The Incubus, Succubus and Son of Perdition Box Set: The Len du Randt Bundle

by Len du Randt

  - - -* * *- - -

  Egypt: Four Months Later

  Victor Samael Yoshe took a long, meaningful drag of his cigarette. He liked doing everything with exceptional style, and even his €350 hair cut was trimmed to perfection, complementing his €2800 suit as if they were of the same substance. Every muscle in his body was perfectly toned. In short, he was the perfect human specimen.

  Ryan Archer stared at his employer from across the room. Victor had found him in an alleyway a little over two years ago, drunk and broken. His drinking had started casually at first, but soon got out of hand. It got worse after his wife left him, and then his sole mission was to see if he could drink himself to death. Had Victor not intervened, he probably would have succeeded.

  Since that fateful meeting in the alleyway, Victor had trained Ryan in the martial arts, taught him how to be a crack shot with any pistol, and even polished his etiquette. But aside from these life-altering changes that Victor had introduced to Ryan, one event stood out from all the others, etched into his memory like the burn marks of a hot poker. It was when Victor caught him in his private study, placing the rim of a glass against his lips as he tried to drink some of the most expensive liquor on Earth.

  With perfect stride and emotional control, Victor had walked over to Ryan, extended his hand toward the broken man, and said, ‘Be healed, and drink no more.’ Just that. Nothing else. He said those six simple words and left the room, leaving Ryan standing there with glass in his hand, looking at the golden liquid as if it was gasoline. He hadn’t touched a drop since, and probably never would again. Although Victor himself still consumed large amounts of alcohol at some of his extravagant dinner parties, Ryan never flinched. He just simply didn’t need to drink anymore.

  Ryan was more of a personal assistant to Victor than a bodyguard, but he still fulfilled both roles. It wasn’t as if Victor needed a bodyguard; it was more a case of keeping up the appearance that he did. Ryan didn’t mind being a lug-for-hire, as the job included lodging in Victor’s multi-billion Euro mansion, meeting world famous movers and shakers, and also earning more in one month than half the world population did in an entire year.

  Ryan shifted his gaze from Victor and examined the figure sitting opposite him more carefully, studying the man’s body language for any signs of unusual behaviour. So far, there were none. The figure was the Egyptian President, Ahud Somlal, and unlike Victor, he actually did need bodyguards. He had two of them standing behind him, towering over him like sentinels. They are brutes, Ryan thought, but I could take them out in less than fifteen seconds. Ahud himself was a short, stocky man with greasy hair and sported a show-me-the-money look. He clutched his whiskey glass tightly with his stubby fingers as if it was the most precious thing on Earth. Spittle flew from his mouth every time he spoke.

  ‘Now let me see if I understand you correctly, Mr. Yoshe,’ the Egyptian President spittled.

  Victor smiled warmly, and waited patiently for Ahud to recap the last hour’s conversation.

  ‘The European Union sent you to convince me to change the primary currency of Egypt to the Euro, and to join this ‘United Europe.’ Is that correct?’

  Victor nodded.

  ‘And this United Europe will be divided into ten regions. Am I right?’

  ‘You are,’ Victor said, still smiling warmly.

  ‘And in return for my...involvement...in this United Europe, you will make me the leader of one of those regions, no?’

  ‘That is correct, President.’

  ‘And I will be granted free reign within my appointed region?’

  ‘No one would be able to touch so much as a hair on your head,’ Victor said. ‘But you do, of course, understand that you will fall under the jurisdiction of the United Europe, which will also be referred to as the European Empire.’

  ‘The European Empire,’ Ahud said as he painted a picture of it in his mind. ‘And I will be emperor over—’

  ‘More like king,’ Victor corrected him quickly. ‘A title which, I am sure, is more fitting to royalty such as yourself.’

  ‘You flatter me, Mr. Yoshe,’ Ahud said and studied the tall, charismatic gentleman in silence for a minute. He rubbed the stubble on his chin as images of royalty flashed through his mind. The European Union had sent many negotiators to him before, but something about Victor just felt right. He couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, but he liked it, and he wanted more of it.

  ‘Well then, Mr. Yoshe,’ Ahud said and extended his sweaty palm toward Victor. ‘I am pleased to say that we have a deal.’

  Victor took the President’s hand in a firm grip. ‘Let’s drink to it, shall we?’ he said and exposed his perfect teeth while he lifted his half-filled glass into the air. Ahud followed suit, and their glasses connected with a soft cling.

  - - -* * *- - -

  Jerusalem: Passover, Three Years Later

  The wind swung the wooden window frame open and shut, causing it to crash with a loud thunk sound each time it slammed back. A storm was brewing and Malcolm Freedman could smell the coming rain as he reached over to close the window.

  He paused to look at the clouds forming on the horizon and whistled softly. This is going to be a heavy one, he thought to himself as he locked the latches on the windows. Rain mainly fell during the winter season in Israel, and it was strange to see a storm of this magnitude in spring.

  In the distance, lightning bolts danced around playfully across the lavender sky as they set off little rumbles of laughter.

  Everything was ready for the Seder; the table settings, the food, the candles, as well as the wine glass and plate, set aside for the prophet Elijah each year. Elijah, it is believed in certain groups of Orthodox Jews, is to announce—and prepare the way for—the long awaited Messiah. No one really knew when Elijah was going to make his appearance, or at which household, but everyone felt that it was going to be soon, and hoped that it would be theirs. Families had faithfully set aside Elijah’s plate and cup for generations, and had—since the early 90’s—begun to fill it with food and wine.

  Malcolm looked at the eating utensils. They were the finest and were never used on any day during the year other than this day. It had been a wedding gift from his wife’s parents but, because of its value, Mary and Malcolm had decided to use it only at Seder. Everything else: the plates, napkins, wine glasses, and even the glass used for the water, were of exceptional quality, yet it still couldn’t match the elegance and style of the utensils. Malcolm took his seat at the table. The Seder was ready to commence.

  ‘Let the daughter of Zion come forward and kindle the festival lights,’ Malcolm recited. ‘As these lights are lit in Jewish homes throughout the world, we usher in the Passover of the Lord.’

  His wife lit the candles.

  ‘Thank you, Mary.’

  Malcolm waited until his wife was seated again before continuing, ‘At Passover we drink from our cups of wine four times. Each cup symbolizes a vital element of the telling: Sanctification, Plague, Redemption, and Praise. As we lift our first cup together, let us remember that we are sanctified by our relationship with HaShem, and praise Him, saying:’

  Mary and their two children; Angie, eight, and Timothy, sixteen, joined in and said along with Malcolm, ‘Blessed are you, O Lord, HaShem, King of the Universe, Creator of the Fruit of the Vine.’

  After a moment of silence, Malcolm concluded, ‘Let us drink together this first cup of the Passover.’ He raised his cup, placed it to his lips, and drank.

  Mary and the children followed his example and drank from their own cups.

  After drinking the wine, Malcolm dipped his fingertips in the wash bowl and dried them with a cloth. He passed the bowl to Mary, who did the same, and then passed the bowl to the children.

  ‘This parsley,’ he said as he held a piece in the air, ‘represents the newness of life, created by HaShem, which begins to bloom around us at this season of the year. It reminds us that HaShem is a faithful provider of sustenance for
His people.’

  He then raised the bowl containing salt water up high, and concluded, ‘And yet the children of Israel were in bondage, toiling under cruel taskmasters to build palaces for Pharaoh. This salt water represents the tears of affliction that come in life. Let us dip our vegetables in the salt water and reflect on the mystery that, even in the midst of HaShem’s provision, life is sometimes immersed in tears.’

  Together they said the blessing again.

  ‘Let us eat the parsley together,’ Malcolm finished.

  Together, they ate the parsley.

  The four questions asked at the Seder meal each year followed next. Malcolm asked Timothy the first question, Angie the second, again Timothy the third, and Angie the last. Usually, only the youngest member of a family would answer the questions, but because they had such a small family, Malcolm felt it best to include Timothy. It also took some of the pressure off Angie.

  After the questions, Malcolm read his part of the Passover story. Mary and each of the children also had their separate sections of the story to read. The rest of the ceremonies proceeded perfectly according to the routine that they so diligently followed each year, and Malcolm was surprised at how Angie had improved since the last Seder.

  ‘Let us fill our cups again,’ Malcolm announced and raised his cup. ‘This is the cup of redemption. By tradition, it represents the blood of the Passover lamb.’

  After drinking, Malcolm held up the cup set aside for Elijah.

  ‘Every year we make a place at our Passover table for Eliyahu Ha’Navi, the prophet Elijah. Now Elijah did not know death, but was carried into Heaven in a chariot of fire. The sacred scriptures tell us that the day of the Lord will be preceded by the return of Elijah.’

  Mary and the children quoted Malachi 4:5 together, ‘Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome, fearful day of the Lord. He shall reconcile parents with children and children with their parents, so that when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.’

  ‘Now,’ Malcolm said, looking at Timothy. ‘Let one of the children go and open the door to welcome Elijah to our table.’

  Timothy stood up and walked to the door. He wondered why they kept doing these stupid routines each year. Everyone knew that Elijah would never return, and even if he did, he wouldn’t come to their crummy house. He turned the knob and slowly opened the door, trying to keep the wailing wind from wreaking havoc in their home. He peered around the door and stared into the darkness outside, trying to keep his face dry from the pelting rain. He almost didn’t see the silhouette, but his blood chilled when he did see the outline of the man standing in front of him. A sudden flash of lightning revealed the huge, burly man and Timothy fell over backward as he tried to get away.

  ‘Abba!’ he shouted, followed by a high-pitched, ‘Help me!’

  Malcolm’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the man standing at the door. This isn’t happening! It cannot possibly be him!

  The man stepped into the tiny house and closed the door behind him. Malcolm noticed that neither his hair nor clothes were wet from the rain outside: a miracle in itself. Timothy scrambled to his feet and ran to his father, who moved the boy behind his chair as a protective measure. Mary and Angie were paralysed in their seats, unable to make even the smallest movement or sound.

  ‘I come in peace,’ the big man thundered.

  ‘Have a seat then,’ Malcolm gestured toward the table as a test. Maybe the man would sit in Timothy’s chair, exposing himself as a fraud. ‘And join us for a meal.’ He tried hard to hide the quiver in his voice.

  The man walked to the chair that had been set aside for Elijah, pulled it out, and sat down in it.

  Malcolm still couldn’t believe his eyes. Even the man’s belt and prayer shawl were exactly as described in the Torah. He gestured for Timothy to take his seat, which the boy obediently did.

  The man in Elijah’s seat said a prayer and, without saying anything else, he ate the food that Mary had prepared for Elijah. He then drank of the wine, and finally glanced at Mary with a look of satisfaction. He then looked at Malcolm and their eyes locked. Malcolm was certain that the man could see through his eyes and right into the very core of his soul. It could have been seconds, but to Malcolm it felt like hours had passed before the man finally spoke.

  ‘He is coming.’

  The Messiah! ‘Who is?’ Malcolm asked as calmly as he could manage.

  ‘He is coming,’ the man repeated. ‘After a time of terrible sorrow, there shall be true peace at last.’

  ‘Who is—?’

  A violent gust of wind suddenly flung open a window, and it banged so loudly against the wall that Mary jumped and let out a little shriek. The wind instantly snuffed the candles. Only the Menorah Lamp’s faint light kept burning. Malcolm picked up the lamp and transferred the flame to the candles. Mary had, in the meantime, managed to close the window again, and as the tiny flame of a candle lit up the room, Malcolm’s eyes searched frantically for his children to see that they were safe. They were. He then looked at Mary who was fixing her hair as she sat down again. Finally, Malcolm directed his attention at the chair that the man had been sitting in.

  It was empty.

  - - -* * *- - -

  Jerusalem: the Following Day

  Beepers were going off all over Israel. Malcolm paged Rabbi Michael Morris, and informed him of the events that occurred in his house the previous evening. Rabbi Morris then paged the rest, and soon the news spread like a wildfire throughout the Holy City. Not able to contain his excitement, the Rabbi arranged to meet Malcolm at a restaurant near the Western Wall.

  ‘Are you sure it was him?’ Morris asked for the fourth time.

  Malcolm let out a cheerful laugh and nodded excitedly.

  Rabbi Morris lapsed into deep, quiet thought, and after a while his smile disappeared and was replaced with a grim expression. ‘You know what this means, right?’ he asked with a stern voice.

  ‘I do,’ Malcolm replied, his voice also serious. ‘How long before we can implement it?’

  ‘Four...I would say maybe five months,’ the Rabbi replied.

  ‘Then the time is right,’ Malcolm said.

  ‘The time is right,’ Rabbi Morris agreed. ‘We must act, now!’

  - - -* * *- - -

  South Africa: Five Months Later

  Trevor hated working on Saturdays. He didn’t get paid overtime for it but was, instead, given a weekday off. It was a raw deal for him, since he was losing out on overtime money and on his weekend. Sometimes he wondered who was more stupid: the clients calling in because they were too pathetic to learn the basics of computers, or him wasting a perfectly good Saturday, trying to help those who were too lazy or ignorant to learn.

  He sighed as an arrogant client hung up, and then pressed the unavailable button to prevent any more calls from coming through to him. He just needed to break away for a few minutes. Just then his cell phone vibrated. Trevor looked at the name on the screen and groaned. The word ‘Norman’ glared at him and he wondered whether he should pick it up or not. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in over seven months, and didn’t intend to start now. Still, he answered against his better judgement.

  ‘Norm.’

  ‘Hey Trev,’ his brother said. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Fine,’ Trevor said. He didn’t want to make small talk. There were calls in the queue that he would much rather attend to.

  ‘Uh, are you busy?’

  ‘At work,’ Trevor said, again as bluntly as he could manage.

  ‘So you didn’t see the news?’

  Yes, Norm, I have a television set hidden under my desk. ‘No, I didn’t see. Why? What’s up?’

  ‘It’s the Dome of the Rock. Someone blew it up.’

  Trevor sat upright. Norman had his attention now. ‘The Dome in Jerusalem?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Who did it?’

  ‘No idea. The Jews are blaming the Muslims,
and the Muslims are blaming the Jews. Either way, it seems that if the culprit isn’t caught, this might escalate into the Third World War.’

  ‘I don’t think it would be that drastic,’ Trevor said. He didn’t particularly care for religious beliefs or artefacts, but blowing up an ancient Muslim site of worship was the same as blowing up a MacDonald’s restaurant. Both were vicious acts of terrorism that stood against years of peace campaign efforts that humanity had worked so hard to achieve.

  ‘GMN is covering the whole thing. It’s huge!’

  ‘And now you think that the world is going to end?’ Trevor couldn’t hide the sarcastic bite in his voice. Every time something went down in the Middle East, Norman had a way of pointing a finger at the New World Order and the End Times. The Illuminati had been blamed for so many things that Trevor had lost count. The whole thing was ridiculous.

  ‘It might,’ Norman said, ignoring Trevor’s taunt. ‘Then again, it might not. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight, and we’ll talk about it?’

  ‘I don’t know...’

  ‘Come on,’ Norman motivated his brother. ‘It would be fun seeing you again and, besides, Andrew wouldn’t mind catching up either.’

  ‘Andrew’s your friend,’ Trevor said, ‘not mine.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but still...’

  Trevor hesitated, but the dome thing really tickled him and he wanted to hear Norman’s thoughts on it, regardless of how extreme or absurd. ‘Okay,’ he finally agreed. ‘What time should I be there?’

  ‘Really?’ Norman asked; surprised at how easy Trevor agreed.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh wow! That’s great! How about seven?’

  ‘Seven is good.’

  ‘Awesome! I’ll see you then.’