Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I (37 page)

There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence,
broken by the sound of the opening door. The tan man’s boots echoed on the
wooden porch and down the steps. He carried a box full of books, records, his
own monthly stash of newspapers and magazines and a few other odds and ends. He
opened the rear door, put the box in the back seat, and got behind the wheel.

As he was about to drive away, a thin man opened the
passenger door and climbed into the car. Behind him, two gleaming Cadillacs sat
on either side of the Chevy’s rear bumper. Kosta palmed his snub-nosed canon,
but thought better of it and replaced it under his arm.

The man lit a cigarette and said pleasantly, “Drive,
Mr. Paleologos. My men will follow us until we’re outside of town, then we’ll
sit and talk in the beautiful countryside,” he exhaled smoke and his words in a
long, languid breath, “amid all this cold, white snow.”

“You’re not CIA, FBI, mob or government, so you’re
part of the Brotherhood,” Kosta said off-handedly and backed away from the
front of the store.

“Very good, sir, very good. Bravo. But did you think
that, maybe, I could be working for both the government and the Brotherhood?”
The man smiled pleasantly. “Albert Pike, sir and I’ve heard quite a lot about
you Mr. Paleologos. Your family was once Nobility.”

The
Chevy turned and continued past the three old folks, sitting on the Bay’s front
porch.

“I wonder who that is?” Floyd puzzled. “They just
appeared out of nowhere. Either of you ladies see them pull up?”

“No, I didn’t notice anything. I hope everything’s
okay. He didn’t seem to be forced to go anywhere. In fact, it looked like they
knew each other. They looked like mafia to me,” Chuck answered.

“Hey, it’s J. Edgar fucking Hoover!” Gordon shot.

“Would you drop it, ya little bitch!?” Chuck finally
snapped. They went back to their bickering and Floyd got up and walked away
forgetting the trio of cars.

“Why the entourage, Pike?” Kosta asked.

“Them? Oh, they’re my babysitters. Anybody in the
Nobility has to have at least one of them. They’re mostly for errands.” As they
continued on the route out of Prince Rupert, Kosta noted Pike’s cigarette
barely burned at all.

“Pike isn’t one of the thirteen about whom I’ve ever
heard. Freeman, Russell, Rothschild, which is it?” Kosta asked.

“Russell,” Pike said, “on my mother’s side. My blood
isn’t as undiluted as some. I’m surprised you like such a rustic place.” These
last words were stated with contempt, a hair’s breadth above annoyance. It
seemed Mr. Pike was not there willingly.

“So, Pike is a skin you’re wearing. A beard, if you
will.” Kosta continued past an intersection. “What do you want, Mr. Pike?”

“I want to sit between the thighs of a six foot tall,
obese Filipino woman and fall asleep against her rolls of flesh, but I find
myself here. We are attempting to find the Frenchman’s third antichrist.
Failing that, we have alternate plans, so I’m here to ask if you’ve ever come
across any of the following books.” He handed Kosta a folded sheet of paper.

Kosta took it, but didn’t look at it until they came
to a stop a few minutes later. He unfolded it and read the three titles listed.
“Why not just buy them? They’re all codexes, unique, so very collectible. Any
book collector would pay handsomely to have them.”

“Two of them are in the Vatican’s Archives. They are
unavailable. The third has long been a rumor. We’re not even sure it exists.”
Pike was still on the same cigarette, pulling at it like an old maid and her
rum totty without any haste or care. “One of the Nobility of the Kennedy
family, tried to infiltrate the Archives. The fool is going to ruin everything.
Since Joe pushed his son into the Oval Office, the family has become too
public. They’ve been dealt with and made an example of.”

“So, what do you want from me?” Kosta repeated.

“We want your advice, and any suggestions you may
have, about how these books can be found and who can find them,” Pike finished
and took a tiny puff from his slow-burning cigarette. “Ideally, I would get
them myself, but that would set off too many alarms in the Vatican and with the
Luciferians.”

Kosta began to write on the same paper Pike gave him.
“These are the names of five discreet professionals who will do what you need.
The first three will purchase the books without attracting undue attention. If
you need them quickly, the other two will procure them through other means.”
Kosta folded the paper and handed it back. “My suggestion, provided your
schedule allows this option, is to buy the books legitimately, through any of
the names I’ve written down.”

Pike took the paper and nodded his thanks as he
exhaled smoke from his nostrils.

“We have time enough. Thank you. In you, the Nobility
and the Plan have found a true believer.” Kosta nodded in turn. “Why are you so
far from the flesh monkeys?”

“My reasons are my own, sir. Above all else, I value
my solitude. If the Brotherhood wants to contact me in the future, I ask that
it be done by mail, not publicly, as you have done today. These natives have a
tendency to talk, and I also value my privacy, as with any other part of the
plan. I have my own path to follow; I don’t need unsolicited interference.”
Kosta tone was clipped and almost severe. He did not enjoy having the
Nobility’s dog come sniffing at his ass. “I don’t want some blundering idiots,
either Romans or Luciferians, to find me and ruin all my careful work.” Kosta
had to ensure he was left unbothered.

“Your points are understood, Mr. Paleologos. As for
the Luciferians, don’t worry. They are well under control despite the disarray
they were left in.” Pike glanced away from Kosta.

“Disarray? What do you mean?” Kosta feigned
ignorance.

“No, they are true believers, but they were attacked
and no one can identify the man who did it,” Pike answered. “A single man
invaded the San Francisco chapel, and by the time it was all over, McGrath was
nothing but mush.”

“A single man killed McGrath and laid waste to the
chapel?” Kosta feigned shock. “Was it a Templar? Who else could have the skills
and the audacity to do something like that?”

“The man could have been a Templar, but he was
accompanied by the Messiah. The formerly lost Redeemer even helped him with the
slaughter. If he was a Templar, he is not acting on Roman sanctions. Either he
is alone, or we have new heretics in the world.”

“Mmm, I see that this is troubling. If it is a
splinter of the Christians, why do you say they’re heretics?” Kosta asked.

“If the Romans had the boy, they would’ve killed him
without question.”

“What of this young Kennedy who infiltrated the
Secret Archives? What damage did he do?” Kosta was not certain they were
unaware of his involvement so he changed the subject lest he appear too eager.

“They don’t know who we are, but they did uncover an
old name. The bother is he did it at all. Now they know we can take possess
people and have eroded the Weakling’s Citadel to the point that we may enter
without interference.”

“So far, we’ve succeeded in our plans because we
remain unseen. It was idiotic to alarm the Citadel over two codexes. I agree,
it should’ve been handled more delicately,” Kosta concurred toeing the
Nobility’s line.

“I’ve seen the codexes you seek. They hold no real
relevance to our situation. I’ve read them and can help you by answering any
questions you may have about the content,” Kosta offered.

“That is a nice stroke of luck. The Prince does look
on us in his work.” Pike smiled openly at this news. “In a nutshell, what are
the codexes?”

“They deal with our Savior’s last incarnation and how
he was defeated by the Christians. I don’t know why this is so important.” In
actuality, Kosta knew why they wanted them.
 
He was sure that they would never find them. The names he
gave had long ago proved too greedy to be trusted. For the right amount of
money, the top two names would even forge their own version of the books. By
the time the Dark Nobility discovered they were fakes, Adam would be
fully-grown and out from under their power or influence. The deception would be
attributed to the people who’s names he listed, and nothing would touch him or
Adam.

“Go on, how is this relevant to our circumstances?”
Pike asked.

“They are centered around the Cathari crusade and
inquisitions, as well as two of their priests, who were both Perfecti. One was
a direct descendant of our own Prince, while the other was a Merovingian, of
the Weakling’s line.” Kosta continued, “The pairing produced catastrophic
events, which ended in the complete annihilation of the movement. It was well
on its way to supplanting the Romans in the Word of God, but because of this
union, it died in infancy.”

“My goodness, it sounds like the soap operas of which
my nanny was so fond. Go on.” Pike relished the impromptu history lesson.

“I assure you, this is all up to debate, but at the
time, the Romans had erred in their arrogance of power. The Cathari movement
stretched across Europe and it took more than a century to completely wipe
out.”

He continued, “It began in early 1200’s, with the
preaching of Domingo de Guzman, and ended with the Order he founded, the
Dominicans. They continued establishing the inquisition terrorizing the world
for centuries.”

Kosta waited for a response, something to indicate
Pike cared about the subject.

“Do go on; don’t stop now. All this happened because
of a tryst between lovesick messiahs? How melodramatic.” Pike said.

“The Dominicans went on to commit many more
atrocities. They killed more people refusing to bow to the Weakling’s Citadel
than any modern genocide.” Kosta spat out the last word like a bad seed.

“When the Prince gains his Ascension, for once in our
history, the world will finally know peace Paleologos. Fear not,” Pike intoned.
“The bloody path, forged through the world in the name of the Supreme Weakling,
will be replaced with the justice of the firstborn Satanael.” Pike sounded like
a preacher, praising God.

In unison, both said, “So mote it be!”

Kosta nearly choked on the words, though Pike thought
he was overcome with emotion. He patted Kosta on the shoulder and wiped a tear
from his own eye.

“At any rate, the Cathari didn’t give the Prince his
due, any more than the Romans. In the end, one Christian is really no different
from another.”

“So, you believe these codexes although important are
not vital to our plans?” Pike finally asked.

“They are much more important than what I’ve told
you, but no, I don’t believe that they’re integral. They did not merit the
actions of the young Kennedy,” Kosta replied.

“Indeed, on that we’re in accordance, Mr.
Paleologos.” Pike became lost in thought and neither spoke for a few moments.

They stopped long before they reached the outskirts
of the town, but neither left the cab. Pike’s men got out of their cars and
were warily approaching the cab when he rolled down a window and waved them
away. With a nod he apologized to Kosta who merely shrugged disregard. No harm
done.

Kosta waited and hoped Pike would not want to go
where Adam waited. He had started leaving Adam at home, because he attracted
too much attention in town. Even at his age he did not need supervision save
for the television. Now, Kosta tried to determine the real purpose of Pike’s
visit.

He stated he needed advice, which could be true, but
when dealing with the Nobility, Kosta took nothing at face value. It was very
troubling that he had brought up the attack on the San Francisco chapel. As far
as they were concerned, the Luciferians were barely ushers, or bellboys at a
hotel. Whatever happened only mattered if they could not continue their job. He
even contemplated disposing of Pike and his entourage, but since it would raise
too much suspicion, he disregarded the thought.

Kosta took comfort in that if they wanted to kill
him, they would have already done so. The Brotherhood showed the only mercy
they knew to their disregarded tools: a quick death.

While he was considering the reasons why Pike might’ve
found him, the dapper and trim curmudgeon simply got out of the car, and with a
nod and exhale of smoke, left Kosta. A few seconds later, the two Cadillacs
drove away.

TIME: FEBRUARY 6TH, 1964. SECRET ARCHIVES, VATICAN

Martin and Quentin read quietly. At intervals,
Quentin scribbled something in his notepad, but Martin never looked up from his
page. They were comrades at arms who over the last year had sent the Vatican
into turmoil of investigations.

It began in Sao Paolo, with Cardinal Colletti’s passing.
As soon as their man arrived, he was assured the death wasn’t accidental. The
cardinal’s hand was cut off and he bled to death. The severed hand still
clutched a handgun and the mortally wounded cardinal mumbled about demons and
the Antichrist. Once there, the investigator looked into the clergyman who
Colletti had officially come to visit. He found Father Pewter engaged in ritual
scourging and rampant pedophilia. It was not tied into any Luciferian rituals,
but Father Pewter was beaten to death with his own whip.