Blood Prize (10 page)

T
he G11’s returned to their safe house the next morning. They searched the inner city terrace building for signs of intrusion and electronic monitoring devices; checking all outside vantage points for possible surveillance, before Tom re-entered the building with Isobel.

Tom sat on the dining room floor and rested his back against the wall. The remainder of the group lay scattered between the lounge and the dining room. No-one spoke. The occasional furtive glance became the group’s only form of communication. The G11’s brooded and he didn’t like it.

Tom felt Isobel staring at him. He tried to make eye contact, but she looked away. In that brief moment of connection, he saw moisture in her eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“What do you think?”

Her angry tone surprised him and gained everyone’s attention.

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

“Just mind you own business.”

“Why the attitude? We saved you didn’t we?”

“Oh, don’t be so modest. You deserve all of the credit.”

Tom frowned; not understanding the direction of the conversation or her mocking tone.

“We all helped.”

“Really, wasn’t it you that burnt my laboratory to the ground?”

“That’s brilliant. So you’d rather we left you to be murdered by the SRP?”

“No, but because of you, I’ve lost everything and I’m stuck here with this rag-tag lot. So leave me alone.”

“She’s right, Fox.”

Uta cut in on the conversation and glared at Tom.

“We should kill you for your stupidity. Now the SRP knows we’re here. We’ll be lucky if we survive the week.”

Noah moaned and everyone turned in his direction.

“Enough Uta. Keep your smart mouth to yourself.”

He took a moment; making eye contact with every person in the room.

“Tom is the key to our endeavours. Without him, this mission is worthless. It’s important that we stay focused. We need to find the start of this trail.”

Noah turned and adjusted his trousers, tucking his shirttails neatly into his pants. He walked around Tom’s sprawled figure and stood facing Isobel.

“Is there anything you can remember about your father and this business? Even the smallest memory might help us.”

“Why should I help you?”

Isobel tilted her arm and unconsciously studied the old Seiko watch on her wrist.

“For goodness sake, Isobel. The people we’re fighting against are the same people that murdered your father.”

Isobel squirmed under the scrutiny of the group.

“Alright, alright … There is something.”

Tom watched her struggle to her feet and limp a step towards Noah; her arm outstretched. The other members of the G11’s quietened to silence, as Isobel began to explain about the watch and its origins.

“Isobel.”

Tom jumped to his feet and marched over to where the G11’s surrounded her.

“Isobel.”

His voice carried enough authority to part the group as he approached. When he stood face to face with her, his heart began to accelerate and thump in his chest.

“That belongs to me. I’d like it back.”

Isobel returned his fierce expression with equal harshness. Without taking her eyes off his, she removed the watch from her wrist and placed it into his outstretched hand. Tom maintained the eye contact until he felt Noah’s hand on his shoulder.

“Tom, can I see it please?”

“No.”

“It’s important, lad. It may be the clue we’ve been looking for.”

“I said, no.”

“You can’t bring back a memory you don’t have, lad. This watch may be the only means to destroy your father’s enemies.”

For reasons Tom couldn’t explain, he looked back at Isobel and saw her approval. He nodded and handed the watch to Noah.

“I want it back.”

Noah gestured for Petra to come over.

“Let’s get this thing open.”

Tension built amongst the group and Tom understood their feelings. Death appeared to be inevitable if they couldn’t find the trail. Yet, another possibility existed: the watch could contain information more valuable than anything in existence.

He considered the excitement in their expressions. In just a few moments, they might possess the Prize, or face disaster; life and death precariously balanced.

T
he chairman considered the security logistics in Vogel’s report. Meetings of management for the Assembly of the True Faith, required lodgings for board members and their entourage, which meant taking over the entire eight floors of the Intercontinental De La Ville - Roma.

The plush surroundings of the penthouse suite acted as their boardroom and his personal office.

Good. Very good.

Enemies lurked in dark places. He couldn’t afford to be lax. He ordered Vogel to close the hotel’s doors, excluding the general public, while the seven inhabited the building.

Secure Assembly personnel replaced the hotel’s staff, while trusted men guarded doors and secured the premises; searching the entire complex for concealed explosive devices and other covert equipment. Outside, Italian Special Religious Police closed the Via Sistina to general traffic and security staff in plain clothes, monitored adjacent buildings.

The chairman nodded his approval. He could now focus on the other six men sitting around the ornate marble table.

Each member of the Assembly Council wore a black tailored suit, a white shirt and a red tie, with each having affixed a red rose and a small gold crucifix to their lapels. Like him, every man at the table owed his membership and position on the board, to a distant bloodline; an ancient connection that bonded the group.

With practised elegance, Antonio Costa raised his hand.

Silence replaced the general chatter in the room and all of the trusted assistants in the background come to attention; each knowing their master’s will and after each imperceptible command, rushing to satisfy his requirements.

With an adept feel for ceremony, the chairman’s assistant approached the table and rang a small brass bell, once for each member of the group. He bowed and announced his superior.

“The Assembly Chairman.”

The other members of the board responded with the prescribed level of applause.

“Gentlemen. Worthy members. Thank you for your attendance.”

The chairman lifted his bulk from the chair and proceeded to walk around the table, greeting and shaking the hand of each member.

“At sixteen, we of the bloodline received the secret words. We swore the sacred oath of the red rose. Do you still hold true to our beloved covenant?”

“Aye, we do.”

The chairman looked into each of the six faces around the table.

“The recruitment of Tom Fox by the radicals has begun. The fact that this group is an unwitting conduit to our success is more than ironic. They are the vehicle that will drive Fox to our Prize; an act that will ultimately destroy them.”

He paused, to heighten the anticipation.

“Brothers. Over time, our once mighty Angels have failed us and we are vulnerable, yet there is still great hope for our endeavours. Tom Fox will allow us the opportunity to rise up against all who oppose us.”

He sighed and opened his arms; a saviour too heavy for any cross.

“This is a dangerous journey, my friends. If anyone used the Prize against us … You know what would happen.”

The men at the table nodded in unison.

“Despite the benefits, foolish risks are not acceptable. Therefore, I propose that we continue with this endeavour, under very strict and tight controls. We must monitor our position at all times and if things turn against us, we can instigate a thorough clean-up, ridding ourselves of these un-godly dissenters at the same time.”

He stopped and raised his face towards the heavens.

“It is time, my beloved brothers, to destroy once and for all, this satanic ‘New World Order’. It is time for ‘God’s True Ordained Order’ to take precedence over all.

Again he stopped. His face flushed with emotion.

“Christ is the King of all kings, and we are the bloodline; his earthly elect. The time will soon come my brothers when Tom Fox will give us the power of God. Let us say the words together.”

“Christ is the King of kings and the pope is his spiritual ruler on earth. Under him shall be God’s ordained kings to rule the world. Man by himself is inherently evil, we are evil born, only God is good, only Christ can redeem us. God help us, one and all. Amen.”

The assistants withdrew from the meeting. Only the seven remained. They sat in silence around the carved marble table, awaiting the most important item of their agenda.

The chairman fidgeted with his gold crucifix and adjusted the red rose on his lapel. He took a moment to study the other six men before his assistant re-entered and rang the small brass bell.

The chairman coughed; clearing his throat before speaking.

“Bring in our guest.”

The cardinal’s vileness made him nervous, but even God’s bishop wouldn’t dare make such a request, unless he held some advantage.

_____________

Vogel noticed the chairman studying him, as he entered the Assembly penthouse suite.

Frederick refused to make eye contact. To maintain his perceived advantage, he avoided the official debriefing session and he could see that his boss knew it.

The chairman looked angry as he stood and addressed the Assembly.

“Your report please, Frederick.”

Frederick Vogel sat back and smiled at the men who normally determined his fate. He did their bidding, but not for much longer. The moment Tom Fox appeared, everything changed. He risked his life on the outcome of this game; all or nothing.

He remained silent just long enough to create a little discomfort.

“Gentlemen, I’ll get straight to the point. The cardinal only said one thing of importance. He offered you … a gift.”

Vogel waited until the chairman coughed, clearing his throat.

“Mr Vogel …?”

“If you will allow me, I’ll present it just as the cardinal presented it to me. Christ is the King of kings and the pope is his spiritual ruler on earth. Under him shall be seven kings to rule the world.”

The chairman’s face tightened in anger.

“Mr Vogel. What else?”

Frederick found it hard not to laugh.

“Gentlemen, the cardinal asked me, who I thought those kings might be.”

He paused again; making them wait for his own enjoyment.

“He’s offering them to you, the seven families of the Assembly.”

After a general intake of air, several members of the board moaned.

Frederick smiled and nodded at the seven men. He felt like a rock star, performing in front of an adoring crowd.

The chairman raised his hand and all fidgeting ceased.

“Mr Vogel, normally I’d ask you to leave the room at this point, but, you know our business now. Please remain with us. We may need your expertise.”

“Of course, Mr Chairman.”

The Assembly board and the priest thought that they controlled this game; they thought that they controlled him, but only he knew the cardinal’s secret; only he knew about the woman with the auburn hair.

T
he cardinal constricted the muscles around his throat, keeping his rising stomach acid at bay. After such a bout of prolonged pleasure, he felt nauseous and brittle.

He groaned and sucked in several deep breaths.

He suffered the after-effects of endorphin overdose as a sense of fragility and a horrible feeling of emptiness.

Filth …

When the desire cooled, he hated his victims. Especially their horrid expressionless faces.

Dirty little vermin.

He took the life of an inept creature, a useless street urchin; a beast with no virtue; no different from taking the life of an insect. As a great cardinal, one of the elect, one of the true bloodline, he took the opportunity and delivered the boy’s soul to God; bestowing a just form of purpose for his life. Hadn’t kings and popes slaughtered thousands for lesser reasons?

“Heavenly Father, thank you for thy gifts.”

Some mild penance would restore his serenity and rid his being of this unwanted burden; this unwarranted guilt.

“Forgive me this dalliance and refocus my energies. I am your son and accept your charge. I do your will on earth and will lead your Church to glory.”

He sighed, feeling his own greatness coming to fruition.

On this earthly plain, God did not make his creatures equal; especially human beings. This foul satanic ‘New World Order’ assumed that all could share the same plate, that all should be kings, living in wealth.

What nonsense.

He knew the truth. The True Bloods required the labour of the many; the lesser. The world could not sustain delusional thoughts of grandeur for all.

He combed his fingers through his hair and without realising it, began rubbing the lobe of his right ear.

The seed I’ve planted is my assurance.

The Assembly meeting began minutes earlier, yet he felt only a small amount of anxiety; they would accept his offer.

But the traitors and the hypocrites won’t support me.

His own people worried him. Politicised bureaucrats masquerading as cardinals never supported any endeavour unless assured of maintaining the ever-growing width of their arses. Even if most of the cardinals in the Curia felt compelled towards ‘God’s True Ordained Order’, they would never show themselves without sustained pressure; the kind of insistence that the Assembly could easily employ, hence his need of them.

His thoughts shifted, as she started to wake.

Mesmerised, he held his breath as the powder-blue satin sheets slipped away from her body. As she rolled on to her back, he groaned; expelling the spent breath from his lungs.

Such a beauty.

Réz, named for the fire in her wild hair; a woman irresistible to men, yet the most adept weapon, for sending most of them to their graves.

“What are you looking at, my love?”

She turned over onto her stomach; offering him the sight and promise of her pleasures.

“Don’t I please you?”

“Of course.”

He responded honestly. He loved her beauty and fierce passion; a fantasy made manifest, but a contrast of absolutes: lean, yet curvaceous; a body as hard as a combat veteran, yet as languid as an overfed feline; the sweet little girl next door, who just happened to be God’s instrument of death.

“Get up, Réz. Uta will be making contact soon. You must be ready.”

“Sometimes I think you prefer her to me.”

She teased him with her nakedness, but he knew she meant it. He laughed and patted her perfectly formed backside.

“
Si, amore mio.
Of course, you’re my favourite.”

He watched her strut towards the bathroom and wondered about the other sister. Uta seemed identical to Réz; the exact build and facial features, the same intense expression and the same black eyes that followed your every movement. Except for the texture and colour of their hair and a small height difference, they could be the same woman.

My famous half twins. My two little miracles.

Not many knew their secret; an enigma that always came to mind when he saw them together. In two separate Romanian villages, two different Hungarian mothers screamed in agony, as the two sisters silently forced their way into the world. This chiefly unnoticed phenomenon occurred on the same day and although he couldn’t substantiate the precise time of their birth, he believed it happened at the same moment.

He called them the half twins, because the two women shared their resemblance and violent natures with the same Romanian father.

Only Réz grew up with him; accompanying her evil mentor on many of his murderous escapades, but at the age of twelve, everything changed. The SRP captured him, exacted revenge on behalf of the local Romanian community and publicly hanged him in the town square of Borsa, for crimes against humanity.

Réz watched the execution with fascination.

He smiled. He did prefer the other sister, but not for the reasons that Réz surmised. Her sister could deliver much more than physical pleasure. Uta The Raptor could ensure his rise to the supreme position of pope by presenting him with the greatest gift he could imagine; the Prize.