Pike listened as Bob Dupont sputtered and fumed over
Pike’s “bloody operations.” He disliked the fact that Pike’s solution to most
problems was to eliminate them, though his arguments were forcibly limited,
considering that so far, every death he suggested had, in the end, been
justified. He then asked for the identity of the unfortunate, doomed to the
same fate as the Kennedy brothers.
“Kostadino Paleologos, Bob. A long time ago, his
family was one of the Nobility. We have extensive files, so I won’t have to
send anything for the judgment. Please get back to me as soon as you have the
verdict; we await your final word.” Pike replaced the receiver and lit another
cigarette, exhaled and watched as the smoke enveloped him.
TIME: FEBRUARY 25TH, 1972. DIGBY ISLAND, BRITISH COLUMBIA,
CANADA.
Adam’s Beatles were still in the news, even though
they were no longer a group. During the Manson trial in Los Angeles, a
lesser-known song,
Helter Skelter
,
had been used in the proceedings. The claim was that Manson believed he followed
orders he heard in the songs. Charlie was a wily guy, Adam thought. He told
Kosta that all he had to do was look at Manson’s eyes and listen to him to know
he had been born an elite liar. He was very good, Adam continued. Though he got
caught, and that was when even the best liars lose their credibility. Kosta
listened to Adam’s new philosophy of lying and the intricacies involved —
the reliance on formidable memory, as well as a concentrated effort to care
enough about the fabrication to pull it off.
This new fascination with a negligible skill confused
Kosta and he asked Adam why he brought this up. Adam replied that he wanted to
know more about his father, the reputed father or lord of lies. He thought it
would be interesting to find out if proficiency was inherited, as well as the
ability to recognize it in others. Time and time again, he proved it to himself
and finally decided to share his discovery with Kosta. In order to do this, he
chose examples of people he knew were lying, but whom everyone else believed
were upstanding citizens.
He pointed to Richard Nixon, whom everyone respected
because he was the president. Kosta stifled a snicker and told him that he
would have to go outside the political arena to demonstrate his ability to nose
out liars. He noted the old joke about how you could tell if a politician was
lying — his lips were moving. Adam did end up proving his point when he
singled out many of their neighbors, describing their lies and how to identify
them. It was uncanny how good he was at this.
For Adam, the year ended better than most, as a whole
crop of classics came to the theater in Vancouver.
A Clockwork Orange
prompted a grudging renouncement of his title of
“hack” for Kubric. After watching
The
French Connection
, he added Gene Hackman to his pantheon of favorite
actors, while
Fiddler On the Roof, Shaft,
and
Now For Something Completely
Different
captured his attention. Though the films were quite different
from each other, Adam liked them all. His favorite Bond returned as Sean
Connery unholstered his Walther PPK.
One of the last movies they saw that year was
Billy Jack
. Adam said that the title
character could’ve been Kosta’s brother. They were very similar in appearance,
build, and manner. They even had the same aura of danger about them. Kosta
humored him, but some of his expressions were troubling, especially his desire
to explore his heritage and all the cultural associations that entailed. Kosta
believed he approached even those dangerous avenues with an admirable care. He
was becoming a man, literally faster than anyone could believe.
Though he was barely ten years old, based on his size
he would have been able to drink in any bar without an ID. He was also mentally
advanced. At times, he was able to instantly grasp points, which had taken
Kosta years to understand. Though his emotions and social skills were not so
fully evolved, there would be plenty of time to catch up.
TIME: FEBRUARY 26TH, 1972. TEMPLAR CHAPTER HOUSE, NEW YORK,
U.S.A.
Martin looked through the notes that Quentin and he
had amassed. Among them were passages he remembered, as well as Quentin’s own
musings about their search. He tried to make connections between the notes, but
found it difficult to concentrate. They had to piece together their earlier
research from memory, since they lost the original texts, more than a year
before. Finally, he gave his research a rest and allowed his mind to wander
over the past few years and the struggle Pope Paul VI had given them.
They succeeded in stopping the coronation of Lucifer
on the throne in the midst of the church. Pope Paul the VI was in power and
proved to be a conscientious vicar. He presided over many difficult changes in
a world becoming hedonistic and moving away from the word of God. Pragmatists
praised him for his reformation of Catholicism, which strove to match the world
to which their flock belonged.
His Secretary of State, Cardinal Ciriaci, with the
Major Prefect, Cardinal Raimondi, pushed reform in church dogma. Raimondi and
Ciriaci’s knowledge of the treasonous sale of Vatican relics was deplorable.
Some were brought to justice, though most vanished, even from the long reach of
the Templars. One of the changes that raised alarm was the removal of the
Ritual Romana from the
Bible
. The
single most important liturgy to combat devils and possession was left out of
the most published book in history.
Quentin dealt with Ciriaci soon enough, but was
followed by another conspirator from the office of Secretary of State,
Jean-Marie Villot. He was also removed, but with every high profile, albeit
discreet, removal, Quentin lost men and autonomy in the eyes of the Pope’s
Secretary. So, Cardinal Villot kept reprimanding the Templars’ rash actions and
yelling that the Roman Catholic Church was not the Templars’ fiefdom.
After the two most obvious members of the conspiracy
were taken care of, the last proved to be elusive. They did not know that it
was Benelli, until they discovered he finally succeeded in replacing Paul VI.
In most things, he followed the lead of his two secretaries of state, but since
his co-conspirators were removed, Benelli sought more control. He got it with a
puppet Pope.
After all the reforms and changes of the Second
Vatican Council, Cardinals Cassaroli, Benelli and Villot did something
completely audacious and unthinkable — they replaced the pope. They
installed their own Paul VI, an actor who did as he was told. Despite the best
efforts of the Templars, the Luciferians usurped the throne. Now it all weighed
heavily on the square shoulders of Seneschal Quentin and his Templars.
The seneschal had begun to worry Martin. Though they remained
discreet the results were still very bloody. They spared none of the thousands
whom they uncovered. Those who knew about the infiltration of the church were
now Quentin’s to control. He had his own Vatican, with his agenda. When they
began their crusade, Quentin wanted to vent out the smoke of Satan. Now he
wanted to remove all of the evil from the church and did not care who was hurt
in the process. No laity knew the convulsions they faced, and for that, Martin
was grateful. Now that they discovered that Benelli had taken over the papacy,
they changed tactics.
Martin was no longer a Jesuit. He left after he
discovered his Master-general’s betrayal and their own plot to reinstate the
papacy to their former medieval glory. Bae wanted nothing more than a return to
Roman Catholic supremacy, whereas the diabolical cardinals wanted this
supremacy for their Prince. The Templars dealt with the cardinal. The Cardinal
passed in 1968, three years after Ciriaci was taken care of. A year after Bae,
Villot was quietly removed.
By 1972 they had been battling the cancer in their
church for a decade. Even with the singular precision with which Quentin
performed his operations, they still succeeded in taking over the papacy. The
crusade, given them in 1962, now seemed a failure. Also, the child they had
planned to find was still at large.
Despite their best efforts, nothing had gone
according to plan. They removed thousands of the enemy’s minions and still lost
the throne of Peter. Quentin’s Templars were forced to retreat to clandestine
corridors they knew only too well. Now they were unnoticed, under no one’s
control. The Pope, Secretary of State and Major Prefect were no longer aware
the Templars even existed.
Now under the cover of ignorance, the Templars
planned further bloody action against those in control of their church.
Quentin’s men struck at the conspirators and discovered the hiding place of the
boy Antichrist. He was in the wilds of Canada’s westernmost province and had
lived most his life on the island of Digby. They tried to hide him, but now he
would be routed out and destroyed. Quentin had no qualms about killing a child,
but this did not sit well with Martin, though his protests fell on deaf ears.
Before the codexes they had consulted to find the
child were sold, the Apostolic Testis had read through them and determined the
boy’s location through cross references. It took Quentin and Martin almost a
year of going through their own notes to locate their discovery. In the next
few days, the Templars would complete their crusade against the Luciferians,
both in the church and through the removal of their savior.
God help them all.
TIME: FEBRUARY 26TH, 1972. WHITTIER MANSION, SAN FRANCISCO,
CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
The left most receiver on Mordecai’s desk rang only
once and the acolyte that was cleaning the room jumped forward as if on
springs, to catch it before the second ring.
“Yes, please hold for his Excellency,” he answered. He
did not wait for a reply but sprinted to an adjoining door and discreetly
knocked on it twice. From within, he heard hurried shuffling and a bleary-eyed
Supreme Tribunal swung the door open and rushed to the waiting receiver. He sat
down at his desk, amid the folds of his robe, and spoke.
“Yes, this is the Supreme Tribunal, please go on.
What can I do for the Nobility?” His tone was reverential.
“Mordecai, I’ve heard many good things about your
work. May I commend you on your loyalty in these difficult times?” The voice
was that of a practiced businessman, supremely confident and urbane — a
voice heard at cocktail parties, in boardrooms, courtrooms or reading the news
on the radio or television. “This is George H. W. and I’m calling for an update
on our plans to bring the boy back into the fold. What have you got for us?”
The tone was bright, though almost maniacally so.
“As you know sir, we haven’t had much activity in the
past few years. Our plans for the Weakling’s Citadel have been constantly
thwarted, though we finally succeeded in putting a gifted man on Peter’s
throne. The rest of our plans are on schedule.” By this point, Mordecai was
used to rehashing history. The Dark Nobility included thousands of people and
it seemed like there was always a different voice on the receiver, asking for
updates. At times, he felt like he was their personal and private news office.
“Now don’t get too ahead of yourself, Mordecai. Our
plans must evolve in such a way that they look like natural occurrences,
understand? Now that we’ve got the Christians in our pocket, we have to advance
our ideas without objection from the laity. Villot, Ciriaci, and Raimondi went
too fast. That’s why the Templars took them out.”
“With all due respect, sir, the plans you just
mentioned were put in motion by one of the Nephilim. I would not presume to
deride them,” Mordecai interjected.
“Yeah, well I would. Now, Tribunal, let’s not get
into an argument. You would only make me peeved, and we need you, so don’t push
me and never interrupt me.”
After a sputtered apology from a chastened Mordecai,
H. W. continued. “The Nephilim have just begun to enter this plane. We of the
Nobility, who have been here for millennia, know how things work. We have
learned geologic patience so you will listen to us. Because of our planning, we
have someone at the head of the Catholic Church. We succeeded where you and the
immigrant Nephilim failed. Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, sir, you’re right,” Mordecai acquiesced. “It is
because of your planning and foresight that we are in our current state.”
Kissing ass was always one of Mordecai’s specialties and some bosses, like
Balzeer, hated it, though it was expected by most of the Nobility.
“Now, how are the plans progressing to get our boy
back?” George H. W.’s question slapped Mordecai in the face.
“A team of our most trusted acolytes, heading a
phalanx of twenty mercenaries, is on their way to this Digby Island. Their
mission is to return with him,” Mordecai answered with barely-disguised
self-satisfaction.
“When did they leave and from where?” the voice
queried.
“They haven’t left yet. They are still here at the
Whittier, though they are about to leave.” Mordecai wasn’t comfortable with
this change in tone.
“I’ll send our own man to rendezvous with your team
and take charge once they get to Prince Rupert. He knows the man who has our
lad. In fact, we’ve known this Kostadino Paleologos for some time. He has even
served the Plan in the past, but has since gone rogue.”