resistance was becoming a well coordinated organization. The UN troops, on the other hand, had little to do, and as any military man will attest, there's nothing more damaging to morale than boredom. Small sorties against the troops continued. Sniper teams across the country harassed the troops, usually targeting officers. The troops themselves proved to be virtually useless.
In Hong Kong, Gao Delun in disguise, visited the Hollywood Road shop of Wu Feng, where Wu was waiting in his basement office.
"Come in, my honorable friend," Wu intoned with a bow. "I trust your journey was not too difficult."
No Venerable One," Gao returned, bowing himself. "My humble disguise seems to have once more fooled our adversaries."
When tea was served, it was time to get down to business. "You must forgive my arrival after closing time, but the cover of darkness will benefit my departure," Gao said.
"How then may I be of service, my honorable friend?" Wu asked.
"Two things, Venerable One," Gao replied. "First, I have heard from our friend in Europe who tells me that the new American leader will be contacting us soon."
"What use have we for the Americans?" Wu inquired. He trusted them as little as the British.
"They have new communications software that will be useful to us," Gao told the tong leader. "It changes IP addresses every few seconds making our transmissions untraceable."
"And you need funds?" Wu asked.
"No honorable friend," Gao assured him. "There is no charge."
"Then what is the importance of visit?" Wu asked with a puzzled look.
"I need to ask you a question, Venerable One and I need an honest answer," Gao looked deep into the old man's eyes.
"Of course my honorable friend," Wu returned, "there are no secrets among friends."
"Do you know of something known as the Council, and if so, what do you know of them?"
Wu Feng looked unflinchingly at the younger man: "Yes, I know of this Council," he said, "they are a group of very powerful men -- evil men that want the world. They are not honorable men my friend, they are gwai lo. They were the ones behind the virus. Why do you ask this?"
"My contact in Europe warned me not to trust them," Gao said. "She said they are the ones behind the UN government."
"Yes, honorable Gao," Wu told him, "this we know. We in the tongs have dealt with them for many years -- since the Colonial days. They controlled the British Empire and were behind the opium trade. They have always been evil people, driven only by their greed and lust for power and domination. We use them, they are greedy men, easy to manipulate, inferior gwai lo." Wu laughed.
"My contact tells me Venerable One," Gao began, "that there has been a rift among them. That they have split into two factions. Perhaps this will be useful to us."
"How so, my friend?" Wu asked.
"The shift in power has moved toward the evil faction, honorable Wu," Gao replied. "The better, more moderate shall we say, faction, needs friends. Perhaps we may aid one another."
"Do not trust the white devils, honorable Gao," Wu said slyly, "any of them. They are useful only as far as we can exploit them and their appetites."
Wu Feng was steeped in the ways of the Old China, as was Gao himself, but to a lesser extent. Wu was in the tongs before Mao's Cultural Revolution and witnessed the changes first hand. Mao's thugs would never have prevailed without the tongs, they were successful only with replacing one corrupt regime with another -- this one more corrupt and tyrannical.The tongs were apolitical -- they prospered no matter who held political power. But the world had changed since the old days. To Gao and those like him, the ways of the tongs, although still necessary, were becoming obsolete, at least for the moment. The Chinese resistance, although near victory, needed all the help the Americans and their European allies could provide if their victory was to last.
"Our victory is nearly complete, Venerable One," Gao told the old man. "The technology of the whites will help us immensely."
"Perhaps the gwai lo may serve us in another way, my honorable friend," Wu said, eyes narrowing.
"How so?" Gao asked, perplexed.
"Premier Zhao, is a stone in our shoe, one that represents the oppressive regime," Wu intoned. "He is the link to the oppressors, If he were to be removed..."
"And if it was someone other than a Chinese that did it..." Gao mused.
"Exactly my dear Gao," Wu said with a wink, "it takes the onus from us and places it squarely on the gwai lo."
Wu must be getting old, thought Gao. Such a plan would be transparent and likely alienate their new found allies, but Gao couldn't afford to offend the tong leader. Gao resolved to take care of Zhao without tong involvement, or the aid of his new allies -- he would need them both after the victory was won.
"I have taken much of your time, Venerable One," Gao said, "but there is one more issue I must discuss. When Zhao is deposed we must have a new leader."
"The tongs will support you, should you choose that role, honorable Gao," Wu said seriously. "We can think of no one more qualified."
"I had hoped to go back to my family when this is over, honorable Wu," Gao said sadly. "I have been absent from them for too long."
"This will never be over, my honorable friend," Wu replied. "There will always be someone with a desire for power. The people know and trust you. I can think of no one better."
The message was clear, Gao thought. Wu and the tongs would try to force him into power, and with them behind him. Wu believed that after Gao assumed the mantle of power, they would be able to control him.
"I must go now, Venerable One," Gao said bowing. "I will give what you said the utmost consideration."
They shook hands and bowed in the customary fashion. Gao left wondering how he would play both ends to the middle -- it would be a perilous task indeed balancing the powerful tongs and the whites.
Wu Feng was not the leader of the tongs for many years by mistake. He knew how to get and maintain power by whatever means necessary, usually by deception and cunning. He had risen through the ranks since childhood and was now likely the most powerful man in all of China.
Gao had purposely waited for darkness to slip away from his meeting with Wu. Disguised as a slightly drunk tourist from the New Territories enjoying the Hong Kong nightlife, he began down the dark alley behind the shop lit only by the full moon. He never saw his assassin slip up behind him, or hear the report of the gunshot that ended his life. He knew too much and had outlived his usefulness to the tong leader and there was only one fate for anyone who knew too much.
Premier Zhao's personal cell phone rang and a voice on the other end said only, "it is done," before hanging up.