He snatched up the fallen keys, found the one to the locker and stepped over the body to open it. Inside was a bird-beaked mask like the ones in Wolf’s video, a long black robe, and a fancy wooden cigar box containing a syringe and vials of some caramel-coloured liquid that looked like heroin or opium. Ben wanted to pump the whole lot into the guy’s veins, so that he could watch him die again.

Then Ben had donned the robe. It was eight inches too short for him, but he’d doubted anyone would notice. Next he’d put on the mask and flipped the robe’s hood over his head. He’d turned and looked in the mirror and seen the bizarre black-clad figure standing there looking back at him.

And he’d thought, Tonight, you all go down.

Chapter 59

In the midst of the erupting chaos by the lakeside, Jeff Dekker grabbed one of the fleeing robed figures and dumped him hard on the ground, knocking him senseless with a sharp kick to the head. ‘Not so fast, pal.’ Either side of him, Ben and Wolf were blocking the escape of the panicking crowd and rounding them up at gunpoint.

What moments earlier had been a gathering of some of the nation’s most powerful and influential men, here to satisfy their bloodthirsty desire to watch the slaughter of an innocent woman, was now like a helpless flock of black sheep being herded by three well-trained German shepherds. The sight of the weapons was enough to cow most of them into instant obedience, making them put up their hands and cry for mercy. Others needed to be made an example of. Ben clubbed one of them over the head with the butt of his pistol while Wolf tripped up another who was trying to push past him and sent him tumbling to the ground. ‘Whoops. Mind your step there, Brother. Dear me, did we hurt ourselves?’

Within moments, they had them all huddled in a cowering scrum of bodies. Someone shouted, ‘This is an outrage!’

Ben replied, ‘Sue me.’

He looked across the lake at the island, where the remnants of the dying flames were lighting up the trees and the statue of Thoth. The woman they’d been about to sacrifice was hanging limp from the altar and appeared to have fainted – or else she was drugged. He’d get to her as soon as he could. First things first. He looked back at the crowd and did a rough head count. He stopped at forty. None of them looked particularly bent or ancient or was carrying an ibis-headed cane. Which meant that Bartholomew Van Brakel, the Grand Master, was not among them. Ben felt a sour taste in his mouth.

Jeff said, ‘Okay, ladies, let’s get those masks off so we can take a look at your pretty faces. Robes, too.’