Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I

by Athanasios

  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 time
s, 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.”

  By this point, they had discovered Kosta was the man who kidnapped their savior, as well as the person who attacked their chapel, killed the former Supreme Tribunal and thrown their plans into such disarray it took a decade to repair them. They consulted all senior members before pronouncing a death warrant on any Nobility. This was the protocol when they had to make examples of their wayward members. This had happened most recently in 1968, and before that in 1963, when a Massachusetts family had become too visible. The members were pushed to make the decision and punish the Kennedys by slaughtering their highest-ranking son and then his brother.

  This situation became too convoluted, even for the Dark Nobility’s mythic over-complications. It was only recently that they gained possession of the codexes, solving the dilemma about their savior. The Seekers, deaths and wanton destruction had been pointless. H. W. wasted no thought on McGrath’s passing and hoped the new Supreme Tribunal would be more realistic with his methods and goals. He was pleased when the pragmatic Mordecai was chosen for the marks of power. It insured that the temporal Light Bringers made the decisions, rather than the pit dwellers.

  - Hell in a Handbasket on Wheels -

  TIME: FEBRUARY 26TH, 1972. TEMPLAR CHAPTER HOUSE, NEW YORK, U.S.A.

  Quentin had walked in the front door of his chapter house when he saw something was amiss. The normally ever-present sentry was talking with two men whom Quentin recognized from decade-old files. They were high-ranking Masons who were complicit in the Luciferian plot to enthrone Lucifer on the papal throne.

  “Turcopole, why are these two men greeted in our house?” Quentin strode forward with purpose, took the sentry’s pistol and ordered him back to his station. “Take your rifle and cover these two, brother. They are not to be trusted.”

  The men were startled enough that they raised their hands when confronted with the guard’s gun. Both were middle-aged, though one was older and wider than the other. He was the first to speak. “We are all brothers, Seneschal Quentin.”

  Quentin took a few hurried steps toward him and slapped the man down to his knees with the gun. “How do you know who I am?” he asked as he pointed the barrel at the now bleeding and kneeling Mason. “What are you two degenerates doing in our home?” The sentry kept his rifle aimed at the other dazed man while the other got to his feet and wiped blood away from a gash Quentin opened on his cheek.

  “We are of the 33rd Degree of Knights of Malta. Our names are not important. What is important is we came here with offers from the engineers of all our efforts.” The man was not affected by the cold reception and continued to speak as his cheek oozed. “May we put our hands down? I assure you, we mean no harm or treachery. We’ve merely come to talk.”

  “You are Masons Paul Russell and Brian Caldwell. I know both of your names, and no, you may not put your hands down.” Quentin was not about to be civil to men who had connections to, and knowledge of, pedophiles, Luciferians and corrupt clergymen.

  “Seneschal Quentin, return the Turcopole’s weapon,” a gravelly voice behind Quentin stated but he did not turn around.

  “Grand Master Hapsburg, these men are degenerate criminals. You can’t be serious,” Father Quentin said as he kept his eyes and his weapon trained on them.

  “They are here at my request, Seneschal. I’m sorry I did not tell you, but you could not be reached.” The Templar Grand Master strode forward and stood with his back to the two Masons, in front of the baffled Seneschal. “Lower your gun and join me in listening to what the Masons have to say.” The Grand Master motioned for both Seneschal and the Turcopole to lower their weapons. With a nod of his graying head and bearded face the Turcopole advanced and took the pistol Quentin had lowered to his side.

  All four men walked deeper into the Templar house. They passed portraits of past Grand Masters and Seneschals and historic weapons and armor displayed along the halls. Some pieces in the collection dated back to the order’s inception in 1119. Some of the weapons were still kept sharp, and as they continued along the hallway and entered the great hall, Quentin kept an eye on the visitors. The hall was a meeting room with a circular table and chairs, flanked with end tables by each wall. Russell and Caldwell stared at the relics on display.

  Hapsburg gave Caldwell a napkin for his cut and sat down at the table. “Seneschal Quentin you must not jump to conclusions about what we will discuss here.”

  Quentin sat down but only nodded curtly and eyed both men suspiciously, though his suspicion soon changed to confusion as the Grand Master continued. “Masons Russell and Caldwell, please go on with your mission?”

  “We want to embrace the Keepers of the Relics in the Builder’s Master Plan. We have been in contact with your Grand Master for some time and have kept him informed of the long awaited inclusion in our efforts.” Caldwell watched the volatile seneschal for signs of another eruption. He practically flinched as Father Quentin’s eyes grew colder, responding to the revelation of his order’s alliance with the Brotherhood. Quentin was always a good soldier and now listened because he owed his Grand Master that courtesy. He also wanted to know the specifics of the association.

  “We are at a very pivotal point in the Builder’s Plan. Doubtless, you have heard much about our use of the Luciferians and their masters. We have used many different forces against each other, all geared toward advancing our goal of a one-world government.”

  Caldwell took a breath and saw no change in Quentin’s steely gaze. Russell, who had been silent all this time, proffered his addition to the conversation.

  “If I may, allow me to offer some historical examples. In World War I, we pitted imperialism in the Austrian/Germanic Empire against democracy: France, England and the United States. In turn, this advanced the League of Nations. This, combined with manufactured economic conditions, spawned fasc
ism in Italy, Japan and Germany, once again pitted against democracy and socialism: England, the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. The result: the United Nations. We now work toward a final confrontation between two ideologies, resulting in our New World Order,” Russell finished as he sat back, looking smug.

  “You’re insane,” Quentin said, barely above a whisper. “You’re telling me a collection of smug, self-important, bourgeois, pretend Templars were behind World War I, World War II, fascism, communism and your New World Order? You’ll be lucky to leave here alive.”

  “Father Quentin, I’m sorry you’re having such difficulty with this,” the Grand Master said, beginning to think he would have to discard such a useful seneschal.

  “Quentin, you know me as Grand Master Bernhardt Hapsburg. We have known each other decades, and were even initiated into the order at the same time. Along with the Rothschilds, Rockefellers, and many other elite families, the Hapsburgs are part of the Dark Nobility. We oversee the Council on Foreign Relations, Trilateral Commission, the Bilderberg Group, Templars and now the Vatican.” Quentin’s expression was one of pain as he listened to the treacherous assertions of a man he believed to be incorruptible. He was shaken and did not know if he would ever recover.

  “For centuries men like these two have been part of unseen alliances, used by the Nobility.” Though the Grand Master revealed historical entanglements of the Templars he also wanted to tell the details of the higher plan.

  Before he could proceed, Quentin spat some heated questions at him. “You are a Mason? How is this possible? Many of the men whom we uncovered were killed for lesser infractions. These men have been on a list since 1962 awaiting God’s justice. How did you sit in front of Paul VI and massacre so many of your own?” Quentin was not sure why he was dumbfounded by this revelation.