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no longer cared what lines he crossed, for he had nothing left to lose.
    At least, not until Emily showed up.
    But she wouldn't be there long. He would not allow it, for he understood the danger she was in. The very innocence that made her so powerful, such a treasure to him, was the very thing that could sentence her to her doom.
    The Prometheans hated goodness wherever it appeared. They could not stand to be around it. They were fascinated by it, but every instinct they possessed urged them to destroy it. If they were to realize that the virginal young beauty was much more to him than some servile sexual plaything, he shuddered to think what they might do to her.
    Get this over with. Letting himself quietly into the room, Drake returned to his post behind James's chair.
    The old man sat at the head of the table, for it was he who had called this secret summit of the leaders.
    Count Septimus Glasse, the owner of the castle, a fiery, bearded German, eyed Drake warily as he took his place. "The security breach has been handled?"
    "Yes, my lord. It was of no consequence, merely a servant," he added, bowing his head in deference.
    " Your servant, we hear."
    "Yes, sir."
    "That is rather peculiar."
    Drake just looked at him.
    "James, are you quite certain we can trust your head of security?" asked the olive-skinned cardinal, their robed representative in Rome. "After all, he was once numbered among the enemy."
    "Drake is one of us now, Antonio," he replied. "He has proved his loyalty by saving my life on numerous occasions. Surely it cannot seem such a shock to you that even a former agent of the Order could finally come to see that it is our vision that is best for Mankind, not theirs. Besides, gentlemen," James added in mild amusement, "there is no greater zealot than a convert. Go on, Drake. Tell them of our creed."
    "With pleasure, sir." He stood square, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his chin high. "Mankind is base and savage, my lords, barbarous, stupid, and cruel. For his own good, he must be tamed, managed, by those who have humbly sought and acquired the true enlightenment. If man will not submit to reason or just authority from the enlightened, then his will must be broken first, through force."
    The Austrian general who served as corrupt advisor to the Habsburgs gave a low laugh. "Couldn't have said it better myself."
    James smiled with pride in his student. "Go on, m'boy. What of God?" he encouraged him.
    "If the vile creature, man, is indeed made in the image of God, then this is a childish, tyrannical deity to whom no man of reason owes his allegiance," Drake replied. "If God exists at all, he is our enemy, for it was he who gave us life, and life is only pain. All else is delusion."
    "You speak of the subject of pain with some authority, monsieur," said the suave French duke, swirling the brandy in his snifter.
    The Prometheans had situated him well, anticipating the chance of Napoleon's downfall. The French duke had gone into exile with King Louis as a loyal friend during Napoleon's reign, but now that the Little Emperor was jailed at Elba, the Prometheans had already planted their man close to the Bourbon throne.
    "Yes, Your Grace," Drake answered his question in a low, dull monotone. "This technique was how I came to understand the truth myself."
    "Tell me--" Septimus Glasse spoke up again. "Do you resent your treatment at our hands, Englishman?"
    "No, sir, I am grateful. Now the rest of my life won't be wasted in the folly of the Order's lies and illusions. Better to suffer and see the truth than to remain blind."
    "Indeed," the cardinal murmured. "I imagine that with all the weapons training the Order must have given you, you would be very good at making more converts for us."
    "Yes, sir, I believe so. If I am found worthy of that privilege."
    "What about your previous life as an agent of the enemy?" the Austrian general pursued.
    "I remember very little about it, sir."
    "And what he has remembered,