A white marble plinth stood at the centre of the Masonic Temple. Resting upon its top was a black shrivelled object the size of a small melon. Three tall mahogany chairs were arranged around the plinth in a wide circle. Only two of the seats were occupied; one by Henry Ross, the other by Marcus Sabatini.
Ross’s expression narrowed. ‘Are you sure?’
Sabatini nodded. ‘I’ve seen them again tonight. I’m being followed,’ he said, balling his hand into a tight fist in his lap.
Ross tried to collect his thoughts. ‘We must pass the test, Marcus,’ he implored. ‘We can’t fail now.’ Ross’s attention fell upon the unoccupied seat next to him. ‘It’s down to us. No one else can protect the secret.’
‘But they know who I am,’ said Sabatini desperately, a darkness passing over his face. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’
Ross fixed him with his flinty eyes. ‘Marcus, we must stay strong.’
Sabatini shifted restlessly in his chair and looked up to the giant five-pointed star set into the blue domed ceiling of the temple. ‘The Rod is lost, and the Reckoning is nearly upon us. How can we fight on?’
‘We will do what Guardians have done for millennia. We will call upon Him for strength and protection.’
Sabatini nodded, and his face slowly recovered its composure.
The two men rose from their seats and raised their hands towards the object resting on the plinth. It was the shrivelled remains of a human head.