Worse, Fitz now had to assume that Hope was in possession of the laptop containing Anthony Abbott’s book manuscript. With any luck the blithering fool had at least had the good sense to encrypt the document, in which case Hope wouldn’t be able to access it – otherwise, it could spell disaster. Fitz also faced other perplexing mysteries, such as the baffling issue of Grace Kirk’s current whereabouts, and the matter of who else had been working with Hope and Wolf to rescue her. That Hope must have called in reinforcements was an easy conclusion to draw, since not even a man of his abilities could be in two places at once. It couldn’t have been any of his associates in France: their movements were strictly monitored and there’d been no indication of their crossing over to the UK.

Or could Fitz be mistaken? Had he been fooled again?

Fitz hated not knowing the answers to these questions. Just one thing was clear to him: with Hope and Wolf on the loose and apparently hellbent on revenge, nobody was safe. ‘And that damned sister of his,’ he reflected bitterly. ‘Should have grabbed her when we had the chance.’ It was almost certainly too late now for such pre-emptive actions. His master plan was fast unravelling.

With all these concerns weighing on his mind Fitz had been pressuring his Grand Master to call off this meeting of the Order, but the stubborn old geezer wouldn’t hear of it. ‘This is a special night in honour of an extraordinary man,’ Van Brakel had kept insisting. ‘What would my teacher and mentor have thought of me, if he had known I would bolt like a coward at the first sign of adversity?’

Fitz understood Van Brakel’s reluctance. The old man was dying. This might be his last chance to attend the annual event honouring the founding of their secret society by the great Crowley. Likewise, Van Brakel was also aware of what was on Fitz’s mind. As the younger man stood by his throne watching the room and deep in thought, the Grand Master placed a wizened hand on Fitz’s arm and smiled, showing crooked grey teeth that looked like little fangs. ‘Have no fear, my friend,’ he said in his croaky voice. ‘We are on the winning side. Nobody can touch us.’