smiled. ‘Into the family of one at this very table, a most devoted servant of the Fallen.’
He raised his gaze to a distinguished-looking man in his late fifties with a silver moustache who sat directly across the table from him. Julius De Vere. Chairman of the De Vere banking dynasty and the European and New York communications industry.
‘Into the De Vere family.’
Xavier Chessler nodded. ‘An advantageous start for our master’s seed. Our Master’s decisions are flawless.’
Raffaello Lombardi, patriarch of the Black Nobility Family of Venice and director of the Vatican Bank, frowned.
‘Julius . . . ’ Lombardi interjected in his thick Italian accent. ‘You are as we are all aware a most esteemed paragon of the Left-Hand Path.’
‘I remain eternally our Master’s devoted disciple,’ the older man murmured,He ran his fingers lightly over his wrist. Instantly a strange blue brand glowed – the ‘Warlock’s Mark’. Julius De Vere was one of only three who wore the brand signifying a pact between Lucifer and certain of the Race of Men. He gazed at Lombardi through hooded eyes.
‘Unfortunately,’ Lombardi said, returning his inscrutable gaze, ‘your own son, conceived of your blood, does not seem to have upheld the Brotherhood’s ambitions with the same . . . um . . . ’ he caressed the jewelled Masonic pin on his lapel. ‘ . . . fervour.’
Julius De Vere looked out at Lombardi from under bushy silvering eyebrows. His black eyes glinted with intelligence. He smiled thinly. ‘James De Vere is essential to our plan. For the moment . . . Your fervently harboured ambitions for your own four sons do not escape this table, Raffaello.’
Lombardi squirmed in his chair.
‘I am well aware that my only son,’ Julius continued, ‘regrettably, takes after my first wife. Although one of us, she became . . . let us say . . . unresponsive to our way of life. She met with an unfortunate accident. My son is weak like his mother before him. He holds a “righteous” streak and has no propensity for getting his hands dirty.’
Julius De Vere’s eyes hardened. ‘I am fully aware of his deficiencies. I shall make sure they are used to our advantage. Then he becomes expendable.
‘I, as my father before me and his father before him, have long awaited this day, in the expectation that our family would be chosen for the sacred task. To that end through five generations we have generated wealth in oil, banking and communications in preparation for our adopted son’s rapid ascension through the ranks of the Race of Men. All our resources remain entirely at the Brotherhood’s disposal.’
Kester Von Slagel gave a thin smile.
‘You are most generous, Julius. Our Master is gratified. So are we assured of your family’s complete collaboration?’
‘My son will go to any length to protect his family. I shall ensure his full cooperation.’
‘The plan must not be disclosed to James De Vere,’ Von Slagel added. ‘We dare take no risks. He must not know of the infant’s exchange.’
Julius De Vere nodded. ‘My son will bring up this infant as though it were his own, with no knowledge of the clone. We will make our demands. Though ignorant of our covert strategy, he will obey each instruction. His passivity will weigh in our favour.’
‘He will be eliminated at the appointed time?’ Lombardi inquired.
‘In the event of my own demise, Chessler will ensure his silence.’
Xavier Chessler, blond, blue-eyed, newly appointed vice-chairman of the Chase Manhattan Bank nodded. ‘James De Vere roomed with me at Yale. James trusts me. I’ll keep a close eye on him. Look after our interests. He won’t be the least bit suspicious.’
Dieter Von Hallstein, ex-German Chancellor, spoke. ‘When the Lorcan clone turns forty years of age, the First Seal will be broken. He will rise to world power. After that point, they are all expendable.’
He turned to Julius De Vere, his voice soft but
He raised his gaze to a distinguished-looking man in his late fifties with a silver moustache who sat directly across the table from him. Julius De Vere. Chairman of the De Vere banking dynasty and the European and New York communications industry.
‘Into the De Vere family.’
Xavier Chessler nodded. ‘An advantageous start for our master’s seed. Our Master’s decisions are flawless.’
Raffaello Lombardi, patriarch of the Black Nobility Family of Venice and director of the Vatican Bank, frowned.
‘Julius . . . ’ Lombardi interjected in his thick Italian accent. ‘You are as we are all aware a most esteemed paragon of the Left-Hand Path.’
‘I remain eternally our Master’s devoted disciple,’ the older man murmured,He ran his fingers lightly over his wrist. Instantly a strange blue brand glowed – the ‘Warlock’s Mark’. Julius De Vere was one of only three who wore the brand signifying a pact between Lucifer and certain of the Race of Men. He gazed at Lombardi through hooded eyes.
‘Unfortunately,’ Lombardi said, returning his inscrutable gaze, ‘your own son, conceived of your blood, does not seem to have upheld the Brotherhood’s ambitions with the same . . . um . . . ’ he caressed the jewelled Masonic pin on his lapel. ‘ . . . fervour.’
Julius De Vere looked out at Lombardi from under bushy silvering eyebrows. His black eyes glinted with intelligence. He smiled thinly. ‘James De Vere is essential to our plan. For the moment . . . Your fervently harboured ambitions for your own four sons do not escape this table, Raffaello.’
Lombardi squirmed in his chair.
‘I am well aware that my only son,’ Julius continued, ‘regrettably, takes after my first wife. Although one of us, she became . . . let us say . . . unresponsive to our way of life. She met with an unfortunate accident. My son is weak like his mother before him. He holds a “righteous” streak and has no propensity for getting his hands dirty.’
Julius De Vere’s eyes hardened. ‘I am fully aware of his deficiencies. I shall make sure they are used to our advantage. Then he becomes expendable.
‘I, as my father before me and his father before him, have long awaited this day, in the expectation that our family would be chosen for the sacred task. To that end through five generations we have generated wealth in oil, banking and communications in preparation for our adopted son’s rapid ascension through the ranks of the Race of Men. All our resources remain entirely at the Brotherhood’s disposal.’
Kester Von Slagel gave a thin smile.
‘You are most generous, Julius. Our Master is gratified. So are we assured of your family’s complete collaboration?’
‘My son will go to any length to protect his family. I shall ensure his full cooperation.’
‘The plan must not be disclosed to James De Vere,’ Von Slagel added. ‘We dare take no risks. He must not know of the infant’s exchange.’
Julius De Vere nodded. ‘My son will bring up this infant as though it were his own, with no knowledge of the clone. We will make our demands. Though ignorant of our covert strategy, he will obey each instruction. His passivity will weigh in our favour.’
‘He will be eliminated at the appointed time?’ Lombardi inquired.
‘In the event of my own demise, Chessler will ensure his silence.’
Xavier Chessler, blond, blue-eyed, newly appointed vice-chairman of the Chase Manhattan Bank nodded. ‘James De Vere roomed with me at Yale. James trusts me. I’ll keep a close eye on him. Look after our interests. He won’t be the least bit suspicious.’
Dieter Von Hallstein, ex-German Chancellor, spoke. ‘When the Lorcan clone turns forty years of age, the First Seal will be broken. He will rise to world power. After that point, they are all expendable.’
He turned to Julius De Vere, his voice soft but
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