Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I (44 page)

By this point, they had discovered Kosta was the man
who kidnapped their savior, as well as the person who attacked their chapel,
killed the former Supreme Tribunal and thrown their plans into such disarray it
took a decade to repair them. They consulted all senior members before
pronouncing a death warrant on any Nobility. This was the protocol when they
had to make examples of their wayward members. This had happened most recently
in 1968, and before that in 1963, when a Massachusetts family had become too
visible. The members were pushed to make the decision and punish the Kennedys
by slaughtering their highest-ranking son and then his brother.

This situation became too convoluted, even for the
Dark Nobility’s mythic over-complications. It was only recently that they
gained possession of the codexes, solving the dilemma about their savior. The
Seekers, deaths and wanton destruction had been pointless. H. W. wasted no
thought on McGrath’s passing and hoped the new Supreme Tribunal would be more
realistic with his methods and goals. He was pleased when the pragmatic
Mordecai was chosen for the marks of power. It insured that the temporal Light
Bringers made the decisions, rather than the pit dwellers.

- Hell in a Handbasket on
Wheels -

TIME: FEBRUARY 26TH, 1972. TEMPLAR CHAPTER HOUSE, NEW YORK,
U.S.A.

Quentin had walked in the front door of his chapter
house when he saw something was amiss. The normally ever-present sentry was
talking with two men whom Quentin recognized from decade-old files. They were
high-ranking Masons who were complicit in the Luciferian plot to enthrone
Lucifer on the papal throne.

“Turcopole, why are these two men greeted in our
house?” Quentin strode forward with purpose, took the sentry’s pistol and
ordered him back to his station. “Take your rifle and cover these two, brother.
They are not to be trusted.”

The men were startled enough that they raised their
hands when confronted with the guard’s gun. Both were middle-aged, though one
was older and wider than the other. He was the first to speak. “We are all
brothers, Seneschal Quentin.”

Quentin took a few hurried steps toward him and slapped
the man down to his knees with the gun. “How do you know who I am?” he asked as
he pointed the barrel at the now bleeding and kneeling Mason. “What are you two
degenerates doing in our home?” The sentry kept his rifle aimed at the other
dazed man while the other got to his feet and wiped blood away from a gash
Quentin opened on his cheek.

“We are of the 33rd Degree of Knights of Malta. Our
names are not important. What is important is we came here with offers from the
engineers of all our efforts.” The man was not affected by the cold reception
and continued to speak as his cheek oozed. “May we put our hands down? I assure
you, we mean no harm or treachery. We’ve merely come to talk.”

“You are Masons Paul Russell and Brian Caldwell. I
know both of your names, and no, you may not put your hands down.” Quentin was
not about to be civil to men who had connections to, and knowledge of,
pedophiles, Luciferians and corrupt clergymen.

“Seneschal Quentin, return the Turcopole’s weapon,” a
gravelly voice behind Quentin stated but he did not turn around.

“Grand Master Hapsburg, these men are degenerate
criminals. You can’t be serious,” Father Quentin said as he kept his eyes and
his weapon trained on them.

“They are here at my request, Seneschal. I’m sorry I
did not tell you, but you could not be reached.” The Templar Grand Master
strode forward and stood with his back to the two Masons, in front of the
baffled Seneschal. “Lower your gun and join me in listening to what the Masons
have to say.” The Grand Master motioned for both Seneschal and the Turcopole to
lower their weapons. With a nod of his graying head and bearded face the
Turcopole advanced and took the pistol Quentin had lowered to his side.

All four men walked deeper into the Templar house.
They passed portraits of past Grand Masters and Seneschals and historic weapons
and armor displayed along the halls. Some pieces in the collection dated back
to the order’s inception in 1119. Some of the weapons were still kept sharp,
and as they continued along the hallway and entered the great hall, Quentin
kept an eye on the visitors. The hall was a meeting room with a circular table
and chairs, flanked with end tables by each wall. Russell and Caldwell stared
at the relics on display.

Hapsburg gave Caldwell a napkin for his cut and sat
down at the table. “Seneschal Quentin you must not jump to conclusions about
what we will discuss here.”

Quentin sat down but only nodded curtly and eyed both
men suspiciously, though his suspicion soon changed to confusion as the Grand
Master continued. “Masons Russell and Caldwell, please go on with your
mission?”

“We want to embrace the Keepers of the Relics in the
Builder’s Master Plan. We have been in contact with your Grand Master for some
time and have kept him informed of the long awaited inclusion in our efforts.”
Caldwell watched the volatile seneschal for signs of another eruption. He
practically flinched as Father Quentin’s eyes grew colder, responding to the
revelation of his order’s alliance with the Brotherhood. Quentin was always a
good soldier and now listened because he owed his Grand Master that courtesy.
He also wanted to know the specifics of the association.

“We are at a very pivotal point in the Builder’s
Plan. Doubtless, you have heard much about our use of the Luciferians and their
masters.
 
We have used many
different forces against each other, all geared toward advancing our goal of a
one-world government.”

Caldwell took a breath and saw no change in Quentin’s
steely gaze. Russell, who had been silent all this time, proffered his addition
to the conversation.

“If I may, allow me to offer some historical
examples. In World War I, we pitted imperialism in the Austrian/Germanic Empire
against democracy: France, England and the United States. In turn, this
advanced the League of Nations. This, combined with manufactured economic
conditions, spawned fascism in Italy, Japan and Germany, once again pitted
against democracy and socialism: England, the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. The result:
the United Nations. We now work toward a final confrontation between two
ideologies, resulting in our New World Order,” Russell finished as he sat back,
looking smug.

“You’re insane,” Quentin said, barely above a
whisper. “You’re telling me a collection of smug, self-important, bourgeois,
pretend Templars were behind World War I, World War II, fascism, communism and
your New World Order? You’ll be lucky to leave here alive.”

“Father Quentin, I’m sorry you’re having such
difficulty with this,” the Grand Master said, beginning to think he would have
to discard such a useful seneschal.

“Quentin, you know me as Grand Master Bernhardt
Hapsburg. We have known each other decades, and were even initiated into the
order at the same time. Along with the Rothschilds, Rockefellers, and many
other elite families, the Hapsburgs are part of the Dark Nobility. We oversee
the Council on Foreign Relations, Trilateral Commission, the Bilderberg Group,
Templars and now the Vatican.” Quentin’s expression was one of pain as he
listened to the treacherous assertions of a man he believed to be
incorruptible. He was shaken and did not know if he would ever recover.

“For centuries men like these two have been part of
unseen alliances, used by the Nobility.” Though the Grand Master revealed
historical entanglements of the Templars he also wanted to tell the details of
the higher plan.

Before he could proceed, Quentin spat some heated
questions at him. “You are a Mason? How is this possible? Many of the men whom
we uncovered were killed for lesser infractions. These men have been on a list
since 1962 awaiting God’s justice. How did you sit in front of Paul VI and
massacre so many of your own?” Quentin was not sure why he was dumbfounded by
this revelation.

“What is it that troubles you the most, Quentin? That
I am a Mason or that I pushed to remove others when we were before the pope?”
Bernhardt asked, voicing the true nature of Quentin’s confusion.

“Both,” he blurted out. “You are not fit to be in our
church, let alone our order, and you are definitely not fit to lead it,”
Quentin exclaimed.

“Seneschal, you are an full Templar. You have done
things and taken oaths that initiates would consider Satanic, or at least anti-Christian.
Every Grand Master since 1312 has known what you’re now learning. Rest easy and
listen to these two as they educate you. Brother Caldwell, please continue.”
The Grand Master had stripped down his Seneschal and now it was trying to build
a new Quentin on the remaining foundation.

“Brother Quentin, we have infiltrated the highest
offices of the Papacy and installed our own Pope. In truth, the previous Pope
was sympathetic, but fell prey to a weak conscience and an even weaker heart.
Blessed John was an ally. He believed in a one-world government under papal
rule, while we have contended that religion stifles free speech and expression.
To a degree, our goals were common, so we helped each other.”

Caldwell jumped back as Quentin emerged from his
stupor and lashed out with an accusation, fueled by the bile building inside
him. “Your goal was the final ascension of Satan, himself, you son of a bitch!”
The Templar bounded up, snatched a Second Crusade battle sword and sprang at
Caldwell, who ran for the door behind him. The whisper of drawn steel behind him
stopped Quentin just as much as the bellowed voice — a voice to which he
had answered in many battles and violent confrontations.

“Seneschal Quentin! Drop that weapon!” For years, the
Grand Master was the supreme swordsman of the Templars. Even so, Quentin turned
and leveled a swipe at his side though Hapsburg parried with ease. He carried
the blow down to the ground, using his own cross-guard to force Quentin’s to
the floor. As the sword touched its flat on the heavy oak planks, the Grand
Master’s foot came down and broke the blade, just above the cross-guard.

“Quentin that was a priceless relic! You blundering
oaf! You live because I’m at the limit of patience with you. Now, sit down
before I run out of patience completely!” The Grand Master knocked his
Seneschal back into his seat with a backward blow of his fist and swung around
as the doors burst open and the sentries entered. “It’s alright, brothers.
Seneschal Quentin was just giving me a surprise test of readiness. Thank you,
Tino.” Quentin nodded and held what felt like a broken jaw from Hapsburg’s
backhand. “Thank you brothers, please leave us to our discussion.” As the
sentries closed the doors behind them Caldwell sat down in his chair and the
Grand Master fell into his. “I’m getting too old for this Quentin, and so are
you.”

“Well, what do you want from me?” Quentin asked. “I’m
told of things about which I can do nothing. Each new fact sickens me more.”

“Quentin, Brother Quentin, the entire time you have
known me as fellow adept, Turcopolier, Commander, Seneschal and now rightful
Grand Master, have you ever had cause to doubt my conviction about our ideals?
We are fulfilling a plan that began with our inclusion more than 500 years ago.
Everyone above the rank of Sergeant knows we continued in secrecy within the
Roman ranks. Only the Grand Master knew better.” He got up and went to a
portrait, motioning for Quentin and the two Masons to join him.

“Jacques de Molay, and the Seneschals who gave their
lives to appease anyone watching, had already made plans to continue the
order.” He stepped forward and replaced the sword he used to parry with
Quentin. “Mr. Caldwell, please continue.”

As soon as everyone was seated again, and Quentin had
fallen into a calm born of exhaustion, Caldwell continued. “We have been
working with the Vatican, but also with the Luciferians. They believe we will
deliver the world to their Lucifer at the Availing Time. As your Grand Master
is already aware, we will not.” Caldwell stopped and let Mr. Russell continue.

“In all of our overt alliances over the centuries,
our goal has remained the same. We are that into which the Templars have
evolved. It is no accident that money handling made us so successful and envied,
or that we have survived in the nation that still does this work.”

“Switzerland?” Quentin said, baffled. “You can’t be
serious.”

“Father Quentin, we have survived by remaining
invisible. We’ve been behind history’s major and minor upheavals,” Russell
explained.

“Strictly in terms of economics, you know that before
1312, we were without equal. Now, we are entrenched even deeper. There is no
nation, corporation, wealthy individual or family, who do not have numbered
Swiss accounts.” The Grand Master nodded to Mr. Caldwell and Russell.

“So, why are you telling me all this?” Quentin, still
reeling from shock. “You already have more than enough resources and people
working for your cause. You already own every government, corporation, bank and
powerful family in the world. Why are you talking about the Availing Time? It
sounds like you already have it and have had it for centuries.” Quentin
couldn’t stand to hear more about how powerful they were. “I believe you.
Congratulations, you have pulled off the most incredible heist in human
history. You have, little by little, fraction by fraction, stolen the entire
world.”