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Chapters (73)
  1. =Table of Contents=
  2. CHAPTER ONE
  3. CHAPTER TWO
  4. CHAPTER THREE
  5. CHAPTER FOUR
  6. CHAPTER FIVE
  7. CHAPTER SIX
  8. CHAPTER SEVEN
  9. CHAPTER EIGHT
  10. CHAPTER NINE
  11. CHAPTER TEN
  12. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  13. CHAPTER TWELVE
  14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  20. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  21. CHAPTER TWENTY
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  31. CHAPTER THIRTY
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  41. CHAPTER FORTY
  42. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  43. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  44. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  51. CHAPTER FIFTY
  52. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  53. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  54. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  55. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  61. CHAPTER SIXTY
  62. CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
  63. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
  64. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
  65. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
  66. CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
  67. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
  68. CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
  69. CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
  70. CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
  71. CHAPTER SEVENTY
  72. EPILOGUE
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE

Machiavelli turned the page sideways. “This is taken from the pyramid of Unas, who reigned in Egypt over four thousand years ago,” he said slowly. A perfectly manicured nail traced a line of hieroglyphs. “These used to be called Pyramid Texts; nowadays we call them the Book of the Dead.” He tapped the photograph and laughed softly. “I do believe this is the formula of words for awakening all the creatures sleeping on the island.” He slipped the pages back into the envelope and looked over at the younger man. “Let’s get out to Alcatraz. It is time to kill Perenelle Flamel.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Dr. John Dee examined the business card in his hand. It was exceptionally beautiful, silver ink embossed on thick handmade rag paper. He turned it over; there was no name on the card, only the stylized representation of a stag with flaring antlers enclosed in a double circle. Leaning forward, he pressed the intercom button. “Send the gentleman in; I will see him now.”

His office door opened almost immediately, and a nervous-looking male secretary appeared and ushered a tall sharp-faced man into the room. “Mr. Hunter, sir.”

“Hold my calls,” Dee snapped. “I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances.”

“Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?”

“That will be all. Tell the staff they can go home now.” Dee had insisted that everyone remain long after normal office hours.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Will you be here tomorrow?”

Dee’s look sent the secretary scurrying. The Magician knew the entire office were on tenterhooks because he had turned up unexpectedly. Rumors were flying around the building that he was going to close the London branch of Enoch Enterprises. Even though it was now ten o’clock in the evening, no one had complained about staying late.

“Take a seat, Mr. Hunter.” Dee indicated the low leather and metal chair before him. He remained seated behind his desk of polished black marble, watching the newcomer carefully. There was something wrong about him, the Magician decided. The planes and angles of his face were awry; his eyes were slightly too high, each one was a different color and his mouth a little too low and wide. It was almost as if he had been created by someone who had not seen a human for a long time. He was dressed in a pale blue pinstripe suit, but the trousers were just a little too short and showed a flash of white flesh just above his black socks, while the sleeves of his jacket ended below his knuckles. His shoes were filthy, thickly caked with mud.

Hunter folded himself into the seat, the movement awkward and stiff, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to with his arms and legs.