Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I (45 page)

“It would appear so, Father, but this is not the
case. There are others, powerful enough to defeat us. If we were to press our
advantage now, we would plunge the world into cataclysm, with nothing for
anyone. Both the Catholics and Luciferians have a lot of fight left in them,”
Russell said.

“It is not enough to take over the world, Father
Quentin. We want to be unopposed. We want it to be ready, willing and
compliant.” Caldwell finished with a quickening of breath, which added a sexual
creepiness, unexpected in all the intrigue discussed.

“Yes, Seneschal Quentin, we do have control over the
Catholics, and the Luciferians believe they have control over them through our
Mason brothers,” Bernhardt continued. “It’s an area on which we don’t need to
concentrate full attention. The situation we need to look after is one that has
been plaguing us for ten years now. Since 1962, when they lost their Messiah
and Supreme Tribunal, the Luciferians have been useless.

“We are now able to rectify the situation,” Russell
continued. “A member of an old family wanted the power the boy had. He
relocated his birth to a different location and took him from there.”

“Kostadino Paleologos will be dealt with. He turned
on the Engineer’s Plan. Though this boy is another matter we’ll have to deal
with,” Bernhardt added. “He is the prophesied savior of evil: their Christ. The
Nobility will decide soon enough. Until then, he’ll live.” He stopped and
thought for a moment before continuing.

“H.W. told me the Luciferians have sent a party to
reclaim him. How they found him, I’ll never know. Accompanying this party is
Albert Pike, he is a Luciferian and goes with reverence for the boy. We’ll send
our own people to take the boy.”

“Grand Master, why not just let them take him? We
know where he’ll be and they’ll never be the wiser until the time is right. If
we go against them now, we’ll tip our hand too soon,” Russell proposed.

“That is a sound theory, Mr. Russell, however, we
cannot let them have this boy. The balance of power will shift too far in favor
of the Luciferians. Despite the precariousness of the mission, we’ll have to
take him ourselves. When they discover that we’ve been working our own cause
all along, it will fall upon our liaisons to mediate a truce. That will be
difficult indeed,” Grand Master Bernhardt replied, but was cut short by
Quentin’s scoffing.

“By all that’s holy, man, you’re going to betray the
Devil and hell, itself, and you’ll let them know you’ve done it? What gall!
You’re either the bravest souls in all of history or the biggest fools!” he
pronounced.

“As I said before, Quentin, we have been working with
them in the same way we have worked with the Catholics — to further
mutual goals. Now our path is split and we’ll have to show them we are no
longer allies. They believe that we will hand over the world to their Lucifer
at the Availing Time. Who would willingly give up absolute power to a distant
deity?” Russell asked. “Some of us still believe in this original plan, but most
in the Nobility, as well as other organizations, want to keep the world for
themselves. We have no intention of handing it over. It has been ours far too
long and we are too close to complete victory to share it. Nay, not share, they
want it all from us. How rude to sit back and take it. We’ve worked hard to get
where we are. They’ve only waited and encouraged our efforts, believing that we
do all of this for them alone,” the stockily dark, smiling Mason said
haughtily.

“We are not the hired help, Quentin. We will not sit
back and wait for scraps from the table for which we have not only prepared the
meal, but also for which we have cut down trees, shaped the wood and built! We
have worked in the shadows and in backrooms for so long, we are invisible to those
who think of themselves as better than us. In truth, we work for ourselves and
have been since the order began with de Payens in the 1100s. No longer will we
be anyone’s servants,” Bernhardt fumed.

“This is crazy! I’m arguing with you over the control
of the world? Our order is the secret organization that has been manipulating
world affairs for centuries? We’re the true kingmakers of nations? Now you say
that you don’t want to give it up, then don’t. You don’t have to tip your hand
either, just say that you’re there to take the boy into custody. You don’t want
the boy to be with the Luciferians. You don’t have to explain or go against
them and reveal your final plan,” Quentin suggested.

“This is why I want you with us, Quentin.”
Bernhardt’s smile sickened Quentin. “You see a sliver in most arguments you
shove open into a chasm. Fine, we’ll take the boy and tell the Luciferians we
will look after him in the name of the Grand Dragon. At most, it will be taken
as faction fighting, not the true plan.”

“No! No, no! I’m not going to help you! You’ve
betrayed every oath you’ve ever taken and now you expect me to come aboard!
You’re dreaming!” Quentin got up and turned away to walk out the door. The
Grand Master got up and stood behind him, placing his head in a chokehold. He
held him for a few seconds, desperately thrashing about, until his body went
limp and Bernhardt let him fall to the floor.

“Russell, Caldwell, be sure he is well taken care of.
We need him in our ranks, so we have to try our best to turn him. Leave no
avenue unexplored. I will not tolerate his death until I am satisfied that
everything has been done to make him ours. Is this in any way unclear?”
Bernhardt sighed, hopefully.

“No, Grand Master. Father Quentin has proven himself
to be a unique man, and once indoctrinated, invaluable to our order.”

They both drug the unconscious Templar out of the
meeting hall, leaving Grand Master Bernhardt Hapsburg, of the Dark Nobility,
looking at de Molay’s portrait as the revered former Grand Master railed against
his accusers, even as flames consumed him.

- Collision -

TIME: JUNE 12TH, 1972. DIGBY ISLAND, BRITISH COLUMBIA,
CANADA

Adam sprung up in bed and jerked his head from right
to left. He jumped up and ran to the window, looking into the trees nestling
their home. He quickly stepped into a pair of Levis, tossed on a Munich
Olympics T-shirt, opened the door and ran out into the woods. He ran past where
Kosta parked the Chevy; saw that it was still there, so he knew
 
Kosta was still on the island. He
searched a few select places outside where they read, and where Kosta sometimes
went to get away from Adam’s loud music.

The ground at his feet erupted in a line of tiny
explosions, raising dirt and a row of popping thuds. Adam stopped dead in his
tracks and peered to see from where the shots had come. On his left, there was
a group of eight men, armed with variety of handguns, rifles and machine guns
led by a slim cigarette smoking dandy who gestured for them to hold their fire.

As they advanced on Adam, one of the group, the
second from the right, flew violently into the air, a victim of an exploding
land mine. The leader bellowed at the men, saying they were fools to have led
him into the middle of a minefield, and another two followed the first into the
air, one of them standing next to the now cringing dandy. Nobody moved for what
seemed like hours.

The leader commanded the remaining five men to walk past
where the land mines had been detonated to the boy. A few refused, but he
insisted, tripling their fee and reminding them their job was to risk their
lives and consider this a more challenging mission.

One, an older battle-scarred, balding man, shouldered
his machine gun and began picking up rocks. He tossed them in a line in front
of his position until he almost hit Adam with the toss. He repeated with
another row of stones, then another, until he set off three more mines. He
stepped forward and each of the remaining men did the same, Adam still standing
motionless. The leader ordered the rest of the men to clear the way for him
first and they complied. By this point, the veteran had almost reached Adam; the
dandy yelled not to hurt the boy and he nodded affirmation.

Three paces before he would have been able to grab
Adam, he was leveled by two quick shots from a high-powered rifle. The booming
blasts made Adam cover his head and drop to the ground in a ball. Everything
happened so fast; his wits raced faster than his jackhammering heart. The dandy
and his men crouched down, trying to locate where the shots were coming from.
More shots followed and hit all around them until the fourth exploded another
mine and dropped another man. The blast knocked a few of the men down, and by
the time they were back up, two more had been shot. Of the eight men, two were
left. The dandy decided they should retreat, and yelled he would go for help,
as another shot stopped any reply.

When the last man hit the ground, Kosta’s voice
echoed and directed Adam to move five paces straight back, three to the right,
four back again, with two to the right, to make it safely out of the minefield.
 
Adam did as he was told, and when he
had reached safety, ran into Kosta’s arms.

He shook with emotion, his bottom lip quivering as he
asked Adam if he was all right. Adam nodded and they ran home, wary of other
intruders. They rushed into the house and stopped short, Adam bumping into
Kosta, and saw another gang of men waiting for them, guns bristling and
flanking a black-haired, effeminate man with dark round Lennon glasses.

“Kostadino Paleologos, you have much to atone for.”
He sat in Kosta’s chair and tried to look scary. Kosta cursed himself for not
having taken more than the rifle still slung across his back.

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Kosta was desperate
to stall so he could edge to any of a number of weapons hidden around the
house. “You know me and I don’t know you. The only thing that’s obvious is you’re
a Luciferian and that you’ve got mercenaries in your employ.”

“Disadvantage? Did you say that to my predecessor?”
Mordecai hissed. “In truth, if you hadn’t kidnapped our Messiah, I would’ve
rewarded you for what you did to Balzeer.” His Cheshire grin was short and
cold.

“Stay where you are,” a grizzled, double-chinned
veteran barked, noting Kosta was trying to maneuver.

“I would do as he says; he’s in charge until Mr. Pike
gets here,” Mordecai suggested.

Kosta looked at Adam, and with darting glances, tried
to make his intentions clear. “You’re sure you’re not in charge, Supreme
Tribunal? The Antipope is ceding command to a gun-wielding soldier?” Adam tried
to get under Mordecai’s skin and was instantly rewarded.

“Who are you to question me?” he asked haughtily.

“You don’t recognize him? You wear the six marks; you’re
the Antipope he’s…” Kosta allowed Mordecai to put the pieces together and
smirked as his mouth gaped and he dropped to his knees.

“Oh, Lord! You’re almost a man! How can this be?
You’re only ten years old!” His disbelief would have been complete, if not for
the confirmation he felt in his Tribunal tattoos. For the first time in weeks
they felt natural on him.

Adam answered in the easiest way he knew; he lied.
“The Prince works in mysterious ways. Who can know the reasons for what my
father does? Only He knows His motives. All we can do is obey and do as we’re
told.”
 
Swirling mist formed all
around the twelve mercenaries. There was a frigid cold in the air and the mist
was the color of gangrene, pus yellow, bruised purple and blue, crimson and
lifeless grey. The Darkness within Adam tugged to be free.

Mordecai prostrated himself and wept to be forgiven
for not having shown fealty. Adam soothed his inner Darkness and looked at
Mordecai without emotion — his reverence didn’t move him.

Everyone shifted their attention to the exchange
between Mordecai and Adam, so nobody saw Kosta pop a catch in the wall,
grabbing a Winchester 1300 shotgun and start to pumping .20 gauge rounds into
the unwelcome guests. The booms were deafening in the small house and got worse
when Mordecai’s bullies returned fire.

“Adam, hug the ground!” Kosta didn’t have to tell him
twice; he was as close to the dirt as he could get. Mordecai was three feet
from Adam, who smiled at his pained expression of abject betrayal. He wanted
his reality and his faith to be true, but Adam didn’t buy any of it. If he wished,
Adam pushed the unsaid thought to Mordecai, he could rise to his feet and meet
the same end Balzeer had, with the same weapon no less, but Mordecai didn’t
take Adam up on the invitation.

Kosta knew exactly what to go for in the tight
quarters and made short work of the unlucky men who chose this contract. They
were hampered by location and their choice of weapons. Kosta was supreme in the
house, having designed its defenses, and had another surprise for them.

There were nine men left and he took three of them
out in the first volley of shots. He waited a second and made sure Adam was on
the ground.

He had fashioned a tight little corner that withstood
most caliber weapons and housed controls for hidden traps all around the house.
Adam knew he had to get to a specific spot in the middle of the room. They had
practiced this maneuver countless times.

A metallic thunk sound followed the grinding of gears
and sharp stakes sprung five feet out of the four walls, spaced every two feet
from the ground, all the way up to the ceiling. When Kosta had installed it,
three years after they moved to Digby, Adam dubbed it a reverse steel
porcupine. Screams ensued and Kosta couldn’t tell how many men the telescoping
stakes had impaled. He edged forward on elbows and hips, methodically checking
each to ensure they were dead. These men had for a paycheck, and Kosta
respected them enough to provide a quick death.