"Time has a peculiar way of moving." England thought to himself. The sign by the side of the road welcomed him to the Duchy of Cornwall as his headlights illuminated it, but he gave it little notice while he mentally went over the report he would give to the secret agent he was en route to meet. London was burning again, but it was a relief to have some good news to report. Operation Mistletoe was a complete and total success. The nights robed and cloaked in Ashdown Forest dancing around an effigy of Rudolph Hess with every magically inclined person in the United Kingdom – including noted members of the peerage and the royal family - had been worth it. England had felt emotionally and magically charged with the large assembly of people there and wondered, even feared whether the rituals would work, but Agent 666 never doubted their success for a moment. Like all magical workings there had been reprisals; damage and casualty reports from London still poured in to Number 10 as he motored closer to Torquay. Once the German high command found out who had defected tonight … England felt sure this would be the last time Germany rained hell from above. London burned, but Germany suffered an even greater loss.
It still felt surreal that only a few hours before, England and Agent 007 had occupied the small war offices at Chequers receiving reports about the latest air raid from Number 10 while his boss watched a Marx Brothers movie in the hall. He had been invited to watch, but he didn't care much for American comedy and decided instead to re-read the stack of correspondence from the Fraternity of Inner Light and the battles they waged against Germany on the astral plane.
"It was possible to see the Invisible Helpers at work as innum erable shadowy presences… Over all was the iridescent dome of protection guarded by great angelic presences. These are among the things we have been visualising and building on the astral, and at the moment of testing it was a wonderful experience to see how potent and tangible they were… there were no casualties. This is the second time this has happened in our vicinity. That there are powerful forces at work can hardly be denied…"
He especially liked the visual of astral warriors armed with swords attacking the enemy. England had joined them on a few of these astral psychic attacks; he especially enjoyed the image of his sword splitting open the skull of a certain tall, well groomed blonde. The smirk on his face grew. "I hope you had the worst headache, you muscle bound-"
There was a light rapping sound at the door. England dropped the stack of letters into the open folder on his desk and closed it. "Come in." The smirk vanished as his personal assistant entered the room, a small piece of paper in his hand.
"Sir, a Messerschmidt was confirmed heading toward the coast of Scotland. He handed the report to England, who quickly scanned over the written words scribbled over the code.
"Only one?"
"Yes sir, a single craft."
England worked to keep his expression free of emotion. "Very good, has 007 been informed?"
"Yes sir."
Another knock at the door, and Agent 007 entered before waiting for a response. England gave the assistant a glance of dismissal and waited for him to leave before speaking.
"Did we actually pull it off, is it him?" 007 asked.
"Still unconfirmed, but who else would it be today of all days?" England's casual smile clashed with the tone of caution in his voice.
"So, do you think he knows yet?"
"Of course, the only question is who was the poor bastard who told him, and are they still breathing?" England allowed himself to imagine it was Germany honored with that task.
"Right," 007 snickered. "Premature for a celebratory drink?"
"Hopefully not for long."
"Good good!" 007 helped himself to a chair in the sitting area next to England's desk. "The old man still has it in him. I know his rituals at Ashdown Forest were very effective; you also have a flair for theatrics that put everyone in the right frame of mind for the work."
"No, it was your astrological charts that really convinced him, I am sure of that. Good thing for us Hess doesn't scratch his arse without consulting one first." England's smile widened. It was true, 007 drew up superb planetary charts, and with interpretations so convincing, and England believed the man sitting in his office somehow channeled the original 007 into his work.
There was another knock, England and the secret agent exchanged glances before he spoke. "Enter."
The assistant entered quickly and handed him another deciphered message. "The Messerschmidt had only the pilot. He parachuted out and the plane crashed. Sir." The assistant added, "He specifically asked for the duke of Hamilton, and happily accepted the offer of a glass of milk."
007 had sat forward in his chair when the assistant walked in with his report. Now he sat back and covered his broad grin with his fingers, looking away from England and the assistant as he took the offered slip of paper. When they were alone again England quickly read over the report before handing it to the other agent. "Horn, he told them his name was Albert Horn."
"Riiight." 007 chuckled, "I wish I could have been there when he told the Guard that with his German accent. Good God man, do you realize it worked? Rudolph Hess, Germany's second in command, is on British soil right now."
"Aye, he is. Now we can have that drink." England moved to the small cabinet he used as a bar and poured scotch into two glasses.
"Someone needs to let the old man know." 007 replied, "Maybe they will treat him better after this."
"I told him I would come straight away as soon as we had word Operation Mistletoe was a success." England grinned. "But it wouldn't surprise me if the bastard already knows, because he had a vision or the right tarot card came up when he thought about Hess and farted."
007 couldn't hold back the snort of laughter. "Quite so. Say, when you get back will you have time to have another chat about the original 007?"
"It would be my pleasure." England replied, holding his glass up to the portrait of George VI. "To the King"
"To the King," 007 echoed. When they both finished their toast, he added. "I wanted to ask you more about his travels abroad."
"Of course." England answered, setting down his glass. "But it will have to wait until I return. Will afternoon tea tomorrow be soon enough?"
OXOX
England didn't need to see the old man's arms to know the track marks were there. He mused over this as he watched Agent 666 come into the small lounge room still unrolling and buttoning his left sleeve. "Ninety three," England greeted the Master Therion
"Ninety three," 666 returned the greeting, his body looked frail, but his voice still carried the old strength. "It's Hess, they're sure?" He asked, slowly settling his pain-ridden body down in an old chair. England noted the threadbare armrests and mused over how they were the perfect allegory for this man's current living situation.
"Quite sure. He gave a false name, but it's confirmed, he is Hess." England turned away from the window and moved to the other chair. "He's on his way to Wales."
"I want to interview him." 666 used that tone that meant he wouldn't take no for an answer. "We leaked that I wanted to meet him personally, so let's carry the charade to the full and let me interrogate him. You tell that old warmonger boss of yours I want to talk to him."
"That will be difficult, but I will ask 007 to see to it." England sat when 666 motioned for him to do so. "Despite the work that went into Operation Mistletoe, MI 6 still won't publicly acknowledge it. Members of the royal family were at Ashdown with us, if that ever leaked out … "
"Rubbish!" 666 bellowed, cutting England off. "Because of me, Rudolph Hess is in our hands. Do you know what this means for Hitler, or Himmler? Brainless hack!" The old man's face broke into an evil leer. "By the way, what was the cigar sucking old warhorse doing when he heard the news?"
England gave him a bland look before replying, "Watching a Marx Brothers picture; Go West."
The old man's leer grew even more sinister; his eyes glittered evilly as they took in England's blank expression. "How apropos." He spoke cryptically; rephrasing a question asked before he went on his tangent over England's boss. "Do you know what tonight's development means for the German high command?"
"It means they're finished with any plans for coming across the channel and Germany will move that massive army of his east instead." England thought about the rumors they had been hearing for weeks about that. Fortunately, Russia's boss refused to believe Germany's boss could be that stupid. "If anyone can work it out, it will be 007. You will get your interview with Hess."
"Capital, capital!" 666 replied. "It's the least they can do, considering the great work I just did for them."
"Work we all did, you crazy old addict." England thought to himself. He watched the telltale signs of the heroin taking hold over the elderly man; the lines on his jaundiced face smoothed out and his eyes took on some of their old brightness. He was beyond using it for the high; he needed it for pain management now. "Yes, Operation Mistletoe was a resounding success. We're all pleased with the results."
"As am I. I have two other missions I want to suggest to MI6. I know if I have their support they will have the same success as this one. In the meantime, I am glad you're here, now that the operation is done and Hess is in our hands, I have some personal business for you to attend to."
England gave him a quizzical look. "Personal business sir? I was told my next mission involved investigating Germany smuggling drugs through Dublin."
666 gave him one of his looks. "I need you to go to California."
England's expression immediately showed his shock and derision. "C-California? What the devil for? Can't your man in the United States go to California for you? There is a war going on which means I'm quite busy."
The old man laughed, pounding on the chair's armrest; sending a cloud of dust into the air around him. "Precisely! The Devil! I need you to go out there and meet someone. He took his Minerval a few months ago but he shows promise; more promise than the wanker currently running Agape Lodge."
"And who told you he shows so much promise?" England asked, musing over what drama the old man could be creating with the only active OTO lodge left on the planet. If there were issues with drama and members of the group not getting along, one didn't need to guess whom the source of it was. 666 had a peculiarly lethal sense of humor.
"The wanker currently running Agape Lodge." 666 answered.
"Beg pardon sir, but someone who only recently took his Minerval, surely he has years of study and training yet … unless he is a Freemason or belongs to some other fraternity. Who is this man, what does he do?"
The old man smiled, "Rockets. He builds test rockets."
"A scientist." England thought about this. If he were involved with rocketry, then the American military may very well be about, as well as spies for every other country. This didn't sound good at all. "Is he involved with that other rocket scientist in Roswell, New Mexico … what was his name … Goddard?" England knew for a fact that America spent a great deal of time at Roswell, and if at all possible he wanted to avoid the prat if he did end up on the other side of the Atlantic.
"How the hell should I know? I don't keep up on American rocketry! Just go out there and find out what you can and report back to me."
England let out a long sigh. "Fine, I will take care of it."
"Excellent!" 666 practically shouted, opening a small silver case setting on the small table next to his chair. "Now, celebrate with me."
Watching the old many expertly sift a small pile of white powder poured from a vial into two straight lines made England think back about the mission to Dublin he had been briefed on just this morning. "You know, this probably came by way of Germany via Ireland."
"That's how I know it's good quality." 666 quipped as he held the case up to his face and inhaled the rail through a short straw. Passing the mirrored case to England, he reclined back in his ancient, frayed wingback and waited for the drug to enter his system. "Ah, very good indeed. I expect you to leave for America as soon as possible. I would go myself but … I hate California with a passion. All facade, no real soul there."
England lifted his head and put the straw back in its compartment in the case. He knew how long before the drug would affect him, so he took these few moments of clarity to ask one more question. "May I inquire for the man's name?"
"Parsons, John Whiteside Parsons."
"Parsons." England echoed; euphoria already spreading through his body as the drug took hold of his senses. He didn't stay long after that, and made his goodbyes before the old man felt good enough to imbibe in something else. Even with the cocaine in his system, he wasn't at all happy with this task. There was a man already on that side of the Atlantic who did the old man's work in America, and he was much closer to this Parsons than England was. He knew thought without checking that the mission to Dublin was already assigned to someone else, and whether he liked it or not, he would be on the next transatlantic flight to America.
Once England got into the car to drive back to London He finally allowed himself to think what he wouldn't dare while in the Master Therion's home. "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be Cefalù all over again?"
Author's Note - May 10, 1941 was the last night of the Blitz. Many believe one of the main reasons was the defection of Rudolph Hess on the same night. Nine days later, the German high command received word from Adolph Hitler the invasion of the Soviet Union would commence in a matter of weeks.
Agent 007 – Ian Fleming, the famous author of the James Bond novels. He worked as an agent during the war and is believed to be the one who drew up fake astrological charts that convinced Hess to defect on May 10, 1941. The character James Bond is based on the original 007, John Dee. Dee was Queen Elizabeth the first's personal astrologer, a brilliant mathematician and cartographer who traveled extensively in her Majesty's Secret Service. Dee is also responsible for creating (with the help of seer Edward Kelley) the angelic language that is the basis for Enochian Magic.
Agent 666 – Aleister Crowley, the notorious occultist once labeled by the British press as "the wickedest man in the world." He was a frail old drug addict during World War II, but his mind was still sharp and it is through his personal writings and the writings of others we have the story of "Operation Mistletoe." No official government record of this particular wartime effort exists, but the story goes that it was the work of the occult community in England that convinced Hitler not to invade.