Tyranny of Coins (The Judas Chronicles, #5) Read online

  Shit!

  For those unfamiliar, Bennevento Vitorio is an alchemist friend who long ago betrayed us. Remorseful for his shortcomings against Roderick and me, Bennevento has spent the past five centuries trying to make amends.

  “How high is the price?” I asked.

  “Just shy of eleven million euros,” Roderick replied.

  “According to what you told me the other night, the official auction is scheduled for Halloween—one week from tomorrow,” I said, feeling a renewed surge of anger rising within. “If the cost is skyrocketing now, how in the hell will it be affordable at all by then? It isn’t worth losing everything to get it—especially, when The Almighty seems ready for me to retrieve a coin, He clears a path and aligns events to make it happen. I’ve never had to mortgage the farm to help Him out.”

  “It’s not always so easy,” countered Roderick, motioning for everyone to either move into the dining room or living area. A sure sign this was going to be a drawn-out discussion. “Lately, it hasn’t been that clean. Not to mention, collecting coins with you has become a hazardous and often deadly business.”

  “Why don’t you two just let Krontos purchase the coin unhindered and call it a day?” Alistair suggested, grimacing disgustedly. Another sign his perspective from three years ago had dramatically changed. “You can try again for it in twenty years, when you’ve got nothing better to do to appease your wanderlust.”

  “If only it were that easy, son,” I told him. “Twenty years could easily become three to four centuries, if we’re not careful. And, although I’d like to think that you, Amy, and your mother would still be with us in four hundred years, none of you are truly immortal. The chances of avoiding serious injury between now and then will become less favorable as the centuries march on. Not to mention, Almighty God might not look kindly on me deviating from the path I started taking seriously forty years ago with you, Ali.”

  Alistair nodded thoughtfully, and I worried I might’ve offended him and Amy, as well as Beatrice. Their expressions matched his, and I would have to wait to revisit this reaction with my wife later on.

  “Why don’t the rest of you go into town and get some donuts or something for breakfast, while William and I come up with a plan?” Roderick clapped his hands, as if this would help shoo the rest of our group out the front door.

  “I’d rather wait until I find out what mischief you two will get us into, if you don’t mind,” said Alistair. “I’d bet Cedric, Amy, and Mom would rather stay, too.”

  Roderick tried to coax them out the door again, but it quickly became obvious we’d get nothing done until we relented. With a promise to stop within the next hour for breakfast, the group moved into the living room.

  “Okay… I will spell it out clearly for everyone,” Roderick advised, as he stood in front of the fireplace, which provided the best vantage point to view everyone else. I shared the loveseat with Beatrice and the rest of our group sat on the sofa. “Benevento Vitorio is an immortal friend of William’s and mine. An alchemist who has had close ties to The Vatican for centuries, he frequently provides access to information we could never obtain from anywhere else. He was instrumental in helping us deal with Viktor Kaslow down in South America last year. And, as Beatrice, Amy, and Alistair are aware, Benevento helped us in our efforts to track down Dracul and The Dragon Coin.”

  He waited to go on, perhaps expecting Alistair or Cedric to either pose questions or derisive comments. When neither happened, Roderick continued.

  “Some of what I’m about to reveal, I have not had a chance to clear with William first, as you know,” he said, pausing to regard me. I nodded for him to go on, while my stomach felt queasy—the sure sign something disagreeable was coming. “Benevento understands the seriousness of what is happening for a number of reasons. Rarely have I found him as thorough and candid as he was this morning during our conversation. It turns out Rome has been watching Krontos for centuries—since the mid-fourteenth century, at least. Krontos has often taken an active, meddling role in the kingdoms of Europe. The evolution and eventual dissolution of governments have long fascinated and attracted him.

  “This is important for what he sought to accomplish with his sorcery back in the day, and the continued black magic he dabbles in now to influence the power structure among the Slavic nations, in particular. It is the mafia empire Krontos has controlled since the 1960s that brought the latest warnings to The Vatican about something huge going down in the organization. This news comes from spies loyal to the Holy See, and Benevento advised that the news surrounds the planned restoration of an ancient shrine belonging to Krontos.”

  Roderick paused to sip the tea he apparently brewed while Beatrice and I were upstairs.

  “Ever hear the phrase Mortis imago Trinitatis argenteum?”

  Our companions unanimously indicated they had not. I, on the other hand, recalled this phrase. But it was the English translation that inspired a chill across my spine.

  “The Silver Trinity of Death,” I said, hoping Roderick wouldn’t mind me translating the phrase for the group. “I’ve often wondered if this vile shrine actually exists.”

  “Apparently it does,” he said, smiling weakly. This was supposed to be the thing he and I discussed in private, and I hated the information being disseminated to everyone else like this. “Before Krontos reanimated the lifeless corpse of Vlad Tepes, he created the shrine using that coin and two others from you, William, which he procured during his long, natural life. Not long after he stepped into immortality, by way of an elixir not unlike the one the St. Germaine brothers once concocted, he set out to test the legend of the trinity.

  “He was not the first to try to create it, but he certainly was the first to succeed. Legends you and I have read about, back when you called yourself Emmanuel, foretell the ability to enforce one’s will upon the natural world and its events.”

  “I remember,” I said, and all eyes were upon me, as I erroneously expected to happen earlier when I translated the Latin phrase. “I feel like kicking myself for never suspecting Krontos as the Hungarian that Juan Garia de Moguer mentioned long ago. Do you remember my mention of a mysterious Buda nobleman that Juan had once met, who carried two shekels taken from two Ottoman rulers at their deathbeds?”

  “Yes… I believe so,” he acknowledged. “Something about both rulers seeking last minute penance to wash away years of bloodshed inspired by the coins.”

  I had forgotten many of the details, until Roderick mentioned the Ottoman chieftains, renowned for unquenchable bloodshed. Old memories flooded my awareness. Memories of evil men hiding behind the Mohammedan title of Khalifat Rasul Allah. Both were instrumental in spreading the influence of Islam, which might’ve become extinct like so many religions and philosophies have done during my extensive stay on planet Earth, without excessive violence to keep it thriving.

  “Anyway, with three blood coins in his possession that once belonged to you, as Judas Iscariot, Krontos Lazarevic was able to explore world domination by means of metaphysical doors and windows—openings that Einstein and others referred to as portals and wormholes. The very things we dealt with recently in Bolivia,” Roderick explained. “Why he gave up the third coin to save Vlad and create Dracul has always baffled me, since in effect it limited his freedom outside our normal reality. Granted, he did a number on us all when we traveled to Montenegro this past summer….”

  Roderick’s voice trailed off, and it appeared he fell into a trance. I managed to catch him before he collapsed.

  “Are you all right, Rod?” I asked him, snapping my fingers in front of his eyes. He blinked.

  “What happened?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” I said.

  “I honestly don’t know.” He tried to stand straight, but sat down gently in front of the hearth. “I was picturing what Tampara had told me long ago, while you were getting to know the Cherokee nation here in America, around 1470. When I mentioned the tortures you and I endured in
Spain being the reason for my delayed return to the land that would eventually become Bolivia, Tampara told me about the diminutive white haired European he would see now and then in the plane that contains the realm of Paititi. Or did, until the war Cedric told us about.”

  “What did he tell you about Krontos?” I asked. Surely everyone else was just as curious.

  Roderick didn’t answer right away, and seemed to be listening to a sound or voice undetectable to the rest of us.

  “I know why Krontos has changed his mind,” he said finally, in a hushed voice. “And, it makes sense why he would want to jam the circuits in my head that brought forth the memory of Tampara. My ancient friend said something about three bands of light that followed the little old man, and Tampara could tell the energy rivaled the purity of the power source enabling Paititi to float above Lake Titicaca, as it did until Cedric watched it collapse in flames into the lake….”

  Roderick started to fall asleep, as if whatever force attacking him absorbed his consciousness.

  “Rod… Rod! Snap out of it!” I shouted.

  “Huh?”

  His eyes opened, barely. He raised his hands, using his fingers to draw an imaginary line around his head. Then Roderick’s eyes opened fully, as his layman’s sorcery worked. The swirl of gold flecks glowed eerily within his bright blue irises.

  “Are you okay now?” I persisted, hovering above him.

  “Yes,” he said, looking up at me. “Krontos does not want to deal with the tainted remnants of Vlad Tepes’ energy that is forever part of the Dragon Coin. Instead, he is attracted to the purity of the ‘Holocaust Coin’. That’s the name he has for it.”

  “What in the hell?”

  Alistair whispered this as he and Amy came over to us, followed by Beatrice. Cedric remained seated, looking even more ready for one of his cherished slim cigars.

  “It’s tied to what you sensed and have not told us, William,” said Roderick, trying to rise to his feet. He fell back down, and I motioned for him to rest until the spell had fully passed. “Krontos is not interested in revenge for Dracul, as we originally surmised, after finding our plundered fortress in Abingdon. He sees us—especially you—as a threat to getting what he wants.”

  Everyone’s focus shifted to me, and frankly, I was at a loss for words. My druid pal had managed to define what I could not. The relentless stream of images, thoughts, and words bombarding my mind these past few months—and that had reached a fevered pitch during the past week—suddenly became clear. Or, the coded message had done so.

  “Tell us, Pops... and this time no bullshit.”

  “Okay,” I sighed. “Krontos doesn’t want to watch the world burn after all. He simply wants to own it. Completely.”

  Chapter Five

  For three days we sat on pins and needles—largely because Roderick suggested we wait to see if Krontos would contact us. Never mind the fact our discussions continued to revolve around reasons not to wait. Not everything that comes to a gifted psychic—even one as old as Roderick—is a true premonition. Sometimes, fear gets in the way. Unless impressions are defined in a calm and peaceful moment, they can easily be misunderstood and ignored. It becomes direly critical to make sure one’s panic doesn’t obscure or twist a solution into an option that gets avoided.

  “The longer we sit around here debating whether or not the coin’s price is going to increase or not, the worse our chances become of securing it,” I said, wearily. We had turned the dining room into a data center, each of us with laptops, tablets, notepads and pens. Take-out cartons and pizza boxes were piled as several unstable towers in the table’s middle. “Jeffrey and Benevento have now confirmed the dealer resides in Berlin, and we know two other bidders have emerged. Correct? Didn’t you say one is a Saudi Shiek, and the other a collector of Nazi memorabilia in Switzerland?”

  “Yes, this is true,” confirmed Roderick.

  He released a low sigh and eyed me sullenly, as if forced to re-explain his preferred protocol to an imbecile for the umpteenth time. Unlike the mortals in our midst, he and I had avoided rest and consistent meals the past few days. He was running himself ragged, looking for an alternative solution that wasn’t there. As much as he dreaded it, risking a direct confrontation with Krontos was necessary in gaining an edge.

  “Then let’s quit this frigging charade and go to Germany,” said Cedric, to which Amy and Alistair agreed heartily. “William made the same suggestion last night, after you, Roderick, gave us the latest info on the coin’s price. There must be some other way to snag the sucker before the official auction event takes place. There’s still five days to go, and last we heard, the early bid was sitting at eighteen million. It’s probably higher now, since we haven’t heard a damned thing all day!”

  “You still fail to understand what Krontos is capable of doing to all of us if we disobey his admonishment to stay here!” said Roderick, angrily. “We need to stay put—right here—until he says otherwise. He will summon us to New York again, or even Europe very soon. I’m certain of it.”

  To Roderick’s credit, he was right. Krontos would likely be enraged if we weren’t relaxing at our Sedona ranch when he made contact again. But I was surprised to find my druid pal’s usual gumption had been sucked dry since the strange experience the other day. Roderick’s growing subservience to Krontos made it increasingly clear the sorcerer’s subtle attack on Roderick’s psyche was successful. My buddy’s normally clear perspective on all things had been muddied.

  “So, when the auction takes place in five days, you’re content to just sit here and bid remotely for the Stutthof-Auschwitz coin? And that’s if we can come up with the money,” I said. “You sure you’re ready to simply take your chances from five thousand miles away?”

  “Yes,” he said softly, shaking his head as if he understood he couldn’t defend his point of view.

  “Meanwhile, we have one of the most diabolical minds you and I have ever dealt with—maybe the worst in all of recorded history—residing in New York, or more likely, someplace in Europe.” I closed my laptop and notepad, signaling my resignation from the bullshit exercise. “He could very well be in Berlin right now. Do you honestly believe Krontos is going to leave the bidding for the coin to chance?”

  “Perhaps not. But if we can’t win fairly, he would beat us anyway!”

  Roderick’s voice shook, and I worried our adversary had tapped into our latest conversation.

  “Well, I’m done, too. I guess we should clean up here and pick out a movie to watch tonight,” said Alistair, closing his laptop. Amy and Beatrice did the same, and I expected Cedric to soon follow. “Pops, we’ll have to see about this coin some other time. Hopefully, it won’t be in some twisted new reality created by Krontos.”

  Well done, my boy!

  Roderick continued to type updates into his laptop. But I could tell Alistair’s words affected him.

  “Is everyone forgetting about the coin photographs and carbon dating reports promised to us from the dealer?” asked Roderick, pleadingly. “We’ll have as much information as anyone physically in Berlin will receive. What if we traveled there and the coin turned out to be a fake?”

  “All the more reason to give up now and polish up the Dragon Coin for his highness, Krontos Lazarevic,” I said, rising from the table. “I’m done, my brother.”

  “But… but you can’t quit. It’s your coin, and your responsibility!”

  I was on my way to the splendid plasma television set, wondering if it was too late to place a friendly wager on the Monday night football contest coming on in twenty minutes. But Roderick’s dig could not go unanswered.

  “Do you even hear yourself?” I rebuked him, while everyone else began clearing the table. Time to put things back in order. “It is indeed my coin and my responsibility, Rod!”

  I moved to him and felt overwhelming sadness emanating toward me. He looked up with a bewildered expression, as if he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to carry out the im
pulses prompted by something other than his gut. Was it his mind or heart that had been meanly hijacked? Perhaps both?

  “I should’ve done this days ago, and as your friend and eternal companion on this earth, I’m doing it now,” I told him. He nodded slightly while his eyes flashed defiantly. But I clearly saw the Roderick of old still in there. “I’m taking over from here on out. Whether you like it or not, we are going to Germany, and will leave as soon as I can confirm the arrangements.”

  I half expected unseen fingers to invade my personal space. Perhaps something like an acute headache, and Krontos would use his voyeuristic talent to probe inside my brain. But nothing happened.

  After making sure Beatrice was up to entertaining Alistair and Amy in my absence, I headed for the office Roderick and I shared. Cedric accosted me before I reached my destination, as I thought he might.

  “Man, this is almost too damned jacked-up for me to deal with,” he said, his left fingers caressing a pencil as if it was the cancer stick he craved. “Just promise me that you won’t back down on what you said in there. I remember long ago reading how the Nazi influence in Europe was so gradual the Jews became blind to the encroaching danger—like frogs in warm water that’s steadily brought to a boil. Know what I mean, man?”

  “Alistair came home with that fun frog fact when he was a young lad in Glasgow,” I said, chuckling at how the group’s perception of me had gone from bullheaded ass to demure pup, after I allowed Roderick to lead us from Abingdon undeterred. It seemed high time I took the reins again. “Don’t worry about me changing my mind, Cedric. Everything points to us going to Germany, and I‘d need a damned good reason to abort the idea.”

  “You’re not worried about Krontos carrying out his earlier threats against Beatrice, Alistair, and the rest of us?” His warm brown eyes danced as he studied my facial reaction to his question. There wasn’t a reaction… at least not a physical one.