“So why did you call us, Alexander?” Mornay asked. His thin eyes blinked in irritation. He’d always been the more annoying of the two. Unfortunately, he would be the next in line to be Imperator of the Order. The man was rash and foolish. It had probably been his idea to go after the scientist in Atlanta.
Lindsey eyed both men with fierce scrutiny. Knowing Carrol, he’d probably just nodded and said nothing rather than put up a fight.
“Why?” Lindsey answered boldly. “Because there is a dead Georgia Tech professor in Atlanta right now because of your foolishness.”
Carrol perked up slightly, a look of concern washed across his face. He’d become clearly less comfortable.
Mornay tried to play it a little cooler. “So?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair, feigning a lack of concern.
Alexander stopped pacing and placed both hands down on the table, peering into the man’s soul with cold and calculating eyes. He’d had enough of Mornay’s snide disrespect over the years. The man’s family line had brought him into this little world but Lindsey could take him out. In the moment there was nothing he could do according to the laws set forth by the founders of the Order. But the day would come. “Your idiotic attempt to steal the translation of the second stone has potentially brought our operation to light. Do you realize that?” He was on the verge of rage. His face became red and a vein on the side of his neck bulged slightly.
Mornay cowered only a little. “What about all the stuff that happened a few weeks ago, Alex? The police, the feds, everyone is watching us now. It’s only a matter of time until they start asking questions.” He raised a finger in Lindsey’s direction. “You have put us in more danger than anything we’ve ever done.”
“Don’t you ever raise your finger at me, Albert! How dare you question my authority!” his voice boomed through the conference room like thunder in the night. “Unlike with the little ‘play’ you two made, I conversed with both of you before moving forward. You didn’t even ask me for permission. It is strictly forbidden to use an asset without the agreement of the Imperator.” Frustration and anger poured out of him.
“Guys, let’s just take it down a notch,” Carrol finally entered the conversation. He looked uncomfortable with the confrontation that was taking place.
Lindsey wasn’t surprised at Carrol’s reaction. He didn’t have the stomach for what sometimes needed to be done.
“You were unavailable,” he continued. “We had an asset nearby, and we felt like we could make the move with little risk.”
That was certainly out of character for Carrol, Lindsey thought. More than likely, it had been Mornay’s idea and the worm didn’t have the spine to say no. Either way, they were wrong for doing it. “The events from a few weeks ago were unfortunate but were necessary,” Alexander began. “They got us the result we needed which was finding the first stone.”
“It does us no good if it stays in the hands of those morons from IAA,” Mornay injected.
Lindsey stood straight. “Will has control of the situation, Albert,” his tone chastising Mornay as if he were a small child who had broken a window.
“We didn’t feel like that was the case,” Albert replied indignantly.
“You acted without consulting me first. That is strictly against our code.” Lindsey was right and Mornay knew it. They’d taken a huge gamble.
Carrol looked increasingly less comfortable. “We just wanted to speed things up. That’s all. You weren’t around so we made a decision and went with it.”
“And now we have a mess to clean up in Atlanta,” Lindsey looked disgusted.
“What are you going to do?”
Alexander looked at Carrol. “Our agent is taking care of it now.” He paused, thinking for a moment.
“See to it that neither of you do anything like this again. You know what is fully within my rights, if necessary. An act that endangers the order is an act of treason.”
The room was smothered by an ominous silence. They knew he was justified. And the laws of the Order were very clear. If the acting Imperator ever believed anyone in the organization had committed treason he could have the accused put before the council and executed. It was a simple monarchic system when it came to that charge. Even the adepts were vulnerable.
An adept’s execution had only occurred once in the century since the Golden Dawn had achieved prominence. In 1946, the post-war world was a place of uncertainty. Though World War II had been an enormous atrocity, more than a few shrewd businessmen had made their fortunes off of it. Aramus Dawson was one such character. He’d profited millions of dollars making vital parts for the weapons that the US Air Force took into battle. While many made money on the planes, Dawson made his on the guns that took down other planes. At the age of 45 he was still one of the youngest adepts to ever ascend to the chair. Unfortunately for Aramus, his greed and ambition were such that they caused him to hoard some of the money he was supposed to contribute to the Order. Every man, down to the most insignificant initiate had to pay their tithe to the organization. Ten percent of all gains, just like in a church, went to the group. It was how they maintained an operational bankroll and how they were able to function in secrecy and yet extend a powerful arm into places other groups could not.
Dawson’s Imperator had warned him not to hold back funds from the Order. If necessary, accounts could be called into question. If the accused could not or would not produce any evidence against their supposed wrongdoing, they could face punishment at the discretion of the Imperator. When Dawson’s bank accounts were requested he refused, boldly challenging the right of the Order to ask for such personal information.
Unfortunately for Aramus, the order controlled many of the banks in the United States and a few in Europe. It only took a short time before documentation began coming to light that showed the greedy adept’s treason. He’d kept tens of millions of dollars from the order, only paying a fraction of the tithe he was required to give. If the numbers had been just slightly off, that was excusable, a technicality that could be overlooked. But such an enormous amount had to be accounted for. Aramus defiantly stood his ground, claiming he had earned that money and deserved to keep it. He’d evidently forgotten how the order had helped him fund some of his investments in the first place. In front of a conclave of 12 peers, the other adept, and the Imperator, he stood trial for treason. His judgment was swift and unanimous. Death.
The means could be decided solely by the Imperator himself. They had a room in their secret gathering place that could be used for just such an occasion. In the center of the large, semi-circular room, an enormous brass bull rested over a fire pit. On the side of the metal sculpture was a door. They had adopted the “brazen bull” from ancient Greece where it had been a rare form of execution during a particularly sinister reign of power.
The victim was placed inside the metal beast and the door close. A fire was then lit underneath, effectively roasting the victim. The most effective and disturbing means of torture was to keep the fire burning low. Hot coals could keep the person inside alive for extended periods of time, cooking them even slower than a higher flame. Internal pipes were fastened to the victim’s face and exited the mouth of the bull so that the screams of those inside would be amplified and contorted for any observers. As soon as his sentence was pronounced, Aramus Dawson realized the gravity of what he’d done. He then began to beg and plead with the conclave to give him another chance, promising to give them double what he owed.