"Wow," Lucy said. "This is all so out of left field. What else?"
"Well, the history stops just before the Second World War," Magee said. "But if the Sons of Man stayed true to form, I suspect that their ventures evolved to smuggling drugs and God knows what else. However, what I find particularly interesting is that they weren't just content with their smuggling empire. Somewhere along the line-maybe to protect what they had-they began to broaden their reach into politics, the legal system, the military, and financial institutions. First sons, the heirs to their fathers' seats, were expected to pursue careers in these areas-so they became politicians, and lawyers, and judges, and bankers, and captains of industry."
Magee patted the book. "And it's all in here. The original Manx names and the name changes; the history and the general outline of their purpose. Up to the late 1930s anyway. It's rather frightening, really, how a focused organization that is willing to bide its time and wait for the right moment can become a potent political and economic force. Maybe alter the course of history."
Lucy looked skeptical. "You're kidding me. A group no one has ever heard of?"
Magee nodded solemnly. "Yes, a group no one has ever heard of-or few people, because somebody obviously sent me this book, and I assume that was so that I could help you and Agent Jaxon."
"Speaking of whom," Lucy said, looking at her watch, "I wonder where he is. He's going to want to hear all of this."
Magee smiled. "That's quite all right. A good tale only gets better the second time around, and I suspect the two of you will want to borrow my book and delve into this yourselves."
"So who wrote the book?" Lucy asked.
"A good question," Magee said. "There is no credited author. No publisher listed after the title page, and no record of it in the Library of Congress or any public library I could find. I tried to find a record of the Sons of Man on internet search engines and got a few hits. One was an incredibly bad song by a band called Killswitch Engage. I believe the lyrics go something like You son of man I am here as a witness/You son of man can't you see what burns inside me. Not exactly Bob Dylan and no apparent help with our poem. But that was about the most interesting of the lot."
"Did you try to find any references from the Isle of Man?" Lucy asked.
"Yes, and nothing there either," Magee replied. "I even wrote an email to their tourism bureau asking if they knew anything about a group called Sons of Man, but that was a dead end, too. Obviously, it was written by someone with insider information-maybe one of the Sons."
"So if Sons of Man is capitalized," Lucy wondered aloud, "I wonder if the poem is also referring to another group that calls itself the Sons of Ireland?"
"I thought of that myself," Magee said. "And I did find a nonprofit association called the Sons of Ireland in Monmouth County, New Jersey. But it was founded in 2002 after the World Trade Center attack, as their internet site states, based on 'the principles of brotherhood, charity, and community service.' Their big annual event is the Polar Bear Plunge on New Year's Day, when the brave ones jump in the Atlantic to raise money for charity. In other words, they don't seem to be in league with the nefarious Sons of Man."
"Can I see the book?" Lucy asked.
"Yes, of course," Magee said. "This has certainly added a bit of spice to my mundane little existence, but I'm sure I'm merely the conduit and this should be in your hands."
Lucy got up off the stool to get the book. "If that's the case, why not just send it to me?" she wondered as she sat back down.
"That I can't answer," Magee said. "But I expect it will be revealed in due time."
Lucy looked at the cover. It was embossed with a symbol consisting of three running legs joined at the hip inside a circle, as if forming the spokes of a wheel. "I've seen something like this before, only there was a Medusa's head in the middle," she said. "It's on the flag of Sicily. I think it's called a triskelion."
"Or triskele, from the Greek for 'three-legged.' It's quite an ancient symbol and has been found on pottery dating back thousands of years, including one piece depicting Achilles with the triskele on his shield," Magee said. "It's also on coins found in Sicily that date back to 300 BC. You've already seen the one on the Sicilian flag. But it's also on the flags of Brittany and…as you might imagine…the Isle of Man. They're each a little different. Besides the Medusa, the legs on the Sicilian version are nude; those on the flag of the Isle of Man are like the one on the front of the book, gold-armored and spurred. Notice that whoever published this book went to the expense and trouble of using real gold leaf on the armor. Isle of Man banknotes also feature the tre cassyn, as it's known in Manx, above the Latin phrase Quocunque jeceris stabit."
"Wherever you will throw it, it stands," Lucy translated, and grew quiet. He bears the mark that stands wherever you throw it. Look for it. She could hear Andy's voice warning her from her peyote vision.
"Exactly," Magee beamed, then noticed that Lucy had grown pale. "Say, is there anything wrong?"
Lucy pulled herself out of the memory. "No. Just recalled something. Not important."
"Okay, if you're sure," Magee said, then turned back to his story. "The oldest known version of the tre cassyn on the Isle of Man is found on the ancient Sword of State that once belonged to Olaf Godredson, a king of the southern Hebrides and the Isle of Man in the 1200s."
Lucy smiled. "You've been doing a lot of research."
Magee blushed. "Oh my, yes, and one discovery seems to lead to another. For instance, there are stylized versions-such as a triskele where the legs are represented by spirals. The earliest of those discovered so far were found on Neolithic carvings in County Heath in Ireland."
"Think that's the tie to the Sons of Ireland?"
"Who knows?" Magee shrugged. "But other than the use of the triskele, I couldn't find any definitive connection between the two. However, the more I looked, the more I was surprised at what a common symbol it is."
Magee explained that the triskele was also the symbol of nationalist movements of indigenous groups of Spain, including the Galizan, Asturian, and Cantabrian. "There's a four-branched version called the lauburu that is used by the separatist Basque movement."
It had also been adopted by Wicca and other neo-pagan groups. "It's quite popular with the bondage and sadomasochism crowd, too, especially after it appeared in the movie The Story of O. I suppose you and I could rent it and watch it together," Magee said, looking sly. "Just in case there's some hidden message in all that heaving, naked flesh."
Lucy rolled her eyes. "The only hidden message is in your pants, you dirty old man."
"Maireann croi eadrom i bhfad, eh?" Magee chortled.
"Yes, Cian, 'a light heart lives longest,' but on with your story," Lucy said.
Magee laughed and swiveled in his chair to the wall of books behind him and removed a small book from the shelf. "Mein Kampf," he said. "'My Struggle,' Hitler's little master-race manifesto. Originally it was published with a photo of that madman on the cover. This is a reprint, but the point is, I want you to look at the symbol on the front."
"A swastika." Lucy nodded. "Four-legged, but yes, I see the similarity."
"Quite unfair really," Magee said. "In many cultures, the swastika is a benign symbol, such as in the Hindu religion. But unfortunately, the triskele was doomed to become a symbol of hate once the Nazis got a hold of it; a trilegged version was also the symbol of the Waffen-SS division in Belgium. More recently, white racist death squads in South Africa have used it as their symbol, as have Aryan and neo-Nazi groups in western Europe and the United States. There is also a cousin of the triskele favored by these racist groups called the Valknut-three interlocking triangles-a terrible fate for something of innocent Norse origins."