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‘Here,’ said his guide interrupting his
guilty thoughts, ‘I can offer you a choice.  These plates have never been used,
I can assure you of that.’

But Shmueli was still not certain.

‘All right.  We have some paper plates. 
They would be in order would they not?’

‘Yes, that’s fine.  But I can’t eat
anything that has been cooked in a pot that has not been koshered.’

‘I know.  But would you be happy to have
something heated in a microwave or else you could have a cold meal, if you
like.  It’s not what we would normally serve our guests but we do have some
tins of vegetables and the like.  Here, Bob,’ he called to one of the others,
‘What’s in the stores?  Have you any tinned tuna or sardines.’

‘Yeah, both.’

‘Then, young man, the choice is yours.’

Shmueli nodded.  The only problem was the
can opener but the Maître d’ solved that by producing one still in its wrapper.

‘Will you accept my personal assurance
that I will make certain that all your food is only touched with unused or
plastic cutlery?’

That was difficult.  Normally Shmueli
would insist on having all food being either cooked by someone he trusted or
prepared in the presence of someone paid to supervise the process.  This guy
might well be knowledgeable about orthodox Jewish ways but Shmueli did not know
whether he could be trusted.  On the other hand it would be insulting to refuse
to accept his assurance.  It was a difficult choice but it had to be made.

He nodded, ‘Thank you.’

‘I will see you at dinner then.’

……………………………………….

That evening the three Isaacsons sat at
the table together; the men in lounge suits and Elizabeth in a floral summer
dress.  Shmueli felt quite conspicuous, sitting there with plastic cutlery and
paper plate, whilst his parents were provided with fine white gold edged
china.  This felt so wrong to him.  He could not even say the normal grace
before meals over bread as the bread supplied was not kosher.  It made the
whole meal seem somehow immoral but he had agreed to eat.  It was too late to
change his mind now.

He looked at his parents.  They did not
seem in the least bit discomfited but that was only to be expected; they were
not hampered by religious qualms, but even he was surprised as his mother gave
what he could only term a dirty look to his father.  Oh dear, she was angry
about something.

‘What?’

Dad seemed genuinely surprised.

‘How many times must I tell you?’

‘What?’

‘You promised to shave before dinner. 
Look at you.  You look like an old tramp.’

‘Oh, Liz, don’t start that again, please. 
What is it with you?  I’ve gone without shaving before.’

‘But not in a place like this.  It’s, you
know...’

‘All right.  Sam, what do you think?  Will
I pass?’

Shmueli looked.  He really could not see
what all the fuss was about.  Still he did not want to take sides and he threw
up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

‘Thanks.  Fat lot of good you are.’

‘Why don’t you just go upstairs and run a
shaver over it.  It won’t take long.’

‘Oh, all right.  If you insist.’

But, at that moment the waiter arrived
with their hors d’oeuvres.  In Shmueli’s case a plain half avocado and a bottle
of olive oil and malt vinegar for him to dress as he required.  It had to be
malt as if the vinegar was derived from wine it would have to be kosher wine
and that was impossible here.  He just hoped that the Maître d’ had kept his
word and that the avocado had been cut with a virgin or plastic knife but he
was too embarrassed to go and check.

All in all his parents had a delicious hot
meal and he enjoyed the tuna salad he had ordered but for him it was very basic
fare.  Tomorrow he would eat out at a kosher restaurant.  That way he could eat
whatever he liked and would feel far more comfortable.

It was as they drank their final coffees
that his mother again brought up the subject of why they were running.  He
still did not want to say anything.  None of it made any sense to him and he
did not even know where to begin.

‘Oh Sam.  What are we to do with you?’

He smiled.  No reply was called for.

‘And what have you done with your
Kiddush
becha
?’

The question floored him.  His
Kiddush
becha
?  Where in the blazes was it?’

‘Back in Golders Green?’

‘Are you sure?’

But he wasn’t.  Something had happened to
it.  Why couldn’t he remember?

‘Of course it’s at Golders Green. 
Nothing has happened to it.  Tell them.’

‘The
becha’s
all right.  Why the
sudden interest?’

‘Only because of what Professor Tiferet
told us.  Isn’t that why you’re running?’

Tiferet, she mentioned Tiferet again.  Was
he to be forever haunted by that monster?

‘No, of course not.  What are you talking
about?  Let’s not speak about him, okay.’

‘But, why?  What is it you’ve got against
the man?’

Something seemed to pass through Shmueli;
a current, a force; something.  He felt it like a rushing of electricity, the
discharge of energy and he knew that whatever it was it had entered his
parents.  Their eyes glazed over and he waited.  His Guardian Angel had been as
good as his word.  They would not be contacting the Bent Ferret.

………………………………………

The rest of the evening proceeded
quietly.  Shmueli read a book whilst his parents seemed listless, empty.  It
did not bother him.  He felt quite detached.  At ten o’clock, he suggested that
they all went to bed.  Nobody objected.

He fell asleep immediately his head hit
the pillow.  Nothing would wake him until his Guardian Angel deemed it time.

His parents, however, did not fall asleep. 
They lay there on their bed staring at the swirls of the Artex ceiling, with
hardly a thought passing through their minds.  For five hours they stayed like
that until David Isaacson sat up.

‘I’m hungry.  I’ll go down to the
kitchen.  See what I can find.’

He felt strange.  It was almost as if he
was not in control of his own thoughts.  He did not feel hungry, did he?  Then
why was he...?  But no, the impulse was too strong.  He had to eat.  He had to
eat meat.

………………………………………

It was fifteen more minutes before he
returned.  He had everything he wanted.  He looked down on his wife and smiled.

‘Are you ready, dear?’

She smiled sweetly, expectantly, ‘Of
course.  Just tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Take off your nightie.’

Putting down the things he had brought
from downstairs; he watched as she complied, salivating hungrily at the sight
before him.  Despite the fact that she was in her fifties she still had a good
figure with full round breasts and deep, dark inviting nipples.  They were good
enough to eat.

He bent down and licked the salty corona, delicious. 
Oh, yes, so delicious, so edible and then he extracted the wire from his
pocket.

It was cheese wire obtained from the
kitchens.  A fair span of thin steel cable with grooved stainless steel handles
at each end.  He wrapped the wire around the handles until a manageable length
remained.  Smiling, he pressed this down hard upon the yielding flesh of his
wife’s breast.

She gritted her teeth and reached for
him.  He felt her hand surrounding his thickening penis, encouraging it to
grow.

He drew the wire back and forth and sliced
downwards, tearing through the epidermis, until a thin pencil line trickle of
blood appeared.

Elizabeth gasped in exquisite agony,
‘Yes!’

The blood began to dribble down the gentle
swell of her breast following its curve towards her neck.  How wonderfully it
flowed.  David could not resist the urge to lick the crimson liquid.  To taste
the bitter flavour of iron.

‘Please, finish it.’

He resumed his task.  It was far easier
now that the skin had been breached and he drew the cable to carve off a thin
sliver of the creamy flesh.  A slice of white meat that he held from his hand
before his wife’s face.  He sucked at the raw open gash, at the pink fat and
muscle exposed.

Her hand on his penis was more urgent now
but his mind was on other things.  He did not feel ready to come for a long
time yet.

‘Please, David.’

Slowly, teasingly, he lowered his wife’s
bloody flesh towards her wide open mouth.  Her head moved to meet it.

With an animal grunt she clasped her lips
together and held the tissue within her teeth.  David did likewise and they
chewed the meat from either end until their mouths met in a lovers’ kiss.

He had never felt so turned-on in his
entire life.

Again he took the cheese wire.

‘Turn over.’

Her round bottom bulged sexily into the
air.  There was plenty of meat here.  A veritable feast no less.

‘Wait, David.  I’ll come around.’

She twisted around the bed, still on her
stomach.  Her mouth against his shaft.  Oh yes, this would work.  As he felt
her lips engulf him he reached over and placed the wire on the milk white
cheek.  He drew the cable taut and sliced deeply into the muscle beneath.  It
yielded nicely, slightly resistant but so satisfying as the blood flowed.  It
was only the end where the final flap remained that caused a problem and he had
to slice away as if he was using a saw.  But then the entire mound was off. 
Beneath, the dark liquid glistened, pooling like water in a rock formation.

Her mouth was doing wondrous things to
him.  Her teeth, so sharp, so strong, were digging into his manly pole.  He
felt himself coming.  His body spasmed, his testicles ached and a gushing river
of semen shot into Elizabeth’s gullet.  So much, so, so much...and her teeth
bit down and met.

And he revelled in his castration.

……………………………………….

His hunger was satiated; his wife stripped
of so much of her flesh.  A towel bound his wound and he looked at Elizabeth. 
There was one thing left to do.

Her smile was weak but she knew what was
to happen.  He could see the anticipation written across her ravaged face.

‘I’m coming, dear.’

And he unwound the entire length of cheese
wire and tied it around her neck.  She was loving it.

‘Oh, yes,’ she moaned.

He took the two handles in his hand and
began to draw them apart.  This had to be done fast.  There could be no
mistake.  He pulled.

Blood flew, her spine snapped.

And the smiling head rolled to the floor. 
Her eyes said it all.

She had died in ecstasy.

…………………………………………

Mary James was a quiet girl.  Pretty in
typical Celtic fashion.  She never thought of herself as one of the great world
shakers, unfortunately for her, nor did anyone else.  A youth opportunity
scheme had found her this job.  She was pleased to have it.  The money was not
good but it did assist her invalid mother.

‘Mary.  Go and check on room 56, will
you.  Take the master key.  They’ve not been down for breakfast and the people
in the next room said they heard funny noises in the night.’

The little maid checked the register. 
Isaacson.  She shrugged her shoulders.  It did not seem very demanding.  They
were probably having a lie-in.

She reached the room.  The door was
unlocked.  That was strange.  She knocked anyway.

Was that a laugh?  It sounded weird.  More
like the sound of an animal.

Curious, she opened the door.

...and entered a nightmare.

She wanted to scream but nothing
happened.  What was on the bed was hideous.  Who could do that to another human
being?

And then there were the noises.  They
emanated from the en-suite bathroom.  She knew that she should get help but she
could not move.

She found herself walking forward.  It was
almost as if something had taken control of her, forcing her unwillingly to
investigate.  It wanted her to know.

As if she was on automatic pilot she
opened the bathroom door.

A man stood there; naked except for a
towel tied around his middle.  He was leaning over the sink.  It looked like he
was shaving.  He was the one making the animal noises.

‘Excuse me,’ she could not prevent herself
saying and the figure turned around.

The razor was against his cheek.  It had
been used to great effect.  It had done far more than to remove David
Isaacson’s stubble.  It had stripped his face down to the gristle.

The lipless maw smiled;

‘Well, she did tell me to have a shave,
didn’t she?’

Good, thought Ben, Fiona was alone.  There
was no sign of Lapski or his henchmen. 

‘May I speak with you a moment.’

She looked up from the magazine she had
been reading.  One of the thick expensive glossies by the look of it.  It
crossed Ben’s mind that she was a very beautiful woman; no wonder Jake had been
attracted to her.  She was wearing a low cut top and Ben had to fight himself
to avoid staring.

‘Professor.’

She tried to smile.  It was obviously an
effort.

‘No, don’t get up.  I’ll join you.’

He sat on the sofa.

‘I’ll be blunt.  I need your help.’

She shrugged her shoulders.

‘What can I do?  I’m just baggage here.’

‘Is that how it appears?  I suppose you’re
right in a way.  But you have something that I do not.’

‘What?’

‘Freedom of movement.’

‘But Lapski isn’t holding you any longer.’

‘I know but he is still keeping a watch on
me.  You, he doesn’t care about.  I want you to see someone for me.  He’s a
colleague.  He’ll find what I have to know and get me the books I need.’

‘All right.  That seems easy enough.’

‘No.  Alex Lapski must not know about it. 
If he has any inkling of what I’m doing he’ll use it for himself.  You must not
tell him anything.’

She nodded, ‘So what are you planning?’

‘The least you know the better.  I’ll give
you the name and a letter containing a list of books.  That’s all.  He’ll do
the rest.  For your own sake, do not read the letter.’

She looked at the professor, full of
uncertainty.

‘Please, Fiona.  Mitch is becoming one
with a being that wants to destroy everything and your husband has disappeared. 
This may be my only chance of rescuing them.’

‘You think you can?’

But, before he could speak, Lapski entered
the room.

‘Ah, Professor.  You think you can what?’

‘Find our missing friends.’

‘Good.  When do you want to start?’

‘Not yet.  We need to check a few things
first.  Come on, Alex.  We have work to do.’

He turned about and followed his erstwhile
student from the room.  He allowed a piece of folded paper to drop from his
hand.  Thank God, Alex did not seem to notice.  Ben just hoped that Fiona would
pick it up and do as he asked.  It was a dangerous gamble but he was beginning
to make sense of certain events that had long been troubling him.  Somehow
Mitch and Cherry had crossed into the Tevel.  There had to be a reason for that
and if he was right it was a reason that he could exploit.

If he was to act, however, it would have
to be fast.  Jake was in trouble.  If, as seemed likely, he had fallen into the
clutches of Lilith and her minions that could be the end of his journey.  Another
direct descendant of Cordozo would have to be sought to carry the mission
forward and there were only two he could think of who might be able to do it. 
Neither were available as yet.  That was another reason that Fiona’s assistance
was needed.

The other possibility was that Jake would
survive his encounter with Lilith.  He was quite resourceful, after all, but
then he would have to descend through the depths of the Arka.  It would mean
confronting his own nightmares.  Ben already had some suspicion what they might
be from what he had so far learnt from Fiona but he needed that confirmed.

So much rested on that woman and he had no
idea whether she could be trusted.

Ben Tiferet hated imponderables.

……………………………………

It was as Ben and Alex Lapski sat down
that the telephone rang.  It was the Professor’s message service and he jotted
down what he was told.

‘I’ve had a call from Shmueli’s mother. 
She left a message for me yesterday.’

Eagerly he dialled the number for the
Marlborough Hotel and asked to speak with Elizabeth Isaacson.  A man’s voice
came on the line.

‘I’m sorry; Mrs Isaacson is unavailable.’

‘Then, her husband.’

‘No, I’m sorry.’

‘They are guests in your hotel?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then what is it?  Mrs Isaacson asked me
to call her urgently.’

And then a horrible suspicion crossed his
mind.  Had the En Sof been up to its games again?

‘Is their son there, or has he checked
out?’

‘Their son, sir?’

‘Yes, Samuel.’

‘I’m sorry sir but I can’t talk further. 
Are you family?’

‘Yes.  I’m their cousin from Israel.  I
only arrived in England yesterday.  We were supposed to meet.’

‘Ah, I see.  Hold the line, please,’

There was some feverish whispering in the
background but Ben could not make out anything whatsoever.  They were dead, he
knew it.  All of them, or just the parents and then he was hit by another
thought.  Could it be that their death warrant had been signed the moment that
Elizabeth Isaacson had telephoned to speak with him?  Did the En Sof truly
regard him as such a danger?  It was flattering in its own way.

A new voice appeared.

‘Good morning, sir.  May I take a note of
your name?’

‘Sorry, what’s this all about?’

‘Please, sir?’

‘Binyamin Rahamin.’

‘And where are you calling from?’

‘I’m in London.’

‘I see and you’re a cousin of the
Isaacson’s?’

‘Yes.  What is this?’

‘Please be patient, sir.  My name’s
Detective Inspector Unger.  I’m afraid I have some bad news for you about Mr
and Mrs Isaacson.’

But Ben had heard enough.  Softly, he
replaced the receiver.

‘They're dead.  Shmueli’ll be on the run
again, I’m certain of it.’

‘Damn.  What can we do?’

‘Nothing.  The En Sof has some agenda of
its own.  When it’s ready it will contact us.  You can be sure of that.’

………………………………….

‘You must stay calm.’

‘But how?  They’re dead, dead.’

‘I know.  You must gain revenge against
the person responsible.  You know who it is, do you not?’

‘Tiferet!’

‘Yes.  You know what you must do.’

‘Yes.  I must kill Tiferet.  Kill
Tiferet.’

‘Exactly.’