‘That’s quite a range.’ Anadi commented. ‘I take it his organisation is secret?’
‘Yes and no.’ Hans again. ‘Azazel himself is quite the public figure and he has some equally public followers, like the English Prime minister and Arnold Rafferty, the actor. But there are some that don’t want to be publicly linked.’
‘What exactly do you mean by followers?’ Clarity was everything here. ‘Are these people that follow him voluntarily? Or are they manipulated in to it?’
‘We don’t really know. It’s hard to recognise when he has manipulated the mind. There are some people who probably follow him out of boredom, addiction to violence, or other such reasons. Like the actor. He’s basically a closet psycho and Azazel encourages that side of him. He has starred in so many slasher films that he thinks it’s the norm. One scary dude.’
‘He has very prominent followers.’ Joseph added. ‘And through them, he has a lot of influence.’
‘Doesn’t his longevity bring questions if he’s in the limelight?’ Anadi asked. She had purposely moved from place to place to avoid people noticing that she didn’t age.
‘He’s only been in the spotlight for the past ten or fifteen years. Most articles praise his youthfulness as the result of good genes. His past is shrouded in secrecy so no one knows how old he is. He’s currently the example to follow in the fashion world, because of his youthfulness and his strange garment styles. It also adds to the mystery.’ Joseph explained.
‘Ok, but let’s get back to the plan.’ Anadi was becoming impatient. She wanted to get started on whatever was coming so that she could get back to her own life as quickly as possible.
Hans continued. ‘I think we should concentrate on the acolytes. Those closest to Azazel. At the moment, we have no idea of where he is at what precise moment. We have educated guesses, but that’s it. Our surveillance is reactive. We are always at least three steps behind reality. We can’t get any closer to him because of the danger. He would be able to weed out any threat quickly. So, we observe from a distance, and that is a handicap now that we need to get closer to him for you to be able to fulfil your destiny.’
“Destiny” That word again. I hate that word. It makes it all seem so preordained. So totally independent of whatever I want. Like I can’t disagree. There is no room for my opinion.
Joseph must have noticed my change in mood. He indicated to Hans that he would take it from there. I don’t know if he had zoomed in on what part of Hans’ explanation had irritated me, but he was a lot more careful anyway.
Hans breathed a sigh of relief and sat down. Thankfully relinquishing the centre stage to Joseph.
‘Following one of those closest to him will give us the best chance to find out where Azazel is at a set time. We need to home in on one or two of them and get close. They are never far away from their leader for long. We should focus our attention on Raphael and one more. The men in his entourage are our best bet. The women tend to stick to him like glue. Until he tires of them, then they disappear, or turn up on the arm of some Jet Set bobo. He sets them up, or sells them, whatever.’ The ease with which Joseph dismissed these women was astounding to me. I looked at Panat. He was obviously thinking the same.
‘So Rafael and David.’ Joseph continued, completely unaware of our surprise. ‘Rafael has family in Canterbury. He visits his mother at least twice a month, and stays there for one or two nights. David is more of an anomaly, but he does have a girlfriend in London. One that he keeps far away from Aze. We can send two groups to England. One to Canterbury to observe Rafael and the other to London for David.’ He stood up and paced the space in front of us all. Like a teacher in a classroom. He was so absorbed in his explanation that he stood with his back to us. He seemed to notice this and turned to face us. The others were unperturbed. I guess it was a reoccurring thing for those around him. The big man was a hero to most of those in the room. I could see their adoration. Every word he said was accepted as the truth. I don’t think that anyone would actively contradict him. Except for Panat and me.
‘We have a small enclave near Canterbury. They can assist us.’ He was speaking directly to me. ‘When we find the right location where he will be—where you can dispatch him—we will call you in. We can make more detailed plans then. You can stay here until that time.’
‘No’ I said, to everyone’s surprise. ‘We’ll go to England and join the stakeout.’ Panat nodded his agreement.
I must give Joseph credit for how he took it. He saw that I was adamant and deduced that an agreement would be better than an argument. He was not about to go up against me, yet.
‘That would probably be better.’ He answered. ‘Then you will be on the scene quicker, if and when we find the opportunity.’ He had to have the last word, ‘but you must remain in the background. You are our secret weapon. He must not be aware of your presence.’
‘Unless he already knows.’ I dropped the bomb.
‘How would he?’ Joseph’s surprise seemed genuine. But then again so did most of the things he said, and that didn’t necessarily make them true. The others were astonished. The hardly camouflaged innuendo was that there was a traitor. Someone in their ranks who would betray them. They were astounded, and hurt. Well, I’m not here to spare anyone’s feelings. Especially not if my instinct is one hundred percent sure that I’m right.
Hey, I’m direct. Sue me.
‘Who is our best bet to follow?’ Joseph asked Hans. ‘Rafael or David?’
‘I think Rafael. He’s closest to Azazel, and we can observe him easier in Canterbury. In London, we run the risk of losing David or even of running into Aze. As far as we know he has never been to Canterbury,’
Joseph looked at me. ‘So, to Canterbury then?’
I nodded. I was spoiling for a fight. We had to get this circus on the road. Quickly.
‘How do we get there?’ Panat asked.
‘The ferry.’ Hans answered. ‘The tunnels have extensive security and we can’t be sure that your passport will pass their considerable checks.’
‘Ok. the ferry it is.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The ferry from Dunkirk to Dover took less than two hours with a tranquil and quiet sea. The weather was unusually clear. The boat was almost void of travellers, so the passengers of the twenty-six cars that boarded the vessel were soon lost in the vast restaurants and seating areas. The only busy place on the whole boat was the truck driver’s cafe. Throughout the rest of the boat the staff outnumbered the guests by three to one.
The small group took a seat to the left of the tax-free shop. Away from the restaurants and snack bars. Hunger was not one of their main objectives now, they just wanted somewhere to sit and talk through the next steps of the plan.
The four of them were the only guests in the seating area. With the staff nowhere near, they could speak relatively openly.
‘Ok, glad we got through the passport checks. That guy in the English booth was suspicious. I thought he was going to deny us entry.’ Panat said with a sigh of relief.
‘We’re not there yet.’ Sarah added. ‘There’s another checkpoint once we get to Dover. The security measures in the UK are out of proportion. Last time it took me more than an hour to get through customs, and all I had was a carry-on-bag, it’s not like I had a lot with me.’
That was a hurdle they would have to cross when the boat docked. The papers they carried were made by a master forger and hopefully they would prove to be authentic-looking enough.
‘Our first objective is to get to the safe house.’ Gideon was on his home turf here. They had agreed that he would determine where they would stay. He would also take care of the logistics. He was a native Brit and very familiar with the region they were going to.
‘We’re staying in a small hotel in Canterbury for the moment.’ He said. ‘Canterbury is not far from Dover and riddled with tourists, so a few more won’t stand out. I know the owner. We’ve used this address as our base many times. Canterbury
is a great place to hole-up because its location is directly on the way to London but it’s still far enough away to stay out of the spotlights. It’s also close to the train station or we can be on the M2 within minutes. That makes it easy to get to London quickly or, whatever we need to, get out of the country.’
‘How long are we going to be there?’ Sarah asked.
‘That depends on what Rafael does. We’ll just have to go with the flow.’
They settled down to a relaxing boat trip.
The ferry docked in Dover and they soon disembarked. The four of them were in one car, the plates of which were British. The steering wheel was on the right-hand side of the car. This was slightly disconcerting to Panat and Anadi, the driver seemingly on the wrong side of the car.
They passed through customs without any problems and were soon on the steep incline up the famous white cliffs and on to the motorway. It was a short twenty-minute drive to Canterbury. The scenery on the way was exactly what you would expect from England. Large rolling fields, cottages and small villages. It was picture-perfect. Very different from how it had been a mere fifty years ago when the pestilence was rampant in the British Isles. Then, there had been devastation.
Arriving in Canterbury they took the winding roads down to the city centre. It was an old town. In the middle ages, it had been a fortified city, complete with moats and walls, most of which had been lovingly restored. Passing through the old arch that had in former times been the entrance to the fortification, they entered the old part of the town.
The hotel was within the walls and they parked the car in the communal parking lot across the road. They walked the remaining one hundred yards to the entrance of The Millers Arms. The Hotel-pub was centuries old and had a great atmosphere. It was a quintessential British pub. Wooded panelling, and all the accessories that you see in the brochures. It had a warm feeling.
Gideon was greeted by the owner of the hotel—Paul. He was a small and friendly man. Anadi thought she could detect a slight Irish accent, but not being familiar with the region and their own accents here, she could be wrong. They received the keys to two rooms and Paul escorted them up the carpeted stairs and through the labyrinth of narrow landings to the rooms. Sarah and Anadi were in the room on the first floor at the side of the hotel, Panat and Gideon were in the room next door, overlooking the street outside the pub.
Anadi was not pleased with the sleeping arrangements. Though there were twin beds in both rooms, she was not looking forward to sharing with the other woman. Sarah rubbed her the wrong way. Panat and Anadi were not a couple, at least not as far as the others were aware, so the division of the rooms by gender was not really a surprise. But it would tax her already frayed patience.
Sarah herself preferred to share with Panat, but that was definitely not an option. Panat made sure of that.
Throwing their bags on to the beds Sarah and Anadi made themselves familiar with the layout of the small but friendly suite. Both rooms had an en-suite bathroom with a bath. The views from the small windows were of the old town. There was little traffic and all-in-all it was peaceful and comfortable.
There was a knock at the door and Panat entered the room. ‘So, what do you think?’ he asked Anadi.
‘Nice.’ She answered.
‘Let’s go down to the pub for lunch.’ Sarah butted in.
They left the room, closing the door behind them, and navigated through the narrow landings back to the pub. The girl behind the bar pointed them in the direction of the dining room and they took the table at the far end of the room. No one sat at the tables next to them, so they could talk reasonably freely.
‘Now what?’ Anadi started the conversation.
‘Now we wait and observe.’ Gideon said. ‘Sarah and I will meet with Nate this afternoon, he’s from the local group, and they have been keeping an eye on all Rafael’s family members here in the Canterbury. I’ll catch up on their efforts and see you all back here later.’
Paul approached the table with menus. ‘What would you all like?’
They ordered and he left.
’So we stay here?’ Panat asked.
‘For the time being.’
They ate a great lunch, Sarah and Gideon left for their rendezvous and Panat and Anadi went to Panat’s room to wait.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
They were coming. He knew that. The mole had told him.
Azazel sat in the comfortable but functional black leather office chair behind his massive desk. His mind kept wandering to her—to Anadi. He would finally meet her. If not this week, then very soon. She was in the country, somewhere near the coast at the moment. But she was bound to move towards London sooner or later. If it took too long he would have to help her a bit. Give some hint of information that would make it impossible for her to stay away.
She was here to kill him. He knew that.
Such a shame. And so Deja Vu. It was the 2000 centennial all over again. Once again, the Watchers had sent one of his own kind to stop him. Like they had then. And she would fail, just like her predecessor. Because now he was forewarned. He was aware of her existence. Of their link. Their combined origin. He also had experience in dealing with her personage.
Only now—maybe—it could have a different outcome. Dare he dream about what would be possible if they joined forces?
Sure, they would have to learn how to channel the bloodlust that she would experience because of their proximity, but that would be something they could overcome. Maybe with the correct amount of prey available at the right time. But that was a hurdle they would overcome. Just imagine how it would be to finally have a mate of the same calibre. Another immortal. Another God. He would have a soul mate, a female mirror image of himself. Together they would rule the world.
This pathetic trivial world. Sure, it had its perks. But most of them broke the petty laws that man seemed to need. Not that legislation had ever stopped him from doing what he wanted. He was impervious to the laws of man. He made breaking them a sport. Laws didn’t apply to Gods.
Anyway, he was stuck here for eternity, so he might as well have fun. And just think of how it would be if he was joined by such a magnificent creature as the Primal. Together they would show these pathetic humans what real Gods were. They would be revered as the super beings they were. Hell would reign on earth. It would be their playground. Now that was his definition of fun.
Only how was he going to achieve all this?
He needed to get close to her, get her under his influence, though he had no idea whether his psychic powers extended to her. He could manipulate any human easily. Either by mind reading or by planting thoughts and convictions in their brains. With the last Primal he had been so focussed on staying alive, that he didn’t conclusively know if she’d fallen prey to his manipulations. She had wounded him severely. That had clouded his judgement and his thoughts.
Throughout his more than twenty-six hundred years on this planet, he had been hurt countless times. Many people had tried in vain to kill him, often causing what would be mortal injuries to a regular human being. But he was far from regular, and not anywhere near anything as insignificant as a human being. But when she wounded him, it was a completely different scenario. His wounds hadn’t healed immediately. There had been excruciating pain. He had bled profusely. He had been close to dying.
Only her inexperience and the bloodlust had saved him. In her insanity, she had turned her magnificent claws and fangs on everyone near. It had been a massacre. No one was left alive, no one except him. He had crawled away when she went berserk. His only thought to get as far away from her as possible.
The idiotic Watchers had tried to stop her. They had screamed at her, implored her to change back to human form, to wake up from her insanity. To no avail. They all died horrific deaths. Ripped apart by the Primal Force they thought to control. Serves them right, he thought. Humans are no match for us. They try to manipulate Gods and this is what happens.
And now history repea
ts. As it so often does. Once again, the Watchers try to manipulate powers that are out of their league. They attempt to manoeuvre super beings to do their bidding. They act as if they are worthy of even being in the same space as the Gods. They are once again delusional as to the power balance here. The Forces are the top and they are so far down the ladder that they resemble mere ants. Ants that can be easily trampled.
There was one big difference for him this time—he had learned from the past experience. They obviously had not. That would work as a major advantage for him. That, and the fact that he was the one in control. Even if the Watchers didn’t know that yet. He had turned the manipulator into the manipulated.
They were so smug, thinking they could control him, or her for that matter. Yet they themselves were so easy to control. To steer. And their ego wouldn’t let them contemplate the possibility that they could be manipulated. Even their leaders. The ones who claimed that they had everything thought out, that they were in control. Even they were puppets in Azazel’s hands. He directed what they did, what they thought and how they acted. Humans were such pathetic creatures. So easily beguiled. They only saw what they wanted to see. And that was exactly what he showed them, until it was too late.
And then there were those who sought eternal life. Who wished to be immortal like him. They had no idea what they were asking for. Immortality is not the dream they portray it to be. It’s full of strife, of war, loss and pain. And then continuously. There’s no escaping immortality. Or the boredom that eventually sets in.
That was probably the worst part of it—the boredom. He had seen it all, done it all, there was nothing new left.
Nothing except her. Nothing except a union with another God. Now that would blow his mind. The possibilities were endless.
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