‘For the first couple of years, he was living the dream. He became a straw man in the financial trading game, moving literal truckloads of cash around, circumventing banking regulations and exploiting tax loopholes that would allow his monster corporate clients to launder their money in all kinds of marginally legal ways and save nine, twelve, sixteen-figure sums of cash, in return for commissions that filled his pockets with all the wealth he’d ever dreamed of, and more. It was a ruthless, cutthroat environment, but he sucked it up and lived it to the max. He had everything, but it was never enough to satisfy him. By the time he began to realise what he’d truly got himself into, it was too late to save himself.’

Shelton had finished his beer. He looked mournfully into the empty glass, as if he really needed more.

‘What Dave began to understand was that many of his new friends followed a religion that was somewhat … unconventional. Slowly, they revealed themselves to him. He couldn’t betray their confidence. They were all mixed up in semi-criminal enterprise, insider trading and shady financial deals, enough dirt to land them in jail for decades. That’s how they get their hooks into you, like the mafia. Once Dave had no way out, they pulled him in even deeper. He was introduced to some of the secret rulers of the world. Billionaire oligarchs. Corporate emperors, kingmakers and puppet-masters. The globalist elite. Men at the very pinnacle of international politics. He was invited to their Churches of Satan. He witnessed the ceremonies with the booze and the drugs and the orgies. He was initiated into their order. And then he was made to take part in sacrifices.’

Shelton turned his mournful look up at Ben and Wolf. The depth of pain in his eyes told them that he was being utterly sincere.

He said, ‘Child sacrifices.’

Ben and Wolf said nothing. Silence hung heavy in the room as each man tried not to picture the things in his mind.

‘Dave couldn’t do it,’ Shelton said. ‘Something in him snapped. That’s when he came to me for help. But I couldn’t help him. He’d already lost his soul. When I left him that night, I was stunned and so sickened to the core by what he’d confessed to me that I couldn’t stop throwing up. I could smell the taint of their evil on him, like foul cigarette smoke sticking to your clothes after a party. But more than that, I had a terrible feeling that I would never see my friend again. I was right. Two days later he was found in the same cheap hotel room. He’d been hung upside down, skinned alive and decapitated.’

‘Subtle,’ Wolf said.