The Time of Janus: The Fourth Novel in the Janus Chronicles

By Patrick David Daley

Alexander IX has just become pope. He presides over a Vatican that is a viper’s nest of intrigue, betrayal, and assassinations instigated by the ruthless Dante Sabatini, head of the Praetorian Order. In an orchestrated campaign to take control of the Roman Catholic Church and its wealth, Sabatini has engineered a decades-long campaign of blackmail and coercion that has ensnared members of the College of Cardinals, the church’s governing council. But there is more to Sabatini’s plan than just a takeover of the church. He envisions a world where, through religion, the order becomes an international power able to influence governments and global events.

As Alexander struggles to retain his hold on the papacy, the nation island of Janus is confronted with an ultimatum by the Spirit, the omniscient force that oversees the cosmos. Sean Brennan, the island’s leader, must reconcile Janus’s centuries-old anonymity with the Spirit’s demand for the islanders to become a universal force for understanding and reconciliation. It is the only way to confront the planet’s impending turmoil represented by Sabatini’s lust for control.

The confrontation between the order and Janus is inevitable, as Sabatini and Brennan have vastly different visions for the planet’s future. It is a battle that leaves no room for compromise, and there can only be one victor. How to reconcile the islanders’ commitment to peaceful co-existence with the necessity of confronting the merciless Sabatini is a question that can only be answered by the Spirit.

Unwilling to become directly involved in what it believes is the planet’s imminent Armageddon, the Spirit is an interested observer but refuses to assist the islanders in this epic struggle. However, as the deadly consequences begin to take hold, it may have no choice but to intervene.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532073892

Patrick David Daley

Patrick David Daley is a former journalist, newspaper columnist, publisher, and corporate speechwriter whose career has spanned close to five decades. He resides in Toronto, Canada, with his wife, Wendy. Author of the four-novel Janus Chronicles, he is presently writing the first book in the Donovan Anthologies, A Fractured Warrior. The first three books in the Chronicles, The Mark of Janus, The Word of Janus, and The Hope of Janus, are also available at all online booksellers.

Book preview

Janus

In Roman mythology, Janus is the god of gates, doors, doorways, and all beginnings. The month of January is named for him. Depicted as having two faces on opposite sides of his head, Janus is able to gaze into the past with one, while the other allows him to look to the future.

In The Time of Janus, the island’s eponymous name reflects the ancestors’ belief that all those who follow should always remember the past and use it to shape the present and the future.

Chapter One

He had less than sixty seconds to live.

The target slid his key card along the electronic reader, and the gate slowly opened. He walked through and waved a good night to the four armed men in the guardhouse. Everything was moving in slow motion for the sniper as she watched the quarry through the gun’s Leupold scope. She controlled her breathing, taking air in through the nose and pulling it deep into her diaphragm. Zelda could sense her heart rate slow, the muscles throughout her body relax.

Placing the scope’s sight lines precisely where she wanted, her finger gently squeezed the gun’s trigger.

Piercing the man’s forehead at a speed of more than three thousand feet per second, the bullet exploded within a moment of lodging inside the brain’s frontal lobe. The target’s head shattered into fragments of bone, along with splattered pinkish gray matter, hair, and dark red blood.

Zelda watched with a mixture of detached interest and intellectual curiosity as her victim catapulted backward in a bizarre St. Vitus dance before sprawling on the unforgiving pavement. The bullet, a 7.62 × 51 mm hollow point, had been fired from her M24 sniper rifle.

The city was Zaragoza, Spain. It was home to one of the Vatican’s museums where the target had worked. Zelda was part of the Praetorian Order, a secret unit within the Roman Catholic Church. The organization’s senior administrator had ordered the execution.

Zelda did not know the target’s name or why he had been chosen for elimination. He was merely a photo transferred to her cell phone as part of a briefing file supplied two weeks previously.

*********

News of Alberto Salazar’s death had been relayed to Dante Sabatini, Prelate or head of the Praetorian Order, via an encrypted email containing just one word—completed. The lack of detail revealed the pathological commitment to secrecy Dante practiced. It was reflected in every aspect of the order, also known as the Fraternity.

Headquartered at the Chateau Valencia in Spain, the order had been an adjunct of the Roman Catholic Church since the tenth century. Its mandate was to effectively confront whatever negative financial and operational challenges threatened the church, ensuring they remained hidden behind a shroud of secrecy. One of the Vatican’s most clandestine operations, the Fraternity’s existence was known only by the pope, his closest advisers, and members of the College of Cardinals—the Vatican’s supreme religious body.

After witnessing the church’s growing list of scandals, Dante became fanatically convinced that only he, and not the papacy, could save the church. With the order as his power base, he devised a plan that would allow him to gain full control of the Vatican.

His crusade began in the late 1970s. By the turn of this century, Dante had succeeded in turning the order into a massive global conglomerate. No longer relying on Rome for its financing, the Fraternity was essentially removed from the Vatican’s authorization.

Underwritten by this fiscal independence and through a systematic process of blackmail, physical coercion, extortion, and bribery, Dante gained control of the college. A surprisingly large number of cardinals during their church lives had committed unpardonable sins, and the prelate knew every secret. He used the threat of exposure as an integral part of his campaign, to place the current pope, Alexander IX, on Saint Peter’s throne.

But Dante had achieved far more than having a pontiff elected. He had surrounded Alexander with advisers loyal to the order. The prelate was also in the process of staffing key Vatican posts with personnel devoted to the Fraternity.

Encircled by order loyalists, Alexander, heavily in Dante’s debt, was powerless to stop the prelate’s takeover. There were only two cardinals he could rely on as confidants. They were Cardinal Wolfgang Reinhart, who was in charge of the Vatican museums, and Cardinal Bruno Desoto, president of the Governorate of Vatican City, which placed him in charge of the City’s administrative functions. The three, close friends for more than thirty years, were known throughout the Vatican as the Holy Triad.

Within the College of Cardinals, not all members were created equal. There were three titles—ranging from the lowest, deacons, through to priests, and finally the senior ranking, bishops. It was from among the six bishops that the college’s executive directors, the dean and vice dean, were elected.

Reinhart was a deacon, while Desoto occupied the much loftier position of bishop. Both men, however, were ultra-conservative, deeply religious, and devoid of any sin against their priestly vows. As such, they were untouchable by Dante.

On this day, the prelate’s interest focused on Reinhart. Dante knew that Reinhart and Alexander, in an attempt to create a chink in the prelate’s power, had enlisted the services of Salazar to spy on the order. He was a senior technician at the Zaragoza museum, a facility jointly controlled by the Fraternity and the Vatican.

Dante’s rationale for having Salazar killed had far more to do with sending Alexander and Reinhart a message than it did with the technician’s betrayal. It was a point he was going to emphasize in a phone call he was about to have with the cardinal.

The intercom on Dante’s desk buzzed, letting him know that Juan, his assistant, had Reinhart on the phone. Adjusting his headset, the prelate opened the line to hear the cardinal yelling, You are nothing but a killer. God will see you burn in hell for this. He had a young family. Have you no soul?

Lowering the volume, Dante calmly said, I haven’t killed anyone. Perhaps you could give me the details so that I can know why you’re accusing me of something I know nothing about.

Don’t take me for a fool! Reinhart shouted. You had Salazar assassinated. His blood is on your hands.

My understanding is that an employee at our Zaragoza museum has died from what police are saying was a bullet to the head. It is a tragedy, and we’ll see to it that his family is well looked after.

How can you be such a hypocrite? demanded Reinhart. You may have not fired the shot, but the command surely came from you.

Dante, who taped all his phone conversations, was fully aware that Reinhart might be doing the same. The prelate was well versed at conveying his message without saying anything incriminating.

I see we are speaking frankly, said Dante, his voice cold and unemotional. I have known for some time that Salazar was an agent for you and Alexander. He was a spy who had been promised a senior position at the Vatican for relaying information to you about my operation.

Dante waited for a response, letting the silence hang in the air. When Reinhart finally did speak, the cardinal’s voice held a note of caution. I know nothing about this claim of Salazar being an informant. Is that why he was killed? If that’s the case, you have made a terrible mistake.

This time, it was Dante who allowed a few seconds of quiet to pass before saying, Although I had nothing to do with the man’s unfortunate death, it might be wise that you and Alexander take a lesson from this incident.

And what is that supposed to mean? Reinhart asked.

I want you to take a message back to Alexander, stated Dante.

I am not an errand boy, huffed the cardinal. You have monthly meetings with the pontiff. You can tell him yourself.

This is for the two of you. The prelate’s tone was steely firm. "I control Alexander, and the Vatican will soon be mine. Tell him that I will not tolerate any action that is detrimental to my campaign. If either of you strays from my chosen path for our mother church, there will be dire consequences.

And while I had nothing to do with Salazar’s death, people occasionally get what they deserve. It is something you and Alexander should remember.

Are you actually threatening our Holy Father and me, a cardinal of the church? Have you become so drunk with power that you believe we can be intimidated?

This is neither a threat nor intimidation.

What would you call it then?

A thoughtful reminder that my power transcends whatever scheme you and Alexander may put together in an attempt to thwart my plans for the Vatican.

And I suppose with that comes our knowledge that you had Salazar killed as a warning to us.

The trap was so obvious Dante had to smile. The cardinal, whose life revolved behind the cloistered Vatican walls, was no match for the knowledgeable and worldly prelate. Dante had battled global titans of industry and achieved what he wanted. He would never allow an inexperienced cardinal to ensnare him. Relay the message to Alexander. And once again, I believe we should let the Zaragoza authorities handle this incident rather than casting about for someone to blame.

So you’re refusing to say the order was involved in Salazar’s death, persisted Reinhart.

Dante had grown weary of the cardinal. It was time to end the conversation. But the original point needed to be emphasized.

Salazar was a traitor to the order. His death, regardless of who is responsible, should serve as a cautionary note to you and Alexander. There are lessons to be learned, and I hope you and our Holy Father take them to heart.

Reinhart snarled, "I will relay your message but not because I am following your instructions. I believe the pope must be informed about our conversation and just what kind of an enemy you have become.

"You should know, though, that we also have allies throughout the Vatican and Rome. You may believe in your power, but it is built on a weak foundation of blackmail and mistrust. You will soon face a day of reckoning at the hands of those who have a true faith in Alexander and in God. I say this as both a warning of the reality that is to come and trust you also consider it a personal threat from me.

I am not one of your lackeys and will do whatever I can to end this terrible and Satanic devastation you are trying to wreak on my church.

I will take your counsel under advisement, said Dante sarcastically as he pushed the button ending the call.

The prelate viewed Reinhart’s words as empty. Dante had incriminating files on too many high-ranking cardinals and other church leaders to be concerned. No one was prepared to stand in his way.

Leaning forward, he cupped the computer’s mouse and pulled up on the screen a spreadsheet of the 126-member College of Cardinals. He focused on the six cardinal bishops, specifically the positions of dean and vice dean. Viewed as the second- and third-most-powerful men—after the pope—their influence throughout not only the Vatican but the global church was enormous. Through their constant interaction with the pope, they had a direct bearing on current and future Roman Catholic doctrine. Dante had incriminating files on both the dean, Franco Bellini, and the vice dean, Gustav Lisi. He maneuvered the mouse and shifted the two names out of the organizational chart and to the page’s left side.

Within the blank spaces left by the men’s removal, Dante typed in the names of two cardinal bishops, Carlos Serengeti and Paul Biron—also under his control. Interestingly, while the composition of the College of Cardinals and those who were elevated from among the cardinals to become a bishop were at the pope’s discretion, the vote for dean and vice dean was conducted solely among the six cardinal bishops.

However, just as with so many Vatican rituals, not all was as it seemed. The pontiff wielded enormous influence on who was elected to those senior positions. The bishops may hold an election, but the men chosen to head the college were always those put forward by the pope. Given that he had to work so closely with them, the selection was considered a papal decision driven by the will of God.

It might have seemed counterintuitive to move two men that Dante controlled out of such senior positions, only to replace them with bishops that he was also blackmailing. However, this was where the prelate’s strength at long-range strategizing shone brightest. Bellini and Lisi were into their senior years. Bellini had just turned eighty, and Lisi was three months away from the same age.

While the college had great influence in governing the church, the members’ critical responsibility was electing a new pope upon the death or abdication of the sitting pontiff.

There was an age-limitation statute for members who were permitted to take part in the vote for a pope. Only cardinals under eighty years old could participate. In the previous papal conclave, Bellini and Lisi had been eligible to vote, and through coercion from Dante, they had cast their ballots for Alexander. However, now that Bellini had surpassed the age restriction and Lisi was hard against it, they possessed no value for Dante in the event Alexander so displeased the prelate that a new pontiff needed to be chosen.

But there was an even more valid reason for the move. The men Dante had chosen to replace Bellini and Lisi—Serengeti as dean and Biron as vice dean—were only in their mid-sixties. That effectively meant he would have complete control over the Vatican’s three most powerful positions for many years into the future.

The prelate realized he was engineering an historic and fundamentally disruptive shift for the college that would reverberate throughout the church. Replacing the two senior positions in a short time span would draw strong resistance from Alexander. But Dante wasn’t worried. During their scheduled meeting in two weeks, he would hand the pontiff his list of names to head the college. The pope would be given three months to make the moves. Although the changes were substantial, Dante didn’t want undue media attention.

However, once completed, his hold on the formidable college would allow him to influence many other aspects of the church. His plan was proceeding on schedule, and soon he would have direct influence over every facet of the Vatican.

Another man might have taken a moment to savor the progress and enjoy that the goal was in sight. But Dante was not such a man. He lived to build and to conquer. There was never the satisfaction of victory, only the relentless drive to keep winning by constantly moving forward.

Chapter Two

Cardinal Wolfgang Reinhart felt his cheeks flush as the empty dial tone sounded in his ear. There was so much more anger he wanted to direct at Dante. The prelate was a viper within the church’s garden. Ripping off the headset and slamming it on his desk, Reinhart replayed the conversation in his mind and lamented that he hadn’t been more forceful with Dante.

But in reviewing the acrimonious discussion, Reinhart realized there was something Dante had said that now pierced the cardinal’s brain like a spike driven through his forehead.

It was merely ten words, but the implication staggered Reinhart.

I control Alexander, and the Vatican will soon be mine.

It wasn’t only the words but also the arrogant assurance with which they’d been spoken that left Reinhart wondering what hold Dante had over the pope. And it obviously went far beyond the prelate’s hijacking of the voting process within the College of Cardinals to ensure Alexander became the pontiff. This was something far more sinister.

It was the church’s mission to confront evil wherever it existed, but what did it mean when the immorality co-existed with the pontiff?

Suddenly Reinhart’s mind was a vat of conflicting emotions. He was worried for Alexander, yet furious that his friend of three decades hadn’t confided in him. The cardinal desperately wanted to protect his church, but, as evidenced by Salazar’s death, to go against Dante could be fatal. And then there was the dichotomy inherent in the image he had of himself as a pious churchman and the knowledge that he was carrying a deep hatred for the prelate within his heart.

The cardinal prided himself on being known for his strict adherence to the austere and pure life he believed all men of the cloth should follow.

Throughout the Vatican, Reinhart was sometimes facetiously described as the church’s conscience for the way he relentlessly pursued and then exposed those who committed acts that went against church dictates, such as fraud, bribery, drugs, or sexual misconduct. Over the years, Reinhart had come to believe that he was truly one of God’s earthly disciples, defending the church against all forms of evil—and in his mind, Dante was the word’s true definition.

Reinhart’s life was his church, and he believed passionately that in God’s world, Roman Catholicism was the one pure religion. Despite the prelate’s influence, Alexander had become pope because it was God’s will. That was the only reality in Reinhart’s universe.

A unique individual who was intensely pragmatic yet spiritually idealistic, the cardinal was convinced deep within his soul that whatever acts he performed in his lifetime to protect the church would be rewarded when he journeyed to heaven and met his God.

But through the years, he had also come to believe that his unyielding commitment to the church’s tenets and his loyalty to whichever pope sat on the throne of St. Peter had not been properly recognized.

Despite its pious claims to the contrary, the Vatican was also a tiny island with people containing the very human characteristics of a penchant for intrigue and a lust for power—not unlike many large organizations. And similar to any conglomerate, the level of authority denoted the degree of influence. Reinhart may have been the epitome of virtue, but he was tired of being viewed as a slow and plodding man who had reached his level of competence with the relatively insignificant posting as director of the Vatican museums.

He had been a cardinal deacon since his appointment twenty-five years ago. Reinhart had watched as others, with far less respect for their duties as cardinals and men of the church, were rewarded with stunning promotions while he remained on the bottom rung.

He was comfortable in his relationship with God. Reinhart believed that he and the Lord had a unique understanding of each other that was always displayed when the cardinal prayed.

However, he longed for the peer respect and the earthly status that came with being a high-ranking cardinal. He knew it required a long and detailed discussion with his God. But should the cardinal save his church—the bastion of earth’s one true faith—was he not also able to claim an earthly reward?

The cardinal had devoted many hours of thought and prayer to the seemingly insoluble problem of exorcising Dante from the church. Now that the prelate had fully moved against the Vatican, Reinhart knew drastic action had to be taken before Dante destroyed all that the cardinal believed was sacred.

The cardinal ran his right hand through a remarkable head of snow-white hair, cut short and parted on the right. Closing his chestnut-colored eyes, he intently focused on what could be done to stop Dante’s march to capturing the Vatican.

He suddenly felt terribly alone. Was he the only person in the Vatican who realized the evil that was wrapping itself around his church? Perhaps he was the sole person not implicated in some terrible novel noire authored by the prelate.

The conversation with Dante had shown that, for the prelate to accomplish his plan, there must be many men and women who were caught up in his web of deceit, betrayal, and extortion. Dante wasn’t only taking over the church with Alexander. He was exercising his power through all the people he was able to blackmail. For the first time, Reinhart was truly terrified by the implications.

The prelate’s coup would have the church in the order’s grasp for decades. Even if Alexander died or abdicated, the prelate would still be in position to control the next papal election. At the same time, Reinhart came to the obvious conclusion that inviting death by trying to obstruct Dante’s plan would accomplish nothing. The takeover would proceed with or without him. So there had to be another answer.

An idea was slowly taking form. It was so audacious that the cardinal quickly pushed it from his mind. Yet he couldn’t escape its clutches.

Suppose there was no Dante.

Reinhart reviewed the various options open to Alexander. They ranged from excommunicating the prelate to a papal decree that would force the Fraternity under the church’s control, and from disbanding the order to forcibly removing Dante as head of the Fraternity.

Unfortunately, none of those actions was realistic. Under normal circumstances, they would all take at least two to three years to implement. There was also the significant fact that the order had damning files on so many within the Vatican. And even if that could be somehow circumvented, Dante’s moves to control the Vatican were being executed at such a rapid pace that Reinhart knew it would be less than a year before the prelate’s influence reached into every corner of the church. At that point, Dante could easily counter any insurrection from a renegade group of cardinals.

It was then that Reinhart revisited the darkest corner of his mind and, more importantly, his soul. Having reviewed the possibilities, he arrived at what he knew was the only solution. As he sat in his administration building office and stared out the window that fronted on St. Peter’s Square, containing sacraments to Jesus and to God, he came to a decision.

He now believed that the Lord had placed him in this situation as a way of saving the church and freeing Alexander from the chains with which Dante had him shackled. But how does one deal with a predator like Dante when one is committed to the sanctity of life? Reinhart needed time to think and to pray.

His thoughts had crystalized into one question: what was he willing to sacrifice in this life to save his church?

He slowly got up from behind the desk and stretched to his full height of a shade under six feet. Reinhart was unusually pale and thin, almost to the point of appearing emaciated. However, despite his frail look and while late into his seventies, the man was physically and mentally fit. He regularly exercised, and in his dedication to appearing more youthful than his age had recently given up glasses in favor of contact lenses.

There was a private chapel in the administration building. Leaving his office, he navigated a labyrinth of little-used hallways and entered the small sanctuary. It was deserted. After making the sign of the cross, he slid into one of the pews and knelt on the kneeling cushion. The cardinal immediately began to pray for guidance.

What was justified in saving his church—his home—from the evil that was permeating everything around him? It was an intense session with his Lord. Reinhart methodically presented his rationale to God for the course he believed must be taken.

And the Lord, as he always did, responded favorably to Reinhart’s request. But during the session, a personal epiphany also occurred. The cardinal now believed that if he was to implement this God-favored mission, he was entitled to several earthly rewards. As Reinhart always did, he would leave the opportunity for implementing his two-pronged plan with the Lord. God always showed the way forward.

The cardinal left the chapel forty-five minutes after entering. He had his answer. It would take more prayers and more soul searching, but Reinhart was firm in his resolve.

Chapter Three

After a long, cold, and damp winter, spring had finally come to Inverness. As Sean Brennan walked from the guesthouse where he was staying to the Guardians’ headquarters, he felt the giddy happiness of one who has recently been given life-altering news. Before leaving Janus two weeks earlier, Sean had been told he was going to be a father. The shared joy he’d experienced with his fiancée, Diane, as she revealed her pregnancy was beyond any emotion he’d ever felt. The intensity of passion and love he’d had for her in those moments was a sensation he constantly replayed.

Since the pregnancy was so new—Diane was only six weeks along—they had agreed to hold the secret until a couple of months had passed. She had told Sean it would give them some special alone time to enjoy the feeling that they were going to become parents.

Sean had felt guilt and sadness at leaving Diane. But events with the order meant he had to be in Edinburgh and Inverness. However, walking along the streets of Inverness, with the sun’s gentle warmth on his back, Sean was buoyed by the thought he would be leaving for Janus with the following morning’s sunrise. There was just one meeting with the Guardians’ senior management remaining on his itinerary.

Navigating his way along the crowded sidewalk, Sean moved with an easy-going stride. Having just turned thirty-eight, his body was trim and lightly muscled. His hair flowed freely in tight brown curls, and he took in the world’s many sights through eyes the color of burnt cinnamon.

Arriving at the building, Sean took the concrete steps two at a time and walked through the front door into the lobby. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, he made his way along the corridor before walking into the familiar nondescript meeting room.

This marked the first time Sean had been here since Elijah’s death. He looked around at the industrial gray carpet, the faded white walls, and the well-worn conference table. It was impossible not to feel Elijah’s presence. Seven months had passed since the man everyone called the Prophet had been killed by an assassin from the Praetorian Order.

The shooting still resonated deeply with Sean, and he knew it was one of those life events that would forever haunt him. But he also accepted that there comes a time when the past must be put to rest. And while Elijah’s memory would always influence him, the present was for dealing with the current reality.

And that meant confronting the order. Having been voted the Janus islanders’ guides and mentors following Elijah’s death, Sean and Diane were also responsible for leading the 1,700 Guardians and the eighteen-thousand-member diaspora. The order posed a threat to every aspect of Janus. Along with Diane, Sean had spent the winter developing a plan he hoped would initially destabilize and then destroy Dante’s private empire.

Before arriving in Inverness, Sean had spent several days in Edinburgh, reviewing data on what the Guardians knew about the order. While Inverness was the Guardians’ central operating base, Edinburgh had been established four years ago as a satellite technology division. Its sole function was monitoring the order.

The research Sean had conducted supported his belief that the proposal he was going to place before the Guardians’ management unit was the best way to terminate the Fraternity.

The first to arrive for the meeting, Sean placed his iPad on the table and was about to sit down when the door opened. Olga, the Guardians’ head of technology, entered.

Sean hadn’t seen her since Elijah’s funeral and was surprised by Olga’s hair. Once worn short, it now flowed to just above her jawline in soft blond waves, surrounding a thin face that radiated classic beauty, with penetrating sapphire-blue eyes, high cheekbones, full red lips, and a gently rounded chin.

Olga quickly closed the gap between them, reached up, and gave him a sisterly hug. She was about a head shorter than Sean, who stood a couple of inches over six feet.

As Olga stepped back, she asked, Did you find what you were looking for in Edinburgh?

I learned enough to know that your department is central to my plan, responded Sean. Edinburgh will be the focus of our operation.

What does that mean for our technology division here in Inverness? asked Olga.

We’ve been successful at keeping Edinburgh hidden from Dante, said Sean. "My proposal calls for us to continue using Inverness as the operational center for Janus and the diaspora, while expanding the Edinburgh office.

If we continue with Inverness as our hub, it’s where Dante will maintain the order’s surveillance. We’ll give the appearance of business as usual, and he won’t suspect we’re running a counter-campaign.

Our Edinburgh operation is relatively small compared to here in Inverness, said Olga. How much impact on Edinburgh are we talking about?

It’s going to be major, Sean stated as Bella, the Guardians’ financial director, entered the room. Diminutive in stature but with a tenacious personality, she was steadfast in her position that the Guardians must always adhere to the Janus principles of understanding, tolerance, and peace.

While Olga and Sean took seats on opposite sides of the table, Bella pulled out a chair beside Olga and sat down. Good to have you here, she said, her dark brown eyes behind tinted lenses focused on Sean. I’m interested in hearing what you’re going to put forward regarding our battle with the order.

Before Sean could respond, the door again swung open. This time, the two final members of the Guardians’ management team, Andrew and Leyland, made their way into the room. Andrew took his customary seat at the head of the table. As the Guardians’ security chief and senior member in terms of authority, he chaired the sessions when the Inverness group met.

Taciturn and intensely driven, Andrew, with his black hair cut military short, hard gray eyes, and a close-cropped dark beard, radiated tension. Of average height, with a lean build, he took his temperament into the gym, where he daily worked out for at least an hour.

As Leyland sat down in a chair beside Sean, Andrew asked if everyone was ready to proceed. A collection of nods followed, and the senior Guardian began with, "This is the beginning of our crusade against Dante. He is personally responsible for Elijah’s death, and we will stop at nothing to take down the order. And if it means resorting to an armed confrontation, then that’s what we’ll do.

More than that, we are talking about our survival. We know that Dante is committed to destroying everything about Janus. In simple terms, we have to get him before he gets us.

The words were spoken with such fierceness that Sean thought Andrew’s passion could be a hindrance to the project rather than an asset. He wondered how the others felt.

One answer was quickly supplied by Bella. This is not your personal vendetta, Andrew, she said, vigorously shaking her head. Running a hand through her long auburn hair, Bella continued, We all want Dante to pay for what happened to Elijah. But I will not support any form of violence. As Guardians, we are committed to peace. It is how we keep faith with everyone on Janus, and nothing is going to move me off that principle.

I support Bella, offered Olga in a firm voice. While I want to end the order’s threat against us as much as you do, we must find a way that can cripple the Fraternity without resorting to some form of weaponized retaliation. Dante may want to destroy us, but I’m not going to let our values be trampled in a headlong rush to use armed force as a way of crushing him.

This is getting us nowhere, Leyland quietly stated. "It’s the same talk we’ve had all winter. And the result is always identical. We